Ethics, Politics, and the Common Good

Aristotle identifies politics as the chief architectonic science, as it deals with the ultimate end of human life. Yet this description is given at the beginning of the Ethics. Indeed, ethics and politics are intimately connected. In order to understand this relation fully, we must determine how they are distinct with regard to their origin, method, and end. Once properly distinguished, the conclusion follows that politics makes use of the principles of ethics, but for a greater and more noble end, the common good.

Ethics
In beginning of the Ethics, Aristotle discusses the ultimate end of man:

If, then, there is some end of the things we do, which we desire for its own sake (everything else being desired for the sake of this), and if we do not choose everything for the sake of something else (for at that rate the process would go on to infinity, so that our desire would be empty and vain), clearly this must be the good and the chief good[...] We must try, in outline at least, to determine what it is, and of which of the sciences or capacities it is the object. It would seem to belong to the most authoritative art and that which is most truly the master art. And politics appears to be of this nature… (NE I.2)

Aristotle then lays out the method of this “most authoritative art” and concludes the first part of the Ethics with a brief discussion of the “chief good.” The chief good is the end of ethics, so ethics may be defined as “the art which is pursued for the sake of man’s ultimate end.” Sometimes Aristotle calls ethics an art, sometimes a science. This dual characterization is possible because ethics is a practical science.
The sciences are divided into the speculative and the practical. The speculative sciences are pursued for the sake of knowledge itself, and thus do not have their end in operation. For example, mathematics is a speculative science, because the process and the conclusions of mathematics are inoperative: That is, perfect mathematics does not involve praxis. The method of the speculative sciences is resolutory, which means that knowledge proceeds from effect to cause, resolving complex truths into simple truths. For example, the mathematician may deduce a single function from a complex set of discrete data.
The practical sciences, on the other hand, are ordered to operation. For example, carpentry involves a method and acquisition of knowledge, but carpentry is not complete if it does not involve the activity of making things from wood. The method of the practical sciences is compository, which means that they proceed from simple to complex truths. For example, a carpenter, knowing that the height of a 45-degree angle is identical to its width, discerns the correct pitch of a roof and decides to cut the webs at equal lengths.
Ethics is a science that is, in a sense, both speculative and practical, and therefore its method is variable. In ethics, one may resolve complex truths into the simple, such as when one derives from the relationship of persons the principle of justice. But the speculative aspect of ethics is subordinated to the practical: That is, the principles derived in ethics must be put into practice in particular cases. In other words, ethics is not complete if it is not practiced, and so it is primarily a practical science. Therefore, ethics is a science insofar as it involves the attainment of knowledge, and an art insofar as this knowledge is put into practice.
Every art is done for some end, and the end of ethics is happiness. Aristotle defines happiness as, “an activity in accordance with virtue,” especially “the highest virtue… of the best part in us.” We know that the intellect is the best part of man because it is by his intellect that he participates in the natural law and is able to become virtuous at all. Moreover, the intellect is what distinguishes man apart from the other animals; it is the intellect which is the most human part of him. Thus the activity of the intellect, which is the contemplation of truth, is man’s greatest happiness, and the end of the virtuous life.

Politics
So, how does politics differ from ethics? Aristotle notes in the beginning of the Politics: “Observation shows us, first, that every polis is a species of association, and, secondly, that all associations come into being for the sake of some good -- for all men do all their acts with a view to achieving something which is, in their view, a good.” Therefore, as the good is the end of ethics, the good of the community is the end of politics.
The method of political science is also similar to that of ethics. Politics is a practical science, as St. Thomas explains, “since the practical sciences are distinguished from the speculative sciences in that the speculative sciences are ordered exclusively to the knowledge of the truth, whereas the practical sciences are ordered to some work, [politics] must be comprised under practical philosophy, inasmuch as the city is a certain whole that human reason not only knows but also produces.”
Because politics is a practical science, its method is therefore, like ethics, compository. Thomas explains, “since human reason has to order not only the things that are used by man but also men themselves, who are ruled by reason, [politics] proceeds in either case from the simple to the complex.” However, though the method of politics as a science is similar to that of ethics, the practice of politics as an art is quite different. Because it is ordered not to the happiness of one person, but to the happiness of the whole community, it is necessary to have political activity beyond the scope of ethics.
Aristotle notes that most men are not capable of pursuing a moral education because they are not well disposed to practice virtue by their own inclination. And, though a man be eager to pursue the good, and learns how he might attain it, he will not attain the good until he acts. Likewise, St. Thomas observes:

