The Calculus of Ethics

Means and Ends Both Matter

Is there a calculus of ethics? Is there a method or system of calculation or reasoning that can help us to arrive at an ethical choice? Does the method itself influence the decision and/or validate the results? Is the process even all that important? 

The foundational text for Western ethical thinking is given to us by the Apostle in Romans 3:8: “And why not say (as we are slanderously reported and as some claim that we say), ‘Let us do evil that good may come?’ Their condemnation is just.” Certainly, the people referred to here as “some” are condemned for falsely attributing this statement to Paul. I don’t believe, however, that this is the main point. They are emphatically condemned for the idea that evil can have a place in bringing about good, and that it can play a part in any ethical system of reasoning. In this verse, we find the definitive statement concerning the calculus of ethics. We must consider not only the desired end but the means to get there, not only the destination but the road traveled. Both must be good. I would observe that the emphasis in this verse is on the latter, on the road traveled, on the method(s) employed to obtain the objective. 

Even though the emphasis here is on the means to an end, I would like to say just a few words about the outcome. We can rightly conclude that even the good that may result is not really good unless the means to obtain it are ethical as well. Any outcome arrived at through unethical means must be condemned. It is built on a cracked foundation that will ultimately fail. In such a case, a false assumption has been used, which will invalidate the result. As in a complex math problem, a single incorrect assumption will be carried through from beginning to end, ending in failure. You may get partial credit as a math student, but if you make the same mistake while constructing a bridge, it may be catastrophic. No partial credit here. It may even appear good at the present until an earthquake brings the bridge down. After the postmortem you find the mistake in your seismic stress calculation. Had you not made this error, the bridge would still be standing. Eventually all things will come to light, revealed for what they truly are (1 Cor 3:12 ff). God, of course, works all things for good for those who love him and are called according to His purpose (Rom 8:28). But using this verse as justification to employ unethical means is to pervert its meaning. Clearly, the ethical calculus for a Christian is different. We cannot put the blinders on and only look at the results.

For many people, if not the majority, the desired outcome is first in the calculus of ethics, even sometimes to the exclusion of the means. There are perhaps many reasons for this. Often, the means are clouded in sophistry, euphemisms, and specious argumentation to make them appear good. It is difficult to see through the fog. But I think for most, it is easy to ignore the means when confronted with the potential for suffering. The avoidance of suffering factors most heavily into our calculation. We can use this as justification for virtually any ethical decision, whether it affects society as a whole or me individually. My ethical calculus must be wrong if there is suffering involved. The extreme example par excellence of this is the euthanasia debate. Suffering is the overriding factor. Murder doesn’t even enter into the calculus. Proponents of euthanasia will do everything possible to avoid suffering when making a choice. The equation is so heavily weighted that we no longer consider the means. It is like a chemical reaction balanced to go only in one direction. It supplants all other considerations. 

We must also accurately assess suffering. Is it real or imagined, or perhaps not really that significant in the larger picture? Consider the thinking of my three boys during their combat infantry tours in Afghanistan and Iraq. Their decision-making process was distilled into one overriding question: Will I die as a result of this choice? Everything else pales in comparison. Yet even death is different for a Christian. To depart and be with Christ is very much better. 

Avoidance of all suffering would, of course, be contrary to the Christian worldview. If the author of our salvation was perfected through suffering (Hebrews 2:10), why should we think otherwise concerning our own lives? It’s not that we should seek suffering but rather acknowledge it as a potential cost/benefit in any ethical calculation. For most, the benefit is difficult to see.

Suffering can just as easily result from the consequences of sin as it can from making the right choice when faced with an ethical dilemma. In response to the consequences of sin, the path forward is the same: “Let us do evil that good may come? Your condemnation is just.” There is great potential to compound the consequences of sin if we ignore this. Every decision we make, even in response to our own sin and failure, must apply the calculus of ethics. You can never right a wrong with another wrong (Rom 12:21). 

Suffering as a result of an ethical decision is confirmation that we are, in fact, engaged in a war with evil. Why else would I suffer when I do the right thing? I think knowledge of this fact can do much to assuage our fears and lead us to that proven character spoken of in Romans chapter five: “[T]ribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance proven character; and proven character hope; and hope does not disappoint.” All these are desirable characteristics, and all are the products of suffering (in one form or another). Proven character even sways the ungodly. Suffering (tribulation) helps us to clearly focus on the fact that this is not our home. The word translated here as tribulation, as in the overwhelming majority of uses in the New Testament, refers to the present distress. It confirms that something is fundamentally wrong here, which then strengthens our faith in the necessity of a redeemer.

