I’m taking a class this summer titled “Christianity and Capitalism” at Regent College. Now I would do well to disclose the fact that I spent three years studying at Regent, and found myself to be quite frustrated during that time with Regent’s lack of radicality. Thus, going into this class I presumed that I would be fed the stock Regent take on how Christians are to relate to the world: It’s a fallen world, things are messed up, so lets just make the most of what we’ve already got. In terms of a Christian understanding of political economy I’m expecting the line to be something like, “Sure capitalism has a lot of problems (as in it erodes the goodness of life and reduces everything to commodity exchange value), but it is the best system we’ve got, so let’s just figure out how to be good Christians within the capitalist order.”
Well, these prejudices were confirmed today when I received my copy of the class text, Donald A. Hay’s Economics Today: A Christian Critique. Now, I admit that I have not read the entire book. In fact, I have only read the conclusion, which is a mere five pages. However, in these five pages Hay outlines the methodological framework for his entire book. And, to be perfectly honest, it was complete sheep dip.
According to Hay the task of a theological appropriation of economics requires three steps: 1) Understanding the Christian Tradition (T) (by which he means the Bible) from which you 2) distill a set of Derivative Social Principles (DSP) so that you can then 3) apply those principles to Reality (R). Thus, for Hays, the way in which a Christian is to ascertain how to act Christianly within the economic order looks like this:
T ———-> DSP ———-> R
In terms of appropriating Hay’s three-step method, I got lost after step one. Foregoing the discussion surrounding his reduction of the Christian tradition to the Bible, I can still agree that any Christian critique of the political economy must begin with the Christian scriptures. In this regard, I do appreciate that Hays approaches the Tradition with some humility:
The task of interpreting Scripture is always an unfinished one. The theological framework, and our interpretations of Scripture, are at best provisional. Essential qualities for the interpreter are intellectual and spiritual humility, openness to the guiding of the Holy Spirit, and a willingness for misinterpretations to be corrected by other Christians.
However, from here Hay just gets ridiculous. Once we have deduced what the Tradition has to say about theological economy, we are then to distill out the core derivative social principles that will serve as the basis for making policy decisions within our current economic system, also known as “reality.” In Hay’s defense, he wrote this book in 1989, so it is possible that he was not familiar with the way in which narrative theology has rendered obsolete the project of distilling “derivative social principles” out of the narratives of the Tradition. But this flaw in Hay’s method is only of secondary significance, for the real problem lies with his vision of “reality”.
Hay outlines another three-step process for determining what “reality” is and how we are to apply the DSPs to it. First we need to address the epistemological “element,” which we are told, can be supplied to us by the social sciences (again, this was written in 1989, thus any challenge wrought by the work of someone like John Milbank would not have been on the radar). Second, we are to determine the ethical “element” wherein we have to navigate the gap between the DSPs and our epistemological understanding of “reality” (Thanks Social Sciences!). Navigating this “gap”, however, is quite a challenge. In fact, it could be argued that this is the challenge for a Christian appraisal of political economy. Our next task is to figure out how to close this gap. Thus, our third “element” is prescriptive; taken what we know to be true of God from the Bible (DSPs) and what we know to be true of the world (reality) we need to make judgments about how we, as Christians, are to act (in keeping step with his penchant for reduction, Hays simply equates action with policy).
In good Niebuhrian fashion, Hay’s starting point for describing this prescriptive “element” of closing the gap between God’s principles and reality is to note that the world is fallen. In this way we can hold that God has “an ideal for mankind” while also realizing that we will never possibly live into that reality. Thus for Hay, our best hope in a fallen “reality” is to shoot for what he calls, “the principle of the second best.” I kid you not. Hay actually concludes his five page methodological exposition by writing,
It can be intellectually exciting to conduct abstract debates about the advantages of socialism or capitalism, or about the limits to economic growth. But it would probably be more profitable now to apply our Christian social principles to detailed policy issues, including a careful empirical analysis of each issue, and a consideration of alternative policy responses that might promote a Christian second best.
Second best? Is this really what Christians are to strive for? Is second best what Jesus was after in the Sermon on the Mount? Is second best what the martyrs sacrificed their lives for? Was striving for second best at the heart of the Reformation?
Clearly, if the terms “Christian” and “second best” are not understood as antithetical to one another then neither term has any real meaning. The notion that we should strive for a Christian second best seems to entail that God is either too obtuse or too stupid to tell us what he really wants for us to do in the world that, ostensibly, he is the Lord of. I mean, seriously, the notion of striving for a Christian second best is akin to Christian war, Christian abortion, or Christian adultery. It is completely nonsensical.
On that note, it is apt that Pedro the Lion has recorded a song brutally exposing the emptiness of adultery titled “Second Best.” Here I offer the lyrics as an icon of the bankruptcy inherent in any purported vision of a Christian “second best.”
The impact, the aftershave, the European cigarettes
The taxi, the alcohol that lingers on your breath
The lipstick, the street lamp, the woolen overcoat
The front desk, you tell yourself, it isn’t over yet
Second best, oh second best
I can learn to live with this
Plus I really need a rest
After all what’s wrong with second best
What’s wrong with second best
The motel, the distances, cave into kisses cold and wet
Familiar exchanges, like needle pulling thread
The empty movements that once were so inspired
Desperate attempts to fan the flames without a fire
The mattress creeks beneath
The symphony of misery and cum
Still we lie jerking back and forth
And blurring into one
Second best oh second best
I can learn to live with this
Plus I really need a rest
After all what’s wrong with second best
What’s wrong with second best