“Why do you labor for that which does not satisfy?” Isaiah 55:2

The noted Christian theologian Michael Novak has observed that “we are all capitalist now”[1] and as I write these words an evangelical Christian is beginning his second term in what is arguably the single most influential economic post in the world.[2] These facts should give us pause as we consider the question, “what is the problem with capitalism?” For it is not at all clear that capitalism and Christianity are at odds to any significant degree. Indeed, evangelical Christians – precisely those Christians who most forthrightly proclaim their adherence to the classic Christian faith – are some of the most fervent advocates of capitalism and its advance; and even capitalism’s Christian detractors are finally capitalists. (Where do you shop? Where was your shirt made?). Moreover, even capitalism’s Christian proponents readily admit that capitalism is not without its problems. Whatever defense of capitalism’s virtues is proffered, no one confuses capitalism with the Kingdom of God.

This situation suggests that perhaps the first problem confronted when confronting the problem of capitalism is the problem with the problem with capitalism. What is the problem of the problem of capitalism? Capitalism’s Christian advocates are pretty clear on what the problem is. It is the vested interest that the ethics establishment has in denigrating all things (North) American, which it does by offering simplistic judgments on complex economic realities.[3] The problem is that theologians are out-of-date, down-right medieval, when it comes to matters economic.[4] There is, no doubt, some truth to these sorts of claims. For example, how much of our animus toward capital is really a self-serving maneuver to make a virtue of necessity? Academics and clergy and other professional religious types, after all, are not typically found in the higher altitudes of the wage scale. And how many of us have taken the time to actually engage the discipline of economics instead of simply dismissing it?[5] How many of us know, for example, the difference between absolute and comparative advantage or that scarcity is finally a claim not so much about natural resources as it is about the psychological or desiring constitution of the human being?

In addition to these commonplace difficulties with Christian critiques of capitalism, there is another set of difficulties that is rarely recognized. Specifically, Christian critiques of capitalism are hindered because the problem of capitalism is typically posed empirically instead of confessionally, and it is posed empirically in a flawed manner.

1. What is Wrong with the Question “What is Wrong with Capitalism?”

Engage someone in a conversation about capitalism. Ask if it is good or bad, if it comports with Christian convictions or not. Invariably, the conversation, or argument, will revolve around the issue of whether or not capitalism works. More specifically, the question will turn – in endless circles of undoubtedly escalating rhetoric, if not tempers as well – on whether it aids the poor in escaping their poverty or abets the forces that perpetrate and perpetuate that poverty. This is a straightforwardly empirical argument, even if empirical evidence is rarely if ever able to settle such disputes. This empirical turn makes sense. It makes sense because there is near universal agreement among Christians that concern for the poor and alleviating poverty is a proper task of the economic order. For example, advocates of capitalism and critics of such movements as Latin American liberation theology, which displays a prominent concern for the poor coupled with a sharp critique of capitalism, readily agree with liberationists that God is concerned for the poor, even especially concerned for their welfare. As Amy Sherman, a Christian advocate of capitalism, notes, “For Christians, opting for the poor is not optional; it is a clear command of Christ.”[6]

Yet, the empirical turn is flawed to the extent that it revolves solely around the question of whether or not capitalism works. This is the case because it is rather obvious that capitalism works. Indeed, one of the reasons it is lauded is precisely because it works as well as it does. This is to say, no economic order to date has so obviously displayed such an enormous productive capacity as has capitalism. Hence, the empirical question put to capitalism cannot be “does it work?” The obvious answer is “yes.” Rather the empirical question should be “what work does it do?” Rethinking the empirical question in these terms makes a significant difference in how Christians might evaluate capitalism theologically, although that difference may not be readily apparent.

For instance, the difference made by posing the question of capitalism in terms of the work it does may not be obvious when I argue that a problem with capitalism is not that it does not work, but rather that the work that it does is not the work we should be doing with regard to caring for our neighbors and seeing to it that material things are produced and allocated in accord with their proper, divinely ordained, universal destination (cf. John Paul II, Centesimus Annus). The difference that this reframing of the empirical question makes, however, begins to come into sharper focus when I argue that even if I am wrong and capitalism’s chaplains are right, even if capitalism is actually on the whole advancing the cause of the poor and alleviating unjust suffering, it would still be wrong and rightly resisted. Why?

