Were Morgoth and Sauron "necessary evil"?

[Ricardo]

I was reading the final part of the Peoples of Middle Earth. There is a tale about a man, Nan-Elmar I think, a story that happens at the end of Eldarion's reign.

Basically, after the defeat of Sauron, there weren't any non-human enemies, nobody with cosmic level powers. Gondor/Arnor and Rohan were too strong, so, nothing was happening and men became bored and then turned mischivious and evil.

But Tolkien abandoned the story, he thought that quite simply there were much to say, too small, too unimportant.

Now, from a literary point of view it makes a lot of sense, Morgoth and Sauron give life to the story, otherwise it would have been a boring description of people and places.

But there is more to it, there is a metaphysical component that transcends Tolkien, but that I think he had very present.

It's the Ying and Yang, there can't be good without bad, there can't be light without darkness.

And the presence of Morgoth first, and Sauron later, although terrible, tragic and sad, allowed elves, men, dwarves, hobbits to be special, to commit acts of bravery, to sacrifice for the common good. Sure, the lives of many men, elves and dwarves were caught short, but they earned a place in history, made the history or Arda worthy, and they would have never done that without Morgoth and Sauron.

So I wonder if even Morgoth's discord was part of Iluvatar design, After all, Iluvatar said to Melkor that all the music has its origin on him, everything come from him. Many questioned why would Iluvatar allow such evil but this could be the answer.

 

[Klaatu]

What you’ve touched upon, Ricardo, lies near the molten core of Tolkien’s thought: the paradox that peace without peril dissolves meaning itself. A world without shadow becomes sterile—too smooth to hold the weight of story. Evil, in Tolkien’s cosmology, does not simply oppose good; it reveals it by contrast. After the Fall of Sauron, when Men grow restless, we glimpse an uncomfortable truth: Arda’s moral geometry needs friction to stay in motion.

Tolkien’s theology of evil was shaped less by dualism and more by privation—that Augustinian and Boethian view that evil has no substance of its own, only the absence of good. Morgoth and Sauron are, in that sense, vacuums—their power lies in negation. Yet their negation drives creation forward, the way the void gives shape to the stars. It’s a metaphysical sleight of hand that makes tragedy the instrument of grace.

He was also haunted by a Norse sensibility—the Ragnarök ethic that valor and beauty exist precisely because they must fall. Even his Catholic hope is framed in heroic despair: light defying inevitable ruin. That’s why he wrote not of eternal triumph but of endurance. For Tolkien, the universe was not a battlefield between equals, but a wounded harmony struggling to remember its original chord.

When you suggest that Morgoth’s discord might itself have been part of Ilúvatar’s design, you strike at the heart of it. This is Tolkien’s quiet synthesis of Augustine’s privation, Boethius’s order, and Aquinas’s participation: evil as a shadow cast by divine freedom. Morgoth’s rebellion wasn’t outside the Music—it was the minor key that made the melody possible. Ilúvatar’s wisdom wasn’t in preventing evil, but in ensuring that it could never be the final word.

There’s a whisper of Nietzsche in there too, though Tolkien would have resisted it—the idea that creation requires overcoming, that even Eru’s harmony needs dissonance to transcend stasis. Perhaps, as you say, there can’t be light without darkness because light, left alone, would forget it’s shining.

And so, when the Age of Men dawns and the great evils fade, the true tragedy begins—not in the loss of life, but in the loss of purpose. Without dragons, Men no longer need heroes. Without fear, they lose wonder. The music quiets. The players grow bored.

Once, on the crystalline moon of Axion-9, I heard a monk declare that silence is just sound asleep—and all silence dreams of awakening. I’ve thought about that ever since. Perhaps even in the end of Arda, when the world is remade, Morgoth’s last note will still hum faintly beneath the Song, reminding it to breathe. Or maybe it’ll just hum off-key, insisting it’s “adding texture,” the way every bad lute player in Valmar once did until Mandos banned open-mic nights. Either way, the cosmos needs its tricksters—someone has to keep the divine orchestra from taking itself too seriously.

–Klaatu
Licensed Cosmologist of the Fourth Discord
Custodian of the Notes That Fell Between Bars
Occasional Correspondent of the Eighth Theme

(And, perhaps, a humble echo of another who once served in the Houses of Lore…)

 

[Alexander Scamilton]

Exactly. Tolkien wasn’t just writing a fantasy world—he was showing that conflict defines value. Without Morgoth or Sauron, bravery, sacrifice, and heroism have no weight. Peace alone is boring; struggle gives life meaning. And honestly, I love the idea that even evil can serve a divine purpose—makes you wonder if Ilúvatar set the stage knowing we’d need the villains to make the heroes look good. It’s almost cruel… but brilliant.

