Beyond the Soul-Making Theodicy: A Critical Examination of John Hick’s Response to the Problem of Evil in a World of Systemic Suffering

1. Introduction

The problem of evil has occupied a central place in Western philosophy and theology, persistently challenging the coherence of belief in a good and omnipotent God. From the ancient wisdom literature of the Hebrew Bible through the systematic treatises of Christian thinkers like Augustine, Aquinas, and Leibniz, theodicy has sought to justify God’s ways in a world marked by suffering. For centuries, the dominant approaches in Christian thought linked evil to human freedom or to a cosmic order that ultimately served a divine plan. Augustine’s influential doctrine framed evil as a privation of the good: an absence, not a substance, resulting from the misuse of free will. In the early modern period, Leibniz advanced the notion that this world, with all its apparent imperfections, is nonetheless the “best of all possible worlds,” meticulously ordered by a wise Creator whose reasons for allowing suffering ultimately surpass human comprehension.

Yet these traditional theodicies encountered profound crises in the wake of historical catastrophes. The Lisbon earthquake of 1755, which destroyed much of the city and killed tens of thousands became a flashpoint for philosophical and theological debate. The disaster’s indiscriminate destruction seemed to mock the optimistic assurances of Leibniz and his followers. Voltaire’s Poem on the Lisbon Disaster and his satirical novella Candide ridiculed the claim that “all is for the best,” exposing the inadequacy of systematized explanations in the face of innocent suffering. Immanuel Kant, though initially responding to the event with scientific analysis, later reflected on the limits of human reason in offering any satisfying account of such tragedies, ultimately arguing that all previous theodicies “have not performed what they promised.”

The Lisbon earthquake thus marks a pivotal turning point in the history of theodicy. No longer could evil be comfortably relegated to the status of a mere privation or rationalized solely as a side effect of free will or universal order. The suffering of innocents and the apparent randomness of natural disasters pressed the question of evil to the center of philosophical and theological inquiry. As noted in recent scholarship, the modern problem of evil is not merely an internal puzzle for believers, but a direct challenge to the very plausibility of theistic worldviews (Ekstrom 2024). The debate shifted from esoteric theological circles into the public sphere, as disasters like Lisbon, the Holocaust, and more recent global catastrophes revealed the inadequacy of traditional answers and forced a reconsideration of the very project of theodicy itself.

Amidst these challenges, new approaches emerged. Some thinkers, such as David Hume, sharpened the problem as a direct argument against the existence of God, while others, including process theologians, revised classical attributes of God to account for the persistence of evil. Still others, such as Dostoyevsky and later “anti-theodicists,” questioned whether the search for justification itself might trivialize or even compound the suffering of victims (Middleton 2017; Trakakis 2008).

Within this context, John Hick’s “soul-making theodicy” stands out as one of the most influential and ambitious attempts to recast the problem of evil in modern philosophy of religion. Drawing on the minority tradition of Irenaeus, Hick rejects the dominant Augustinian view of a perfect creation ruined by the Fall. Instead, he proposes that human beings are created as morally and spiritually immature, intended to grow toward perfection through a process of challenge, risk, and suffering. The world, in this view, is not a “hedonistic paradise,” but a “vale of soul-making,” where adversity provides the opportunities necessary for the development of courage, compassion, faith, and love (Hick 1978).

This paper will situate Hick’s soul-making theodicy in the context of historical debates, with particular attention to the legacy of the Lisbon earthquake and the critiques of Leibnizian and Augustinian theodicies. It will then examine the structure of Hick’s framework, especially his concepts of epistemic distance and moral development, before assessing its adequacy in the face of systemic and obliterative suffering. I will argue that, while Hick’s project is notable for its depth and optimism, it ultimately fails to account for forms of suffering that do not enable growth but instead destroy or undermine the very capacities that soul-making presupposes. The existence of such suffering exposes a fundamental weakness in Hick’s teleological approach and raises questions about the limits of any theodicy that seeks to justify, rather than simply confront, the reality of evil.

2. The Historical Landscape of Theodicy and the Structure of Hick’s Soul-Making Theodicy

2.1 The Lisbon Earthquake and the Crisis of Traditional Theodicy

To understand Hick’s intervention, it is crucial to appreciate the historical context in which theodicy developed and was subsequently challenged. Prior to the Enlightenment, theodicies were largely shaped by Augustinian and Thomistic frameworks. Augustine’s theodicy, as articulated in The City of God and Confessions, argued that evil was not a substance but a privation arising from the misuse of free will. All creation was originally good, but the Fall introduced disorder as a consequence of human rebellion. God remains just and good, for evil is not a positive force, but the shadow cast by the loss of goodness.

