Razing Hell is Heavenly

Sharon Baker, who is a professor of theology at Messiah College, just published a new book, Razing Hell: Rethinking Everything You’ve Been Taught About God’s Wrath and Judgment. I bought it due to Brian McLaren‘s endorsement, thinking it would be a good follow-up to his book, The Last Word and the Word after That, and because I’ve always been interested in the subject of the afterlife and how it integrates into the thinking and evangelistic style of Christians. Even Christians who believe in a literal hell (a.k.a. “eternal conscious torment” for the unbeliever), hell is a confounding and frustrating doctrine. As Baker’s friend writes to her, “We don’t seem to think about how horrible it makes God look.” So it is certainly no easy task for Baker to address the issues.

The book is divided into three parts. The first part reviewing the landscape of the traditional view of hell, God’s wrath, and judgment (and believe me, she makes it known that there is way more to this doctrine than who goes where when they die!). The second part offers an alternative viewpoint of hell, God’s wrath, and judgment, while the third part offers what she titles a “New View of Hell.” While I’m only finished with the first part, what strikes me about her writing is the way she weaves personal conversations with her students and her friends. It’s a casual-yet-serious discussion about the nature of God and the problems that the eternal conscious torment theology bring to the table. Not one to get off on tangents to every possible objection raised early in the book, she cleverly “teases” the reader with brief answers while promising a fuller explanation to come. While it might sound like an odd description for a non-fiction book, in a weird way I feel like I’m reading a Daniel Silva spy novel, on the edge of my seat, not wanting to put it down (except to write this blog post)!

What I enjoy most about Razing Hell is the honest and oftentimes frustrating questions about God, justice, love, and forgiveness. She isn’t so much declaring “here’s what the Bible says” (though she certainly has opinions about what the Bible says) as she is openly questioning and critically wrestling with the traditional view. She even assures us (though she keeps teasing us by leaving the details for a future chapter) that she is not trying to “take hell away from us.” Whether I agree with her conclusions or not, I can’t wait to see how this plays out!

I wrote my Master’s Thesis paper on the afterlife, and having read dozens of articles and books on the topic, I can already say that Baker’s contribution to this heated topic will remain a major player for honest inquisitors. Even those who would not agree with her conclusions have some wrestling to do.

Breaking Free from Paradigms

Breaking free from a paradigm of thought generally takes quite a bit of time. Prior to 2003 my spiritual belief structure was dramatically different from what it is today. I can personally attest that it isn’t easy to “break free” from cherished schools of thought, especially as they begin to erode one by one. Everybody’s path is different, but whatever the trajectory of the journey, unless we are willing to embrace an often frustrating quest for truth, we probably aren’t willing to find the it, but rather settle for that which is easiest to believe. For most of us, shifting paradigms is difficult. And time consuming. And at the beginning, it looks perilous.

One such paradigm most of us are familiar with is the left-right/liberal-conservative spectrum of thought (both politically and theologically). We could imagine it as a line being drawn in the sand, and on one end is the liberal left, and on the other end is the conservative right. When asked where we stand on a particular issue or system of beliefs, most of us place ourselves somewhere along that line. We also picture others somewhere along that line in relationship to our own “point” on it. We say things like, “He’s a little more liberal than I am.” Or, “She’s a little too far to the right politically for my tastes.”

But what if we take the line in the sand, and instead of picturing people along a spectrum of left/liberal or right/conservative, we begin thinking a bit more three-dimensional. What if a better position were somewhere hovering above the line, suspended midair, in a way that defies the traditional dualistic tendency? What if we began thinking in ways that didn’t place people on a line that allowed us to assume so many things about them based on where we place them? What if we thought more deeply about the way we understand theology and politics, and instead of trying to find a “middle ground” that made sense or was a decent compromise, we searched for a higher place that accurately described what it is we are all about?

Those familiar with Brian McLaren’s book A New Kind of Christian will notice that I used the same illustration as he does to describe how we think in a duality, and how this can be limiting to our view of the world. While McLaren used that illustration to talk about new conceptions in faith and Christianity, the same analogy works for the political paradigm of thought. This became apparent to me about three years ago when I became quite interested in the implications for Christ-followers to carry out social justice as part of the gospel message. I read books like God’s Politics by Jim Wallis. I read articles by  Tony Campolo, Brian McLaren, and others calling Christians to stop thinking only about the afterlife and begin living out Jesus’ mission to transform society. Christ’s life-changing movement was to change how we interact socially with one another. If Christianity was about anything, it was about revolutionizing the world with the love of Jesus, which started with the poor, downtrodden, and outcasts in society. So from a theological perspective, this all sounded great. I’m on board. But the practical solutions being proposed by these same people didn’t feel right to me. Something didn’t seem completely justifiable in the way they were going about how to accomplish their ends. Question upon question kept piling up in my mind, and soon it became clear to me that the bulk of the answers I needed could be found in economics.

So while I was still in seminary, with plenty to read, write, and dialogue with, I went to search for some economic texts that would help me on my quest. For most folks, economics sounds terribly boring (and some of it is). But I discovered early on that economics has less to do with gibberish we hear from financial gurus on TV and more to do with how human beings act and interact with one another. Yes, there’s the financial aspect to economic theory, but at its core, I found that economic study is about human action. The great economist seeks to understand how the world works. So if I wanted to change the world as a Christian, I needed to know how the world works, so my commitment to social justice would be ethical and effective.

