As I suggested in my previous article, my preferred way to read the biblical texts is to identify in them a particular kind of method, rather than precise prescriptions. In this article, I will suggest some specific aspects of method in modern, theologically-informed economic ethics.
Above all, I suggest that we give attention to human persons and to the institutions they construct, not just to systems. If it is at all legitimate to identify a common thread in scriptural texts, it seems to me that there is an idea of human dignity that has been compelling to readers of the scriptures down the ages. We see this reflected in a valuing of human life, and in a preference for certain kinds of freedom of choice — especially freedoms that include opportunity and risk while moderating harm. It is also reflected in an ideal of a modest egalitarianism of outcomes and a tendency to see baseline equality as a worthwhile ideal rather than a radical flattening of all distinctives. I also see an appreciation for humans as creative agents in the world. There is a common idealisation of being able to do new things and to grow beyond what already exists.
An example of this is the portrayal in Gen 4.17–22 of family groups developing new areas of industry. Cain is described as the first builder of a city, Adah of the developer of nomadic life, Jubal the inventor of musical instruments, and Tubal-Cain the inventor of metal tools. In the narrative, this is an ascription of creativity to human beings, and an idealisation of the development and growth of human endeavour. This view of humans as creative agents, who bring about growth in the world, is a particular kind of anthropology. It is also, though, a particular kind of economic view that does not envisage the existing state of the world as the sum total of all that can be. The economic world in which biblical humans exist is not a zero sum game.
Along similar lines, there is an attentiveness to human dignity that we can detect in the theological motivations that biblical texts present for prescriptions around poverty and its relief. The dignity of humanity is what can be damaged by economic hardship and it is often this attentiveness to dignity that has seemed distinctively interesting to modern readers.
An example of this is the characteristic use of the familial term ‘brother’ (ach) in Deuteronomy’s laws. This word is used in the motivation provided for generous lending practices: ‘If there is among you anyone in need, a brother in any of your towns within the land that the LORD your God is giving you, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy brother.’ (Modern translations often translate the word as ‘Israelite,’ ‘member of the community,’ or ‘neighbour,’ no doubt from a praiseworthy desire to avoid gendered language.)
Some commentators have incorrectly seen this as a reference to a household economy, in which people only lend money to direct family members. In some cases, this has even led interpreters to draw the quite incorrect conclusion that Deut 15 is advocating for a ‘relational’ economy in which people only transact with those they are kin or at least friends with. (Note that the word is a kin word, not a word for a friend or a neighbour.)
The law is, of course, not intended to prescribe lending practices between biological siblings. In fact, throughout Deuteronomy, ‘brother’ is used to refer to people who are not biologically related, to encourage a different way of engaging. It is quite normal for human beings in our less-inspiring moments to treat people they do not know and are not related to less well than we treat our close friends and our family members. Throughout Deuteronomy, even the king is encouraged to see ordinary citizens as ‘brothers’ — that is, to consider people in the ancient Near East who would normally be viewed as socially and legally inferior as people of equal status.
The same is true in Deut 15. It is entirely common for wealthy people to see in our wealth a confirmation of our own excellence and superiority, and to look down on people in less-fortunate economic situations. In recent years, Western society has developed a new attentiveness to these kinds of dynamics around ideas of power distance and ‘other’-ing of groups and individuals. That this attentiveness has developed in the West is a testament to the enduring power of the idealisation of some kind of equality of dignity and personhood in Deuteronomy.
In biblical scholarship, this idealisation is often referred to as ‘fictive kinship,’ which is the idea that we should treat people as if they were our biological relations — even though they are actually not. The idealisation is so productive because in our better — I would say, in our more human — moments, this call to treat others with the kind of dignity we ascribe to those we know and love most seems persuasive to many people, including the wealthy.
In fact, I would suggest that a truly ‘biblical’ economic ethics is not particularly prescriptive around specific economic practices. I do not think we have much to learn from the details of ancient Near Eastern loans in order to reform modern lending. Nor do I think the various practices of land redemption attested to in the scriptures offer us a useful template for modern land tenure. Instead, an attentiveness to the human elements of the story is more productive, and I would argue, a more robust reading of these ancient texts. Ancient readers, I am certain, read in those texts other distinctives than modern readers have tended to, and we can attempt to follow their patterns of reading by noticing the aspects of the texts to which they gave priority.
This suggests that a biblical economic ethic will be creative and constructive. It will recognise the enduring power of the ideas about humanity, dignity, and creativity that have meant that the scriptures continue to captivate modern readers. From those ideas, and from studying carefully the ways in which biblical texts present distinctive aspects of common ancient Near Eastern economic practices, we have the opportunity to develop entirely new economic systems and practices which reflect the same kinds of modifications of modern economic systems and practices.
Biblical economics were not static, in the sense that we cannot reduce the study of economic aspects of biblical texts to a timeless prescription of an economic system. The biblical texts present a range of idealised economic practices, but in those texts there is never enough detail for a systemic economic prescription, nor have the texts endured because of a compelling handbook for national social and economic structures.
Instead, there are common threads, of virtues that tend to produce dignified human societies and beneficial outcomes for human persons. These threads are moral in type, not technical. The technical prescriptions that we can encounter are interesting not because of their specific technical aspects, but because of the moral and ethical tendencies they display, and because of the creativity they reflect.
In fact, biblical economic rules participate in the general optimism of the Bible about growth and the likelihood of surplus and improvement in the human condition. They are worked examples of the ways in which human creativity can build not only material artefacts, but a better society. The Bible’s economic aspects offers us a window into a point in time in a story which is still being written — and still ought to be written, with optimism and creativity.
Dr Lyndon Drake has recently completed a DPhil at Oxford on theology and economic capital in the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament. He also has degrees in science and commerce (Auckland), a PhD in computer science (York), and two prior degrees in theology (Oxford), along with a number of peer-reviewed academic publications in science and theology. From the Ngāi Tahu Māori tribal group, he currently serves as Archdeacon of Tāmaki Makaurau in the Māori Anglican bishopric of Te Tai Tokerau. Lyndon has written Capital Markets for the Common Good: A Christian Perspective (Oxford: 2017, Oxford Centre for Enterprise, Markets, and Ethics). He is married to Miriam with three children. Until 2010, Lyndon was a Vice President at Barclays Capital in London.
One way to approach biblical texts is to read them as if they prescribe economic medicine for modern social maladies. For example, Paul Mills argues that an appropriate and devout appreciation of the Jubilee of Leviticus 25 will result in the construction of an economic system where no interest is charged on debts. This has a venerable pedigree: for much of the Christian church’s life, it held a similar view. A similar approach takes the Jubilee as symbolic of an ideal of social order with economic consequences, as in Michael Rhodes’ work (for example, Practicing the King’s Economy, p. 174).
In this article, I propose an alternative way to appreciate the economic aspects of the biblical texts by locating the texts within what we know of the ancient Near Eastern world in general, and in Israel and Judah in particular. When we do this we will find that the economic aspects we encounter in the biblical texts are in one sense very normal — that is, rather than being radically different from the cultural and social settings in which they originated, they actually sound rather mundane. At the same time, though, a careful reading shows that in some instances the normal has been modified, and the modifications are rather interesting.
