At this point, we would have to make a distinction between agents and events. We would not be indignant with hurricanes, et al, because these are events that have no way of “knowing better” and therefore no possibility of having done differently. Moral agents rouse moral indignation precisely because they could have acted differently but didn’t. By proposing this correlation between events and agents, you seem to be surreptitiously implying that agents ought to be treated as events because they could not have acted differently. I would take exception with that as a libertarian regarding free will and moral agency. I am not convinced that Hitler should be merely seen as a natural disaster because his actions derived from a moral will not a causal chain of events.
I am glad my “natural disaster” comparison has stimulated some interesting discussion!
I think that this amoral orientation, which I am describing as Buddhist – but which could also be described as Epicurean – would say that, even with free will, there is no moral significance of an action in the Christian sense of the word (even though Buddhism, as I understand it, speaks of “morals” but in a non-Christian sense).
Take the example of someone who drinks too much wine. This is a vice, a potentially harmful and self-destructive one. Or, let’s take the further example of someone who eats too much chocolate. It may not be clear-cut to a Christian whether this vice is truly moral in significance, in the sense of being a sin for which forgiveness must be granted.
In other words, though free will is involved – one could drink less wine, or eat less chocolate – this still may be neither moral nor immoral, chalked up to a vice or even to mere personal weakness. Gluttony as sinful behavior complicates the analogy, but my point is that some decisions – even from a Christian perspective – are neither moral nor immoral, even as they are deemed unwise or imprudent, a “bad decision.” Having a calorie-laden dessert after a meal might be considered another example, or having one’s chicken sandwich fried instead of grilled (despite one’s having high cholesterol).
From this amoral perspective, the same would go for behavior that is
clearly immoral from a Christian perspective, such as murder. From a social perspective and the perspective of others, it is still poisonous, destructive behavior, indeed comparable to a “social calamity.” It’s a poison in the way that alcohol or the tar from cigarettes are poisons; or, in the way that strychnine is a poison. That behaving in this “calamitous” way was freely chosen by the agent committing the murder, doesn’t change the fact that a murderer is a socially toxic agent.
One could still argue that the murderer serves his own interests, even as he harms others – in other words, what is poison for society is nourishment to himself – though the Buddhist (and Epicurean) would go further by arguing that the murderer harms himself, as well. They mean this in the ultimate sense that, until an individual learns to relate to others with compassion and understanding, true joy and inner peace will be unattainable (which a Christian would probably agree with, as “counterfeit joy” is not joy, and authentic joy can never be part of the wages of sin). So they would say that harming others largely is fueled by ignorance, just as it would be ignorant to put one’s hand in the fire and expect not to get burned; an ignorance of cause and effect.
It’s true that moral indignation in the sense of anger – even loathing – is indeed dissociable from moral judgment in general. But this amoral understanding of human behavior goes further and describes an immoral choice as a poor and harmful choice – harmful to others, and ultimately harmful to self.
You could say that this amoral perspective, which seeks to replace good behavior with wise, prudent, or sensible behavior, is not so far from Jesus’ comment, “forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.” From the perspective of an Epicurean (or, perhaps, a Buddhist) one does wrong out of weakness (like eating too much chocolate) or out of ignorance (thinking that one can play with fire without getting burned).
It’s important to point out, though, that the Epicurean’s or Buddhist’s definition of what constitutes wise, prudent, or sensible behavior is “super-subtle.” Indeed, wisdom goes beyond superficial appearances. Thus, Epicurus wrote, “It is better for you to be free of fear lying upon a bed of straw than to have a golden couch and a lavish table and be full of trouble.” Or Xenophon’s Socrates observed (paraphrasing), “how interesting that a typical person can tell you exactly what their land is worth, and exactly how much money they have, but cannot tell you how many friends they possess. If they were wise, they would understand that the latter is of infinitely more importance to happiness than the former, though it would seem as if they don’t truly believe this.”
Of course, a basic axiom is necessary to be able to reason about wisdom, and that is that wisdom is the means to “true happiness” or true fulfillment in life, and that true happiness or fulfillment is an intrinsically worthwhile goal. It’s taken as an existential given, as self-evident, though it is indeed an unprovable assumption (albeit all but universally shared by human beings, and perhaps by sentient beings in general). In its own way, though, a theistic morality that takes God as a fundamental axiom is still subject to uncertainty or disagreement over whether that axiom is provable, or is rather an article of faith.
Perhaps you enjoy being irritable? 
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