Because capitalism is wrong not only on account of its failure to aid the poor and needy, but also because of what it does succeed in doing, namely, deforming human desire. As Augustine noted long ago, humans are created to desire God and the things of God. Capitalism corrupts desire. Even if capitalism succeeds in reducing poverty, it is still wrong on account of its distortion of human desiring and human relations. As Alasdair MacIntyre has noted, “although Christian indictments of capitalism have justly focused attention upon the wrongs done to the poor and the exploited, Christianity has to view any social and economic order that treats being or becoming rich as highly desirable as doing wrong to those who must not only accept its goals, but succeed in achieving them. . . . Capitalism is bad for those who succeed by its standards as well as for those who fail by them, something that many preachers and theologians have failed to recognize.”[7] Capitalism is wrong not simply because it fails to succor the impoverished, but also because where it succeeds it deforms and corrupts human desire into an insatiable drive for more. Capitalism makes a virtue of what an earlier era denounced as a vice, pleonexia or greed – a restless, possessive, acquisitive drive, but which today is celebrated as the aggressive, creative, entrepreneurial energy that distinguishes homo economicus.[8] Diagnoses and critiques of this cancerous desire and its effects abound and need not be repeated here.

However, not everyone succeeds under capitalism. Not everyone is a successful apprentice and so attains the coveted mantle of “consumer” or “entrepreneur.” Indeed, as liberationists have pointed out in recent years, increasingly significant numbers are not so much oppressed by capitalism as they are excluded.[9] In other words, while capitalist discipline celebrates consumption, not all of its subjects are rightly called consumers. To the contrary, many who are subject to its discipline do not so much struggle to consume and accumulate as merely survive, which suggests the second way capitalism works to deform humanity.

Not only does capitalism deform the desire of those who prosper or at least survive under its tutelage, it also distorts human relations, even of those who are excluded from its fruits. This is to say, even if capitalism elevated the poor, it would still be wrong on account of the way it corrupts human relations, rendering them antagonistic, competitive. Capitalism has so construed the market that humans interact agonistically, competitively. All of us, winners and losers, consumers and excluded, compete for resources, for market share, for a living wage, for a job, for the time for friendship and family, for inclusion in the market, and so forth.<[10] Capitalism is wrong because even if it delivers the goods, it nevertheless works against the Good, corrupting (and perpetuating the corruption of) human sociality in competitive and conflictual modalities. Capitalism is wrong, not simply on the grounds of what it fails to do but because of what it succeeds in doing: distorting human desire and relations.

2. What is the Alternative?

The argument I have advanced thus far has not actually advanced very far. This is because Christian advocates of capitalism, while they might argue with particulars, would not dispute the broader point, namely, that capitalism is not synonymous with Christianity. In this regard, Christian opponents of capitalism would do well to take down their straw figures and quit jousting with windmills (unless they are content preaching only to the choir). Few, if any, Christian proponents of capitalism contend that there is a straightforward and unproblematic interface between the two. Novak is not atypical in this regard when he writes, “Capitalism itself is not even close to being the kingdom of God . . . . The presuppositions, ethos, moral habits, and way of life required for the smooth functioning of democratic and capitalist institutions are not a full expression of Christian or Jewish faith, and are indeed partially in conflict with the full transcendent demands of Christian and Jewish faith.”[11]

Rather, the argument that Christian proponents of capitalism consistently make is essentially that given the alternatives, capitalism, warts and all, is the best that we can do. In other words, the rejoinder to capitalism’s critics is simply, and powerfully, what is the better alternative?

The answers typically proffered have not proven capable of bearing much weight. For a long time, Christian opponents of capitalism were bold in their assertions that socialism was the alternative, and for a while (in the midst of the global revolutionary climate that blossomed in the 1960s and lingered into the 80s) that conviction was at least understandable. In more recent decades, however, we are all aware of how actually existing socialism has not proven to be either particularly successful or paradisiacal. As a consequence, while there are a few stalwarts who continue to praise socialism—albeit an “ideal” socialism properly distanced from anything actually tried thus far—many critics of capitalism have opted, almost by default, for at least a chastened, welfare capitalism, a capitalism with a human face. And such hopes have not of late enjoyed many victories, neither are the prospects for victory particularly encouraging.

The difficulty the question of alternatives presents prompts us toward a more immediately theological, or confessional, critique of capitalism. The opening is provided by the phrase, “Given the alternatives.” But what precisely, is given? Here we move from an unadorned empirical to a robustly theological argument (which, I will argue momentarily, does not surrender the empirical – to do so would leave me guilty of the crime of idealism, utopianism, etc.). For behind the supposition of what indeed constitutes the given, the way things are, resides an eschatological claim. What has God given? What is God giving? What does our economic vision confess about God? Or, conversely, what does our confession suggest about God’s economy?