Let me give a concrete example. The ideas of redemption and Jubilee are often cast as at least somewhat distinctive. In fact, the components found in the various biblical texts all have precedent elsewhere in the ancient Near East: repatriation of land, forgiveness of debts, freedom from slavery, and controls on interest and debt. Even the Levirate marriage of Ruth to Boaz is associated with the redemption of land in a Phoenician text.
There are, though, some distinctive aspects in the biblical texts. One is simply that we find all of them within the single collection of texts which we now read as scripture. Even this is complicated: some scholars hold the view that they present a coherent economic system, but most scholars understand the texts to reflect variations of practices and ideals. In other words, there is no single, coherent economic prescription of a ‘Jubilee’ economic ethic, but a number of texts which refer to a collection of both traditional social practices and novel ideals. In the case of redemption of land and persons, the most striking feature seen in biblical law is that redemption is not a matter of a king’s whim, nor is it a matter of contract, but is idealised as periodic and systematic. The presentations in Jeremiah of both land redemption (Jer 32) and redemption of persons (Jer 34) differ in important details from those found in the law codes, but what is common between them is an egalitarian tendency and a valuing of human persons, in contrast to what was common in the ancient Near East: autocratic power, oriented towards the preservation of existing social and economic status.
In ancient Assyrian practice, for example, the remission edicts which gave a national forgiveness of debts and release from slavery came from the king’s personal decision. There was no guarantee for an indebted or enslaved person of experiencing remission of debts or redemption from slavery. It entirely depended on the will of a monarch. What is more, we have some insight into the motivations of the kings who instituted these remissions. The kings were theologically motivated, and sought to uphold ‘justice and righteousness,’ in obedience to a divine mandate and task given to kings. We must not be misled by the apparent familiarity of these words, though, because in Assyrian society, ‘justice and righteousness’ referred to the upholding of a right social order. While in some ways the outcomes of a remission edict might cohere with a modern, Western view of right social order — e.g. freeing enslaved persons — it certainly did not mean a radical or permanent equality, and nor was it motivated by a desire to remove a system of slavery and unequal social status. Instead, it meant maintaining those in power, and not allowing social unrest to build to the point where society was disrupted by the upheaval of a revolt. Remission edicts were release valves in an unstable, oppressive social order, intended to maintain that social order for the benefit of the elites.
The radical point in Deuteronomy 15, then, is not that debts were occasionally forgiven, nor that slaves were occasionally freed. These were well-known in the ancient Near East. What was unusual was the formation of an ideal, where debts would be forgiven periodically, and motivated by a humanitarian theology rather than a kind of structural conservativism. Deuteronomy 15’s prescriptions were about systematising a known practice, and giving that practice a distinctively Jewish theological framing.
The repatriation of ancestral land, as seen in Leviticus 25, is also known from elsewhere in the ancient Near East. In some places and times, ancestral land was inalienable (although in practice the desire to buy and sell land sometimes led to the development of legal fictions, such as ‘adoptions’ whose primary purpose was to effect a transfer of land ownership). In many places, though, ultimate ownership of all land was understood to rest with the king. This could then be the basis for the king granting ownership of land to people, in a kind of ownership that was always subsidiary to the king’s ultimate ownership. A novelty in Leviticus 25 was its ascription of overall ownership to Israel’s God, with a king not mentioned at all. In the ideational world of Leviticus 25 (that is, a world of the formation of concepts and ideas), there is God who owns everything, and household heads who have a kind of ownership which is inalienable over the long term, but which is relegated to the status of mere stewardship rather than ultimate ownership. There is an unmediated relationship of status, in terms of land rights, between God and the people — at least, those people fortunate enough to be heads of the patriarchal households of the time.
In both examples, I think we are justified in detecting a similar impulse towards some of the typical power structures of the ancient Near East, and a theological interest in humanitarian outcomes rather than a mere preservation of the existing ordering of society. These texts seem to reflect a common distrust of kings, even to the extent of eliminating them from the kinds of exercises of power which we might look back on with affirmation — after all, while we might prefer a reordering of society to eliminate the social institution of slavery altogether, we might well also be able to affirm the idea that releasing people from actual slavery is still praiseworthy.
Deuteronomy 15 and Leviticus 25 seem to be offering a different concept of power, in which the desirable outcome (people not being slaves) is severed from its typical ancient Near Eastern source (the power of kings). These ideas are given distinctive theological motivations, tied to the benefits to those with less social power, rather than the benefits to elites. To my mind, the idea of systematisation of good outcomes, and the distancing of these outcomes from the whims of elites, is more notable than the specific economic rules.
But we can push into this further. Rather than restricting ourselves to the specific ways in which the legal texts of Deuteronomy 15 and Leviticus 25 idealise a modification of ancient Near Eastern social and economic practices, we could also identify a kind of theological or ethical method. These texts have not posited a radical or idealised economic system. Neither Deuteronomy 15 nor Leviticus 25 can be compared to Das Kapital, to take a modern example. They are modest modifications of normality, not radical transformations into a new ideal.
So my suggestion is that if we are to attempt to undertake a reading of the biblical texts as modern people hoping to develop economic ethics, we will benefit most from an appreciation of the method of the biblical texts, rather than seeking prescriptions for specific economic and social practices.
Dr Lyndon Drake has recently completed a DPhil at Oxford on theology and economic capital in the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament. He also has degrees in science and commerce (Auckland), a PhD in computer science (York), and two prior degrees in theology (Oxford), along with a number of peer-reviewed academic publications in science and theology. From the Ngāi Tahu Māori tribal group, he currently serves as Archdeacon of Tāmaki Makaurau in the Māori Anglican bishopric of Te Tai Tokerau. Lyndon has written Capital Markets for the Common Good: A Christian Perspective (Oxford: 2017, Oxford Centre for Enterprise, Markets, and Ethics). He is married to Miriam with three children. Until 2010, Lyndon was a Vice President at Barclays Capital in London.
The Centre for Enterprise, Markets and Ethics (CEME) is pleased to announce the publication of The Challenge of Artificial Intelligence: Responsibly Unlocking the Potential of AI by Andrei E. Rogobete.
A PDF copy can be found here. A hardcopy of the publication can be ordered by contacting CEME’s offices at office@theceme.org
Artificial intelligence is reshaping business, security, transport, and everyday life at remarkable speed. But the rapid advance of machine learning and generative AI raises questions that go beyond efficiency and innovation: What does it mean to be truly human? What separates consciousness from computation? And what ethical framework should govern how these technologies are developed and deployed?