A man needs to receive this training from another, whereby to arrive at the perfection of virtue. And as to those young people who are inclined to acts of virtue, by their good natural disposition, or by custom, or rather by the gift of God, paternal training suffices, which is by admonitions. But since some are found to be depraved, and prone to vice, and not easily amenable to words, it was necessary for such to be restrained from evil by force and fear, in order that, at least, they might desist from evil-doing, and leave others in peace, and that they themselves, by being habituated in this way, might be brought to do willingly what hitherto they did from fear, and thus become virtuous. Now this kind of training, which compels through fear of punishment, is the discipline of laws. Therefore in order that man might have peace and virtue, it was necessary for laws to be framed… (ST Ia-IIae, q.95, a.1)

Hence the activity of political art has two chief characteristics; the didactic, which educates citizens in virtue, and the coercive, which disciplines citizens in the practice of virtue.

Law
This dual activity of politics is called government, and is done by way of legislation (the creation of laws). Law in general has four essential characteristics; it is “[1] an ordinance of reason [2] for the common good, [3] made by him who has care of the community, and [4] promulgated.” The natural law governs all moral activity, as it is the rational creature’s participation in the Eternal law. Politics, however, makes use of human law.
The human law manifests the dual method of moral science; its resolutory derivation of principles and compository application to particular cases. As Thomas explains:

Something may be derived from the natural law in two ways: first, as a conclusion from premises, secondly, by way of determination of certain generalities. The first way is like to that by which, in sciences, demonstrated conclusions are drawn from the principles: while the second mode is likened to that whereby, in the arts, general forms are particularized as to details[…] Accordingly both modes of derivation are found in the human law. But those things which are derived in the first way, are contained in human law not as emanating therefrom exclusively, but have some force from the natural law also. But those things which are derived in the second way, have no other force than that of human law. (ST Ia-IIae, q.95, a.2)

Thus, the human law is a rational participation in the natural law, and is therefore an ordinance of reason.
But, while the natural law is a participation in the eternal law promulgated by God, the human law is promulgated by human authority. Thus there is a distinction between ethics and politics in its relationship to authority. The man who acts virtuously obeys the natural law from God. But citizens are also bound to obey laws that are enacted by human authority in the art of politics. Human authority participates in God’s authority insofar as it derives its principles from the natural law and seeks to attain the end for which the natural law itself is promulgated.

The Common Good
Ethics and politics are further distinguished in their relation to the end for which all law is promulgated. Ethics instructs man in virtue, the end of which is his own happiness. But because virtue is necessarily in accord with the natural law, it also contributes to the common good. Yet ethics is concerned with human acts and happiness simply. Politics, on the other hand, governs the whole community with the explicit end of attaining the common good. Therefore, the greatest distinction between ethics and politics is their relation to the common good. So, in order to understand this distinction well, the common good itself must be well understood.
The common good is called “common” because it is participatory. Strictly speaking, every good is common insofar as it is participatory, as Thomas says, “in the whole created universe there is not a good which is not such by participation.” This is not to say that there is no such thing as a “private good,” but that every good is ordered to some end, and to have a good is to participate in this order.
The common good is therefore defined as the good of the whole for which its parts are ordered. Because the common good is the end toward which its members participate, it is manifested primarily in the peace and order of its members. The most immediate example of the common good is the end of the domestic household; the peace and order of the family. For the peace of the family, the husband must provide for the good of his wife and children, the wife must care for her husband and children, and the children must respect one another and obey their parents. Each well-lived role has the character of virtue, and redounds to the happiness of each person, but the end of domestic virtue is not the happiness of any one person, but of the whole household.
Because all personal goods are ordered to the common good, the common good is better. The primacy of the common good over that of one person is summarized by Aristotle:

If the end is the same for a single man and for a state, that of the state seems at all events something greater and more complete whether to attain or to preserve; though it is worth while to attain the end merely for one man, it is finer and more godlike to attain it for a nation or for city-states. (NE I.2, 1094b)

