Heartless Capitalism Revisited

Some fifty years ago, I wrote a column for the local newspaper on Heartless Capitalism to run on Valentine’s day.  Faculty in the economics department at Clemson University took turns writing columns once a week.  I told Russell, our coordinator, that I would like to write a column for Valentine’s Day with the title Heartless Capitalism. “What’s it about?” he asked. “I don’t know yet, ”I replied. It turned out endorse a popular theme in political economy of that era, presaging Ronald Reagan as well as the movie Wall street in which Gordon Gecko proclaims that greed is good.

My argument was based on the basic focus of economics, efficiency. In a world of scarce resources and unlimited wants, economists bow at the altar of efficiency.Efficiency means accomplishing the most (output, enjoyment, satisfaction, etc.) our of our available resources OR spending the smallest amount of resources in order to achieve a given outcome.  We taught our students that the goals of microeconomics were efficiency, equity, and freedom, but really only efficiency mattered, We could demonstrate how efficiency was attained with graphs and equations. 

Efficiency is not really a goal, more a way of attaining a goal, which is MORE—economic growth.Moreover, efficiency depends on greed as a motivator.. One way to be more efficient—to get more “stuff” out of your available inputs—is to use relatively more of resources that are abundant and less of the resources that are scarce., because abundant resources are cheap and scarce resources are expensive When land is scarce, we cultivate by methods that focus on yields per acre. When copper is scarce, we substitute other materials. when capital is scarce we use less capital and more labor. And so on. You get the picture. That is how economist’s explain the statement that greed is good. If greed is abundant and altruism is scarce, why not harness the abundant resource of greed to produce more output or produce it at lower cost? 

“Greed is good” became the mantra of  many economists as way to create and sustain economic growth. Greed is good weas a necessary condition for the implied goal, more is better.   I never went that far.  I had read Schumacher’s Small is Beautiful (!973). Much latter, I read Alan Blinder’s 1990 book Hard Heads, Soft Hearts in which he argued that the Republicans were the party of hard heads, hard hearts and the Democrats were the party of soft heads, soft hearts, What we really needed was hard heads, soft hearts. Efficiency is about hard heads. Equity about soft heads, caring about others, compassion, or altruism. Greed is a powerful motivator, but altruism needs to keep it in check.

Both greed and altruism are learned attitudes, embedded in the culture in which one is raised.  Like so many dimensions of life, greed and altruism are not either-or but rather both-and. Greed makes us wealthy. Altruism makes us us better persons and provides us with a world that is more safe, pleasant, and sustainable than greed alone can create.. Greed begets material wealth but at a high unaccounted cost in terms of social relations, equity, and the earth.

As you celebrate this holiday of the heart, listen to both head and heart as you navigate your balance between work and play, being and becoming, giving and getting, earning and caring. Your bottom line needs to be aligned with your lifeline.

A Torrent of Holidays

I always like to write about holidays. (A gentle reminder of my book Economics Takes a Holiday!) February began with Imbolc and Groundhog Day, pauses for Superbowl Sunday, then cruises on through Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday, Valentine’s Day, and Presidents’ Day. Easter and President’s Day are moveable feasts, especially Easter This year Edster falls on April 5th, which moved Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday back into mid-February. President’s Day always falls between the 15th and the 21st of February, whichever is a Monday. It is also not the ever the birthday of either of the two presidents it was created to honor, Washington and Lincoln.  Fortunately it is not leap year, or the 29th would be Sadie Hawkins Day. 

 This confluence of holidays calls for exceptionally rapid costume changes of emotional attitude. The Superbowl is just six days after groundhog Day and six days before Valentine’s day, eight days before Presidents’ Day, and nine days before Mardi Gras, followed immediately by Ash Wednesday and Lent. two days before Mardi gras, Valentine’s Day coincided with Ash Wednesday, and before we knew it,  Presidents Day. A quick change of pace from a fast-paced, loud, noisy football game watched by millions to a religious holiday marking a season of repentance and reflection interspersed with a celebration of romantic love and ending on a sharp reminder that we are in a very intense and perhaps even ominous election year. From crocuses to Dust Thou art and to dust you shall return to national politics is a lot for our shortest month.  And if you are Chines, you have a New Year’s Day in the mix!

 Unlike the Christmas holidays, each one of these holidays calls for a different kind of emotional response.  Valentine’s Day is lighthearted and sentimental, hearts and chocolate and cards, the only one that calls for spending money. Presidents’ Day is largely an excuse for a day off with banks and post offices closed and most places, no school. Mardi Gras is the final celebratory fling (the carnival, literally meaning farewell to meat) before Ash Wednesday. This holiday calls observant Christians to the austere penitential six weeks of Lent.  Even those of us whose faith traditions didn’t make a big deal out of Lent often feel compelled to join our high church comrades in giving something up for Lent.   Nothing like a holiday the celebrates self-denial. By March 1st, (Internatioanal Friendship Day, we will be in for a good rest with no significant holidays till Saint Patrick’s Day and Ostara, the pagan name for the vernal lequinox.

All these holidays have a common element, however, and that element is hope.  Valentine’s Day was originally a Roman holiday. The name of the month, February, refers to the fever of love. The earth is preparing to be fertile and humans are willing to go along with it by celebrating romantic love, even if it is only by watching the latest season of Bridgerton on Netflix. Renewal of plant and animal life as we all start to emerge from winter’s hibernation is a source of hope.  As the weather warms, we can spend more time outdoors—walking, gardening, coffee on the patio. SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) is banished until November. 