In this publication, Andrei Rogobete traces the evolution of AI from antiquity to the present day, before examining two contrasting case studies — the successful use of biometric identification at national borders, and the persistent difficulties facing autonomous vehicle technology. He then develops a distinctively Christian response, grounded in the biblical teaching that human beings are made in the image of God: uniquely capable of self-awareness, moral reasoning, love, and relationship with the divine. On this basis, he argues that AI — however sophisticated — cannot possess genuine consciousness or spiritual capacity, and that its development must remain in the service of human flourishing. Drawing on statements from evangelical, Catholic, and Anglican traditions, Rogobete offers practical principles for the responsible adoption of AI within an ethical framework shaped by Christian theology.
We were delighted to host a joint event on the 30th November 2023 between the Centre for Enterprise, Markets & Ethics (CEME) and the Las Casas Institute for Social Justice (Blackfriars Hall, University of Oxford), on the theme of “Finance for the Common Good”. Our speakers addressed a range of issues such as the interplay between finance, greed and morality, a history of local banking, the role of Catholic Social Teaching, and the relationship of the corn laws, Brexit and the Common Good.
Edward Hadas is Research Fellow at Blackfriars Hall, Oxford prior to which he spent 45 years in finance and financial journalism. He is the author of Money, Finance, Reality, Morality (2022).
Richard Turnbull is the Director of the Centre for Enterprise, Markets and Ethics, visiting Professor at St Mary’s University, Twickenham and author of numerous articles, papers and books relating to ethics and business in historical perspective.
Jean Pierre Casey is the convenor of the UK Chapter of the Centesimus Annus Foundation, a member of the investment committee of the Holy See and formerly head of investments for both J.P. Morgan and Edmond de Rothschild.
Cheryl Schonhardt-Bailey is Professor in Political Science and Fellow of the British Academy and was head of the department of government at the LSE from 2019-2022. Her research interests are in political economy, legislatures, deliberation and accountability and she is the author of several books.
At first glance some readers (myself included), might be mistaken to assume that Faith Driven Investing is another “how to” guide on ethical investing – it is not. In fact, the book has very little to say about investing per say and rather focuses on the “faith driven” investors themselves and the wider role of the Christian faith: What makes a Christian investor? What drives them? How do they influence change? How should a Christian think about risk? How are Christians in the financial sector or in business called to engage with the capital markets and money more generally? (pages 3-4).
These broader questions are tackled in the book by a collection of authors (seventeen to be exact). The contributors are mostly prominent practitioners within the field such as Cathie Wood, Luke Rousch and Richard Okello, as well as those with more of a theological/pastoral background such as Timothy Keller and Andy Crouch.
The structure of the book therefore comprises fourteen chapters representing individual essays that are collated within two larger sections. The first is called “Faith Driven Investors are…” while the second is titled “Therefore, They…”, reflecting the overarching intention of exploring who faith driven investors are and what they are called to do. The main audience of the book is Christian investors and entrepreneurs but those with a wider general interest in business as a force for good will find it worthwhile. The various essays use minimal technical jargon (be that in respect to theology or finance), making the book accessible to the layperson and specialist alike.
Timothy Keller (1950-2023), the late pastor and theologian from New York opens up the discussion in Chapter 1 with an intriguing take on personal identity and what it means to have an identity that is rooted in Christ. Keller writes that “…an identity that flows from who he is and what he has done for us changes everything. It radically transforms the way we work, the way we invest, the way we view money, all of it” (page 14). He then goes on to list four different ways in which this happens. We won’t enumerate all here but the third makes an interesting and important point: God (being omnipotent) could provide for our material needs directly yet he chooses not to do so and instead uses human work as a means of provision (page 15). This raises profound implications for the nature and value of work which, according to Keller, means that: 1. All work carries great dignity, even the most menial; 2. Through work we are “…God’s hands and fingers, sustaining and caring for his world”; 3. One of the main ways of pleasing God is simply to do our work well (page 16). These assertions are consistent with the historic Protestant view of work of which Martin Luther was an early advocate. Those who wish to explore them further could read other books reviewed on our website such as Why Business Matters to God, Business for the Common Good and Tides of Life.
In Chapter 4 Luke Rousch, cofounder of Sovereign Capital brings a fresh challenge to some established normative positions that many Christian investors take. Rousch spent his entire career in large scale business commercialisation and development and argues that for too long faith driven investors have become known for what they are against, rather than what they are for (page 59). He rightly points out that this is a missed opportunity for Christian investors to become better known for what they stand for in the world and not merely for what they stand against. Part of the problem, Rousch argues, is “that it’s easier to avoid things than it is to engage with them. That’s also true in life, not just investing” (page 62). Avoiding “sinful” industries altogether such as tobacco, adult entertainment and so on is perhaps the most obvious example. The risk is that we end up steep in legalism and behaving like the Pharisees did. Sure, negative screening is important when it comes to constructing an investment portfolio but “…we are called to lean in, with truth shared in love, and celebrate the great things God is doing in and through the marketplace. We must seek out, embrace, and pour ourselves into the creation of new things” (page 62). Rousch thus argues for a more proactive approach where we should seek “…a balance between negative screens, positive screens and active engagement” (page 63).
Casey Crawford, CEO and founder of Movement Mortgage concludes the discussion with a reminder to seek God’s larger perspective rather than our own, “…are we working for our return of for God’s return?” (page 198). In the Parable of the Tenants we have the example of the tenant who did nothing with what was given to him, Crawford argues that we must maintain an attitude of expectancy of the coming new Kingdom. This doesn’t necessarily mean “…working harder so we’ll have more success to show God. It’s about seeking our work as an act of service to the Master” (page 199).
In summary, “Faith Driven Investing: Investment Has an Impact–What’s Yours?” is not a “how to” guide on ethical investing and those seeking investment strategies or advice should look elsewhere. It is however a compelling collection of essays that stand at the intersection of finance, theology, and the broader implications of truly living out the Christian faith. A thoroughly recommended read for all those with an interest in the subject.
“Faith Driven Investing – Every Investment Has an Impact–What’s Yours?” by Henry Kaestner, Timothy Keller et al. was published in 2022 by Tyndale House Publishers (ISBN 1496474481, 9781496474483), 240pp.
Andrei E. Rogobete is Associate Director at the Centre for Enterprise, Markets & Ethics. For more information about Andrei please click here.
Numerous modern authors draw on biblical texts as support for economic rules in modern societies. Notably, contemporary writers often draw contradictory conclusions about the message and intent of the texts in their ancient settings, as well as about the rules that they derive for modern life. In this article, I show the methodological failures of a few exemplar authors: ignoring evidence, misunderstanding the ancient context, misreading narrative as ethical instruction, and errors in connecting the ancient texts and modern societies. We have much to learn about how we approach these matters.
In this article, I will outline three types of problems that often afflict attempts to synthesis contemporary economic ethics from the Hebrew Bible: interpretive diversity, antiquity, and lack of economic expertise.
