Abstract
Peter Selby writes of an idol whose worship has taken over governments, institutions, cultures and individual lives: money. Its influence is pervasive. Institutions which used to be structured around a range of values now have to seek out the bottom line—what is determining in the last instance, over a range of personal decisions, is money. The central question here is whether money is merely an instrument through which we express our freedom, our values and our hopes, or whether money itself, even as a pure means, has become an end in itself that restricts our freedom, devalues our values and monopolizes our hopes. Only in the latter case is it an idol, and Selby makes the case that money has become such an idol. He calls the Christian community, as well as wider society, to repentance.
Selby draws his conception of idolatry from the Hebrew prophets. The fundamental difference between them and those they denounced as idolatrous was between two fundamental conceptions of life: where the prophets saw life in moral terms, others saw life ruled by fates as an arbitrary enterprise, a lottery, in which wisdom consisted in a sophisticated game of second guessing, manipulating and cajoling the powers that be. The influence of money is to restore society to an arbitrary game of chance: those who play the lottery, which tend to be those who see no other opportunity for improving their position in life, then regard their poverty as the outcome of having picked the wrong numbers. For if money is used as a principle for organising society, it organises our practical endeavours, cooperation and hopes around consumption as the overarching principle of human living. The values of consumption have replaced the values of justice as the guide to individual and personal conduct. As a result, there is a division between those whose main motivation is to seek to impress others with what money can do for them and those who, lacking money, have a desperate struggle for bare life. At stake in the game of money is the subsistence of those who are economically turned into non-persons.
Key to Selby’s argument is that money is not merely a neutral substance but an actor itself, having a transformative effect on people’s consciousness and desires. For example, in our economy, a house is no longer simply just a place to live in, but is also an investment, a means for acquiring more money and an insurance policy against the future. The monetary value of a house overlays its use as a home and transforms a desire for a home into desire for wealth. Once house prices become an index of prosperity, people borrow as much as they can to buy and benefit from this investment, with the result, felt particularly keenly in the UK, that housing, whether buying or renting, becomes increasingly unaffordable for the younger generation. Instead of seeing the world, its land and its houses as a gift from God, neither earned nor deserved, it is treated as a resource to be grasped. One grasps at it in fear of being left behind, so excluding those who are left behind. So if money works as an actor, it works by affecting people’s thoughts and choices.
Beneath this argument lies one about the nature of money itself: if the vast majority of money is created as debt by commercial banks, such as when they offer mortgages, then money is not a neutral substance but someone’s obligation. Instead of being a tool to express our preferences, it is a record of what we owe. Markets, asset values and money have to keep growing if the debt that is the basis of money is to be serviced, for all that debt has to be repaid at interest. Where money only holds value because people trust it, that is, they give it credit, they have handed over this credit to a plutocratic elite, the banks that create credit/debt by creating money in the issue of mortgages, overdrafts and loans. Banks, in turn, are reluctant to make risky loans unless there is collateral to be purchased, such as private property, commercial property or financial assets. As a result, this impersonal system determines national and international priorities: money is primarily devoted to the making of money. It cannot be emphasised sufficiently that money becomes sovereign, controlling government policies as well as individual behaviour, because it produces an increasing spiral of debt. If Selby tends not to emphasise this point, so crucial to the structure of his argument, this is because his earlier path-breaking Grace and Mortgage focused on debt, and many others have developed this argument (notably, Selby cites the longstanding campaign of the Christian Council for Monetary Justice). But I would have liked to have seen more emphasis here, both in order to strengthen the notion that we are under obligation to our idol, and to indicate that redemption can only take place through monetary reform.
Especially pertinent to Selby’s account of idolatry is Psalm 115: idols are the work of human hands, but they ‘have mouths but do not speak; eyes but do not see … Those who make them are like them; so are all who trust in them’ (Ps. 115:5–8; quoted on p. 55). The attraction of idols is their immediacy and visibility. The same is true of values expressed in monetary terms: if we can measure our choices in numbers, then all other values, such as teamwork, solidarity, compassion and mercy, become subordinated to the value of the most profitable outcome, since money gives power and freedom. Yet the reality is that the more we subordinate life to monetary values, the greater our monetary obligations: the world seems free, but in fact it only offers chaotic outcomes. For in the religion of money, there are no limits: if you can get more, then you must. There is no theology of enough, for our ‘daily bread’ has come to mean the daily value of our property and investments. In the religion of money, we see the increasing influence of quantity—even the success of churches is measured in terms of attendance and income—where calculation becomes more significant than contemplation, and following an active strategy more significant than having a receptive mind. Like money itself, we become blind. Moreover, the religion of money requires an increasing emphasis on volatility, for money that is allowed to remain idle is wasted. Selby uses the example of paying a gardener to pull up the weeds in his garden rather than doing it himself: the actual outcome is the same, but the gardener can also spend the money, so increasing overall economic activity. Economic life comes to mean moving money as quickly as possible, so short-term thinking for financial institutions is an absolute necessity deriving from the nature of money itself. Similarly, the religion of money increases the level of communication and noise: people lead lives of systematic distraction, obscuring what really requires their attention. The constant need to give attention to money issues becomes a model for our interaction with the surrounding world. Perhaps one of the deepest effects of the money culture is this systematic distraction, where people become like the idol they worship, unable to be receptive, to take true steps towards transformation, or to speak of that which truly matters, of justice and mercy: ‘They have hands, but do not feel; feet, but do not walk; they make no sound in their throats. Those who make them are like them; so are all who put their trust in them’ (Ps. 115:7–8).
It is notable that Jesus devoted a large proportion of his teaching, including his parables, to the question of money. All those who claim to worship, love or follow Christ and who do not take seriously his teaching on money can easily be branded as hypocrites. Yet it is not always clear how to interpret this teaching consistently. In this volume, Selby discusses four of the most difficult parables: the workers in the vineyard who receive equal pay, the unmerciful steward who would not forgive his own debtors, the master who leaves his servants with unequal talents, and the unjust steward who reduces the debts owed to his master. For Selby, these are not depictions of the kingdom of God so much as illustrations of the forces at work in the kingdom of Mammon: the early workers resent their equal pay and the master’s mercy; the unmerciful steward is like our contemporary banks who know they have only just escaped ruin and need to do all they can to increase their capital ratios; the servant who buries his talent knows the serious consequences of losing what little he has, while the richer ones can afford to take risks; and the unjust steward, through his dishonesty, produces a win-win situation, making reduced debts more realistic to repay. As such, these parables can easily be harmonised with Jesus’ other teachings on ‘unrighteous mammon’. I, for one, found these reconsiderations of the parables the freshest element of the book, in spite of their brevity.
In conclusion, this book contributes to the wider current of reflection on the place of money in contemporary life, one that demands to be considered as a central issue of faith for all Christians. It is an accessible book, based upon a lifetime’s experience in ministry, and it shows the fruit of reflections that have largely taken place since the financial crisis of 2007–2008. It does not thunder with a prophetic voice, as the theme of idolatry might invite, but offers food for quiet reflection. It deserves to increase the focal place of money in Christian reflection upon ethics.