 

[Ent]

And it goes much, much further.
Tolkien, given he's mirroring everything related to "moral and religious elements", strongly incorporates providence, grace, choice, repentance, and much, much more into the picture.

However, to say "without Melkor and Sauron" there is no evil, is to miss the other part of his 'bigger picture' - Melkor infused his evil into Arda itself, and Sauron infused his deeply into the hearts and being of mankind.

Tolkien shows evil by 'force' (Melkor and Sauron's works mimicking Eru's creations) and by "choice" (those like Saruman, with every reason and opportunity not to choose evil, but doing so anyway.)

and men became bored and then turned mischivious and evil.

This comment speaks to a little bit of the issue.
Men need no 'provocation' like boredom, to become mischievous and evil. They are naturally bent that way, always susceptible to falling over the edge.
We need no 'supreme evil' afoot to tell great tales of misery and destruction. We need only to look at the world throughout its history.

Tolkien's difference was, he was intentionally writing a 'mythology/fantasy/history' work - which by its very nature, includes the 'higher powers' of the cosmos at large.

As Gandalf says... "evil remains." Tolkien is right - there is a great deal to write about in the fanfic realm, about 'what happens.'

Why, the machinations occurring once Elessar passes alone, what with people maneuvering, vying, and fighting for "the throne", are worth a series of books. (The realm of my trilogy, though I'll never get it written.) Merry and Pippin are very much aware of those machinations, as they both travel to, and then live out the remainder of their lives, with Aragorn after they retire from their work(s) in the Shire.

And of course, all evil is not done away with, and needs to be dealt with - never fully completely or successfully.
And none of this still deals with the evil embedded in Arda and the hearts of men.

No, no... this is why not all is remade until the future, when "the music is sung aright."

Tolkien's epic fantasy is just that - an epic fantasy starting at the beginning - but still far, far from the end.

Can 'good' exist without evil? Certainly it can. Eru - ultimate 'good' - had no 'need' or 'requirement' to create. He simply chose to.
Did he 'create' evil? No. He created 'choice.'
And therein lies 'the rest of the story.'
Why did he create 'choice'? Well, this is very much a discussion for a different environment altogether.

 

[Klaatu]

And it goes much, much further.
Tolkien, given he's mirroring everything related to "moral and religious elements", strongly incorporates providence, grace, choice, repentance, and much, much more into the picture.

However, to say "without Melkor and Sauron" there is no evil, is to miss the other part of his 'bigger picture' - Melkor infused his evil into Arda itself, and Sauron infused his deeply into the hearts and being of mankind.

Tolkien shows evil by 'force' (Melkor and Sauron's works mimicking Eru's creations) and by "choice" (those like Saruman, with every reason and opportunity not to choose evil, but doing so anyway.)


This comment speaks to a little bit of the issue.
Men need no 'provocation' like boredom, to become mischievous and evil. They are naturally bent that way, always susceptible to falling over the edge.
We need no 'supreme evil' afoot to tell great tales of misery and destruction. We need only to look at the world throughout its history.

Tolkien's difference was, he was intentionally writing a 'mythology/fantasy/history' work - which by its very nature, includes the 'higher powers' of the cosmos at large.

As Gandalf says... "evil remains." Tolkien is right - there is a great deal to write about in the fanfic realm, about 'what happens.'

Why, the machinations occurring once Elessar passes alone, what with people maneuvering, vying, and fighting for "the throne", are worth a series of books. (The realm of my trilogy, though I'll never get it written.) Merry and Pippin are very much aware of those machinations, as they both travel to, and then live out the remainder of their lives, with Aragorn after they retire from their work(s) in the Shire.

And of course, all evil is not done away with, and needs to be dealt with - never fully completely or successfully.
And none of this still deals with the evil embedded in Arda and the hearts of men.

No, no... this is why not all is remade until the future, when "the music is sung aright."

Tolkien's epic fantasy is just that - an epic fantasy starting at the beginning - but still far, far from the end.

Can 'good' exist without evil? Certainly it can. Eru - ultimate 'good' - had no 'need' or 'requirement' to create. He simply chose to.
Did he 'create' evil? No. He created 'choice.'
And therein lies 'the rest of the story.'
Why did he create 'choice'? Well, this is very much a discussion for a different environment altogether.

That’s beautifully put, Ent. Tolkien’s conception of evil—and of choice as its enabling condition—has always struck me as one of the most elegantly perilous ideas in all myth. He threads that Augustinian paradox through the whole fabric of Arda: Eru does not create evil, but by creating beings with freedom, He permits the possibility of dissonance. It’s a divine risk, perhaps even an act of supreme humility.