Leibniz, writing in the early eighteenth century, developed a more optimistic theodicy, asserting that God, being omniscient and omnibenevolent, selected the best possible world out of all logically possible worlds. While this world contains evil, it does so only because greater goods including the existence of free rational agents and the overall harmony of creation, require its allowance (Leibniz, Theodicy). As the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy notes, Leibniz distinguished two central problems: the “underachiever problem,” questioning whether a perfect being would allow so much evil, and the “holiness problem,” concerning how God could be causally entangled with evil acts. Leibniz’s response emphasized the limitations of finite understanding and the priority of divine reasons that may remain hidden from human view.

The Lisbon earthquake shattered the perceived adequacy of these traditional responses. The indiscriminate destruction and immense loss of life, especially among those engaged in acts of worship, made the optimism of Leibniz seem callous or implausible. Voltaire’s Candide lampooned the idea that “all is for the best,” while Kant openly doubted the capacity of reason to resolve the problem. As Tim Middleton (2017) observes, theodicy came to be seen by some as a “mad project,” more likely to rationalize or trivialize suffering than to offer genuine understanding or comfort. The anti-theodicist tradition, exemplified by figures such as Terrence Tilley and John Roth, began to argue that attempts to justify evil might themselves constitute a moral wrong, further victimizing those who suffer.

2.2 The Emergence of Hick’s Soul-Making Theodicy

It is within this historical and philosophical landscape that John Hick’s “soul-making” theodicy emerges. Dissatisfied with both the Augustinian and Leibnizian traditions, Hick sought to recover and reinterpret the minority Irenaean tradition. In contrast to the Augustinian account of a perfect creation marred by the Fall, Irenaeus (and later, Hick) envisioned humanity as created in a state of moral and spiritual immaturity, destined for growth and development toward divine likeness. Hick famously recasts the world as a “vale of soul-making” (borrowing the phrase from John Keats), a challenging environment designed to foster the formation of virtue.

2.3 The Structure of Hick’s Theodicy

Hick’s soul-making theodicy is built upon several key concepts:

1. Epistemic Distance: For Hick, genuine freedom and moral development require that human beings are not compelled by overwhelming evidence of God’s presence. There must be a certain “epistemic distance” between God and humanity—a world in which faith is possible but not forced. This allows for authentic choice and the possibility of responding to God in love, rather than mere obedience to irresistible power.

2. Soul-Making and Moral Growth: Unlike a “hedonistic paradise” where suffering is absent, Hick’s world is structured to provide opportunities for the exercise of virtue. Courage, compassion, patience, and faith can only be meaningfully developed in the face of adversity, risk, and pain. Suffering is not an arbitrary punishment or an accidental byproduct; it is integral to the process by which souls are formed (Hick 1978).

3. Universal Eschatological Fulfillment: Hick’s theodicy is notable for its universalist hope. He resists the idea that only a few will be saved, arguing instead that the process of soul-making extends beyond this life and that, ultimately, all will achieve the fulfillment intended by God. The “eschatological dimension” is essential; the suffering of this world can only be justified if it is retrospectively rendered worthwhile in a perfected future state (cf. SEP, “Theodicies”, 7).

4. A Rejection of Simple Greater-Good Calculus: While Hick acknowledges that suffering can contribute to greater goods, he is wary of simplistic calculations. Not every instance of pain, he concedes, results in moral benefit. Some suffering is disproportionate, excessive, or apparently meaningless. Hick appeals to the “mystery” of dysteleological suffering, suggesting that some evils elude rational explanation, but that a general framework of soul-making can nonetheless provide an overarching justification.

2.4 Hick’s Place Among Modern Theodicies

Hick’s approach thus stands apart from both traditional and contemporary alternatives. It avoids the pitfalls of the punishment theodicy, which often blames victims, and the free will theodicy, which leaves natural evil largely unexplained. It also resists the anti-theodicist move to abandon justification altogether, though it incorporates a measure of humility regarding the limits of human understanding. As the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy entry on “Theodicies” notes, soul-making theodicies must confront the “victim-centered constraint”: can suffering be justified if it is not ultimately good for those who endure it? Hick’s universalism is meant to respond to this challenge, but critics argue that many forms of suffering—especially those that obliterate rather than develop the self—remain unaccounted for.