The primacy of the common good over the personal is not quantitative but categorical. That is, the common good is not the total sum of all personal goods: A pie, for instance, is not the common good of all who have a slice, because each slice that is taken from the pie diminishes the good available to others. Rather, the common good only increases by added participation; as the citizens grow in number and virtue, so grows the peace and order of the city.
That the common good is greater and prior to personal good does not imply that the common good is detrimental to the person. As Aristotle explains, it is quite the contrary:

The city is prior in the order of nature to the family and the individual. The reason for this is that the whole is necessarily prior to the part. If the whole body is destroyed, there will not be a foot or a hand, except in the ambiguous sense… All things derive their essential character from their function and their capacity; and it follows that if they are no longer fit to discharge their function, we ought not to say that they are still the same things, but only that, by an ambiguity, they still have the same names. (Pol I.2, 1253a18)

That is, a single person cannot attain the good apart from the whole to which he is ordered. Man, being a political animal by nature, attains his good by participation in the community of which he is a part. As Charles De Koninck argues, the common good is in fact each man’s highest good:

The highest good of a man belongs to him not insofar as he is himself a certain whole in which the self is the principal object of his love, but "insofar as he is part of a whole," a whole which is accessible to him because of the very universality of his knowledge[…] Thus it is indeed as part that we are ordered to this greatest of all goods which can only be ours most completely through being communicable to others. (De Koninck, 30)

The community to which man is ordered is not limited to the civitas. There is a variety of common goods which exist in a hierarchy, as there is of particular goods, and the degree to which man participates in each good determines its greatness. Therefore, God Himself is the greatest common good, because man participates in God by virtue of his very being.

Objections to the Primacy of the Common Good
We will consider three objections against the common good’s primacy over the person. Firstly, though politics is necessary for the governance of the human community, the individual who is well disposed to contemplate needs no human governance. The contemplative man has attained moral excellence and is led by his own knowledge. Thus, it would seem that the act of contemplation falls outside the purview of politics. Secondly, while it is necessary to pursue virtue in communion with others, contemplation itself is a solitary act, and so the highest good for the person is not the common good. Thirdly, appeal might be made to the dignity of the person, which is primary to the common good on account of its inviolability. That is, the dignity of the human person cannot be violated for the sake of another good.
To the first objection, we respond that politics is necessary not only because many persons are ill-disposed to pursue virtue by their own inclination, but because participation is impossible without an external governing principle. The good of the whole, as its end, is external to whatever participates in it. For example, the good of a man, though it involves a well-functioning hand, is not limited to the good of the hand itself: A man’s good is external to the good of his hand, because his hand is ordered to the good of the whole man. Moreover, because the good of the whole man is external to that of his hand, his hand is incapable of attaining this external good of its own principle.
Therefore, even if every member of the community were perfect in virtue, an external governing principle would be necessary to attain peace and order, as Etienne Gilson summarizes:

This or that man’s reason, though qualified to guide his actions for his welfare, is not, therefore, qualified to shape them for the good of the community to which he belongs, and to subordinate them to it. Here is the basis of the exteriority, so far as the individual is concerned, of the principle which obliges his activity. Law, then, will express the demands of reason ordering the individual’s life in view of the common good of his group and speaking from the outside in the name of that group. (Gilson, 195)

The exteriority of the human law to each person is a reflection of the natural law from which it is derived. Man’s participation in the eternal law, while it orders him as a part of the Eternal law, is ordered to God Himself, who is external to man.
To the second objection, it should be noted that, though the end of ethics is the contemplation of Truth, contemplation is itself a special participation in the highest Good common to all things. Truth is not made private by man’s grasp of it. Though a solitary act by outward appearance, the activity of man’s intellect is itself a participation in the light of the Divine Intellect. Therefore, when one contemplates, he does not ascend from a good shared by the community to a noble personal good; rather, he ascends from a lesser common good to a greater common good.
To the third objection, we reply that personal dignity itself is derived from participation in the common good. Any attempt to elevate the singular person above the common good of which he is part only diminishes personal dignity, as De Koninck explains:

Through disordered love of singularity, one practically rejects the common good as a foreign good and one judges it to be incompatible with the excellence of our singular condition. One withdraws thus from order and takes refuge in oneself as though one were a universe for oneself, a universe rooted in a free and very personal act. One freely abdicates dignity as a rational creature in order to establish oneself as a radically independent whole. (De Koninck, 35)

To assert that personal dignity is something greater than its source is to say that the part, which is good insofar as it is ordered to the whole, is also good without the whole. This is absurd.