Christian proponents of capitalism found their advocacy on the problematic eschatological claim that in effect capitalism is the best that we can expect in this time between the times. Said differently, Christian defenses of capitalism hinge upon releasing the eschatological tension between the “already” and the “not yet” by means of emptying the “already” of any immediate material (social-political-economic) content, with the result that we are left to ponder the capitalist status-quo as the “lesser evil,” as the best we can expect until at some future point God decides to act. There is but one age, even as we look forward to the age to come. There is no overlap; no transformation or redemption here and now, beyond the comfort offered the rich that they will be forgiven and the consolation offered the impoverished that in the next age things will be different.[12] In this barren space, where we are locked in competition and struggle for scarce resources that God has hidden (like a cosmic Easter bunny) so that we might be prodded from lethargy to creativity, the best we can hope for is to find shelter in the shadow of (depending on which theologian you consult) the state or corporation while the market manages sin according to a utilitarian logic.

The theological or confessional difficulties with this vision are legion, embracing a range of issues from anthropology to soteriology. A fuller exposition of them, however, must be deferred to another day. Now it suffices to continue the eschatological argument.

What is the alternative to capitalism? Surely, the alternative is obvious. It is the Kingdom of God, where those who build, inhabit, where those who plant, harvest, and where all are filled and the agony that currently besets us ceases. This is to say, the question of alternatives is finally the eschatological one of the appearance of the Kingdom. Which implies that the question of alternatives is rightly answered only confessionally. Why? Because the Kingdom is not something we build; it is something we receive. It is finally not a product of our labor, but is, instead, given to us as a gift. All of which is to say that the alternative to capitalism is not something that we construct; rather, it is something we confess. And, it is worth noting, because the Kingdom is something we confess, the rejoinder about “the best we can do” loses its punch entirely as it is revealed to be thoroughly beside the point. The interesting question never was, “what can we do?” but the eschatological one of “what is God doing?”

Here the confessional does not escape but recovers the empirical. The confession advanced against capitalism and its Christian courtiers is that the alternative to capitalism has already appeared, even if it is not yet present in its fullness. The ages are not juxtaposed; they overlap (1 Cor. 10:11). God has given and continues to give here and now more than capitalism’s Christian proponents can see.

What is it that they fail to see? For one thing, the way that God has and continues to gather persons together into a body called the church where, by means of the divine things in our midst – Word and sacrament, catechesis, orders, and discipline, human desire is being healed of its capitalist distortions and set free to partake of a different economic ordering, one ruled not by scarcity and struggle, debt and death, but by a charitable logic of donation, gift, and perpetual generosity. They fail to discern the divine economy that is already taking form in our midst as persons enter into new economic relations, giving and receiving, exchanging, not according to the rhythm of capital’s axiomatic of production for the market but animated by the Spirit of faith, hope, and love. In more recognizably political and economic terms, this divine economy takes the form of what the Christian tradition identifies as the Works of Mercy. The corporal and spiritual Works constitute the beginning of God’s reordering of human polity and economy in accord with the Kingdom. In other words, the Works of Mercy are the ecclesial instantiation of the divine economy and this economy is already taking shape in our midst in countless ways and communities – in various alternative markets and co-op’s, houses of hospitality, sanctuary and jubilee movements, and gleaning projects, all of which engage in and encourage economic production and exchange according to a logic other than capitalist.

I recognize that these are fabulous claims, especially for readers (like myself) who have been so thoroughly disciplined by capitalist economy and theology. But Christianity confesses a grand God who gives grand gifts. Nevertheless, it should be said that when rightly understood and practiced, the Works of Mercy are not susceptible to the charge of being an instance of mere charity, that is, of being an example of the modern hobby of philanthropy that contributes a few percentage points of one’s disposable income to “worthy” causes while ignoring broader systemic issues (what liberationists call “structural sin or injustice”). On the contrary, the Church’s practice of the Works of Mercy coheres with the best insights of the liberationists. For example, it takes little imagination to see the correlation between various elements of the Works of Mercy and what liberationists call “integral liberation.” The Works of Mercy are holistic in breadth, addressing sin and the rupture of communion in its personal, social, and spiritual dimensions. Moreover, the Works of Mercy are not synonymous with romantic notions of personalistic politics that seek change by means of individual, one-on-one acts of kindness to the exclusion of systemic concerns and communal efforts. Indeed, such a misunderstanding is symptomatic of the way that tradition has been eroded by the acids of modernity, which has little place for a public, political Church and as a result has consigned the Works of Mercy to individuals. Yet, as they have been practiced across the ages, the Works of Mercy are a corporate activity. They describe the struggle for justice and liberation of a people, of a public and therefore political body named the Church. In this regard it is worth noting that no less than Adam Smith recognized the economic potency of the Church’s practice of the Works of Mercy when he wrote the The Wealth of Nations. There he noted that the hospitality and charity of the church were very great, maintaining the poor of every kingdom, and he laments that those practices “not only gave [the church] the command of a great temporal force, but increased very much the weight of their spiritual weapons.”[13] Indeed, he goes on to observe that the Church constituted the most formidable obstacle to the civil order, liberty, and happiness that the free market could provide. But, alas, he is glad to report that eventually improvements in “arts, manufactures, and commerce” not only conquered the great barons but undercut the Church as well, weakening both its spiritual and temporal authority by rendering its charity merely economic, that is, more sparing and restrained.