Elections sometimes run on hope, sometimes on fear, most often (this year included) on a mixture of the two.  In a polarized nation, both the hopes and the fears are more intense. Theologian Joanna Macy reminds us that hope is useless unless it is active hope, a spur to invest our efforts in seeking out those candidates who best embody our vision of how our state, local, and federal governments should carry out that visionary hope. We can also hope for the future of our planet by engaging in sustainable lifestyles and inquiring of candidates what they propose to do about growth management and air and water pollution and global warming.

Finally, Mardi Gras and Lent are about letting go, turning one’s back on self-indulgence after one last fling and instead making an effort to cultivate the spirit. (In medieval times, it was also a way to stretch the food supply in the final months before spring crops began to come in.) It is long enough to change, short enough to see the light of Easter at the end of the Lenten tunnel. Just a manageable chunk of time to sustain the hope that by Easter, the holiday of renewal and rebirth, we will be reborn as better, wiser, more patient and less greedy and gluttonous than we were six weeks ago.  That’s a tall order, but we have to start somewhere.

AS we zip through these back-to-back holidays, let us celebrate hope.  Especially the hope that we have transformed into the practice of active hopefulness as we work toward bringing our hopes to fruition. In summer, this season of hope is followed by the season of joy, in autumn the season of wisdom, and in winter a season of rest and recovery. May the hopeful and challenging rhythms of the earth resonate in your body, mind, and soul this spring holiday season.

A Torrent of Holidays

I always like to write about holidays. (A gentle reminder of my book Economics Takes A Holiday!) February began with a couple of starter presidential primaries and Groundhog Day on the 2nd (historically celebrated by spring housecleaning), paused for Superbowl Sunday, then cruised on through Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday, Valentine’s Day on the 14th, and Presidents’ Day on the 19th. Easter and President’s Day are moveable feasts, especially Easter which falls March 31st, which moved Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday back into mid-February. President’s Day always falls between the 15th and the 21st of February, whichever is a Monday. It is also not the ever the birthday of either of the two presidents it was created to honor, Washington and Lincoln.   

 This confluence of holidays calls for exceptionally rapid costume changes of emotional attitude. The Superbowl was just two days before Mardi gras, Valentine’s Day coincided with Ash Wednesday, and before we knew it, there was Presidents Day. A quick change of pace from a fast-paced, loud, noisy football game watched by millions to a religious holiday marking a season of repentance and reflection interspersed with a celebration of romantic love and ending on a sharp reminder that we are in a very intense and perhaps even ominous presidential election year. From crocuses to Dust Thou art and to dust you shall return to Super Tuesday presidential primaries in just one short 29-day month.

 Unlike the Christmas holidays, each one called for a different kind of emotional response.  Valentine’s Day is lighthearted and sentimental, hearts and chocolates and flowers and cards.   Presidents’ Day invites us to be patriotic and closes the banks and the Post Office, and in many places, the schools.  There is also the invitation to shop at the Presidents’ Day sales, spending some of that green stuff with their pictures on the front. Mardi Gras is the final celebratory fling (the carnival, literally meaning farewell to meat) before Ash Wednesday. This holiday calls observant Christians to the austere penitential six weeks of Lent.  Even those of us whose faith traditions didn’t make a big deal out of Lent often feel compelled to join our high church comrades in giving something up for Lent.   Nothing like a holiday the celebrates self-denial. By Tuesday we will be in for a good rest with no significant holidays till Saint Patrick’s Day four weeks later. Whew!

All these holidays have a common element, however, and that element is hope.  Valentine’s Day which was originally a Roman holiday. The name of the month, February, refers to the fever of love. The earth is preparing to be fertile and humans are willing to go along with it by celebrating romantic love, even if it is only by watching reruns of Bridgerton on Netflix. Renewal of plant and animal life as we all start to emerge from winter’s hibernation is a source of hope.  As the weather warms, we can spend more time outdoors—walking, gardening, coffee on the patio. SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) is banished until November. 

Presidential elections sometimes run on hope, sometimes on fear, most often (this year included) on a mixture of the two.  In a polarized nation, both the hopes and the fears are more intense. Theologian Joanna Macy reminds us that hope is useless unless it is active hope, a spur to invest our efforts in seeking out those candidates who best embody our vision of how our state, local, and federal governments should carry out that visionary hope. We can also hope for the future of our planet by engaging in sustainable lifestyles and inquiring of candidates what they propose to do about growth management and air and water pollution and global warming.

Finally, Mardi Gras and Lent are about letting go, turning one’s back on self-indulgence after one last fling and instead make an effort at cultivating the spirit. (In medieval times, it was also a way to stretch the food supply in the final months before spring crops began to come in.) It is long enough to change, short enough to see the light of Easter at the end of the Lenten tunnel. Just a manageable chunk of time to sustain the hope that by Easter, the holiday of renewal and rebirth, we will be reborn as better, wiser, more patient and less greedy and gluttonous than we were six weeks ago.  That’s a tall order, but we have to start somewhere.

AS we zip through these back-to-back holidays, let us celebrate hope.  Especially the hope that we have transformed into the practice of active hopefulness as we work toward bringing our hopes to fruition. In summer, this season of hope is followed by the season of joy, in autumn the season of wisdom, and in winter a season of rest and recovery. May the hopeful and challenging rhythms of the earth resonate in your body, mind, and soul this spring holiday season.