Conclusion
We may therefore conclude that ethics is not distinct from politics as an “individual” rule from a communal rule, but as the practical science of man’s good from the practical science of the common good. Ethics is ordered to the common good implicitly, and politics makes use of the principles of ethics in ordering man to the common good. Therefore, while ethics may be considered to be a “self-sufficient” science with respect to each person, it is essentially a part of politics.

Bibliography
Aristotle. Nichomachean Ethics. trans. David Ross. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998.

Aristotle. Politics. trans. Ernest Barker. New York: Oxford University Press, 1995.

De Koninck, Charles. On the Primacy of the Common Good. 1997. At https://thomasaquinas.edu/pdfs/aquinas-review/1997/1997-dekoninck-common-good.pdf

Gilson, Etienne. Moral Values and the Moral Life: The Ethical Theory of St. Thomas Aquinas. trans. Leo Richard Ward. (reprint by Kessinger publishing).

Oesterle, John A. Ethics: The Introduction to Moral Science. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1957.

Thomas Aquinas. Commentary on the Nichomachean Ethics. trans. C.I. Litzinger, O.P. Chicago: Henry Regnery Co., 1964. At https://dhspriory.org/thomas/Ethics.htm

Thomas Aquinas. Sententia Libri Politicorum. trans. Ernest L. Fortin and Peter D. O’Neill. At https://dhspriory.org/thomas/Politics.htm

Thomas Aquinas. Summa Theologiae. trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province. Benziger bros., 1947. At https://dhspriory.org/thomas/summa/index.html.

God vs Evil?

The Problem of Evil forms the basis of a compelling argument against the existence of God. We will consider the argument as formulated by J.L. Mackie in his work, “Evil and Omnipotence.” After analyzing the argument and its implications, we will consider the “Fifth Way” argument posited by St. Thomas Aquinas, which is, in a sense, the converse of Mackie’s argument. While Mackie argues that the presence of evil contradicts the notion that there is a being both omnipotent and good, St. Thomas argues that the ordering of creatures toward their end (which is their good) can only be the work of divine governance. By analyzing Thomas’ argument and its corollaries, it shall be proven that Mackie’s argument from evil does not demonstrate that God’s goodness or omnipotence is impossible.