Perhaps the most significant challenge to synthesising an ethical approach from the Hebrew Bible is that the same texts are taken to mean quite different things by different interpreters. The ethical positions which interpreters bring to the scriptural texts have a significant impact on how they read the texts. As Lester L. Grabbe astutely points out:
Unfortunately, for some biblical scholars, the entire issue of the ancient economy seems to be reduced to the “exploitation of the poor” … a proper economic discussion has to go beyond indignation over the oppression of the poor and seek to understand and describe. (A History of the Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple Period: The Coming of the Greeks: The Early Hellenistic Period (335–175 BCE), 208)
Grabbe’s excellent advice has been largely unheeded, leading to some wonderful examples of well-meaning attempts to draw on ancient texts for modern purposes. For example, the Jubilee 2000 debt campaign sought to persuade rich countries to forgive debt owed by poor countries, an effort helpfully assessed by Michael Long (Theological reflection on international debt: a critique of the Jubilee 2000 debt cancellation campaign). Long’s work shows that biblical language still has the power to persuade western societies to change, although he also points to both theological and economic weaknesses in the specifics of the campaign.
Some interpreters, such as Paul Mills, argue that all interest-bearing debt must be abandoned, and that relational connections between people are the essential basis for economic activity. This depends on a naïve understanding of texts which use family terminology (e.g. the word often glossed in English as ‘brother’) to suggest that the ideal setting for economic activity is in families, or at least within groups who have close relationships with each other. Many other interpreters would identify these terms as promoting the idea that you should treat people to whom you have no family relationship as if they were your kin — in other words, that these texts imagine ideal economic activity occurring between people who share no relational connection, but who behave with the highest ethical standards towards each other. The two interpretations are quite simply at odds with each other.
Other interpreters see complex issues as simple. For example, Timothy Gorringe states that:
The redemption of money will involve—as Deuteronomy, the medieval theologians, and Luther all insisted—the abolition of usury… [Charging interest] harms life. (Capital and the Kingdom: Theological Ethics and Economic Order, 167)
It is not as obvious to other interpreters that charging interest harms life, and in fact others are of the opinion that charging interest can be used to support and benefit life. For example, Richard Higginson argues that ‘…the charging of interest can represent a fair commercial arrangement from which both lender and borrower benefit.’ (Faith, Hope and the Global Economy, 109)
The book of Deuteronomy has proved particular open to differing interpretations, which is unfortunate because one of the few things interpreters agree on is that Deuteronomy is systemically important for the task of theological ethics for economics. So, on the one hand, Andrew Bradstock argues that Deuteronomy supports a broadly socialist system (Profits Without Honour? Economics, Theology and the Current Global Recession), while on the other hand, Andrew Schein argues that Deuteronomy supports a broadly capitalist system (The Vision of Deuteronomy 15 with Regard to Poverty, Socialism, and Capitalism). I will return to this in future articles, but for the moment I will foreshadow my argument by suggesting that in seeking a system, both interpretations make an error of method.
As Edward Norman rightly pointed out many years ago, part of the reason for this diversity of interpretation is that many people approach texts which use technical terms from antiquity and expect that those ancient technical terms have a straightforward correspondence in today’s economic world. But this is not a sensible approach:
…the vocabulary used is not merely a contemporary rendition of biblical meaning, as those who employ it like to suppose; in reality, … Their enthusiasm is such that they are unhesitatingly convinced of the inherent Christianity of any moral ideal which seems calculated to improve the lot of men. (Christianity and World Order)
Norman is quite right to attribute excellent motives to these various interpreters, include those who have continued to approach the scriptural texts in the years since his lecture. The error is neither attempting to improve the lot of humanity, nor having enthusiasm for doing so, but in attempting to co-opt texts which resist such a straightforward appropriation for the task. Indeed, the exegetical and hermeneutical gymnastics sometimes required mean that as John Barton points out, many interpreters, especially those reading scriptural texts with an ‘avowedly theological agenda,’ in doing so ‘detach the text wholly from its ancient moorings’ (Understanding Old Testament Ethics: Approaches and Explorations, 63).
On top of the challenge of words, it can be difficult for modern readers to know what is normal or unusual in the ideas represented in ancient texts, because we have no easy access to a sense of what was normal in ancient times. As Robert Carroll points out, Jeremiah 32 (and other texts about ‘redemption’) might simply be ‘reflecting a social practice of land-purchasing,’ rather than advocating for that practice (Textual Strategies and Ideology in the Second Temple Period, 108–24). Redemption is certainly not a usual economic practice today, so it naturally strikes modern readers as being unusual, but this is not necessarily a good assumption to bring to an ancient text. This is an extension of Norman’s point earlier about the meaning of words, and extents to the ideas and practices which the words of ancient texts attest to.
Often, the ancient evidence is complex or even apparently conflicting, and so the temptation for modern ethicists is to be selective about which evidence they attend to or give weight to, perhaps even preferring one type of evidence over another. As an example, when Boer states that ‘the self-sufficient subsistence of the village communes… comprised the bulk of all socioeconomic life’ (The Sacred Economy of Ancient Israel, 131), he is asserting this as part of an argument that subsistence communes are a normative ideal. In doing so he draws from one particular set of modern ideas about what is normal, saying that Vladimir Lenin’s view that the ‘state is the product of class conflict’ is an ‘uncontroversial’ statement (134). In fact, he is so willing to follow this line of thinking, despite ancient textual evidence to the contrary, that he claims that modern readers should guard themselves against the ‘seductions’ (126) of ancient written sources which do not fit this mould.
Others, by contrast, can be criticised for placing too much weight on the written sources. For example, Roger Nam states that Moshe Elat, who has written a major work on the ancient Israelite economy, ‘draws freely form [sic] the biblical narrative without much discussion over the archaeological evidence’ (Portrayals of Economic Exchange in the Book of Kings, 22). The point is not so much that Elat is wrong to give weight to the biblical narrative, nor that Boer is wrong to give weight to archaeological evidence, but that conclusions interpreters arrive at can often be determined by their methodological preferences for one type of evidence over another, or by the particular set of modern ideals they hold and are (no doubt unconsciously) projecting back into antiquity.
When faced with complex and sometimes not entirely coherent types and pieces of evidence from the ancient world, it can no doubt be very tempting to be selective. But selectivity can conceal the challenge of even understanding the individual pieces of evidence, or of knowing what is normal and what is unusual. In scriptural texts, many of which are undoubtedly read for their persuasive or ethically normative aspects, this problem is compounded in the case of economic matters as it can be exceptionally difficult to know if a particular economic matter (such as land redemption) is incidental or significant.
Lastly, it is an unfortunate reality that the specialisations required to interpret ancient texts on the one hand, and to engage with contemporary economics on the other, are not often found in the same person. As a result, people attempting to navigate the combination can run aground. I will give three examples of this.
First, consider María Eugenia Aubet’s pejorative association of disconnected ideas:
The idea of a market economy or ancient capitalism implies not only supply and demand but also the pillaging of resources, accumulation of capital, exploitation of one class by another and free trade, and certain practices of production and consumption dictated by the laws of supply and demand, behind which lie large-scale movements and interests associated with the structural fluctuation of prices. (Commerce and Colonization in the Ancient Near East, 369)
I cannot think of a reputable economic theorist who believes that all these negative consequences are tied to supply and demand: indeed, supply and demand are neutral in economic theory, and certainly have no requirement for pillaging attached to them in any major economic textbook. A more plausible argument might be that understanding supply and demand can even help prevent the kinds of social dislocations that might prompt pillaging!