What I found incredible about economic philosophy, particularly from the Austrian school of economic thought, was that it felt like I was emerging from the left-right line in the sand, and finding a higher place of understanding. Not only were these explanations about life more invigorating, and made an immense amount of common sense, the practical critique in contemporary politics was the same: politics and the social order today are very messed up, and there are better answers out there.

Every paradigm is imperfect, and every explanation of paradigms is imperfect. But in a fallen world it is imperative for us to remember that all ways of describing the world are imperfect and in constant need of revision. Hence the need to revise the duality of liberal/conservative. And even the three-dimensional explanation of life will not always be the best, and others will be proposed.

But whatever the illustration we use, there is a freshness and vitality to breaking free from the liberal/conservative paradigm that plagues our political dialogue. If we can break free from thinking in a dualistic fashion, there’s a fresh new air to breathe above the ground. It might actually help us think more clearly!

Christianity and Libertarianism, Part 4: Humility

[God] has shown all you people what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

Micah 6:8, (TNIV)

One of the more beautiful compatibilities between libertarian social theory and Christian faith is that Christian faith is called to honor and respect those with whom we disagree. We don’t have specific formulas for people to follow, nor do we expect others to choose to live as we do. It’s actually quite simple: live and let live. Contrast that with progressives who have plans for everyone, regardless of their input or consent. Libertarians, if they are consistent, will not require nor seek ways to require everybody to live by their personal standards. In short, libertarians respect the personal beliefs and ethics of other people. What’s even more profound about this standard is that it advocates an equal respect to all persons, regardless of class, race, religion, or sexual orientation. Nobody gets to live above the law, no matter how popular or how powerful they may become.

If you think about it, nobody really likes to be told how to live, how to act, what to eat, what to drink, who to be friends with, or who to marry. When we are in smaller social settings, we don’t declare to people that they ought not wear a certain dress because we think it’s too immodest, or drink certain liquids because of their sugar content. At most we can publicly criticize smokers, but even then we admit their right to smoke.

In some sense we all live the way we do because we believe it is the right way to live. Whether we think we’ve figured it out or not, we’d like others to think and live somewhat similarly to how we live. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with that. It’s part of human nature. We can even go an extra step forward and converse with others and encourage them to live as we do, join our cause, or believe our beliefs. Every friend in the world ought to encourage and challenge others in a way that is productive and that does not debase or take away somebody’s dignity.

Christians are notorious in name for being a group of people who have everything “right” and need to impress upon the world the behaviors that everybody ought to live by. Church history is filled with institutional prejudice, tyranny, and downright injustice. Whenever the Church and the State get in bed with each other, bloodshed is soon to follow. But the Christian faith is not about such violence and coercion. The Christian faith is about peace, respect, and love for one’s neighbor.

Libertarians are notorious for being being a group that is selfish and do not think about the common good. Oftentimes the public face of libertarianism is like the public face of Christianity: there’s a lot to be lacking, and a lot to be criticized. But the fundamental feature of libertarianism is peace. Peace is a principle that is often misapplied. Bringing “peace to the Middle East” through war is certainly misapplied. But truly following a principle of peace means that we acknowledge that others deserve the same peaceful action that we demand for ourselves. It requires that we give up our “right” to act as we please, and respect the rights of others whose peace we might disrupt. In other words, it requires us to humble ourselves in accordance with the respect we believe all others deserve.

In a nutshell, libertarianism and Christianity intersect in a very interesting way. Christian faith teaches us to respect and love others. It also teaches us to be humble and to consider others as better than ourselves. Libertarianism, rightly understood, advocates a very similar teaching; that is, we must respect others as their rights are equal to ours.

Latent Pseudo-religion

Tu ne cede malis sed contra audentior ito

In a personal correspondence with my friend Norman Horn from LCC, Norman wrote something incredibly profound. It has been something I’ve felt for quite a while, but haven’t put into the poignant words he wrote (emphasis mine):

“There is a latent pseudo-religion that lingers in all of us before we make the jump to being anti-state. It was inculcated in us as children, was cultivated by parental examples, and is reinforced through media and public figures on a daily basis. This “statolatry” even walks alongside our REAL religion and co-opts its theology for its own benefit (cf. Religious Right). In general, we can call it the front line for Christians in the “war of ideas.” It is our ultimate enemy in this war, because the battle is fought both internally and externally. We have to be merciful about it, because at one time we too were caught in the trap, but just like we never back down in calling sin by its name so should we never back down in revealing this evil for what it is.”

Though I cannot speak for Norman, a little bit of background on me might help. My “jump to being anti-state” is certainly not complete. And it might be helpful to say that being anti-state does not mean being anti-government, especially anti-governance. Law and order must exist. Rule of law (rather than the rule of whimsical men) is necessary and proper for social order. But as a Christian it seems as though our calling is to name evil for what it is, and stand up against it. I would say this is especially true when evil is infiltrating our faith and our philosophies. While it is always true that our man-made conceptions of faith and philosophy are always subject to incompleteness, it is the responsibility of every Christian to call out that which doesn’t coincide with the ethics of the Kingdom of God.