J.L. Mackie’s Argument
Mackie’s argument is as follows: If there is a being that is both omnipotent and completely good, then it would not allow evil to exist. But evil does exist. Therefore, there cannot be a being that is both omnipotent and good. To fully understand this argument, the terms ‘omnipotent’, ‘good’, and ‘evil’ must all be defined.
According to Mackie, “there are no limits to what an omnipotent thing can do” (Mackie, 305). So, ‘omnipotent’ means ‘having unlimited ability.’ But what is meant by ‘limit’ is yet unclear: In mathematics, for example, the set of all integers is an infinite set, but it is also limited by its definition, so that there are also an infinite many numbers which are not contained in that same set (e.g. all fractions). So, one might argue, for instance, that God’s power is infinite in a sense, but not absolutely.
But this description of omnipotence seems superfluous. A man may be considered “omnipotent” by the same token, because there is no limit to how many things he may do in a day, albeit he will never actually do all of them. To avoid such a trivial definition, we must assert that there is nothing that could prevent God from acting. Hence, ‘omnipotent’ may be defined as ‘having the ability to act without impediment.’
Mackie does not offer a definition of ‘good’ or ‘evil’ per se, but states that “good is opposed to evil, in such a way that a good thing always eliminates evil as far as it can” (Mackie, 305). He implies that the concept of evil as privatio boni is “inconsistent” but does not say why. What he does allow for, however, is a kind of hierarchy of goods.
The most visceral, “basic” evils, such as pain and its antecedents, he calls “first order evils.” Conversely, pleasure is a “first order good.” There are greater goods than pleasure, however, termed “second order goods.” Second order goods, such as virtue, are only possible as a contrast or reaction to first order evils. For example, one cannot be courageous unless there is some evil to oppose by means of courage.
By delineating the hierarchy of goods in this way, Mackie anticipates a classic solution to the problem of evil; namely, that evil must be allowed in order to have a world that contains the greatest possible good. But this solution seems inadequate, because, just as first order evils make second order goods possible, so also do they make second order evils possible. For example, the ability to cause pain provides man with the capacity for unspeakable cruelty. If courage is greater than simple pleasure, then cruelty must be worse than simple pain. Mackie concludes that, since greater evil is made possible alongside greater good, the objection, which asserts that greater goods are made possible by evil, ultimately fails.
Mackie notes that an additional objection may be made, which asserts that free will itself is a third order good. And in order for the will to be free, the possibility of choosing first and second order evils must at least be available to it. Therefore, the objection concludes, God allows even second order evils for the sake of the third order good of freedom.
There are three problems with the assertion that free will is itself a third order good. The first is that the assertion seems arbitrary. If ‘freedom’ is itself a kind of good, then what can be said of a will that “freely” chooses evil? One might claim that a will which chooses evil is no longer free and thus no longer good. But, if a will could destroy its own freedom, is it not therefore the cause of a third order evil; that is, the contrary of a third order good?
The second problem with the notion of free will as a third order good is its reliance on the possibility of evil. If evil is only the result of human free will, then this seems to imply a notion of freedom that is purely arbitrary because, rather than the will determining itself by the character of its own goodness, it acts completely at random. But if free will is random, and not at least self-determined by a will that was created good, then there seems to be no reason to consider free will good at all, as there is no assurance that it will not be the cause of evil.
The third problem with the notion of a free will that requires the possibility of evil is a problem of logic: It is absurd to speak of a “necessary possibility.” A thing is either necessary or it is only possible. If the existence of free will necessitates the existence of evil, then there seems to be no reason why free will should be considered good. If the existence of free will presents merely the possibility of evil, then it is possible for God to create free will and also to prevent evil. And if it were possible for God to create free will without the allowance of evil, then God is responsible for evil.
According to Mackie, asserting that the mere possibility of evil is inherent in a created will creates yet another problem; not with the nature of freedom, in this case, but with the nature of omnipotence. Can God create a free will that cannot choose evil? If He can, then it would seem that the will is only “free” in a trivial sense. And if God cannot, then God’s omnipotence seems to have clear limits.
Thus, Mackie asserts that God’s goodness and omnipotence cannot both coexist with evil. Furthermore, the assertion that free will is a third order good, for which it is necessary to allow evil, seems to create five additional problems: (1) Any increase in good on account of evil is also met with an increase in evil; (2) if free will is a third order good, but can cause evil, then it is also a third order evil; (3) if free will is not determined by good, then neither is free will good; (4) if evil is not a necessary prerequisite for free will, then God is responsible for evil; and (5) it seems contradictory to posit that God can create something which can impede his power.

St. Thomas’ Fifth Way
The “Fifth Way” can be seen as the converse of Mackie’s argument in that it argues for God’s existence on the premise that things desire the good:

We see that things which lack intelligence, such as natural bodies, act for an end, and this is evident from their acting always, or nearly always, in the same way, so as to obtain the best result. Hence it is plain that not fortuitously, but designedly, do they achieve their end. Now whatever lacks intelligence cannot move towards an end, unless it be directed by some being endowed with knowledge and intelligence; as the arrow is shot to its mark by the archer. Therefore some intelligent being exists by whom all natural things are directed to their end; and this being we call God (ST Ia, q.2, a.3).

Here, Thomas draws on a clear definition of the good. This definition, however, is multifaceted, as ‘good’ can be said in many ways. In the simplest sense, ‘good’ is a term that is convertible with ‘being.’ Hence, goodness is a necessary attribute of God, because ‘God’ is defined as ‘subsistent Being itself’ (ipsum esse subsistens).
When we speak of specific beings, however, their good is what is essential to their specific being. In this second sense, ‘good’ is a thing’s final cause, because a thing’s final cause is first and foremost its own perfection. For example, the good of a man is to be a perfect man; hence a good man more fully realizes his humanity than a man who is less good.
There is a third sense of ‘good,’ which is participatory good, and is a kind of relation between the first and second senses. Specific beings participate in Being by means of their final cause. For example, a man exists as a man, so the more perfect a man he is, the more fully he participates in Being. Therefore, these three senses of ‘good’ are really three aspects of the same thing, which is Being: The Good is Being itself, which is also the good of the creature, and which the creature attains by its own perfection.
Thomas’ argument observes that even irrational beings pursue and attain their own good. If the movement of things toward their end cannot be attributed to a deliberation on their own part, then it must be attributed to some other principle. The ultimate governing principle of this movement is called God.