Ancient historians can also on occasion display a lack of precision around matters of economics. For example, Roland Boer attempts to distinguish between ‘credit,’ which he sees as being part of a virtuous, trust-based economic system, and ‘debt,’ which he sees as ontologically different and describes as a means of gaining power over labour (The Sacred Economy of Ancient Israel, 157–8). The idea that debt and credit are two sides of the same coin does not seem to have occurred to him, or at least it’s absent from what Boer writes. Because he fails to distinguish the two, it is left entirely unclear how a person in need might obtain virtuous ‘credit’ without incurring odious ‘debt’ as a consequence, or how it can be virtuous to have access to ‘credit’ if the person extending that credit must by necessity be a power-hungry ‘debt’ merchant.
The same lack of subject expertise can be visible in modern economists who read ancient texts. For example, Edward Swan has claimed that derivatives have existed for millennia (Building the Global Market: a 4000 Year History of Derivatives), but in doing so I would argue that he projects modern ideas about finance onto ancient texts. For example, agreements to provide a certain quantity of goods in the future for a particular price have formal similarities to modern forward contracts. The intent of the ancient agreements, however, was often to gain control over a person’s labour, rather than to trade against variations in prices over time. Reading English translations of the texts without detailed knowledge of the ancient social and economic settings for the text risks serious misinterpretation.
It might seem that I am counselling despair for any attempt to connect the scriptural texts to modern economic life. As it happens, I would not want to go as far as Andrew Henley, when he states that, ‘…it is not appropriate to attempt to derive a set of rules or principles for economic life from the foundation of Old Testament economic law, as some recent attempts by economists try to achieve’ (Economics and Virtue Ethics: Reflections From a Christian Perspective, 109–28).
What I am suggesting is that to make constructive points from these texts, or from the non-legal scriptural texts, requires some careful preparatory work. First, we need to have an accurate description of the economic contexts from which the texts arose, including an awareness of the limits of our access to knowledge of ancient economies. Secondly, we need to be judicious and cautious in our assertions about the ethical arguments the scriptural texts are advancing.
Neither of these is impossible, but both are challenging and complex tasks. To me, that makes the tasks all the more enjoyable, and I hope to outline some ideas in subsequent posts which address some of these issues, starting with a new description of the ancient Israelite economy which forms the setting for any interpretation of the scriptural texts.
Dr Lyndon Drake has recently completed a DPhil at Oxford on theology and economic capital in the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament. He also has degrees in science and commerce (Auckland), a PhD in computer science (York), and two prior degrees in theology (Oxford), along with a number of peer-reviewed academic publications in science and theology. From the Ngāi Tahu Māori tribal group, he currently serves as Archdeacon of Tāmaki Makaurau in the Māori Anglican bishopric of Te Tai Tokerau. Lyndon has written Capital Markets for the Common Good: A Christian Perspective (Oxford: 2017, Oxford Centre for Enterprise, Markets, and Ethics). He is married to Miriam with three children. Until 2010, Lyndon was a Vice President at Barclays Capital in London.
Faith, Finance, and Economy is a collection of essays broadly related to the relationship between faith and financial or economic matters. The editors state that their overall aim “is to convince the reader that faith and finance are not disjoint entities” (page 3). They do this by serving up a collection of essays that provide different examples of the connection between faith and finance rather than by developing a single theme.
The result is a fascinating miscellany containing material that should engage, and probably challenge, most people who are interested in considering the way in which faith does, or may, or should impact financial and economic and, hence, political, matters. Inevitably, however, different readers will be interested in different essays and, although the book includes chapters on some of Gandhi’s philosophical ideas, on attitudes to consumerism in Communist China, on Islamic finance and on the accommodation of faith of all kinds in the workplace, approximately half of it relates to the issue from a specifically Christian perspective, which readers may or may not find helpful.
The essays that focus on Christianity are diverse. The first two (by Ronald Sider and Anne Bradley, respectively) describe how a biblical world view can provide a framework for economic thought. Their views differ materially but both express these views in careful moderate terms and readers who are only familiar with Sider’s famous “Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger” and Bradley’s strong free market views may be surprised by the degree of convergence in what they say. For example Sider concedes basic merits of the free market, commenting that “The market mechanism of supply and demand simply works better” (page 23), adding that “always, government activity must be shaped in a way that nurtures self-sufficiency, not dependency” (page 27). Conversely, Bradley stresses inter-dependency and the dangers of greed, commenting that “The word that best describes God’s creation is inter-dependence” (page 34) and asserting that “We need a society where greed is mitigated (not fuelled by a system of incentives)” (page 44).
The essays thus help to clarify the issues on which bible-believing Christians disagree. Furthermore, all type of Christians would do well to listen to Sider’s warning that the mere fact that they seek to ground their agenda in a normative biblical framework does not guarantee that their concrete proposals will be wise and effective (page 28).
Some of the themes identified by Sider and Bradley are relevant to Heath Carter’s essay entitled “Christianity and Inequality in the Modern United States”, which describes itself as “a concise introduction to the history of social Christianity” (page 175). Unfortunately, however, despite the author’s claim to be writing history, he has produced something akin to a polemical tract, concluding “American Christians played pivotal roles in getting us into this New Gilded Age and we are in urgent need of a renewal of Christian economic thought and practices today if we are to have any hope of finding out way out” (page 192). The essay has heroes and villains, the latter comprising Christians who do not share Carter’s left-wing social gospel views. It is unlikely that it will assist readers understanding the views of those with whom they disagree or perceiving potential weaknesses in their own views.
In contrast, Michael Naughton’s essay, which brings the book to a conclusion, is balanced and carefully argued. It discusses what comprises “good wealth” from within the tradition of Catholic social teaching. Naughton separately analyses the issues of wealth creation, wealth distribution and wealth dispersion (i.e. charity) but recognises that, as he puts it, “The principal challenge is not dividing these three areas…but providing a social vision of how they are related” (page 232). Some readers may legitimately object that his essay does not advance the debate but it is nonetheless a useful reminder of the component parts of the issues involved.
Salim Rashid’s essay is the most specialist of those relating to Christian perspectives. It considers the contribution of Anglican clergy to economic thought in the 18th century. It is probably because this subject might sound dry that Rashid and his co-editor decided not to place it first in the collection but it serves well as an illustration of the book’s primary thesis and, indeed, of Rashid’s contention that “Christianity is the backbone of European economic growth” (page 108).
Rashid particularly focuses on three Anglican clergymen: George Berkeley (whose economic insights included the observation that national debt can stabilise the entire monetary system), Jonathan Swift (who established what may have been the world’s first micro credit facility) and Josiah Tucker (who raged against the economic absurdity of 18th century mercantilism and, consequently, favoured US independence at a time when many feared that it would be economically disastrous).