3. Conclusion

By way of conclusion, I want to return briefly to the difficulty that the question of alternatives poses. Why is this? And why does the confessional critique and proposal I have begun to advance here feel so eccentric, so thoroughly lacking in persuasive power? Because, I fear, too many Christian critics of capitalism actually share the confessional weaknesses of capitalism’s proponents. Too many do not think that God is doing a new thing – establishing a new economy– through the ecclesial practice of the Works of Mercy. Too many critics share the anemic eschatological vision of capitalism’s Christian proponents. God is not doing a new thing, and certainly not through the Church. So the question of alternatives remains, what is the best that we can do? Marx or Smith? Against this dim eschatological horizon, opposition to capitalism is valiant, even heroic, but finally futile, tragic, and therefore culpable. If the options are between two secular economies (secular in the sense of the starkly human power that finally moves them, not in the sense that either are lacking in religious justifications), if the options are Marx or Smith, then I fear that capitalism’s proponents are right, capital may be the best we can do. Stubborn idealism notwithstanding, we humans have certainly not shown ourselves capable of the pelican task of fulfilling the promise of (Marxist) socialism.[14]

But, alas, we are not alone, abandoned even temporally, by God to make the best of the scarce resources we can accumulate. To the contrary, even here and now in the midst of the descending darkness of capital, we have at our fingertips – as close as bread and wine – all that we need to resist until Christ comes in final victory. So, as the prophet Isaiah says, we are not trapped in an economy that does not satisfy. In other words, we are not all capitalists, even now.

Endnotes

[1] Michael Novak, The Catholic Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism(New York: The Free Press, 1993), p. 101.

[2]Although President Bush has been identified as an evangelical Christian by many of his supporters as well as detractors, this identification too is debatable. See, for example, Ayelish McGarvey, “As God is His Witness,” The American Prospect On-line, October 19, 2004.

[3]Robert Benne, The Ethic of Democratic Capitalism(Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981), pp. 5, 7ff.

[4]Michael Novak, “Changing the Paradigms: The Cultural Deficiencies of Capitalism,” in Democracy and Mediating Structures, ed., Michael Novak (Washington D.C.: American Enterprise Press, 1980), p. 180.

[5]One contemporary theologian who stands out for his engagement with the discipline is D. Stephen Long, Divine Economy(New York: Routledge, 2000).

[6]Amy Sherman, Preferential Option: A Christian and Neoliberal Strategy for Latin America’s Poor(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1992), p. 219.

[7]Alasdair MacIntyre, Marxism and Christianity. 2d ed. (London: Duckworth, 1995), xiv.

[8]See Albert Hirschman, The Passions and the Interests: Political Arguments for Capitalism Before Its Triumph(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981); and Milton L. Myers, The Soul of Modern Economic Man(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983). See also Alasdair MacIntyre, Whose Justice? Which Rationality? (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 1987), pp. 111-2; C. B. MacPherson, The Political Theory of Possessive Individualism. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962)

[9]See, for example, Franz Hinkelammert, Cultura de la Esperanza y Sociedad sin Exclusión. (San José: DEI, 1995)

[10]For a fuller account of this process, see my Liberation Theology After the End of History(New York: Routledge, 2001).

[11]See Michael Novak, The Catholic Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, 227-228.

[12]In defense of this claim, I offer one of the more blatant examples, from Michael Novak: “The point of the Incarnation is to respect the world as it is . . . and to disbelieve any promises that the world is now or ever will be transformed into the city of God. . . . The world is not going to become –ever– a kingdom of justice and love. . . . The single greatest temptation for Christians is to imagine that the salvation won by Jesus has altered the human condition.” The Spirit of Democratic Capitalism(New York: Touchstone, 1982), pp. 341-3. Although this may be one of the more extreme examples, Christian advocates of capitalism all share a similarly constrained account of the difference Christ makes here and now.

[13]Adam Smith, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of The Wealth of Nations(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1976), Bk. V. Ch. 1. Pt. 3. Art. 3

[14]I am careful to qualify my dismissal of socialsim this way because there are supernatural forms of socialism–by which I do not mean Christianized Marxist socialism–that avoid this critique and actually comport with my constructive argument. See, for example, John Milbank, Being Reconciled(New York: Routledge, 2003), pp. 162-186 and D. Stephen Long, Divine Economy