Breaking the Eggs for the Omelette

If you want to make an omelette you have to break a few eggs.  So goes the shorthand for the ends justifying the means, which is one of our most persistent moral questions. Assuming we can agree that the ends are desirable (an essay in itself), is it acceptable to get there by any means necessary?  It’s a question that reflects the tension between consequentialist ethics (judging actions by their outcomes) and deontological approaches (evaluating actions based on their inherent rightness).

Camus and the Morality of "Les Justes"

Albert Camus explored this tension powerfully in his play "Les Justes" (The Just Assassins), which depicts Russian revolutionary terrorists planning to assassinate a Grand Duke in 1905. The play's central conflict emerges when the assassins must decide whether to throw a bomb that would kill not only their target but also his young niece and nephew who are unexpectedly travelling with him. One assassin, Kaliayev, refuses to throw the bomb when he sees the children, declaring, "I didn't sign on to kill children." His fellow revolutionaries are divided; some argue the children's deaths would be justified by the greater cause of liberation, while others in the group maintain that crossing this moral line would corrupt their revolutionary ideals.

Camus portrays the moral revolutionary's dilemma with nuance: the characters believe their cause is just, but struggle with how far they can go in its service before becoming the very oppressors they oppose. Through Kaliayev, Camus suggests a limit to "ends justify means" reasoning: some actions may so violate fundamental human dignity that they corrupt even the noblest ends. And if you do compromise your values so significantly to reach the end result, what chance that this result will be positive? A peaceful world constructed through acts of terror?  It seems unlikely. Yet the play offers no easy answers, as refusing to act has its own moral costs and Kaliayev dies without achieving the end he desires.

This fictional portrayal illuminates real historical dilemmas. Consider several examples where we might agree that the ends were positive but the means questionable:

The Allied bombing campaigns of World War II caused civilian casualties but contributed to ending a genocidal regime. Many now view these actions as tragic necessities, though debate continues about specific operations like Dresden. The urgency of stopping Nazi atrocities created a moral context where actions normally considered impermissible became, to many, reluctantly justified. But consider that view from the perspective of the innocents in Dresden and perhaps you might give pause – at least 25,000 people were killed as over a thousand heavy bombers of the Royal Air Force and the U.S. 8th Air Force struck the city.  Equally the bombs dropped on Japan brought peace, but unimaginable horror to the populations of Hiroshima and Nagasaki – 200,000 people are estimated to have died in 1945, not counting the later deaths from the after effects. 

Think about those numbers and look around you the next time you are in a football stadium or at a rock concert full of maybe 50,000 people. 

Come the Revolution! Televised or not….

We may be able to justify the war ending actions as they brought peace, but history also demonstrates the danger in "ends justify means" reasoning. Stalin's forced collectivisation killed millions while pursuing economic transformation. Colonial powers justified exploitation through "civilising missions." Mao’s great leap forward starved millions of Chinese in an effort to industrialise China.  The Khmer Rouge's atrocities began with utopian visions of agricultural reform and ended with the Killing Fields. In each case, noble-sounding ends were invoked to justify increasingly indefensible means.

Revolutionary movements throughout history have faced Camus' dilemma: how to create meaningful change without betraying their own moral principles and compromising the end result. Many began with genuine idealism only to find themselves gradually accepting increasingly questionable means to secure power or implement their vision. The French, Russian, and Chinese revolutions all followed this trajectory to varying degrees, raising the question of whether violent revolution can ever achieve its moral aims without corruption, as its values are compromised for the result.

What emerges from these examples is not that ends never justify means, nor that they always do, but rather several crucial insights:

Firstly, claims about future outcomes are often overconfident, while the immediate harm of questionable means is concrete and certain. The jam tomorrow may not come, but the suffering, oppression and killing today is a certainty. Secondly, the methods that violate fundamental human dignity tend to corrupt the ends themselves, changing what's actually achieved and giving space for tyrants to potentially emerge (Camus’ point in “Les Justes”). Finally, the judgement of whether ends justifymeans shifts dramatically across time and perspective.  I explored this a little in terms of the shifting sands of morality in an earlier article.

This suggests there exists a narrow range of circumstances where difficult means might be justified by truly essential ends, but such reasoning requires extraordinary humility, transparency, and willingness to be accountable for both the means employed and the actual (not just intended) outcomes. And given the uncertainty of the outcome, ensuring the means are just is surely the most sensible course?