The essays dealing with issues unconnected with Christianity are even more diverse. Bearing in mind the importance of China and Muslim countries in the world economy today, Karl Gerth’s essay “Consumerism in Contemporary China” and Faisal Kutty’s essay “Islamic Finance, Consumer Protection and Public Policy” are well worth reading. The former comprises an interesting description of the changing policies and attitudes (official and unofficial) to consumer goods over the past 70 years of Communist rule in China; the latter explains the theological issues underlying Islamic finance and discusses some of the issues that such finance faces. Each contains surprises for those unfamiliar with the relevant subject. For example, Gerth suggests that the Mao era promoted rather than quelled consumerism and Kutty gets beyond the common view that Islamic finance is solely about dressing up interest as something else.
Akeel Bilgrami’s essay is the most philosophical of the collection. It considers the relevance of Gandhi’s thinking to the apparent conflict between equality and liberty. Bilgrami suggests that Gandhi’s conception of individual liberty as a form of self-governance and his desire to make overcoming “alienation” the chief goal of politics and social life could provide the key to resolving this conflict. He analyses Locke’s concept of liberty and the “Tragedy of the Commons” and suggests that the pursuit of an un-alienated life undermines the former and renders the latter irrelevant, claiming that even to raise the question “would my efforts and contributions to the collective cultivation (or restraint from over-cultivation) be wasted if others don’t also contribute?” is already to be thoroughly alienated (page 69).
The bringing of an Indian perspective to a debate is interesting but Bilgrami’s style is dense in places and his thesis is ultimately unconvincing. Indeed, it is legitimate, if unpopular, to ask whether Gandhi’s economic thought was ultimately damaging to the alleviation of poverty in India.
The book’s final author, David Miller, addresses a radically different subject. His essay seeks to make the case for employers embracing faith in the workplace: being, as he puts it, “faith-friendly” rather than “faith-avoiding”, “faith-tolerant” or “faith-based”. Although Miller’s contribution is in places shallow and perhaps naïve, it contains a lot of worthwhile analysis and suggestions and deserves to be considered by employers. It may be that the current catchphrase “Bring your whole self to work” may make it easier than has historically been the case for those of strong faith to be open about this (and its consequences) even if their views may not be popular.
Overall, the essays more than adequately demonstrate the relevance of faith, and more broadly, a person’s world view, to finance and economics. Politicians and economists ignore this at their – and our – peril.
“Faith, Finance, and Economy” edited by Tanweer Akram and Salim Rashid was published in 2020 by Palgrave Macmillan (Springer Nature Switzerland) (ISBN-13:9783030387860). 232pp.
Richard Godden is a Lawyer and has been a Partner with Linklaters for over 30 years during which time he has advised on a wide range of transactions and issues in various parts of the world.
Richard’s experience includes his time as Secretary at the UK Takeover Panel and a secondment to Linklaters’ Hong Kong office. He also served as Global Head of Client Sectors, responsible for Linklaters’ industry sector groups, and was a member of the Global Executive Committee.
Much of The Biblical Entrepreneur’s Experience comprises a rather simplistic and selective use of scripture to support a particular world-view, namely a North American free market system. As such, it could almost be categorised as espousing a prosperity gospel, in which correctly following biblical methods will necessarily bring success in business (see Chapter 2 for Davis’s “system”). The examples given in the book, of entrepreneurs such as Sarah Breedlove (Madam C.J. Walker), Strive Masiyiwa and Scott Harrison, tell this story in an often engaging way, but at times verge on a parody, which attempts to represent the complex riches of the Christian faith in an unreflective manner. One example is the song “The Hairdresser’s Ode to Madam C.J. Walker”, to the tune of “Onward, Christian Soldiers”, which the author cites approvingly (pages 72-73). The ‘mission’ of beautifying hair is conflated completely with the great Christian Commission in a manner that I found both disturbing and shallow.
Davis’s central metaphor, akin to a sermon illustration, is that of ‘bees and fleas’, and the author uses the bee/flea imagery to invite the reader into his world-view. BEEs (Biblical Experiential Entrepreneur) are good, and FLEAs (in-Flexible Learnt Entrepreneurial Antagonist) are bad. At the heart of Davis’s analysis is the proposition that “A BEE creates; a FLEA takes” (page 22). The book is peppered with “fun facts”, such as, “The honeybee has a heart!” (page 143), and side-bar notes, for example, “Strive – to devote serious effort or energy; to struggle in opposition” (page 115). Taken together, the above makes the overarching style of the book quite propositional and un-nuanced.
However, at times the book is also informative and every now and again I was pleased to find an interesting comment or statement that, I felt, contributed in a thoughtful way to a theological consideration of the subjects of enterprise and of entrepreneurial behaviour. For example, on the theme of entrepreneurial endeavour, Davis suggests: “It is to prepare the entrepreneur for the next life: a venture more fulfilling than its worldly counterparts” (page 5). This statement sketches out an idea which could be developed into some deep vocational thinking on the kingdom of heaven, and the place for enterprise within God’s enduring purposes. In another intriguing statement Davis comments: ‘…through grace we are given a great opportunity to provide others with a needed product or service to glorify Him – not ourselves” (page 11). Here, the themes of God’s grace, human need (not desire), and divine glory are all connected together under the umbrella of enterprise.
In Chapter 6 biblical examples are used to support the practice of “active listening”, as a way of harnessing God’s messages imparted through others, and Davis interestingly adds some thoughts about the challenges of fear and pride (pages 46-47). This “active listening” to others is to be set alongside the need for regular meditation on scripture (Chapter 15), not mere uncritical proof-texting, which appears elsewhere in the book. Separately, Chapter 10 plays with the “beehive” imagery and the way hexagons fit together perfectly, an illustration of how a project should work, a line of discussion that concludes with this communitarian statement: “…an individual cannot save the world; however a swarm of BEEs in each city can rebuild areas, then blocks of areas, followed quickly throughout a city. Multiple cities make up a country. Multiple countries make up a region. Multiple regions make up the world” (page 104).
A different book might have taken some of these statements and developed them by placing them alongside (and sometimes in tension with) the thinking set out by other authors who have considered the place for enterprise within the Christian world-view. The reader is left to do this work for themself. For example, the rich and in my mind helpful concept of the vocation of the entrepreneur, as proposed by Davis, could have been explored within a more general discussion on vocational calling, and specifically the nature of work within God’s providence.
In a way, the most inspiring section of this book for me was Section 6 (Chapters 16, 17 and 18), which describes empirical research about the distinctiveness of Christian-led and Christian-inspired businesses. Such enterprises typically have greater productivity, staff loyalty, and general outperformance. In this regard, I found the story of Walker Mowers engaging, not least the way in which the owners and directors of this business deliberately attempt to tell the story of the company within the bigger context of the story of salvation history (page 155). An enterprise is thus no longer a means to an end (profit), but is part of an over-arching narrative that embraces God’s purposes. This theme alone could have been developed into a major piece of thinking that I believe would be incredibly timely and helpful for business in today’s world.