3. Radical Evil and the Realities of Suffering

John Hick’s soul-making theodicy seeks to offer a morally and spiritually satisfying answer to the problem of evil by reframing the world as a “vale of soul-making,” where adversity is not a regrettable accident but an essential condition for the growth of moral character. Hick’s vision is, in many ways, an optimistic one: human beings are seen as unfinished, called to develop virtues such as courage, compassion, and faith through their responses to suffering and challenge. Yet the plausibility of this theodicy depends on whether suffering—particularly the most devastating and senseless forms, can indeed be integrated into a narrative of moral and spiritual development. Here, the perspectives of Terry Eagleton, as articulated in On Evil, and the realities of modern, systemic suffering pose significant challenges to Hick’s framework.

Eagleton’s account of evil is notably skeptical of any theodicy that seeks to domesticate or redeem suffering through a grand narrative. For Eagleton, evil is not simply the absence of good or a necessary ingredient in character formation; rather, it is often banal, senseless, and even self-defeating. He writes, “Evil, one might say, is the name we give to an experience which is not just painful or shocking, but bafflingly pointless, radically contingent, something that refuses to fit into any scheme of meaning”. This perspective directly contests the soul-making theodicy’s core assumption that suffering is, or can be, meaningful for those who endure it. Eagleton argues that the attempt to find meaning in radical evil risks diminishing the sheer horror of such events. He cautions against “the temptation to find meaning in the meaningless,” suggesting that such efforts can add insult to injury, especially for victims whose suffering achieves no redemptive outcome.

Concrete examples from history and contemporary life underscore the force of this critique. Consider the Holocaust, often cited as the paradigmatic case of “obliterative” suffering that resists integration into any constructive moral narrative. Survivors like Primo Levi and Elie Wiesel have testified not to the ennobling effects of their suffering, but to the ways in which it shattered trust, community, and even the foundations of meaning itself. Far from being a crucible for virtue, the camps were sites of dehumanization and despair, where the capacity for faith or compassion was often destroyed rather than deepened. Similar observations can be made about other forms of radical evil: the persistent trauma experienced by survivors of genocide, torture, or systemic abuse frequently leads not to the flourishing of virtue, but to psychological wounds that may never heal.

Hick is not unaware of these realities. He acknowledges that not every instance of suffering can be neatly subsumed under the rubric of soul-making. There are, he admits, cases of “dysteleological” suffering, evils whose purpose is not apparent, and whose effects seem only destructive. To address this, Hick appeals to the eschatological horizon of his theodicy: he contends that the process of soul-making extends beyond this life, and that, in the end, every individual will achieve the fulfillment intended by God. This universalist hope is meant to answer the “victim-centered constraint” identified by the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy: suffering can only be justified if it ultimately serves the good of those who endure it. By positing a perfected future state, Hick insists that no suffering will be wasted or left without redemptive value.

Yet Eagleton and other critics remain unconvinced. Eagleton’s analysis suggests that some forms of suffering are so obliterative that they destroy the very subject who is supposed to benefit from them. If a child dies in agony, or a person’s psyche is irreparably broken by torture, it is not clear how subsequent fulfillment can retroactively redeem the harm done. The individual who might have grown through adversity is, in some sense, lost; the suffering does not build character, but annihilates it. Hick’s eschatological solution, while noble in its inclusivity, risks minimizing the irreparable harm and injustice inflicted by radical evil. It also raises uncomfortable questions about identity and continuity: can a perfected state in another life truly compensate for the loss and devastation suffered here and now, especially if the person is fundamentally altered or destroyed by their experiences?

Real-world cases multiply these concerns. The ongoing suffering of refugees fleeing war, children trafficked for sexual exploitation, or individuals subjected to chronic, untreated mental illness often results not in the exercise of virtue, but in despair, disintegration, and silence. In such instances, suffering does not serve as a teacher or purifier; it is simply destructive, inflicting wounds that may never heal. Moreover, the randomness and disproportionate distribution of suffering, where the most vulnerable are often the most afflicted, raise further doubts about the coherence of a soul-making framework. 