It is that principle that Norman and I are indelibly committed.

Christianity and Libertarianism, Part 3: Antiwar

While some Christians might find it difficult to believe, a christianity is not a pro-war faith. In fact, Christians ought to be at the forefront of advocating for peace, rather than being in the position of advocating some war abroad or justifying the murdering of others with whom we have disagreements. Some Christians even go so far as to advocate or justify torture, ironic because our faith is built upon the nonviolent resistance of Jesus, who himself was tortured to the worst degree.

Libertarians are not always antiwar, but the principles of libertarianism, as we saw in part one, were that of nonaggression and peaceful behavior. By its very nature, libertarians believe that war is immoral, with the exception of self defense. Unfortunately, there hasn’t been a war in American history that could justifiably fall under that category (unless you consider the Confederate States fighting in self-defense).

Contrast this belief that war is wrong to that of progressives and conservatives who believe that war is a legitimate when it suits a political agenda such as filling the coffers of your rich buddies, or perhaps to justify increasing government spending to “stimulate” an economy. Libertarians are the most consistent when they say war is wrong. Secular libertarian websites such as AntiWar.com are calling out why the wars the United States government is carrying out is immoral and wrong. This is fundamentally an issue of justice, something Christians ought to be committed to.

Yes, I realize that there are “just war” theories, and perhaps there is merit to those arguments. Maybe they are theologically correct. But ask yourself the question (as Paul Green does), “How many innocent people would you be willing to kill – purely to defend yourself?” Because even if you advocate for a just war, there are always innocent victims. And if you think reading the Old Testament gets you off the hook being “pro-war,” try reading this article by Paul Green.

So while many Christians justify war for this reason or that, this coinciding principle of peace stands at the heart of every libertarian, and ought to be an easy embrace for any follower of Christ.

Christianity and Libertarianism, Part 2: Service

Another thing that I absolutely love about free markets is that in order to succeed, you have to actually do something for your neighbor that your neighbor wants you to do! Think about that for a moment. If nobody is required by coercion (laws) to buy something from you or hire you to perform a service, guess what you have to do: serve your neighbor!

The word “serve” is often used synonymously with things like “sacrifice” to imply that you cannot receive any reward for whatever act of service you have done. But service is a much broader term. We have departments in companies called “customer service,” and the “service desk” is a place where we can get help at the hardware store. “Quality service” is a mantra that many businesses use because if they live up to it that may mean more revenue (gasp!). My parents and grandparents used to call the place where we refuel our cars “service stations.” Why? Because they paid for a service performed, namely the filling up of a car and/or the checking of oil or washing of a windshield. I can assure you that the men who did this work on my father’s SUV were not doing it for charity. They were doing it because they wanted to earn money. But it did not diminish the quality of the service itself.

A Christian theology of community emphasizes the value and need for social connection and social cooperation. Church life, if it works well at all, is predominantly built upon social values of love and sacrifice. It is only since Western Christianity that we’ve valued individuality at the expense of the community. While individualism is excellent when placed in the context of human rights and boundaries of order, it is only one part of the equation in society. Community is necessary for vibrancy in personhood and the social order. Cooperation in market exchanges represent one method of community. When people are free to exchange as they see fit, they will be required to make decisions about who they will trade with. In short, they will cooperate with some people and ignore others. Whoever serves others’ needs and wants in the most desired way succeeds.

But what does cooperation have to do with service? In order to cooperate with somebody, we must give up something of our own. We all start with different resources available to us, whether we were rich or poor. Most of us have the ability to work and provide labor for somebody else. It all starts here. I willingly offer my labor to a company who will pay me. I’d rather not do it. I’d rather the company just give me the money. I’d rather stay at home and watch TV or read books or play on my iPad. I’d rather go fly a Piper Cub. But in order to do any of those things (all of which, by the way, are luxuries and not necessities), I have to serve somebody who considers what I have to offer worthy of wages. I have to give up something of mine. Once that occurs, I’ve earned my wages, and now I want food. I’d prefer that the grocer just give me food. (By the way, those of you reading who think health care is a human right, why isn’t food a human right? And why not the public outrage that we actually have to pay for the food we eat?) But I can’t just take the food. I have to give up something for it. Indirectly, I’ve had to serve somebody in society for that food.

Service is a broad concept, especially when we think about the way in which we interact with people every day. Our lives are filled with millions of choices, many of which are minor, but many that require us to sacrifice something. Today I went out to eat with some co-workers. I had to decide whether the $5+tip was worth more to me than the food I was potentially going to buy. The restaurant owner(s) had to decide whether or not it was worth it to spend ahead of time—before they had any idea I might want to eat at their restaurant—enough human labor and capital (read: freezers, fridges, food storage, grills, and dinnerware, to name a few), both of which cost them a lot of money. Each on the end of the transaction made a decision to sacrifice something in order to gain what the other had.

