The “bad” angels rebelled because they were being demoted, to serve man.
In his 1948
Life article “The Devil”
books.google.com/books?id=skgEAAAAMBAJ&pg=PA77&lpg=PA77&dq=the+devil+%2B+whittaker+chamber+%2B+life&source=bl&ots=E7TMGQ9xOR&sig=enNJ5I4W-hh1Vjf7F1ufbC6Dvuc&hl=en&sa=X&ei=TXybUJOcIeSn0AGjp4HYDw&sqi=2&ved=0CDwQ6AEwAw#v=onepage&q&f=false) Whittaker Chambers overhears a conversation between the Devil and a Pessimist. Part of it stood out as relevant to the subject of this thread:
“Just what do you get out of it?” asked the pessimist.
“My friend,” said Satan, “you do not understand the Devil’s secret. But since shamelessness is part of my pathos, there is no reason why I should not tell you. The Devil is sterile. I possess the will to create (hence my pride), but I am incapable of creating (hence my envy). And with an envy raised to such power as immortal minds can feel, I hate the Creator and His Creation. My greatest masterpiece is never more than a perversion - an ingenious disordering of Another’s grand design, a perversion of order into chaos, of life into death.”
“Why?” asked the pessimist.
“If I knew the answer to that one,” said Satan, “perhaps I should not be the Devil. Perhaps it is simply, as every craftsman knows, that nothing enduring, great or small, can ever be created without love. But I am as incapable of love as I am of goodness. I am as insensitive to either as a dead hand is to a needle thrust through it.”…
…The Devil’s voice grew less harsh and he dropped his hand to his side in a gesture of weariness. “Goodness,” he said, “is a perpetual benediction, the seed within the minute husk which is the promise of the summer, the unmultiplied image of the harvest. Not to know goodness is not to understand creation. In no way is my mark more clearly on the modern world than in the death of the creative imagination.”
“And yet it is at this very point that man, the monstrous midget, still has the edge on the Devil: he suffers. For at the heart of all human suffering is the anguish of the chance that that creative seed of goodness, that little flash of inward light, however brief, may not perpetuate itself, that a man can leave this life, this light, without communicating that one cell of himself which is real. Not one man, however base, quite lacks the capacity for this specific suffering, which is the seal of his divine commitment - this suffering which I cannot feel because of that light which in me is dark. Intellectually I can understand it since, by my origin, I share the intellect of angels. But I cannot feel it or I would not be the Devil. That is the source of my frustration and root of my rage against the breed. That is why I shall never cease working to entangle man in evil until the world becomes one universal graveyard whose lifeless peace is broken only by my shriek of triumph as I plunge into a deeper pit than Hell. For only One knows better than I that should I succeed in making man destroy himself, I will destroy myself with him, having destroyed my function. It still lies with man to make the choice (after all, the filthy beetles have free will): a skeleton beside a broken wall on a dead planet purged of all suffering because purged of all life; or Him, with all that that entails.”