In sum, this is a “popular” rather than “scholarly” book. It is, in the main, an easy read with occasional thought-provoking nuggets. With rather less “prosperity gospel” and rather more theological reflection on the important themes that are hinted at, it would have been much improved upon.
“The Biblical Entrepreneur’s Experience” by S Leigh Davis was published in 2021 by River Birch Press (ISBN-13: 9781951561802). 260pp.
Edward Carter is Vicar of St Peter Mancroft Church in Norwich, having previously been the Canon Theologian at Chelmsford Cathedral, a parish priest in Oxfordshire, a Minor Canon at St George’s Windsor and a curate in Norwich. Prior to ordination he worked for small companies and ran his own business.
He chairs the Church Investors Group, an ecumenical body that represents over £10bn of church money, and which engages with a wide range of publicly listed companies on ethical issues. His research interests include the theology of enterprise and of competition, and his hobbies include board-games, volleyball and film-making. He is married to Sarah and they have two adult sons.
The Wealth of Religions is an unusual book. It is subtitled, “The Political Economy of Believing and Belonging” and its authors, one an economist and the other a moral philosopher (who, as it happens, are married to one another), seek to present a multidisciplinary approach to issues at the interface between religion and economics. They say that they “are interested in the economic costs and benefits of holding certain religious beliefs and the influence of those beliefs on behavior” (page 4) and that their central approach “is the application of economic and political principles to the study of religions across countries and over time” (page 9).
The book is divided into two sections: the first looks at the interplay between religion and economic growth whilst the second deals with issues associated with the connection between religion and political economy. The first takes as its starting point Max Weber’s famous argument relating to the protestant work ethic, although the authors’ arguments are not by any means identical to those of Weber; the second is particularly indebted to what the authors regard as Adam Smith’s ingenuity in applying his market model to religious goods and services “as if they were analogous to brands of toothpaste” (page 106).
The book has severe limitations. It is based on short articles published over the past couple of decades and it fails to disguise this; despite only being a short book (172 pages), there is a significant amount of repetition and there is an element of miscellany about its contents, particularly in the second section. Some of the material is frustratingly general (e.g. the section relating to the impact of religion on economic growth) whilst some of it is so specific that it will not interest many readers (e.g. the 23 page chapter relating to beatifications and canonisations by the last three popes). The result is that the book lacks an overarching argument or sense of direction, and it is unlikely that many readers will be interested in all of it.
Nonetheless, the book addresses interesting and thought provoking questions and the diversity of its material has an upside: any reader who is interested in either the interaction between economics and religion or the way in which economic concepts may have an impact upon organised religion will find something engaging in it.
This mixture of the unsatisfactory and the engaging is exemplified by the second chapter, which explores how the economy and the regulatory system influence religion in society. John Wesley famously observed that, as people become richer, they become less devout and the authors wish to test this observation (the so-called “secularisation hypothesis”). Many readers will be impatient that it takes the authors 12 pages to come to what they will regard as a blindingly obvious conclusion: “we find a strong negative effect on all measures of religiosity from higher economic development” (page 28). However, the authors also discuss some less obvious issues and reach some interesting conclusions including, contrary to the views (and perhaps hopes) of some vociferous atheists, “there is no evidence in cross-country data that more years of education reduce religiosity” (page 31).
The third chapter (relating to the impact of religion upon economic growth) is likewise a mixture of the disappointingly superficial and the tantalisingly interesting. The Weber thesis is explained and various religious views of salvation surveyed in a mere eight pages, which include some highly contentious statements (e.g. the assertion that Calvin did not believe in the possibility of assurance of salvation, which is justified by a statement in his Institutes that is taken out of context and fails to notice that, in the very same section of the Institutes, Calvin states that faith is “a firm and sure knowledge of the divine favour toward us, founded on the truth of a free promising Christ, and revealed to our minds, and sealed on our hearts, by the Holy Spirit”). However, from this unpromising start, the authors go on to discuss their own analysis of detailed international data and come up with some interesting conclusions. For example, they show that this data suggests that belief in heaven and hell (and particularly the latter) is positively correlated to economic growth but belief in God or a general posture of being religious is not. Furthermore, for any given belief in hell, an increase in monthly church attendance appears to lead to a decline in economic growth and, to put the matter the other way up, for any given church attendance, an increase in belief in hell leads to an increase in economic growth. The authors also provide a brief survey of various pieces of academic research that suggest that the oft-repeated suggestions that the positive impact of Protestantism is either associated with “belonging” or to Protestantism’s promotion of human capital via education are misconceived.
Of course, Weber’s thesis related to the impact of Christianity and, specifically Protestantism, in Europe and any globally applicable theories relating to the impact of religion on economic growth (or vice versa) need to take account of the impact of other religions. The authors recognise this issue and, to some extent, seek to address it, particularly in chapter 4, which relates to Islam and economic growth. However, these parts of the book are again superficial. The entire sweep of Islamic economic history is dealt with in 10 pages and the authors fail to provide convincing evidence of the impact of Islam on the economy; other major religions are scarcely considered. The result is that a number of major questions of significant importance in the modern world are not addressed at all (e.g. the impact of Hinduism on the economic development of India).
More generally, the application of economic concepts to organised religion, whilst potentially thought provoking, is contentious and may even be offensive to some people. For example, one does not need to be a Roman Catholic to raise eyebrows at the statement that “our assessment is that the increased numbers and geographical spread of persons named as blessed and the targeting of popular ex-Popes are clever innovations aimed at raising the enthusiasm of Catholics” (page 154); and one does not need to be a Buddhist to feel somewhat uneasy when reading the title of chapter 6: “Religious Clubs, Terrorist Organisations, and Tibetan Buddhism”. Furthermore, many Christians will consider that the “supplier and consumer” model of religion presented by the authors is indicative of precisely what is wrong with much Christianity today rather than an indication of fundamental features of its success or failure.
That said, despite all of its inadequacies, and having regard to its relative brevity, The Wealth of Religions is worth reading and, having read it, some readers may well find that there is plenty to interest them in the bibliography, which reflects the cross disciplinary nature of the book itself.
“The Wealth of Religions” by Rachel M. McCleary and Robert J. Barro was published in 2019 by Princeton University Press (ISBN – 13:9780619217109). 172pp.
Richard Godden is a Lawyer and has been a Partner with Linklaters for over 25 years during which time he has advised on a wide range of transactions and issues in various parts of the world.
Richard’s experience includes his time as Secretary at the UK Takeover Panel and a secondment to Linklaters’ Hong Kong office. He also served as Global Head of Client Sectors, responsible for Linklaters’ industry sector groups, and was a member of the Global Executive Committee.
The Centre for Enterprise, Markets and Ethics (CEME) is delighted to announce the publication of Government Debt: A Neglected Theme of Catholic Social Teaching by Philip Booth, Kaetana Numa, Stephen Nakrosis and Richard Turnbull.