I marvel every time I go to Starbucks or the grocery store and the cashier says, “Thank you.” Huh? Why are they thanking me? I’m the one who got the product, right? All they got was a lousy green piece of paper with a dead mans face and a bunch of weird symbols on it. Yet the reality is that we both gained from the transaction. Even if the cashier wasn’t the owner, she has gained because I’ve been a small part of what keeps her employed at a place she apparently has chosen to work (yes, I realize that some people aren’t at their favorite jobs; but nobody is forced to work anywhere specific unless you’re a child under 16 and you must work at the local government school—but that’s another issue!). Both of us are better off after the transaction (or at least we have acted as such).

Cooperation is a beautiful thing. Progressives talk about it all the time, yet they seem to miss the point because they advocate for coercive methods in order to achieve their “social cooperation.” Libertarians advocate for freedom of association and freedom of exchange, which by definition requires people to serve another if they want to get ahead in life. Not only does this facilitate cooperation, it is a huge mechanism to thwart greed, which is a social and personal problem that the anti-capitalists blame on free markets. But that will have to wait for another post.

Christianity and Libertarianism, Part 1: Non-Aggression

Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron’s cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.

C.S. Lewis, God in the Dock

Progressives absolutely love to tell those in power about their expertise in how the world ought to run. Progressive Christians, opportunists they are, jump at offering their better and more enlightened ethics of the kingdom into this political arrangement. Compassionately and with good intentions, they seek to change the world through changing the structures of power to lean their way, so that the goals, outcomes, and real-world arrangements of society look like they believe it ought to look. Justice will reign, they say, when the right legislation is passed, the right regulations are placed on commerce and exchange, and the right leaders are in place. (We need to forget for the moment that, by definition, the “right legislation, regulations, and leaders” would lead to whatever ideal society they are looking for. But such shows the arrogance of progressives.)

What Progressive Christians especially forget is the key ingredient to the outcome of social justice. The idea of freedom, or liberty, is essential to life, and—yes—justice. And here is where I believe libertarianism offers an incredible insight into the ethics of social interaction. This insight is the foundational principle of libertarians, and is quite obviously very compatible with the Christian faith.

This cornerstone principle is called the “non-aggression axiom,” which states that no person has the right to aggress the property or person of another person, with exception of self-defense. So unless you have previously been aggressed upon, you should not, under any circumstances, do unto another something they do not wish that you do.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but this arrangement sounds very Christian to me. Would Jesus approve of our aggressing another to do what we would have him do? Would Jesus approve of our enforcement upon another a belief with which he did not agree? I doubt it. In fact, I believe Jesus would probably go one step further, and disregard the “defense” exception of the axiom, since he tells us to “turn the other cheek” if someone aggresses us, and to pray for those who persecute us. But that doesn’t exclude the non-aggression principle.

What most people don’t think about is the flip side of this argument. While I’ll address the so-called “selfish” components of libertarianism in another post, I should briefly point out that this principle means we passionately defend other people’s right to not be aggressed upon. It’s definitely easy to say “Don’t bother me,” and point out the inherent selfishness in that statement. But we ought not forget the converse, which means, “Leave them alone, too!” “Them” is our neighbor, the poor person, the downtrodden, the widow and orphan. But that is not, as it might be misconstrued, a call to leave people to fend for themselves. It’s akin to saying, “Don’t harm them!”

So at the start, Christianity is indeed compatible with libertarianism’s foundational principle. Both seek to respect one’s neighbor. Both defend everyone’s right to life and liberty. And both share at least half of Jesus’ principle of peace, though of course Jesus would probably go further.

Can a Christian be a Libertarian?

Three years ago I became immensely interested in the issues surrounding the theological and moral notion of “social justice.” I was growing increasingly aware and agreed with the idea that the gospel of Jesus Christ was not primarily about our individual salvation, our personal relationship with Jesus Christ, or how individuals can “go to heaven when they die.” Those questions are all important, but they reflect a contextualized segment of the gospel. Jesus came as part of an endeavor by the Creator-god to rescue the creation from its fallen state. Jesus was the catalyst for global change through his life message, his stated mission, and his death and resurrection. Jesus, in just about every important way, was the starting point for a whole new way of life, for individuals, for social groups, for the world. In short, Jesus changes everything. With a few exceptions, anybody who has claimed to have an encounter with Jesus will say their lives were radically affected in a positive way.

So when it became obvious to me that this radical, life-changing Jesus had a more holistic message than the go-to-heaven-when-you-die message (which, by the way, he never said), my Christian faith and living took on a whole new meaning and relevance. The life message of Jesus was nonviolence, concern for the outcasts and poor in society, and an unequivocal choice by his followers to engage the world as he did. His stated mission, a restatement of a prophecy from the Old Testament about the Messiah, was to “preach good news to the poor,” “proclaim freedom to prisoners,” and “set the oppressed free” (Luke 4:18). And his death revealed a passionate commitment to nonviolence, nonaggression, and loving sacrifice. His resurrection, the cornerstone to the whole movement, meant (among many things) that death was not powerful enough to stop his mission and message, and was a foretaste of the redemption that was to happen to the entire cosmos. Participants in this new kingdom were to be part of a building toward this future hope, a peaceful society in which social justice was to reign. Nobody would be oppressed. Everybody would be free. The world would be “put to rights,” as N.T. Wright says.

