The End Justifies The Means—Really?

September 17th, 2010  |   

A number of years ago, while working as the Director of Christian Social Ministries for the Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina, I stepped on a couple of “landmines” that caused me to think about the subject of ends and means. The explosive subjects I am talking about had to do with food—sweet potatoes and canned goods.

Sweet potatoes are a precious commodity in North Carolina. The state leads the nation in sweet potato production. Harvesting them is hard work, done by men who work in crews and are supervised in camps by a Crew Chief. The abuse and injustices these workers have to endure is legendary.

At one occasion, I became involved with workers who literally escaped from one of those camps and sought refuge with church folks in Raleigh. In seeking justice for these workers, as well as informing the public, the North Carolina Farmers Market in Raleigh was approached for permission to hold a press conference there. It was hoped that people coming to the market would be educated about the injustice surrounding the sweet potato industry and, therefore, motivated to speak out for a change in the system of production.

A friend in a local Episcopal Church became fearful that making such a request would cause the Farmers Market to stop giving produce to the charitable organization that provided food for the poor—an organization which she administered. Holding a rally at that location might very well cut off her supply of food, thus hurting hungry people.

The other situation involved a large grocery store company. When I wrote about how their workers were being treated unjustly—forced to work off the clock (overtime) without reimbursement—the hue and cry from the Food Bank director surprised me.

It seemed that the Food Bank was the recipient of canned goods from that particular company. The director was upset because he feared the company would stop donating  food because of what I had written. The Episcopal Diocese had helped to begin the Food Bank, and he worried that advocacy on behalf of the workers would cause trouble. 

One of the great philosophical debates I engaged in while pursuing my philosophy major in college had to do with ends and means. Does the end justify the means? Here I was, some 20 years later, being forced to engage this timeless philosophical question now raising its head around the subject of food for the poor and justice for the workers.

Do we sacrifice justice in order that we might have charity? Is the end result—some potatoes and canned goods for the poor taken from a grocery store shelf —worth shelving the workers that produce and handle that food? As long as a worthy goal is achieved, are the means by which that goal is achieved important? 

That debate isn’t confined to a philosophy classroom or even limited to a discussion about sweet potatoes and canned goods. It’s a serious social and political issue that affects the culture in which we live and the values we profess to embrace. Answers don’t come easily when it comes to questions that involve the relationship of charity to justice.

Read on and wrap your grey matter around a couple of interesting ethical situations. We’re still interested in ethical issues, right?

Philanthropic Funding That Hides More Than It Reveals

Jane Mayer, in her interesting recent article in The New Yorker, writes about David H. Koch, the wealthy businessman and darling of the New York liberal elite. But after Mayer’s expose of Koch, maybe he won’t be such a darling.

Koch is loved by art devotees in New York because he is what’s known as a “cultural philanthropist” who writes big checks to subsidize the arts. When I say big, I mean BIG. Twenty million dollars to the American Museum of Natural History. Two-and-a-half million to American Ballet Theater’s upcoming season. Ten million to renovate the fountains outside of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. And $100 million pledged to the Lincoln Center’s New York State Theater, renamed the David H. Koch Theater.                                                

In case you’re wondering where David Koch and his brother, Charles, get all this money, here’s the answer. Their combined fortune of $35 billion is conglomerate-based and headquartered in Wichita, Kansas. They’re in the oil business (refineries and pipelines in Alaska, Texas and Minnesota). They’re producers of paper products (Brawny towels, Dixie cups). And after buying Georgia-Pacific they’re up to their ears in formaldehyde, a carcinogenic chemical found in materials our homes are built with, and in many of the products used at home. 

Here’s where it gets interesting—where means and ends enter the scene.

David Koch was diagnosed with prostate cancer in the early 1990s. Since then he has contributed $100 million to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for cancer research, and $20 million to support a new cancer research center at Johns Hopkins University East Baltimore medical campus. On top of that he has donated hundreds of millions of dollars to the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Texas, New York-Presbyterian Hospital and Memorial Sloan-Kettering Hospital, three major cancer treatment centers. He serves on the board of all of those hospitals.

Because of his charitable contributions he was appointed to the National Cancer Advisory Board, a committee of the U.S. National Cancer Institute by President George W. Bush.

The shining nimbus around Koch’s head, won by his charitable gifts, becomes a bit tarnished when we discover that the money for cancer treatment and research comes from Koch Industries, the owner of Georgia-Pacific—the producers of the carcinogenic chemical formaldehyde.