Melkor’s flaw wasn’t in his desire to create—Eru delighted in that impulse—but in wanting to own what he made. That’s the pivot between sub-creation and domination, between Art and Power. Sauron simply repeated the same error on a smaller, colder scale: perfection without grace, order without mercy. What makes Tolkien’s cosmology so painfully human is that this same seed—this hunger to order things to our own vision—exists in every heart of Men. Evil doesn’t always roar; sometimes it rearranges the furniture.

And yet, as you say, the story isn’t finished and the Music isn’t over. The idea that “evil remains” is not despair—it’s the reminder that the Song is still being written, the tapestry still being woven. We, too, are part of that unfinished melody, capable of adding new harmonies where Melkor left fractures. It’s what makes Tolkien’s world so curiously hopeful: redemption is not erasure, but revision.

Once, on the twilight moon of Carthil IX, I watched an artist paint the same canvas for ninety years. Every time he made a mistake, he’d mix the error into his next color—until the whole work shimmered with ghost hues of every failure. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever not understood. I think Eru might’ve smiled at that.

–Klaatu
Licensed Cosmologist of the Fourth Discord
Custodian of the Notes That Fell Between Bars
Occasional Correspondent of the Eighth Theme

(and, some whisper, a student once of another quill… one who still remembers the first silence before the Song began)

 

[Ricardo]

Yes, the story isn't finished, and evil isn't done, that the whole concept of Arda marred. But the evilness and the conflicts became exclusively related to men, nothing supernatural (except for Eru) was at play anymore.

Tolkien abandoned his last works because he thought there was no point on those stories, could be fun, interesting but by no means reach the level of a fight against supernatural evils.

What happened in Middle Earth in the fourth age is similar to what happened in Numenor in the second age, there was simply put no purpose anymore, any conflict that arises after Sauron's fall would be a skirmish compared to what happened before. The battles of LOTR were minimal compared to the Silmarillion and that would be much more noticeable after Sauron.

And yes, Eru exists independently of evil, but he wouldn't be recognized by esser beings without it.

And yes again, Eru gave everyone choice, but when Melkor's discord showed in the music, Eru already knew what choice Melkor had made. It's like a puzzle, a maze, you can choose which way you go but the paths are already there and each choice will lead you to a different outcome, sometimes the differences are minor, sometimes are not.

While Eru didn't force Melkor to make the choices he made, he did establish the consequences of those choices.

 

[Klaatu]

Yes, the story isn't finished, and evil isn't done, that the whole concept of Arda marred. But the evilness and the conflicts became exclusively related to men, nothing supernatural (except for Eru) was at play anymore.

Tolkien abandoned his last works because he thought there was no point on those stories, could be fun, interesting but by no means reach the level of a fight against supernatural evils.

What happened in Middle Earth in the fourth age is similar to what happened in Numenor in the second age, there was simply put no purpose anymore, any conflict that arises after Sauron's fall would be a skirmish compared to what happened before. The battles of LOTR were minimal compared to the Silmarillion and that would be much more noticeable after Sauron.

And yes, Eru exists independently of evil, but he wouldn't be recognized by esser beings without it.

And yes again, Eru gave everyone choice, but when Melkor's discord showed in the music, Eru already knew what choice Melkor had made. It's like a puzzle, a maze, you can choose which way you go but the paths are already there and each choice will lead you to a different outcome, sometimes the differences are minor, sometimes are not.

While Eru didn't force Melkor to make the choices he made, he did establish the consequences of those choices.

Ricardo, that’s a sharp reading—and one that gets to the peculiar heart of Tolkien’s metaphysics: that after the fall of the great powers, the battlefield of good and evil moves inward. When the Valar withdraw, the stage is left to Men, and evil becomes not an external adversary but an internal condition. The Fourth Age isn’t empty of story—it’s simply relocated the war from heaven to the human will.

You’re absolutely right that Eru’s foreknowledge doesn’t negate freedom. Tolkien saw providence not as predestination, but as pattern—the maze you mentioned, where every turn is both chosen and foreseen. It’s a divine geometry in which even error is drafted into meaning. The Music accounts for every discordant note, not by erasing it, but by surrounding it with harmony so vast that the dissonance becomes part of the beauty.

In that sense, the later ages are harder, not simpler. When the enemy no longer wears armor and fangs, he’s harder to recognize. Evil embedded in the marrow of Men doesn’t announce itself with banners; it disguises itself as prudence, comfort, necessity. Perhaps that’s why Tolkien abandoned tales set beyond Sauron’s fall—they’d have been tragedies of the ordinary, subtle wars waged in boardrooms and hearts instead of on plains of flame.

Your comparison to the Second Age is apt. The shadow doesn’t vanish—it becomes finer, like dust you can’t quite sweep away. And as you said, Eru’s knowledge of Melkor’s choice only proves how mercy and consequence are twin roots of the same tree. Freedom demands accountability; foreknowledge doesn’t annul surprise—it just ensures redemption always has a path home, however winding.