Ask any libertarian, and those goals sound like a libertarian fantasy world! Yet those who advocate and promote social justice believe that libertarian philosophy is based on worldly and unbiblical ideas. My very own salvation has been questioned by others who simply can’t understand why I advocate for libertarian social ethics.

It is an absurd myth to believe that embracing liberty and believing in the mission of Jesus are incompatible. If you are a Christian (especially a “progressive Christian”), the message of Jesus is not only compatible with libertarian social philosophy, it thrives within it!

Their compatibility, however, does not mean the two are identical value systems. It is one thing for a social system to be permissive in nature while one’s personal (and even social) value system is greatly different. Even the story of God, Adam, and Eve reveals that simply because God permitted Adam and Eve to choose a painfully wicked choice, it does not automatically follow that God endorsed their actual choice.

I could be completely rude and say that social justice Christians are highly judgmental, self-righteous, narrow-minded, and are concerned not about others but about their own gratification in seeing society manipulated to suit their ends. But that wouldn’t be nice of me. Instead I’ll just chalk it up to sloppy analysis and an ignorance or unwillingness to understand and process the value system of libertarian thought. It’s patently unfair to compare one’s unquestionably moral and well-intentioned commitments to compassion, service, and justice to the subpar examples of outcomes of misapplied libertarian thought. In short, you don’t compare your best to others’ worst.

And let’s be honest, there is a lot that’s unappealing to the attitudes and actions of those who claim to love individual freedom. The “leave me alone” message does seem selfish, and it certainly appeals to the self-centered nature in each of us. For those who don’t understand it, it will likely leave a distasteful flavor in their mouths, and can stifle any true interest in libertarian principles.

But at its core, libertarian thought isn’t about being “left alone.” It isn’t about ignoring social needs. It isn’t about worshiping the free market, or abolishing the federal government. At its core, the message is consistent and radical embracing of nonaggression. Last I checked, that core principle is profoundly compatible with the Christian faith.

But just comparing this axiom to the Christian faith doesn’t make a philosophy or lifestyle necessarily Christian. To be sure, libertarians worldwide would be rather adamant that their principles aren’t based in Scripture, don’t stem from Jesus Christ, nor do they require a religious basis to be worthy of value. What is necessary to show that libertarianism is not only compatible with Christianity, it is the most compatible social philosophy for Christians to embrace.

In the next few posts, I will share my thoughts on why I believe this to be the case.

Does Jesus Negate Economics?

Bob Murphy, an anarcho-capitalist economist who is also a Christian, is a daily blogger who writes about economics from various angles, some of which I can’t even pretend to follow, others which are more philosophical in nature (which is where I’m most interested in human action and economic analysis). On Sundays, however, he writes a single post with a few “spiritual” thoughts unrelated to economics, though once in a while he connects the dots between the Christian worldview (at least from his perspective) and his economics worldview.

Today Bob (I hope I can get away with calling him by his first name since he’s never corrected me in an Email) posted an entry called “Economics, Selfishness, and the Gospel,” which was a follow-up entry to “Does Economics Require Selfishness?” While I didn’t follow the commenters on the first entry, it appears as though the first half of this second entry funnels into a religious comment about following Jesus. This sentence is worth pointing out:

If everyone really followed the commands of Jesus, it’s entirely possible that society would be so incredibly transformed that humans would live on a different plane of existence.

For many Christians disgruntled with what they falsely believe are the inherent dangers of capitalism and the free market, it’s very difficult to read these words coming from a self-profclaimed anarcho-capitalist who has written two essays in market anarchy [PDF] defending a likely success of private law and private defense. Anybody who has listened to the free audiobook of Chaos Theory and not been interested in giving the argument a fair shake would be aghast at his suggestions.

But I don’t find them difficult to swallow in the least because when the imagination is let loose and put to action through ingenuity and determination, there is practically no limit to the benefits in store for those who pursue such ends morally and ethically. Murphy—who has apparently gone out of his way to describe the possibilities of a stateless society (read: no government)—humbly offers that we can barely conceive of a world where everybody would actually follow the teachings of Jesus. Though offering a few suggestions, such as people not knowing what it was like to be last in a game of tag (but somebody would be last, right?), or not knowing what fiat money or the military draft were, I think Murphy in some ways is simply describing what it would be like if the world were perfect. Given that Jesus’ commands were difficult to follow by those who witnessed the miracles and were hugged by the Messiah himself, I’ll give Murphy the benefit of the doubt that he was hypothesizing on this “plane of existence.” I would disagree, however, “that the writings of free-market economists would seem naive or very limited.” No, I believe they would be very helpful in understanding human nature. Even in a world where people mostly followed Jesus’ commands, economics—as the study of human action—would be a vital science for social progress.