Harold Varmus, the director of the National Cancer Institute, is quoted by Jane Mayer in The New Yorker article as saying that when he ran Sloan-Kettering, “a lot of people who gave to us had large business interests. The one thing we wouldn’t tolerate (in our board members is) tobacco.” When Mayer informs Varmus about Koch Industries’ lobbying efforts to curb regulations on formaldehyde, he replies by saying he is “surprised.”

Since Judy was diagnosed with breast cancer 25 years ago, we have participated every year in the annual Susan G. Koman Race for the Cure. My response, after doing my own research, left me as surprised as Harold Varmus. I discovered that Koch Filter Corp. has partnered with the Race for the Cure to the tune of $30,000. This means that folks in nearby Columbus, Ohio, and other cities across the country, will run and walk for a cure for cancer while the owner of the plant pollutes their water supply.

Does the end justify the means? Is the end (all the charitable gifts) justified by the means (money made creating carcinogenic products)? In order to get what’s needed—money for cancer research—is it ethical and responsible to take money from industries that are producing cancer-causing products and lobbying to stop the Environmental Protection Agency from classifying formaldehyde as carcinogenic and harmful to human beings? And what might come as a real surprise to folks is the fact that David Koch is a major supporter of the Tea Party—folks who want less government regulation on industry.

The World Of Sports As An Anthropological Litmus Test

I truly believe that one of the best places to observe and analyze a culture—an anthropological litmus test, if you will—is to look at the world of sports. So let’s look at a controversy brewing around Lance Armstrong, perhaps the best and most famous cyclist in the world.

Armstrong is not only a determined cyclist, he also possesses an indomitable spirit. That spirit has been on display as he has battled testicular cancer that metastasized to his lungs and his brain. Despite that, after his battle with cancer, he went on to compete and win the Tour de France seven times. He is in every sense a profile in courage.

I’m convinced that many athletes, if offered a way to run faster, jump higher, and excel at a record-breaking level, will take it. They will take that path even if it is physically harmful, even illegal. That pathway, of course, is offered through performance-enhancing substances. Anabolic steroids, blood doping, human growth hormones, and a trove of new designer-drugs have become the way to succeed in the competitive world of sports.

Performance-enhancing drugs have been the means to the end—success, fame and money. And cyclists have been very susceptible to performance enhancing drugs because of the grueling nature of the sport. Lance Armstrong, accused for years of breaking the rules, now has to address serious evidence that may prove him guilty.

Armstrong is not only a world-class cyclist. He is also a world-class philanthropist, given the fact that his Livingstrong Foundation has donated $31 million dollars last year alone on behalf of cancer patients. Thousands of people wear the Livingstrong yellow bracelet.

In a recent front page New York Times article, the Armstrong controversy was spelled out in detail and in the end the old ends-justify-the-means issue surfaced. If Lance Armstrong is found guilty of cheating, should he be stripped of his laurels, even banned from the sport? That’s what happened to baseball star Pete Rose when he was found guilty of betting on games. Is a similar fate awaiting the world’s greatest cyclist and premier philanthropist?

Mark McKinnon, described as a “business strategist and political media consultant,” is on the Livingstrong board. “Lance is an icon of hope and inspiration to millions and millions of people,” he says. “So there’s a lot at stake.”

There sure is a lot at stake, not only for Armstrong’s pocket book and legacy, but also for the effect that a scandal might have around raising charitable funds for a good cause.

Jay Coakley, is a sociologist and the author of “Sports in Society: Issues and Controversies.” He writes: “Deciding to use performance-enhancing substances and methods has nothing to do with lack of morality. It has to do with normative structure of elite sport, and the athlete’s commitment to his identity as an athlete.”

Then Coakley pulls the trigger: “If he told the truth, he’d be gone. How much money would he have raised for cancer?”

What just rode by you on Mr. Coakley’s bike was a very clear example of how messy this end-justifies-the-means question is. I feel pretty sure that his “nothing to do with lack of morality” argument, along with his talk about an athlete’s “commitment to his identity as an athlete” will need some massaging before the general public buys it.

But who knows, in this country I call home? That rationale worked in the decision to drop atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and in our behavior since November 11, 2001 when we were attacked.

