Chapter II – When Faith Kills Justice: The Invisible Tragedy of Believers

In this vast ocean of beliefs, every religion claims to hold the absolute truth. Its followers, convinced that they are the chosen ones, see as legitimate—or at least acceptable—the eternal condemnation of anyone who does not adhere to their faith. To them, this conviction is as obvious as the sun in the sky. Yet they know full well that other religions make the exact same claim, with the same confidence, and that people generally choose their religion in the same way—by inheriting it at birth. Despite this, they never question their own faith. They are content to look down on others, calling them absurd or blind. They elevate their own beliefs as a pinnacle of greatness and self-evidence, to the point of seeing non-adherence as a crime. And “crime” is an understatement. For a criminal risks prison or earthly punishment. Here, we are speaking of hell—and eternal hell—just for not believing in a system (because that’s all it is, a system, even if one religion were true).

That is, in essence, a faithful summary of the religious psychology of the masses.

Of course, we know that some religions do not have a concept of hell. But those tend to reserve their rewards for believers only. And if they did include hell, their followers would almost certainly accept it without hesitation. This is evidenced by the fact that, in religions where hell does exist, no one seems particularly disturbed by its presence. After all, for the average believer, the person who is “right” is simply the one lucky enough to be born into the “right” religion—or led to it by chance. And deep down, they know this. The vast majority of believers know perfectly well that if they end up in paradise with their fellow faithful while others are condemned to hell, it will be thanks to their “good star”—being born in the right place. And in their view, others should have searched for the truth, something they themselves never did, while fully aware of this fact. They know they didn’t search—because they believe they’ve already found the truth. And they know the others didn’t search either—because they too believe they have found it. Yet, in their mind, the others should not only have searched, but also succeeded, while they, the privileged ones, can afford not to seek anything and simply live their earthly lives fulfilling—more or less—their religious duties. Almost no believer is willing to apply to their own faith the same doubt they demand from others.

Such logic would be laughable even in a kindergarten, wouldn’t it?

Imagine a god declaring: “You, by sheer luck, are right. The others—hell!” And everyone replies in unison, “So be it!” This grotesque scene is not amusing—it is heartbreaking. Yet this is exactly how the vast majority of believers think.

Some may mention conversions as evidence of sincere truth-seeking. But such cases are exceedingly rare and often motivated by emotional, sentimental, or superficial reasons. Most people remain faithful to their original religion or to the one imposed on them by circumstances. Religions offer an “all-inclusive package”—dogmas, rituals, promises of reward, threats of punishment. And this total adherence often rests on a kind of voluntary ignorance. Most believers adopt a posture of passive acceptance, without questioning or even fully understanding what they claim to believe in.

Let it be clear: this book is not about religions, but about believers

No one can claim a religion is false simply because its followers are irrational or immoral. That is not the purpose of this text. Let that be said.

Let us proceed

This human tragedy is based on simple yet deeply rooted mechanisms. Believers convince themselves that they possess the truth and that others are in error. This conviction leads them to curse—or at least accept without flinching—the damnation of others. They see themselves as righteous not because they follow universal or even absolute principles (which is not the same thing at all—truth rarely lies where there is consensus or crowd), but because they conform to what they perceive as divine will. It doesn’t matter whether this will seems unjust or contradictory. Being just, to them, means being approved by the divine. Justice is reduced to blind obedience, stripped of all genuine ethical content. And this is all the more staggering when it concerns individuals otherwise devoted to good, justice, and ethics. It’s as if they die ethically within religion. These are people who can instantly detect good and evil, justice and injustice, truth and falsehood—until they step inside a religion. Then, suddenly, nothing. Perhaps not even themselves. Whatever the religion says becomes just.

In other words, religion—far from elevating—numbs even the noblest soul, persuading it to stop examining anything. It is an indictment of silent moral death, and within a traditional faith, it is beyond recovery.

Which brings us to the most important point

But what if the divine is, in fact, unjust? Or to put it differently: what if, to be truly just, one had to oppose God—or at least reflect, ask questions, and raise legitimate doubts? This hypothesis, so basic and vital, is almost never entertained. Because admitting it would mean recognizing that justice goes beyond mere submission to a higher power—that not everything superior is necessarily just (as if people truly knew what a god is, and what it ethically implies to be one). It would require a kind of moral courage that very few believers are prepared to face. They prefer to hide behind the argument of divine omnipotence and omniscience: “We are too insignificant to understand.” But in a world filled with hundreds of contradictory religions, that argument loses all force. A truly just God could never authorize such confusion or encourage real injustices—not to be confused with injustices from the perspective of social groups or consensus. Real ethics must be thought through, slowly, deeply, and without assumptions.

This is why religious pluralism is revealing

It prevents anyone from hiding behind a single religion to justify their injustices. Every believer, faced with this diversity, should understand that cursing others because of a different faith, for instance, is a major ethical error. Yet few take on that responsibility. They meekly accept what has been imposed upon them, without examining whether their faith truly makes them good or just. They prefer to believe that justice means conformity to doctrine—even when that doctrine contradicts the most fundamental principles of good and evil, which, I repeat, must be rethought from the ground up.

In summary

To be truly just, one must be willing to ask the most fundamental questions—even if they challenge the divine itself. Without this disposition, justice becomes nothing more than a mask for obedience. A truly just God would require the ability to question, not blind submission. Judging whether an act is just or unjust should depend not on the power or knowledge of the one committing it, but on its real consequences and underlying motives.

This human tragedy is not limited to believers. Atheist masses, often locked in total rejection, sometimes fall into similar traps—a simplistic denial of the religious without genuine ethical reflection. But here, the central issue remains the same: the demand for universal justice, which cannot be reduced to a question of faith or disbelief. Authentic justice requires that we transcend dogmas and examine imposed truths, whatever their origin.

Conclusion

This chapter does not seek to correct a doctrinal error or reform an excess. It targets the very core of the religious moral architecture, by raising the question most unthinkable for a sincere believer: “What if, to be just, one had to oppose God?” This question does not call for rebellion, as it might seem. On the contrary, it simply asks: what if you were in a false religion? The most logical path for a just mind, when in doubt, is first to find true ethics, to abide by it oneself—even if one’s faith commands otherwise—and then examine whether one’s religion also respects that true ethic. Otherwise, only three possibilities remain, none of them pleasant: either the religion is false, or its god or gods are unjust, or the believer has misdefined true ethics. But this path remains necessary. Because chance or birth should have no bearing in matters of such gravity. Even a child could deduce that.