As a seminary-trained Christian highly interested in philosophical economics, it seems to me that in a world where people mostly followed Jesus, economists would spend more time describing the actions and interactions of human beings rather than both describing what they observe and prescribing policies for how things ought to be. What irks me the most about Christians who are hell-bent against the free market is that they tend to blame it for all sorts of social ills, but they will never admit that ideally, people ought to be free. “You need to take into account sin nature.” they say. “People are selfish, greedy, and sinful,” is supposedly a “proof” that we need a centralized authority telling people how they ought to behave, as if for some reason defending equal freedom for everyone without exception does not inherently account for a provision for such sinfulness. No, their solution is to put corrupt and sinful people into positions of absolute authority with the power of weaponry behind them. Doesn’t sound very “Christian” to me. But even on other blogs, I’ve had my faith questioned because I’ve defended the ideal of a free society, one without coercion and threat of violence from a monopoly institution.

If everyone agreed that choosing to follow the life and teachings of Jesus would create a better society, and we all agreed that we’d try very hard at doing so, and even if we largely succeeded in doing so, the world would certainly be an utterly different experience from how it is today. But I don’t think that would negate the need to study human action. If anything, it would be a demonstration of and make us appreciate the amazing progress that is made by people cooperating and trading at each other’s benefits.

Is Greed Good?

(This is the fourth in a series of posts analyzing each chapter in Jim Wallis’s new book, Rediscovering Values.)

Greediness is a social sin that is likely akin to smoking—everyone knows it’s bad. We avoid people who are greedy. We stop patronizing a business that feels as though greed is what drives it. And we more often than not do not praise greedy ambitions. Yet as Tim Keller points out (in a sermon I don’t have the link to), greed is a sin that nobody realizes they have, and easily explain it away. Unlike adultery, where you don’t just find yourself naked in the arms of your non-spouse, and think, “How did I get here!?” greediness sneaks up on us from within. We don’t wake up and decide to be greedy. Somewhere in our minds, we justify greedy behavior by calling it by another name—ambition, passion, self-interest. Yet somehow it is something we all tend to battle. It’s all about us, we want things our way, and we want it now.

Critics of a free market often chastise the concept of markets as “based on greed,” claiming that since its foundations are immoral and suspect, the progress delivered by the results of a free market are also dubious. Yet this criticism is unfounded and unfair, in part because no serious free marketeer believes that “greed is good,” and even the oft-quoted “greed is good” from the film Wall Street, in context, leads us to admit that greed isn’t exactly the best word to describe how markets work. Whatever the definitions we choose for the words “greed” and “self-interest” (which is often equated with the greed), its connotations lead us to the understanding that greediness is an attitude by which somebody seeks self-gain at the expense of somebody else, and doesn’t concern themselves with the ramifications of the nature of such exchanges.

To be sure, everyone becomes greedy at some point and in some fashion. As human beings, we are selfish creatures, looking for pleasures wherever they are to be found. It is natural (and not inherently immoral) that we seek our own interest. Indeed, it is the only way which we are able to act, for the very definition of “acting” means we are consciously acting in ways that benefit us in either an intrinsic or extrinsic way.

If we act out of our self-interest, and if this is not an inherently immoral notion, what is it about greed that makes it immoral? It is the “at others’ expense” part of the definition of greed that sets it apart from the notion of self-interest. The person acting out of self-interest is doing that which is natural (even a “selfless act” is done at the intrinsic gain by the one acting for somebody else’s gain). The greedy person is doing it with no regard for what it may cost others. Note that this doesn’t necessarily have to cost somebody something at the greedy man’s expense, it’s his attitude toward whether or not it could.

So what does this have to do with Jim Wallis’s chapter, “Greed is Good”? Jim blames greediness, but he doesn’t just blame Wall Street, though there is plenty of blame to place there.  He tells stories of the uber-wealthy and their 100-foot yachts that feel like dinghies to the owners to point out that there is always something more to covet, something greater to buy. And he even blames “normal people”  who were willing to finance a “second mortgage” to get things they don’t need. Society has devolved into a “you are what you own” sort of culture, and we all tend to buy into it as “normal.” But as Dave Ramsey says just about every day, “normal is broke. We want to be oddballs.”

Wallis writes, “Without a clear sense of self, a strong identity, and a community of purpose, it seems our default mode is to identify ourselves by the things we own” (pg. 50). In a society where affluence is the norm (compared to most of the rest of the world), we tend to take for granted that we work less than our ancestors did and can afford leisure because we are more productive! We are so far removed from what “basic needs” are that we easily fall into the trap of identifying ourselves by what we own. We find identity in brand names, our cars, our homes, our kids, our electronics, our clothes, and our music. When asked “who are you?” we typically identify with various aspects of our favorite forms of consumption, rather than with something that reflects our self-understanding and inner awareness.

So when it comes to greediness, it is an important sin to purge, especially when such “social sins” can be so systemic they disrupt the economy as a whole. But blaming greed itself is like blaming alcohol for drunkenness. Not only must there be a provider of the alcohol, there has to be incentive to consume the alcohol in excess. So it merely begs the question: how did we become so greedy? What in our society permitted greed to run rampant? If the rule of law was meant to restrain people from doing things at the expense of others, what happened?