Government debt in developed countries has risen sharply in recent decades, yet Catholic social teaching — which has engaged extensively with sovereign debt in the developing world — has paid surprisingly little attention to its moral implications closer to home. This essay seeks to fill that gap.
The authors begin by charting the growth of government debt across several major economies, noting that peacetime reductions have become increasingly rare and that “implicit” liabilities — unfunded pension and healthcare promises — may dwarf the official figures. They examine the various reasons governments accumulate debt, from wartime necessity and counter-cyclical spending to the perverse incentives facing democratic electorates, who may prefer to consume today at the expense of future taxpayers.
The central moral argument turns on intergenerational justice. Drawing on the creation mandates of Genesis, the scriptural emphasis on stewardship and wealth creation, and Catholic principles of distributive justice, the authors contend that systematically burdening future generations with debt — or with unfunded social-insurance obligations — is difficult to reconcile with the dignity owed to all persons across time. They supplement this with perspectives from the wider Protestant tradition, including Calvin, Kuyper and Chalmers, all of whom point towards a limited but purposeful role for the state and a strong presumption against excessive public indebtedness.
Historical case studies — from Bourbon France and nineteenth-century Egypt to interwar Germany, Argentina and the eurozone crisis — illustrate how high debt can impair democratic accountability, provoke inflation and default, deepen poverty and undermine the very functions of government that Catholic social teaching regards as essential. The authors conclude that excessive government debt sits uneasily with Christian teaching and deserves far greater attention within Catholic social thought.
A PDF copy can be found here. A hardcopy of the publication can be ordered by contacting CEME’s offices at office@theceme.org
Management as a Calling is aimed primarily at business students but it has far wider relevance. Andrew Hoffman says that he wants “to personally challenge every business student, every business executive, and every business school professor to think about the system in which students are beginning their careers and to push back when it is steering them away from their calling” (page 18).
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Hoffman is the Professor of Sustainable Enterprise at the University of Michigan Ross School of Business. His basic thesis is simple: there is a crisis in capitalism of which the symptoms are income inequality and climate change; governments have a role to play in providing solutions to the relevant issues but the leading role has to be played by business since “if there are no solutions coming from business, there will be no solutions” (page 4); treating the sustainability challenges as mainstream business issues and fitting them into the market as it exists will not provide solutions; what is needed is not incremental change but a radical change of values and culture involving future business leaders being taught “to consider management as a calling – one that moves away from the simple pursuit of a career for private personal gain and toward a vocation that is based on a higher and more internally derived set of values about leading commerce and serving society” (page 5); and this requires that we should be turning “to religion and philosophy as a way to augment the market in making this shift” (page 116).
At times, the book loses its business focus and cannot seem to decide whether it is about business management or about the best way to build a political and societal consensus that permits the tackling of climate change. Nonetheless, Hoffman pursues his theme with evangelistic fervour, concluding with an alter call: “You, the next generation of business leaders, have been born into this reality, and you have no choice but to respond. You did not choose this reality but you must embrace it. The nobility of your lives will be determined by how you respond to the challenges you face” (page 138). This is an inspiring message but as a rule evangelists have weaknesses as well as strengths and Hoffman is no exception to the rule.
On the negative side, some of his attacks target Aunt Sallies. For example, he points to the growth in the Stock Market in recent years as evidence that share values are divorced from underlying economic reality and he dismisses Gross Domestic Product growth as a measure of wellbeing or even a reliable measure of economic success, but few would dispute these things and they do not assist in proving his case. On occasions he is also guilty of overstatement or misrepresentation. For example, his linking of the Wells Fargo, Volkswagen and Sackler scandals with Adam Smith’s “invisible hand” does grave injustice to the sophistication of Smith’s economics, let alone his moral philosophy. Conversely, when advocating change, Hoffman is on occasions guilty of dubious logic (the most egregious example of which is his twice stated assertion that “Our problems are manmade – therefore, they can be solved by man”, page 118). Furthermore, his discussion of issues relating to inequality is very brief and superficial. Indeed, no issue is covered in great detail, the book being only 138 pages long.
Hoffman’s vision of the future is both vague and, by his own admission, Utopian. He asserts that “perpetual growth is not possible and its continued pursuit is self destructive”, quoting with approval Naomi Klein’s statement that we have to “come face to face with the hard truth that the conveniences of modern consumer capitalism [are] steadily eroding the habitability of the planet” (page 33): he calls on us to be radical and attacks those who believe that the solution lies in technology, such as electric cars. However, his positive suggestions sound surprising incremental rather than revolutionary. They even include the use of electric cars and, despite quoting Naomi Klein’s challenge, he never discusses in detail what we have to give to up to deal with the problem that he perceives and how our living standards will change in consequence of this.
Having said that, there is much that is commendable and thought provoking in the book. Hoffman does not pretend that he has all the answers, recognises the fact that we do not currently have the infrastructure to be ecologically neutral and criticizes over simplistic debate; he notes that “social media outrage” increasingly drives social discourse and laments that the resulting behaviours and emotional perspectives “are not conducive to the kind of tempered, thorough, and compromise seeking discourse that democratic government needs in order to function well” (page 61); he recognises that part of the reason why the public ignores scientists is because there are some within the scientific community who hold the public in low regard and others “who subscribe to a view of scientism that elevates the natural scientists in relation to all other ways of knowing the world around us” (page 75); he is also cautious about the role of so-called “activist CEOs” and recognises the danger that theoretical accountability to everyone in practice means accountability no-one (i.e. the danger that the effect of weakening accountability to shareholders will be precisely the reverse of the effect that its proponents desire); and, most importantly, he calls for business thinking to encompass more than growing the bottom line without regard to the means or consequences of doing so.
Hoffman’s aim is not to set out a road map to Utopia or to some less desirable but at least sustainable future. Instead, he wants to add new dimensions to the business debate, change mindsets and provoke productive discussion, starting in the business schools. He aims, in this way, to generate new business models that “begin to coalesce around a composite model that brings the full scope of market transformation into greater clarity” (page 39).
Readers of Management as a Calling may well disagree with a number of Hoffman’s assertions, particularly one or two of the more left-leaning of these but few will doubt the need for business discourse to encompass fundamental values as well as ethics in a narrower sense. Unlike Socialism, Capitalism does not, or at least should not, claim to be an all embracing philosophical, social and economic system. It needs to be supplemented by well thought through values. Despite its failings, Management as a Calling is a valuable reassertion of this point and an important call to both existing and future business leaders to think more broadly about what they are seeking to achieve. It is well worth reading.
“Management as a Calling – Leading Business Serving Society” by Andrew J. Hoffman, was published in 2021 by Stanford University Press (ISBN – 13:9781503614802). 138pp.
Richard Godden is a Lawyer and has been a Partner with Linklaters for over 25 years during which time he has advised on a wide range of transactions and issues in various parts of the world.
Richard’s experience includes his time as Secretary at the UK Takeover Panel and a secondment to Linklaters’ Hong Kong office. He also served as Global Head of Client Sectors, responsible for Linklaters’ industry sector groups, and was a member of the Global Executive Committee.