Good, Evil, and Omnipotence
We now have two competing arguments, one positing that the existence of evil precludes the existence of God, the other positing that the existence and pursuit of the good requires God’s existence. As Mackie’s argument rests on implicit notions of evil, free will, and omnipotence, we will consider how Thomas understands those same notions. Whether the notions as explained by Thomas can overcome the problems outlined by Mackie will help determine the efficacy of both arguments.
St. Thomas defines ‘Omnipotence’ as “unlimited power,” but a thing can be limited in two ways; namely, by privation and by negation. A thing without limit according to privation is deprived of the limits which it should have by nature. Only mathematical concepts can be unlimited in this way. That which has no limit according to negation cannot have a limit, and only God can be unlimited in this way. In other words, because God is Being, there is nothing in which He is not.
Furthermore, God is pure Act, so there is no imperfection in God and no potency that is not already actualized. With such an understanding of God, we refer to the principle agere sequitur esse (act follows being) and conclude that, because God is ipsum esse subsistens, His power necessarily pervades and contains all existence. Furthermore, this power has both an extension and an intensity which is unlimited by God’s nature. However, His power is more or less efficacious according to the reception of the thing in which He acts.
God’s power has a limited effect in the receiver because of a limit of nature or of disposition. As noted above, specific things participate in being according to their specific natures. Hence, God’s power is manifest in each thing according to the limits of its nature. For example, a tree’s being is not boundless, despite having received it from God, but its being is limited specifically by its being a tree.
The second limit of God’s effect is a thing’s disposition. In a thing considered by itself, there are two powers at work; the power of God by which a thing exists, and the power of the thing’s nature by which it participates in existence. But some other power may corrupt the nature of the thing itself. For example, a tree may be eaten by termites, in which case its subsequent imperfection hinders the effects of God’s power according to its nature.
Because a thing participates in being according to its nature, and the perfection of a thing’s nature is its good, the limit of God’s power according to a thing’s disposition is evil. Hence, evil is defined as privatio boni (the privation of good), and every privation of good is ultimately a privation of being and a limit to the effect of God’s power.
Evil, thus defined, can only be parasitic on the good: It is not directly opposed to the good as a competing power, but is merely a corruption or deficiency in an essentially good nature. Even if one were to point to tangible “phenomenological” evils such as pain or cruelty as evidence that evil is not merely a privation, careful analysis of the evils in question nevertheless reveal some kind of privation. For example, pain is felt in response to some stimulus: If one breaks his foot, he will feel an intense pain. But it would be worse in such a case not to feel pain, otherwise he would not be aware of the severity of his injury. His injury itself is a privation: The integrity and proper function of his foot are lost.
We likewise discover privation in considering second order evils. For example, what we call cruelty is deliberately and unnecessarily causing pain in another. It would seem that a man’s cruelty is a positive evil, because his actions are explicitly and immediately experienced as evil. However, the agent of cruelty does not choose to be cruel for the sake of evil itself, but because he sees in it some apparent good which he desires, such as vengeance or obedience or pleasure.
In every example of evil thus far, we come across a common theme: in every instance of evil, we see not only a parasitic relation to the good, but a derivation of good (real or at least attempted) from evil. The corruption of a tree by termites is good for termites; pain that is a proper response to injury is good; and the man who resorts to cruelty does so out of desire for some good.
Of course, not every good which arises from the corruption of some other good is necessarily greater. If one breaks his own foot to produce the good of a properly responsive pain, he does not better his situation. Nevertheless, it is due to the relation between good and evil that it is at least possible for the presence of evil to give rise to more good than if there were no evil at all. That good is usually produced from evil is especially evident with regard to the order of nature, as St. Thomas says:

Corruption and defects in natural things are said to be contrary to some particular nature; yet they are in keeping with the plan of universal nature; inasmuch as the defect in one thing yields to the good of another, or even to the universal good: for the corruption of one is the generation of another, and through this it is that a species is kept in existence. Since God, then, provides universally for all being, it belongs to His providence to permit certain defects in particular effects, that the perfect good of the universe may not be hindered, for if all evil were prevented, much good would be absent from the universe. A lion would cease to live, if there were no slaying of animals; and there would be no patience of martyrs if there were no tyrannical persecution (ST Ia, q.22, a.2, ad 2).

