Conclave (2024): When Flawed Decisions Teeter Between Immorality and Genuine Evil

While flying to Malta, I watched the movie on a United Airlines flight as I was heading to a Catholic country. Ambition and integrity often clash in the sacred halls where cardinals convene to elect the next pope. Cardinal Tremblay is an intriguing example: he commits simony—a grave offense wherein ecclesiastical positions or spiritual favors are exchanged, typically for money or influence. Although the act itself breaches church law and moral principles, Tremblay’s motives remain more nuanced than pure corruption. He yearns to secure what he believes is a worthy candidate for the papacy. But how do we separate a misguided attempt at doing good from a willful plunge into immoral territory? And how might this look from a non-religious point of view, where simony is simply viewed as a form of bribery or corruption?

The Roots of “Bad” Actions

1. Our Complex Brains, Our Faulty Moral GPS

Humans are wired to pursue self-interest, stability, and growth. Ethical lines can blur when this drive intersects with high-stakes situations—like a conclave deciding the Church’s future. Cardinal Tremblay’s willingness to offer or accept benefits in exchange for support may not stem from outright malice. Instead, it may reflect desperation to preserve or elevate the institution he cares about. That doesn’t excuse the wrongdoing, but it highlights an all-too-human flaw: our internal moral compass can falter under pressure.

2. The Context That Colors the Act

Some forms of strategic maneuvering are praised in business or politics, yet become scandalous within a sacred environment. Nevertheless, the moral weight of simony is undeniable—no matter the setting. It crosses a boundary enshrined by centuries of church doctrine. So, in “Conclave,” Tremblay’s rationale (electing a devout leader) collides with a rule designed to preserve spiritual integrity. Though we might understand his good intentions, the act remains a betrayal of principles—religious or otherwise.

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Immorality vs. Evil

Cardinal Tremblay’s decision to engage in simony is undeniably unethical: he’s leveraging ecclesiastical power to influence an outcome, effectively trading spiritual authority for political capital. From a strictly moral viewpoint—religious or not—this is corruption, plain and simple. Yet it doesn’t necessarily make Tremblay “evil.”

Why? Because evil generally implies deliberate harm to others or an active desire to perpetuate suffering. In Tremblay’s case, the core of his wrongdoing lies in violating sacred law and betraying trust rather than a willful intention to see others harmed. His misguided drive to install a “worthy” pope might come from a place of misplaced loyalty or naive optimism. Even if his motivation sounds noble, it does not justify committing an evil action to achieve a perceived good end.

We see an instructive parallel in Elon Musk, a figure lauded by some as a visionary while criticized by others—especially post-2024—for using his substantial influence in ways that, many argue, place personal or corporate gain over the broader public interest. While Musk’s actions may not always be undertaken with explicit malice, the ripple effects can be massive—potentially harming job markets, political discourse, or the environment. Much like Tremblay, Musk’s good intentions (accelerating sustainable technology, for example) can’t fully sanitize the negative repercussions of controversial decisions. However, in Musk’s case, the stakes of “using power for personal gain” often scale to affect entire populations rather than a small conclave.

Ultimately, “evil” arises when personal advancement is prioritized above all else, causing intentional or large-scale harm. In Tremblay’s world, he can reflect on and rectify his errors before they spawn widespread damage. Meanwhile, figures wielding enormous global influence—such as Musk—risk causing broader harm if they do not course-correct or acknowledge the human toll of their strategies.

Can One Action Define “Evil”?

The Verdict Rests in Motive and Outcome

In many moral frameworks, a single act of wrongdoing—especially if prompted by misguided but not malicious intent—may not suffice to label someone as evil. Cardinal Tremblay’s simony betrays the Church’s principles, yet it primarily comes from a flawed attempt to secure what he perceives as a greater good. From a non-religious vantage point, it’s comparable to bribery in everyday politics. The immorality is there, but the immediate harm remains relatively contained.

By contrast, when large-scale decisions harm entire communities, moral scrutiny intensifies. Elon Musk’s leadership choices—particularly in the wake of the 2024 elections—demonstrate how personal ambition can have ripple effects on markets, policy, and public opinion. Good motives alone (e.g., boosting innovation or promoting new technologies) do not sanitize potential harm; if the outcome systematically disadvantages countless people, critics argue, the line begins to inch closer to evil.

The Role of Redemption

“Conclave” hints that Tremblay might seek reconciliation upon recognizing the depth of his transgression. Suppose he acknowledges the harm done and strives to correct his course. In that case, he can remain on the side of a fundamentally flawed but redeemable human being rather than an irrevocably corrupted figure. Similarly, those in powerful positions—whether in business, politics, or technology—can pivot away from harmful practices once they become aware of how their actions affect others. Continuously doubling down on unethical decisions, however, can transform mere immorality into something more sinister.

Conclusion: Where We Draw the Line

“Conclave” (2024) illustrates that context, motive, and the extent of harm can shift a bad decision into something evil. Cardinal Tremblay’s simony is immoral, but his actions don’t align with a conscious knowledge to cause suffering. By contrast, modern figures like Elon Musk—admired as game-changers yet simultaneously questioned—show that even noble aims can become overshadowed when personal or corporate interests harm many people. Ultimately, the film and these real-world parallels challenge us to examine our moral boundaries: Is wrongdoing justifiable if it serves a higher goal? And at what point do good intentions cease to matter when the outcomes become destructive?