Now the actual calculus, the mathematics of suffering. Galileo wasn’t kidding when he called mathematics the language of God. How can it help us to look at suffering from the correct perspective? Consider 2 Cor 4:17: “For momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison.” I think this verse can be expressed as a limit:

lim f(x)= Age at Death / x

As x approaches infinity, the limit of this function is zero. Affliction (suffering) is but for a moment, even though it may not seem so, even if it lasts a lifetime. This limit is proof. As the denominator increases to infinity (think eternal life where there is no suffering; Rev 21:4) the limit of the function is zero. No matter how long your life, even if you lived to infinity minus one (if such a thing could be conceived), eternity, in comparison, makes it as nothing—zero, momentary! 

I think most people, even those outside of the Christian faith, agree in principle with the Apostle that the means to an end must be considered in determining our actions (notwithstanding my previous assertion). It is a principle of natural law acting on their conscience. But natural law typically can only express this principle negatively: “You shall not do to your neighbor what you would not do to yourself.” Inaction is legitimized, allowing a person to essentially retreat from the debate and feel justified in doing so. This is especially true when we forgo passing judgment on society at large or as justification to oppose laws that seemingly cause suffering or somehow restrict another person’s behavior.

For a Christian, there is much more. The second great commandment is subsumed in the means to an end—you shall love your neighbor as yourself. This is the positive expression of the natural law (much more difficult to follow). Our greatest sin is juxtaposed with our greatest duty in order to highlight for us the radical nature of the command. Love for another should be as great as love for myself (which in our culture typically becomes a vice). Only in Christian ethics do I trade places with someone and then judge whether the moral treatment that passes between them and me is just (Jonathan Edwards, The Nature of True Virtue). This keeps a person from ignoring the road traveled. 

Most often we cannot win any ethical debate until the kindness of God leads a person to repentance, especially if suffering is involved. However, the law is written on their hearts. You must work to extract it. But when you concede in any ethical debate to the primacy of suffering as the determinative factor, it is analogous to trying to prove that God exists in a debate with an unbeliever (and hoping he will believe as a result). You are conceding ground to him before the debate even begins. You essentially agree that there can be no purpose in suffering. You are muddying the waters, so to speak. Rather, you should enter both debates with the presuppositions of Psalm 19 and Romans 1. God has made himself known. You do not need to prove it. They are without excuse. His law has universal validity. Then, you can be confident that your words have power. Remember the first words out of the mouth of Jesus, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe the Gospel (Mark 1:15).” You may not win, but you must remember that God “always leads us in triumph in Christ (2 Cor 2:14). His word will not return to him void. It will accomplish His purpose. It will be the salt rubbed in the wound, or the spice that brings out the true flavor. And as Paul says, who is adequate for these things? Hopefully, God will use the former to lead to the latter. 

The moral law (i.e., the Ten Commandments) is the only statement of law that has survived from antiquity through the ages. This should bolster our faith and confirm its universal application to humanity. I think it can be most effectively employed in any ethical debate by a laser focus on the means to an end and its compliance, or lack thereof, with the moral law. But ultimately, without acknowledgment of the preamble to the moral law, there can be no repentance. It is a moral standard for sure, but just one of many. Typically, in our time, “my truth” will easily trump it. But a desire to follow the law in gratitude to God is what we are after. Not to get too far off the subject, but following the law is true freedom, not some unwanted constraint. As Russell Kirk noted in The Roots of American Order, “They are liberating rules that enable a people to diminish the tyranny of sin; that teach a people how to live with one another ( i.e., ethics—me) and in relation to God.”

Finally, consider again any outcome obtained through unethical means, and be prepared to expose the sophistry supporting it. For example, consider the life of a child in exchange for some supposed benefit, whatever form “the good” may take. It will never be truly good. They will never truly understand what Paul means when speaking of Timothy, his beloved son: “He served with me in the furtherance of the Gospel like a child serving his father.” They will never experience the awe that a little boy has for his father or the absolute joy when your son reaches out to hold your hand, or in the closing days of your life when no one cares for you. They will have, in fact, missed life. Recall from above the foundation upholding your choice was cracked. It will crumble. God is not mocked, though every man be a liar.

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