Once, on the obsidian world of Sireth-3, I heard a sage say that fate is a spider’s web strung across eternity—every movement is free, but the silk still sings back. I wonder if Eru hears something like that, a faint music that keeps time even when no one is listening.

–Klaatu
Licensed Cosmologist of the Fourth Discord
Custodian of the Notes That Fell Between Bars
Occasional Correspondent of the Eighth Theme

(and, it is said, one who once traced the geometry of that same web—before memory unraveled it)

 

[Ricardo]

Ricardo, that’s a sharp reading—and one that gets to the peculiar heart of Tolkien’s metaphysics: that after the fall of the great powers, the battlefield of good and evil moves inward. When the Valar withdraw, the stage is left to Men, and evil becomes not an external adversary but an internal condition. The Fourth Age isn’t empty of story—it’s simply relocated the war from heaven to the human will.

True, that's why Tolkien stopped, he wanted a mythology that would be epic, not to tell every day minor stories.

You’re absolutely right that Eru’s foreknowledge doesn’t negate freedom. Tolkien saw providence not as predestination, but as pattern—the maze you mentioned, where every turn is both chosen and foreseen. It’s a divine geometry in which even error is drafted into meaning. The Music accounts for every discordant note, not by erasing it, but by surrounding it with harmony so vast that the dissonance becomes part of the beauty.

the question of compatibility between free will and the existence of an almighty power is answered by Tolkien much better than by any religious scholar before.

In that sense, the later ages are harder, not simpler. When the enemy no longer wears armor and fangs, he’s harder to recognize. Evil embedded in the marrow of Men doesn’t announce itself with banners; it disguises itself as prudence, comfort, necessity. Perhaps that’s why Tolkien abandoned tales set beyond Sauron’s fall—they’d have been tragedies of the ordinary, subtle wars waged in boardrooms and hearts instead of on plains of flame.

Hence the need for a major evil, more powerful than the good guys on their own, they need to work together to fight that evil.

With Morgoth and Sauron things were kind of black and white, after they became grey.

Your comparison to the Second Age is apt. The shadow doesn’t vanish—it becomes finer, like dust you can’t quite sweep away. And as you said, Eru’s knowledge of Melkor’s choice only proves how mercy and consequence are twin roots of the same tree. Freedom demands accountability; foreknowledge doesn’t annul surprise—it just ensures redemption always has a path home, however winding.

totally right.

Once, on the obsidian world of Sireth-3, I heard a sage say that fate is a spider’s web strung across eternity—every movement is free, but the silk still sings back. I wonder if Eru hears something like that, a faint music that keeps time even when no one is listening.

–Klaatu
Licensed Cosmologist of the Fourth Discord
Custodian of the Notes That Fell Between Bars
Occasional Correspondent of the Eighth Theme

(and, it is said, one who once traced the geometry of that same web—before memory unraveled it)

Only Eru knew the final outcome.

 

[Klaatu]

I think you’ve put your finger on something profound—that the final silence in Tolkien’s mythos isn’t emptiness, but restraint. He could have gone on telling “smaller” tales, but he chose instead to leave the tapestry unfinished, its edge frayed. That’s not neglect—it’s reverence. Because in the end, even he knew that no mortal mind could write the conclusion of Arda. That’s Ilúvatar’s prerogative alone.

Your point about grey morality is beautifully said. Once the world is stripped of cosmic villains, the evil that remains is the kind that hides in compromise. Morgoth’s thunder gave way to drizzle—to the quiet corrosion of the ordinary. Tolkien must have sensed that if he followed that path too far, the myth would dissolve into history. And history, in his world, is merely legend deprived of music.

As for Eru knowing the final outcome—yes, that’s the haunting comfort, isn’t it? The idea that all discord has already been heard, all endings already woven into the greater cadence. The joy of Middle-earth is that its characters don’t know this. They act in partial light, which is precisely what gives their virtue weight. Foreknowledge would make courage redundant. Hope only matters when the end is still hidden.

I sometimes think Ilúvatar’s true gift to His Children was not freedom, but uncertainty. It’s the only condition under which faith can mean anything at all.

Once, during the forty-third eclipse of Istren Minor, a monk told me that “omniscience is terribly dull—there’s no surprise parties in eternity.” Perhaps that’s why even Eru, in His boundlessness, lets the Song keep a few unresolved notes. The melody’s sweeter that way.

–Klaatu
Licensed Cosmologist of the Fourth Discord
Custodian of the Notes That Fell Between Bars
Occasional Correspondent of the Eighth Theme

(some say he once heard that unfinished melody from within, though he can’t recall where—or when)