This is where Jim Wallis fails to go. I’d like to believe that he simply doesn’t know about this, but it is more than likely that he doesn’t want to admit the source of the greed-enabling because it would undermine his belief in a “good government” with power to manipulate the economy for “social justice.” So far in this book (and I’ve skimmed the rest of it) there has been no mention of the Federal Reserve, no mention of government intervening in the marketplace, and no mention of legislation that encourages excessively risky lending. As Thomas E. Woods points out in his book Meltdown, “the Federal Reserve System is for all intents and purposes an arm of the federal government” (pg. 8). Critics will point out that the Fed is independent, and though they are technically right, it is an institution with federally-granted powers, and is entrenched so deeply with the federal government it appears as if there is not much “independence” in reality.

One of the most discredited ideas of the 20th century is central planning, the notion that the best and brightest minds in society, if in power, can direct resources throughout an economy in order to best appropriate them and put them to effective use. F.A. Hayek called this the “fatal conceit,” an arrogance that in hindsight is actually quite laughable. But instead of controlling the production of manufacturing of steel, or the extraction of oil, like the Soviet Union did, the Federal Reserve manipulates and controls the supply of money, making high-level decisions that ought to be left up to the market. Instead of letting the market set the price of borrowing and lending (i.e. the “interest rate”), the Fed controls that rate. When rates are lower than what the market would set, the result is an artificial boom. Stated another way, it is the appearance of wealth without the creation of wealth. Imagine attempting to build a home, and calculating you had 10 million bricks with which to build it, and so you plan a big house. But then you realize after using about 3 million bricks that you really only have another million left. You’ve got the same result as an artificial interest rate: less wealth (which can only be produced, not printed) than truly exists.

For a sermon, Jim Wallis’s chapter on greed works fairly well. But as a response to what he calls the “Great Recession,” it fails miserably by either refusing to ignoring the importance of putting his finger on a major source of the pain: the Federal Reserve.

Rediscovering Values: Analysis Part 1 (Introduction)

(This is the first in a series of posts analyzing each chapter in Jim Wallis’s new book, Rediscovering Values. For the introduction to this series, please see this post.)

Jim Wallis has a knack for critiquing the Christian community for ignoring or shirking its responsibility for social engagement. Most Christians tend to be concerned about their private lives, the lives of those closely surrounding them, and perhaps their church community, but many are largely unaware of and passive about the social context in which they live. In a relatively free country such as the United States, with remnants of a Christianized society, we often take for granted the pleasures of such freedom permit us. We live in a world where things tend to be hunky-dorey, and what qualifies as “bad things happening to good people” is a dent in our new car or the neighbor’s dog who makes its business our business. We simply are unaware of greater and deeper problems in society, both in our communities, in our country, and globally. Social awareness does not come easy to the affluent; and if you have a job and a home in the United States, you are affluent from a global perspective.

In January 2009, Wallis was invited to participate in the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland. Since this was about the time markets were beginning to collapse, and everyone around the globe was wondering, “When will this crisis be over?” (read: “When can we get back to business as usual?”), Wallis was asking the most important question: “How will this crisis change us?”

Wallis points out how we as a society misplaced our trust in something called “the invisible hand,” a phrase from economist Adam Smith. If you’ve ever read Jim Wallis before, he is often making snide remarks about the invisible hand, sarcastically dismissing it as a superstitious thing to believe in (what he believes is really going on is not clear). More on that will come from an analysis of Chapter Two, “When the Market Became God.” For now suffice it to say that Wallis is too naive to understand that there is no invisible hand because there is a very ever-present and very obvious hand manipulating the economy. But this is not obvious to Wallis. Either he is unwilling to acknowledge the existence of an evil hand at play, acting very much against the “invisible hand,” or he is too naive to understand the very basics of economics.

Whatever one’s beliefs about economics, the source of the crisis we’re in (Wallis calls it the Great Recession), or our way out, Wallis’ fundamental question is not only valid for us now, but for anybody facing hardship or trials. It is a critical part of faith and trust in God, for events and circumstances in our lives are not what shapes us, but how we respond to the things that happen to us and all around us. How we serve each other, how we love each other, and how we look inward to evaluate and modify our inner lives, are all indicators that we are ever-changing people in the face of crisis.

In normal times, we often don’t spend the time wondering what our values are, what we will stand for, and how we will react to threats against our well-being. As Wallis puts it, this crisis “provides the rare opportunity to ask some fundamental questions about our most basic values” (pg. 7).

Wallis writes, “The twentieth century saw the creation and distribution of goods, services, and ideas with unprecedented efficiency and volume. But wit these great advances, the moral weight of our decisions becomes greater than ever before. We need to determine whether the purpose of business and the vocation of our business leaders is restricted to turning a profit or if it can become something more” (pg. 8, emphasis mine). Here is where Wallis tends to present either/or scenarios with regards to profit. On the surface, it appears as if he is saying that business can legitimately pursue profit, but wonders if “common good” results can come of businesses. But deeper reflection might reveal that if businesses are profiting ethically and legitimately, is not the “goods, services, and ideas with unprecedented efficiency and volume” produced in society itself a common good? Are we not all better off because of such high productivity? It is a common fallacy to divorce “common good” with the idea of “profit,” especially when the idea of profit is used to connote exploitation. Wallis tends to fall into this fallacy, using phrases (in other areas such as health care) “profits before people,” but he is correct when he concludes, “the key will be whether the right questions are asked and whether the common good is part of the answer” (pg. 8). Pursuing the “common good” is an elusive phrase used by most collectivists who see individual interests as subservient to the interests of society. When there is a confusion of the ownership and control over property, notions such as “common good” become metaphorical bludgeons to control the behavior of individuals and circumvent human rights. But true common good would benefit everyone, rather than putting some people’s individual rights as secondary. Indeed, we must have what is called “the common good,” but there need not be a sacrifice of individual rights in order to achieve it, since individuals comprise “the common,” and if it is good for all, it need be good for the individual.

