In economics, one of the classic examples used to explain resource allocation is the dilemma between "guns or butter": how much a society allocates to defense versus the welfare of its population. At first glance, this seems like a technical problem. Limited resources force a choice between different possible combinations within a production frontier.

However, this way of presenting the problem conceals a dangerous simplification. The production possibilities frontier shows us what is feasible, but it does not tell us what we should choose. It defines a technical optimum, but not a social optimum.

And it is precisely in that transition—from the possible to the desired—where economics ceases to be technical and reveals itself as a deeply ethical and political decision. Choosing between guns or butter is not just a matter of efficiency; it is a definition of values. What do we consider a priority?

What do we understand by welfare? Which lives are we protecting and which are we leaving behind? In Chile, this discussion has been concrete.

For years, the financing of the Armed Forces coexisted with persistent gaps in health, education, and pensions. More re…

The Social Outburst of 2019 marked a turning point. It was the expression of an ethical fracture before being an economic one. Large sectors of society stopped feeling part of a common project, questioning not only the results but the principles that sustained them.

The elimination of the MEPCO (Fuel Price Stabilization Mechanism)—which directly impacts the cost of living for middle and vulnerable sectors—along with the elimination of the property tax for first homes—which disproportionately benefits higher-income groups and reduces resources for poorer municipalities—evidences that we are not facing technical decisions, but political ones. These are definitions that redistribute burdens and benefits and reflect a particular idea of social justice. These examples show that economic decisions are not made in a vacuum.

They are influenced by power relations, but also by explicit or implicit ethical frameworks. Each decision reflects which values are prioritized and which are subordinated. Therefore, no decision is neutral.

The real conflict, then, is not just about how much we produce, but how we distribute the benefits of that production. And this distribution is not merely material. It is, above all, a moral definition: it speaks of justice, dignity, equity, and the value we assign to people in the social structure.

Thus, economics reveals its deeper nature: it is not just the management of scarce resources, but a concrete expression of social morality in action and the ethics of decision-makers. Even in current debates—such as the balance between increased spending on public safety and investment in social policies—the same dilemma reappears. Do we invest in control or in prevention?

In containment or in social cohesion? Each decision is, in essence, a moral stance regarding the type of society we want to sustain. Attempting to resolve these dilemmas without explicitly incorporating the ethical dimension is not only insufficient; it is one of the main causes of the legitimacy crises faced by contemporary societies.

When economic decisions disconnect from a shared sense of justice, the system loses cohesion and stability. Ethics and morality are not a complement to development; they are its foundation. They are the only common ground from which it is possible to build lasting social agreements in contexts of diversity and conflict.

Without that anchor, any model—no matter how efficient it seems—ends up weakening from within. Ultimately, the dilemma between guns or butter is not resolved with more technical sophistication, but with greater ethical clarity. It requires societies capable of asking not only what they can do, but what they must do.

Because, at the end of the day, every economic decision is, in essence, a moral decision about who we are and who we want to become.