Therefore, it is not merely possible, but probable that God allows defects in nature so as to multiply good, as the order of nature suggests.
Though “natural” evil may be accounted for by divine providence, there is still the problem of free will as it relates to God’s omnipotence. However, most of Mackie’s contentions about free will are solved by considering what is meant by “free will.” St. Thomas explains how a will is considered free as follows:

Man acts from judgment, because by his apprehensive power he judges that something should be avoided or sought. But because this judgment, in the case of some particular act, is not from a natural instinct, but from some act of comparison in the reason, therefore he acts from free judgment and retains the power of being inclined to various things. For reason in contingent matters may follow opposite courses, as we see in dialectic syllogisms and rhetorical arguments. Now particular operations are contingent, and therefore in such matters the judgment of reason may follow opposite courses, and is not determinate to one. And forasmuch as man is rational is it necessary that man have a free-will (ST Ia, q.83, a.1).

In other words, the will is free when it is determined by reason. Therefore, it may be said that the will is less free insofar as it is affected by a corruption of reason. Furthermore, the use of reason pertains to man’s nature, which is none other than man’s participation in being. Therefore, free will is itself a good insofar as it is essential to man.
If free will is good insofar as it is free, then the presence of evil is not a prerequisite of freedom. It would then follow, according to Mackie, that the primary cause of evil is not human free will, but God. And if God is the primary cause of evil, then God himself cannot be completely good.
However, evil is merely a defect of nature, and has itself no nature or substance. Therefore, evil can only be caused accidentally. Furthermore, a defect can be caused accidentally in two ways; in form and in action. A defect in form results from the agency of some good, such as when termites, in pursuit of their own perfection, destroy the form of a tree. A defect in action results from a deficiency in the agent, such as when a man burns his meal out of ignorance.
Therefore, we may say that God causes certain formal defects accidentally (such as the corruption of things in the order of nature) but, in so doing, we still must maintain that God is absolute Good. A deficiency in action, however, can only be attributed to a being which is capable of corruption, such as man. So, evil which is found in nature as defect or corruption may be attributed to God, who orders corruptible things for the greater good of the whole. But evil that results from a corrupt will can only be attributed to man.
The final contention which Mackie raises is that there is no suitable answer to whether God can create a free will which He cannot control. Such a contention can only be made by equivocating God’s will with the power of created will. Man’s freedom is none other than the determination of his will by his own reason, which is itself a participation in God’s will. Therefore, man’s very nature is an expression of the will of God, Who is its author; and the free act of the will, which follows from man’s nature, is only possible as a participation in God’s will. Were God to override a man’s will, as it were, it would not take the form of violence, but would illumine and strengthen man’s reason and deliberation.
We may conclude then that the first premise of Mackie’s argument is false. If God is both omnipotent and absolutely good, He would allow evil to exist, provided that it result in greater good. Though there is evident evil in the world, it is yet possible for an omnipotent and absolutely good God to allow evil. Moreover, the possibility of bringing greater good out of evil serves as a kind of supplement to the “fifth way”: Not only is the nature of each particular thing ordered to its own good, but even the corruption of particular things may redound to the greater good of the whole order of nature.

Bibliography
Feser, Edward. Five Proofs of the Existence of God. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2017.
Mackie, J. L. “Evil and Omnipotence.” In Philosophy of Religion; Selected Readings, ed. Michael Peterson,William Hasker, Bruce Reichenbach, and David Basinger, 304-314. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007.
Thomas Aquinas. Quaestiones Disputate De Potentia Dei. q. 1, a. 2, trans. English Dominican Fathers. Westminster, MD: Newman Press, 1952. At https://dhspriory.org/thomas/QDdePotentia1.htm#1:2
Thomas Aquinas. Summa Theologiae. trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province. Benziger bros., 1947. At https://dhspriory.org/thomas/summa/index.html.