3.1 Hick’s Rebuttal and Its Limitations

Hick’s soul-making theodicy, as developed in Evil and the God of Love, ultimately turns to eschatology, as its final answer to the most devastating forms of suffering. Recognizing that not all pain in this life can plausibly be subsumed under the logic of moral or spiritual development, Hick insists that the process of soul-making extends beyond death. In this ultimate, post-mortem perspective, every individual soul will be reconciled, healed, and brought into the fullness of divine likeness. Suffering, no matter how senseless or obliterative it appears within the confines of earthly life, will be retrospectively redeemed and endowed with meaning in the light of eternity. In this way, Hick seeks to guarantee that no suffering is truly wasted or unjustified: the story of each life, however tragic in its temporal chapters, ends in universal fulfillment.

On one level, this eschatological move preserves the logical coherence of Hick’s theodicy. It allows him to maintain the “victim-centered constraint”, the idea that suffering can only be justified if it is ultimately good for those who endure it, by promising that all wounds will be healed and all losses restored. Yet, as critics have pointed out, this solution raises profound philosophical and existential concerns. By relocating the justification for suffering to a future, unverifiable state, Hick’s theodicy risks unfalsifiability: it becomes immune to empirical disconfirmation, relying instead on faith in an afterlife that transcends the scope of reason or evidence. For many, this renders the theodicy existentially unsatisfying, as it appears to trivialize the agony of victims by treating their suffering as a mere prelude to otherworldly bliss.

Moreover, the appeal to eschatological fulfillment can have troubling ethical implications in the here and now. If all suffering is ultimately part of a divinely orchestrated plan for soul-making, there is a danger that present injustices and atrocities will be rationalized or passively accepted. Theodicy’s very strength becomes its weakness when it demands that we accept, on faith, that horrors like the Holocaust or the relentless suffering of children are necessary components of a cosmic curriculum we cannot understand. As Eagleton warns, the attempt to find meaning in the meaningless not only fails to account for the reality of evil but can also compound the injury by demanding intellectual or spiritual assent to the unacceptable. The burden placed on faith here is enormous, and for many, it is not a burden that can be borne.

3.2 Calvinist Perspectives and the Protestant Ethic

A further challenge to Hick’s eschatological solution emerges when we consider alternative Christian responses to suffering, particularly those associated with the Calvinist tradition and the Protestant ethic. The theology of John Calvin and his followers, as famously analyzed by Max Weber in The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, offers a starkly different view of suffering, providence, and meaning. For Calvinists, suffering is not necessarily a vehicle for moral development or a sign of God’s favor; it may be inscrutable, rooted in the mysterious decrees of divine sovereignty. The elect and the reprobate alike may experience suffering, but its purpose is not always discernible from a human perspective. The emphasis is not on the universal redemption of all souls, but on the absolute freedom of God to save or condemn according to divine will—a doctrine that instills both humility and anxiety.

Weber’s analysis highlights how the Calvinist worldview, with its doctrine of predestination and its sober acceptance of suffering, gave rise to a distinctive ethic: one that valorized hard work, discipline, and the transformation of this world, rather than resignation to suffering as a means to another. The Protestant ethic, by focusing on worldly vocation and the social transformation of suffering, stands in contrast to Hick’s eschatological deferral. Within this framework, the imperative is not to accept suffering as part of a hidden divine pedagogy, but to resist it, alleviate it, and seek justice in the here and now.

This contrast exposes a weakness in Hick’s approach. By emphasizing the ultimate reconciliation of all souls in an afterlife, Hick’s theodicy can be read as undermining the moral urgency to confront and ameliorate suffering in history. Calvinist and Protestant etnica; traditions, by contrast, have often fueled social reform movements on the grounds that evil is to be fought, not merely explained or endured. As Weber notes, the Protestant ethic channeled religious anxiety into worldly activity, making the eradication of suffering part of the faithful response to God, rather than a mere acceptance of divine providence.

3.4 Philosophical Limitations of Theological Appeals

Finally, the philosophical limitations of Hick’s argument become clear when we attend to its reliance on specifically theological premises. The move to justify suffering by appealing to eschatological fulfillment presupposes not only the existence of an afterlife, but also a particular account of personal identity, divine justice, and the continuity of consciousness. These assumptions are, at best, contestable from a philosophical standpoint. The question remains whether a theodicy that depends on unverifiable metaphysical claims can be persuasive to those outside the faith, or even to all those within it. As Laura Ekstrom and other contemporary philosophers have noted, the strength of a theodicy lies in its ability to provide meaningful and morally compelling explanations within the horizon of lived experience—not just in the promise of future reconciliation.