When things go sour in an economy, it takes only a little media coverage to call to surface the fears that we all have inside, and many people let that fear take over their lives. Worry becomes normal, and we simply want things to go back to “business as usual.” Wallis rejects this desire, saying we cannot go back to business as usual, because business as usual is what got us to this place. While I’m completely in agreement with the sentiment here, Wallis has never demonstrated economic knowledge in what exactly “got us here,” but rather blames things such as the “invisible hand” and free markets (even though neither exist). But people of faith are to begin a new conversation, addressing the values and actions that answer the question, “How will this crisis change us?”

The bigger questions are articulated here:

“What does our theology tell us about money and possessions, wealth and power, credit and responsible financial choices, economic values vs. family values, lifestyle and stewardship, generosity and justice, and both personal and social responsibility? What can economists… tell us about economic philosophy, the role of the market, the role of government, the place of social regulation, the spiritual consequences of economic disparities, the moral health of an economy, and the criteria of the common good?” (pg. 10).

While I’m not yet into the next few chapters, my initial hunches about what answers Wallis will likely provide are not very promising. The values he will share and promote will no doubt be biblical, ethical, and moral. Indeed, they will very likely be modeled after the Way of Jesus. And it will not be in those values that I will likely be in disagreement. As I’ve already pointed out, Wallis seems confused about social ethics, creating false dichotomies such as “personal vs. social responsibility,” or promoting fascist ideas such as “social regulation” (which is a friendly way of saying “behavior control”), and commits many economic fallacies.

An important facet of this book is that Wallis’s states purpose is to get a conversation going about our values. Whether one agrees with his prescription for action, his theology, or his politics, Wallis is doing us an incredible favor by asking us to reflect and evaluate who we are, what we value, and how we are living those values in our world.

Poverty and the Imagination

“How is poverty to be addressed without legislation?”

This is the question often posed to me when discussing a Christian ethic of helping the poor and serving others. Legislation is also quickly brought into the swath of solutions to social injustice. Without legislation, so the argument goes, social justice cannot and will not be realized in our lifetime, or in any generation soon.

But legislation (which has its rightful place) needs to be used sparingly due to its mechanism for providing incentives: weapons. The would-be murderer refrains not due to a inner realization that the hated person is actually made in God’s image and deserves to live, but because there is a violent consequence at the end of the road. The would-be tax evader pays his taxes not out of a charitable spirit, but out of compulsion: if he continues to refrain from paying taxes, and resists the series of consequences for not doing so, he will find himself staring at the barrel of a gun.

This isn’t to say that there is no place at all for some assistance for the destitute. It simply means that legislating something has an ethical and moral component to it that most people do not consider. It’s one thing to protect everyone by protecting their right and will to freely exchange and pursue their own ends. It’s quite another to impose upon some—at the point of a gun—a presumptuous program for the poor as if a bureaucrat (or group of them) knew exactly what was better for the poor than the poor themselves.

Christians who favor legislating justice seem to ignore this component, which is entirely absent the gospel of the Kingdom as presented by Jesus, and espoused by the Apostles and by Paul. Jesus came into the world not to wield a sword and build a Kingdom, but to establish peace through servanthood and sacrificial love. The power of the gospel of peace will not need a sword. If you have no alternatives to seeking peace in society than legislation, perhaps your gospel and your Jesus isn’t as powerful as you believe him to be.

The other problem with legislation is that it is often assumed to be the all-encompassing solution to a social problem. Such a conceited approach to solutions not only lacks imagination, it lacks the knowledge and is ultimately unable to adapt creatively to the ever-changing factors of social conditions. Living under the assumption that legislation will solve all of that is neither imaginative nor Christian.

Those of us who don’t advocate legislation to end poverty do not live as though our specific ideas to alleviate it are the solution to poverty. Our ideas about compassion, justice, and morality are merely single ways to address some of the problems within society. Contrary to popular belief, no serious libertarians believes that complete economic freedom will “solve everything” because libertarians don’t believe any single solution will “solve everything.”

We live in a world where our ideal future is pursued under the banner of hope and liberty. That doesn’t negate the need for laws and boundaries of moral order; rather, it gives meaning to rules and regulations: free people to do that which they believe is best for their own lives, and prevent people from aggressing one’s neighbor (or punish them for doing it). Eventually, in a perfect world (which we hope we will have someday), legislation will fade as people naturally do that which is right. But we’re a long way from that, of course.

As followers of Jesus, the Prince of peace, we are to seek and utilize peaceful and nonviolent means of establishing justice and eradicating things such as poverty. As I have written earlier, ”Our passion for creativity is the pathway to social justice.”