In ethics, there are two main approaches: consequentialism (from the Latin “consequens” — consequence) and deontology (from the Greek “the study of duty”).
The first assumes that good is whatever leads to good outcomes. The second assumes that good is defined by universal rules. The most famous example of deontological philosophy is Kant’s categorical imperative. “If everyone acted this way, would society benefit?” Kant asks. He doesn’t go into details — lying to save someone, killing to protect the weak — he’s not talking about consequences, but about the core question. If you allow yourself to lie or kill in certain circumstances, you end up in a society where a person can grant themselves such permission in principle; therefore, a person cannot issue themselves such an indulgence.
Kant is categorical. Well, he could afford it: he also took walks at the same time every day and would probably have loved trains if they existed in his time, if you know what I mean. At the same time, I have to admit something to myself: deontology sometimes looks more appealing to me than consequentialism — and that reasoning is based on my lack of faith in human omnipotence.
I start from a simple postulate: we cannot predict the future. We cannot know in advance which actions will have good consequences and which will have bad ones. Think about this: if you have a husband, wife, or partner — how did you meet? Who was your mutual acquaintance? And how did you meet that acquaintance? At that moment, could you have predicted that this person would lead to such an important relationship in your life? For example, my meeting my ex-wife is partly a consequence of my decision to leave the HSE economics program and lose two years of education. Consequences branch out so widely and deeply that predicting them is a thankless task.
And since we can’t predict outcomes, we’re left with relying on very general logic. I’m not as radical as Kant; in real life, I often choose a consequentialist approach — for example, I consider lying to save someone completely acceptable. But when I face a new dilemma, I’d rather rely on something postulated than try to play prophet.