The Iraq Paradox: Justice, Freedom, Loss of Security

Getting back to the more serious examples however, there are few more stark real world case studies that illustrate morality's inherent contradictions between ends and means than the 2003 Iraq War and its aftermath. The invasion embodied profound moral tensions between competing values, each legitimate, yet ultimately irreconcilable in terms of the aftermath of the war.

The war was justified partly on humanitarian grounds, removing a dictator who had committed human rights abuses against his own people. In addition, the dictator apparently threatened the world with weapons of mass destruction, the more James Bond argument.  This moral argument appealed to universal principles of justice and human dignity and positioned a future that suggested Iraq could be freed to permit a democratic future where its people could live in peace and security. Yet the subsequent occupation revealed the contradictions contained in imposing these values through military force. Around 13,000 Iraqis were killed in the initial conflict, most of them combatants (70% approx.).  In the turmoil of the years following their “freedom”, the numbers leapt and in contrast the subsequent insurgency and sectarian violence that followed Saddam's removal resulted in hundreds of thousands of additional deaths. And the weapons of mass destruction were never discovered……

The war disrupted established order, however flawed, and inadvertently created conditions where basic safety, itself a moral prerequisite, disappeared for millions. People who theoretically gained political freedom found themselves unable to walk safely to markets or schools. Justice pursued through military means created injustices of its own. If we were today to ask those who lived through the horrendous aftermath whether they preferred their freedom or the pre-war order and security, they might well choose the latter.

The Iraq case demonstrates how morality fragments when universal principles confront particular contexts and situations. Abstract values like freedom, justice, and safety prove difficult to reconcile and harmonise in practice. The moral equation changes dramatically depending on whether one prioritises short-term security, long-term democracy and freedom, regional stability, or universal human rights.

No simple utilitarian calculation could resolve these contradictions. The number of lives potentially saved or lost under different scenarios remains fundamentally unknowable. Moral reasoning reached its limits against reality's complexity.  The world is always messier than our politicians imagine.

So, what do we do? Take no action and allow the dictators to continue a corrupt regime which enslaves thousands and denies freedom to millions, but which also maintains security and order, or roll the dice and intervene?  At the very least we need to ensure there is a day 2 plan post the liberation once we have “democratised” the country in line with our western values. We should not allow ourselves the hubris of believing we can force the democratic end and think very carefully about the human cost of the “just” war we are about to pursue.

From Revolution to the Every Day: Joey, Seinfeld and the Bat Cave

Not all examples have such huge consequences thankfully. Popular culture has many takes on the means and ends.  In the Office, Tim’s elaborate pranks on Gareth are undoubtedly funny for anyone who has actually worked in an office. Tim regularly lies, schemes, and wastes company time to torment his colleague (my favourite is the stapler in the jelly), behaviour that would get most people fired. Yet we laugh because Gareth seems to deserve it, and Tim's end goal appears to be harmless fun (or survival in a soul-crushing workplace). The comedy works precisely because we accept that Gareth's insufferable personality justifies Tim's questionable means. 

Seinfeld built entire episodes around morally questionable schemes justified by trivial ends. Whether it's George pretending to be handicapped for a better parking spot, or Kramer's bizarre plots to avoid minor inconveniences, the show's humour often stems from watching characters employ wildly disproportionate means to achieve absurd goals. We laugh because the stakes are so low, yet the moral logic mirrors more serious dilemmas.

For a less cynical and even more popular example, take Friends, in which Joey dives to protect his beloved meatball sandwich rather than shielding his friend Ross when he hears a perceived gunshot (actually a car backfiring). When asked about it later, he admits, “What? It was a really good sandwich.” Ends justifying the means? Maybe. Or maybe just a man who loves his food and always seemed perpetually hungry. Either way, it illustrates that even in inoffensive sitcoms, people can justify ridiculous actions with questionable logic. (Just ask Ross and his "We were on a break" defence team!)

Even decades old popular culture grapples with this tension. Batman operates outside legal frameworks, using violence and intimidation to achieve his vision of justice in Gotham. Despite methods that would horrify us in reality, he's portrayed as heroic because his ends, protecting innocents, seem to justify his means. And of course, whenever he bashes a bad guy with his fists or batarang, his opponent is portrayed as clearly criminal, likely psychotic and in the midst of the crime itself. For all Batman’s efforts though, Gotham never actually becomes safer, suggesting perhaps that morally questionable methods undermine even noble goals. Or simply that without the incessant crime waves there might not be much of an ongoing story!