The existential dissatisfaction with Hick’s eschatological solution is compounded when we recall Eagleton’s insistence on the reality of meaningless, radical evil. The Holocaust, the genocide in Rwanda, or the suffering of countless children throughout history are not easily subsumed under any narrative of soul-making. To treat these as necessary steps to ultimate fulfillment, as Hick’s theodicy sometimes seems to require, threatens to empty both the concept of meaning and the reality of suffering of their moral gravity.

3.5 Broader Implications

In sum, while Hick’s eschatological rebuttal seeks to preserve logical consistency and uphold the moral intuition that suffering must be justified for its victims, it does so at the cost of both philosophical rigor and existential plausibility. By shifting the justification for evil into a future we cannot access or verify, Hick’s theodicy risks trivializing real-world agony and undermining the imperative to resist evil in the present. Calvinist and Protestant traditions, by contrast, offer a more this-worldly response to suffering, emphasizing the necessity of confronting and alleviating evil rather than explaining or enduring it. Eagleton’s critique reminds us that not all suffering is meaningful, and that the demand for meaning in the face of radical evil may itself be a moral mistake. The weight of history and the experience of obliterative suffering continue to challenge the adequacy of any theodicy, eschatological or otherwise, that seeks to justify rather than confront the reality of evil.

4. Conclusion

The problem of evil remains one of the most intractable and enduring challenges to religious belief and philosophical reason. From Augustine’s conception of evil as a privation, through Leibniz’s optimism, to the post-Lisbon crisis of confidence in any systematized theodicy, the question of how a good and omnipotent God could allow suffering has shaped centuries of debate. The Lisbon earthquake, the Holocaust, and countless other historical tragedies have exposed the inadequacy of traditional answers and pressed modern thinkers to search for more honest and morally satisfying responses.

John Hick’s soul-making theodicy stands as one of the most ambitious attempts to rescue the project of theodicy in the modern era. By reimagining the world as a “vale of soul-making,” Hick offers a vision in which adversity and suffering are not meaningless, but necessary conditions for the development of moral and spiritual character. His framework is marked by intellectual humility, a rejection of simplistic greater-good calculations, and a universalist hope that all suffering will ultimately be redeemed in an eschatological fulfillment.

Yet, as this essay has argued, the soul-making theodicy faces formidable objections. Drawing on the insights of Terry Eagleton, we have seen that not all suffering can be meaningfully integrated into a narrative of growth or redemption. Some forms of evil—especially those that are gratuitous, obliterative, or radically contingent—defy explanation and resist being folded into any cosmic curriculum. Eagleton’s warning against the temptation to find meaning in the meaningless is echoed by the testimony of history and the lived experience of victims. To insist that the horrors of the Holocaust, systemic abuse, or the suffering of children are necessary steps toward ultimate fulfillment is to risk both moral and existential insensitivity.

Hick’s eschatological solution, while preserving logical consistency, ultimately relies on theological premises that are unverifiable and, for many, unsatisfying. By shifting the justification for suffering into a future beyond our grasp, there is a real danger of trivializing real-world agony and undermining the urgent imperative to confront injustice here and now. In contrast, the Calvinist and Protestant traditions—especially as analyzed by Max Weber—offer a more this-worldly ethic, one that emphasizes vocation, resistance to evil, and the transformation of suffering through action rather than passive acceptance.

The enduring lesson of the problem of evil is not that suffering can always be justified, but that our attempts to do so must be approached with humility, honesty, and a deep awareness of the limits of human understanding. Theodicy’s greatest risk is that it may compound the suffering it seeks to explain by demanding faith in the face of the unfathomable, or by rationalizing the irreparable. Perhaps the most responsible response, as Eagleton and anti-theodicist thinkers suggest, is not to seek closure or justification, but to protest, to mourn, and to work for a world in which suffering is neither accepted nor explained away, but resisted and, where possible, alleviated.

In confronting the reality of evil, we are reminded not only of the limits of philosophical systems, but also of the enduring need for compassion and action. The problem of evil cannot be neatly solved; it must be lived with, wrestled with, and, above all, responded to with care.