Justifying War As A Means To A Peaceful End

The justification for dropping bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki was simply that it brought an end to the war with Japan, and saved American lives. That argument, as time has passed and the war has been studied more fully, may have proved to be wrong. Some would argue that Japan was on the verge of surrender and that a bomb dropped in an area free of people would have accomplished the mission with no loss of lives. Did those bombs have to be the means to bring about the end of the war? I’ll not engage that debate. I’ll simply make a couple of observations about violence as a means to bring about peace.                     

We have just passed the ninth anniversary of 9/11. We justified attacking Iraq as the way to address our tragedy. The war was the means by which we would end “terrorism,” take out weapons of mass destruction, rid the world of the dreaded Saddam Hussein, establish democracy in that part of the world, and capture Osama bin Ladin and his cohorts. Just typing those words makes me shudder because all of that was a ruse for the real reason we went to war. It was revenge that sent us to war, and the aftermath, in terms of the human and financial cost, is overwhelming. The promise of endless war is all we got from that slaughter, not peace.

In a bizarre way, Osama bin Ladin’s attack on 9/11 was carried out with the same justification utilized in our invasion of Iraq. He wanted to strike a blow at the military (Pentagon), economic (Wall Street Twin Towers), and political (the Capitol) power of the United States which symbolized the U.S. presence and power he felt was oppressive to the people of the region. Death-dealing hijacked planes were his means to an end.

I hear talk today among some that there will come a time when Iraq, even Afghanistan, will have a stable democracy with human rights for all people, especially the women and children. It will just take time and patience. This scenario appears to be driven by the illusion that the violent means we are employing in that part of the world will be justified by the end result. But at what cost?  And what message are we sending in this time span between war and a projected peace.

Beginning in the 1960s, Marshall McLuhan, the Canadian philosopher, writer and communication theorist gave us two profound terms to help us understand the changing world scene. One was “global village,” the other was “the medium is the message.”

The medium is the message meant that there is a symbiotic relationship between a message and the means by which it is communicated. The form of the medium, in other words, embeds itself in the message and, therefore, becomes the message. By way of simple example, I may wish to send you a message that I care for you, but my fist hitting your chin—the means by which I send the message—in fact becomes the message, even though not intended.

The medium is the message. How true. Our political, military and religious leaders assure us that the message we are attempting to communicate to the world is one of peace and justice and human rights. That’s how we see ourselves so that’s how it must be. But the medium, however, is raw and powerful violence. So if McLuhan’s equation is correct, and I believe it is, we’d do well to understand that our message is really violence.

What Is The Message, Given The Medium

I’ve an invitation to attend the YWCA fundraiser here next week. It’s the Fifth Annual Guy’s Night Out. There will be beer, wine, cigars and lots of games. I can do an early bid for a chance to win a trip to the festivities in a stretch limo for me and five buddies. We get special seats and our own personal waitress.

The YWCA addresses domestic violence and confronts racism. But I wonder what the message of the Guy’s Night Out really is, given the medium involving beer, cigars, a stretch limo and personal waitresses. Tell me to lighten up, if you will, but somehow I think raising money this way to benefit abused women is off track. Since men perpetuate violence against women, wouldn’t it be helpful to depict men as caring and giving to a cause without having to have alcohol, smoke, limos and women to wait upon us?

The Message Intended

In this issue of Notes I’ve tried to surface the complicated relationship between means and ends. Living in a world where principled stands are required, compromises called for, and values tested by the harsh realities of practical situations, the ethical dimension of our decision-making is important. That said, I’ll end with a couple of personal beliefs.

I prize truth even though I cannot always attain it or live under it. Lying is deceiving. But if someone intent on killing someone asks me where that person can be found, I will lie if I know where that person is. The price paid for telling the truth or lying is always tricky and costly.

When it comes to my country—the country I love—I refuse to compromise the truth about it in order to be thought patriotic. I live in a lover’s quarrel with my nation. She has nurtured me, angered me, and seduced me. My dedication to her will be expressed by my willingness to resist her dark and violent propensities, while embracing her lofty ideals.             

As far as my faith is concerned, I continue to be a Christian even though much of the theology, liturgical practice and dogmatic tradition I once embraced are like old clothes I’ve outgrown. The Jesus story still grasps me and beckons me to stay close to other disciples, as well as people of other faith traditions, even those who claim no belief in God but who work for justice and peace.

Entry Filed under: Fig Tree Notes Archives