Outside of the comic book examples, we can probably all think of numerous small violations of our principles that we allow ourselves in order to achieve immediate benefits, without considering the cumulative effect on trust, character, or the kind of society we're creating through these daily choices. We explored this fairly comprehensively in a previous article on The Heroic Ethics of Everyday Life but it is worth a brief re-tread in this context with a few examples where we commonly feel the ends justify the means:   

• "White lies" to avoid hurting feelings: we routinely lie about liking someone's haircut or being "on our way" when we're still at home. The end (sparing feelings/avoiding conflict) seems to justify dishonesty, but it can erode trust over time.

• Our Instagram lives: we present airbrushed versions of ourselves online, omitting struggles and failures. The end (maintaining image/not worrying others) might justify the deception, but it contributes to unrealistic social comparisons.

• Bribes and threats: "Santa won't come if you misbehave." The end (compliance) seems to justify manipulation, but it may undermine intrinsic motivation for good behaviour.

• "Borrowing" ideas without attribution: taking credit for others' insights in meetings or presentations. The end (career advancement) seems to justify the means, but it undermines trust and collaboration.

• Convenience or personal enjoyment over values: buying from companies whose practices we disagree with because it's easier or cheaper, or taking that long-haul flight despite our concern for the climate. The end (personal convenience) justifies compromising our stated values.

• Small-scale rule breaking: parking in disabled spots "just for a minute" or pilfering from the stationery cupboard. The end (minor convenience) seems to justify breaking rules that are there for a purpose.

Yes, I am afraid it’s not just Joey and Batman, we are all at it.

The Moral Horizon: Aim for the Goal but Don’t Sacrifice Your Moral Position on the Way

Perhaps morality's contradictions reflect a fundamental truth: human ethical understanding remains perpetually incomplete. We never have the whole picture Just as physics continues to seek a unified theory that may never arrive, our moral understanding approaches but never reaches final coherence. And we can never see the results of our choices before we choose.  The road not travelled always remains a mystery.

This incompleteness stems not from intellectual failure but from the nature of the human condition itself. We are simultaneously individuals and community members, rational and emotional beings, capable of both universal reasoning and particular attachments. We possess the capacity for both tremendous good and terrible evil, often separated only by circumstance and choice. No single moral framework can fully capture this multidimensional reality. We are foolish and hubristic if we think otherwise. As Camus once said: “If there were a party of those who aren't sure they're right, I'd belong to it." It reflects Camus's philosophical scepticism about absolute certainty in political matters and his preference for intellectual humility over dogmatic conviction. For him the ends can never justify the means.  And warns of the dangers of ideological absolutism and proposes we maintain doubt and question even our own beliefs.

However, doing nothing is also a choice and there is a risk of slipping into moral paralysis: if we're never sure of outcomes, might we never act? How do we act responsibly amid uncertainty? The answer perhaps lies less in the ends we seek to attain at all costs, but more in ensuring our actions, our means, remain true to our underlying principles and our moral codes.

We must also accept that what distinguishes us is not perfect moral behaviour but our capacity for moral awareness, responsibility, and growth. We notice when we fall short of our ideals. We create narratives to make sense of our moral failures. And through this reflexive moral awareness, we sometimes develop the knowledge and strength to do better.  We are a constant work in progress with incomplete information and need to recognise this.

Yet, the persistent human drive toward moral coherence serves a purpose even if perfect coherence remains unattainable. We continually navigate the tension between consequentialist reasoning that focuses on outcomes and deontological principles that emphasise inherent rightness. In this light, morality appears less like a destination and more like a horizon, always approached but never reached, guiding our journey through the contradictions of human existence. The ends are uncertain, be moral in the means or get lost on the path and potentially stray to a destination which is morally abhorrent.

We will and must break a few eggs but must do so judiciously, and not think that the final omelette will permit anything we do; and if you break too many eggs, you likely won’t get an omelette. You’ll get a mess of scrambled egg. And possibly salmonella. Even if you are Batman.

In the Moral Universe, perhaps it is in the journey itself, in our continuous, imperfect striving toward moral understanding amid contradiction and uncertainty, that we most fully express our humanity.

Steve Robson is a lapsed academic, sometime transaction banker and existential son who spends his time between Canary Wharf towers, arthouse cinemas and French cafes. A true believer that the unexamined life is not worth living and living proof that there is never an angst too far, he somehow manages to believe in nothing aside from a Camus inspired philosophy of human salvation and love, his hero’s passion for the beauty of an indifferent earth and more personally the élan and elegance of the Roger Federer backhand.