IS THERE ANY LESSON TO BE LEARNED?

This is the final of my Letters on Capitalism, and I'd like to use it to consider what I see as a strong claim, one that emerges again and again in times of economic turmoil.

The phrase is by Paul the Apostle in First Timothy: "For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil." His aim is of course to remind believers of what it is to be a good Christian. On this point, I'd be the last one to take Paul seriously. Still, as the Arabic philosopher al-Kindi reminds us, "we must not be ashamed to admire the truth or to acquire it, from wherever it comes."

Before we can consider Paul's words, though, a brief digression on the history of capitalism seems in order. Consider this eventual story.

Long time ago humans perfected the ambition and the will to want more, to accumulate. At some point down this lengthy road, the most ambitious and smart ones were able to gather heaps of money and, alas, dominate the world. Those who for whatever reason didn't really succeed eventually became submissive servants: first as slaves, then as paid workers.

This is by no means the end of the matter, but it should give us something to reflect on.

So, it seems that to be a "capitalist" is the result of several factors that have gradually turned human beings into individuals who firmly believe that money is everything; that money can bring us ultimate happiness; that to be happy is to have the power to buy anything we desire, whenever we want it.

It's no surprise, then, that many of us fail to fully appreciate other dimensions of our lives, since we live to work – sometimes driven solely by greed, but mostly by the hope of gathering just "that much" money that will finally make us happy. Yet, isn't this part of the same process that makes us also a bit senseless, self-centered, hypocritical creatures, capable of despicable acts for the sake of money?

Of course that's only half of the story. There are some people who won't surrender to the passions of excessive wealth. But, again, in the eyes of a dedicated capitalist, they are just a bunch of losers or, as the Brazilian writer José Rubem Fonseca would put it, a heap of "pineapples in a pineapple greenhouse." Fonseca's point is to show the capitalist's concern for nothing else but money. So he has the capitalist say:

"As for myself, what keeps my heart beating is the thrill of the irresistible passion for money and its loyal comrades: love, hate, joy, sorrow, hope, and despair."

But, if that's what money is all about, don't we need to redefine our notion of it? Perhaps we have, for we're no longer just rational creatures, we've become capitalistic extremists too.

Fonseca illustrates part of the transmutation as follows:

A traffic officer arrested the bus driver in flagrant. Two witnesses told the officer the bus came down the road at great speed. The crash site was carefully isolated.

A mad old lady tried to approach the corpse lying on the road. She was holding a candle and shouting: "Let me pass! I have to save the soul of that little angel." The police stopped her at once. Frustrated, she joined a group of curious spectators contemplating the tragedy from behind the crime scene tape.

Solitary, in the middle of the street, the little girl seemed even smaller, more fragile and hopeless.

"Fortunately today is a bank holiday" – said one of the guards, while diverting the quiet traffic – "can you imagine if this happens on a typical, hectic, workday, around 5pm?"

What does all of this imply about the alleged transmutation? The guard's response points to that side of us that becomes indifferent, incapable of reflecting on life itself. The driver who, for his part, is just too busy trying to keep up with time, struggling to make ends meet, working longer hours to increase his low income.

It's hard to deny that the excessive love for money is the main cause of various problems troubling society. Clearly, if there is misery, poverty, inequality, social exclusion and human exploitation around the world, it's because there is money to divide society into those who have it and those who don't, into masters and slaves.

Still, even if we can say that money is the root of all kinds of evil, there must be something distinct, something that hasn't been explained, which is responsible for that construction. That something, I suppose, is the human element.

Here it's important to appreciate the contrast between being human and becoming human, without of course getting too metaphysical. Being human is the starting point, but one that we couldn't have chosen ourselves. Becoming human, though, that is a matter of choice.

Becoming human is, in this case, an exercise that should involve being able to distinguish between what we in fact need in order to live descent lives and take care of those we love, and what are just "superfluous urges" capable of transforming rational individuals and entire nations into destructive machines.

So, I agree with Paul that, at some point, money surely becomes the root of all kinds of evil. But that's only when money becomes only sign of power, the source of happiness, the measure of men, the motivation in friendship and love.

Then, we shouldn't be surprised to hear that whenever money escapes us, whenever economies fail, families are likely to break up, relationships eventually disintegrate and great empires collapse.

Of course money is important, and only a fool would try to argue otherwise. The question, however, is: how far should we let it get hold of our lives?

Now, the answer we give to this question depends very much on our conception of what the human element is. In other words, one has to draw some moral conclusions from these stories.

Fair enough! But aren't all our actions right in so far as they involve moral deliberations? Isn't precisely the ability to deliberate and make choices that separates Madre Teresa from Hitler? So, in all of this we certainly confront a basic reality of our everyday lives: The world is filled with both good and evil – was, is, and will always be. What's more, the line between good and evil is rather nebulous and thin.

Now, with that bit of housekeeping behind us we can return to the initial question: Is money really the root of all kinds of evil? I really doubt it is. Like Sartre, I think existence precedes essence. That is, it's first by existing and then exercising my freedom in choosing my actions that I come to acquire my essence, to be a certain sort of person, to have a character, to be either good or evil.

What's the root of all kinds of evil, then? As Milton reminds us in Paradise Lost: "The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven." In this light, then, it's possible for angels to become devils and, perhaps harder to conceive, for devils to become angels.

Of course this isn't so easy, but nevertheless it's clearly not impossible. After all, doesn't the story tell us that, on the road to Damascus, Saul of Tarsus, a dedicated persecutor of the early disciples of Jesus eventually became Paul the Apostle? One last question comes to mind, though: Can we make that choice without being struck by a light down from heaven? |