Economics and the Bible

So does the Bible advocate Capitalism or Socialism?  This is a huge question for many people and one that I believe we stumble over. Socialism is a system in which the community is supposed to take care of the needs of everyone in it. Whereas Capitalism is a system in which each person is supposed to take care of themselves. Given that focus, I would say that God would prefer Socialism. When He asked Cain where Able was, Cain asked if he was his brother's keeper. God sidestepped the question somewhat but still made it clear that, "Yes, we are our brother's keepers." But even so, I when I read my Bible it talks about each person working and gaining personal benefit from their own labour. It never condems the rich just because they are rich nor does it attempt to share resources equally between all people. In the Law in Levitcus it openly acknowledges that people may become poor and does not provide any social system to make them rich again. So why, if God loves us all and wants us to take care of each other, does the Bible appear to be mostly Capitalistic.

I think there are many reasons.

1) Because of our selfishness:  
To start with, God is against both laziness and greed. But he is also realistic. He made us after all and he knows what we are like. He knew that we were going to be selfish and therefore would tend to fall into either laziness or greed. But a Socialistic system would colapse under laziness, so it cannot be sustained. Therefore, because of the hardness of men's hearts I believe God gave us a more capitalistic system and then encouraged us to be generous to each other.

2) To teach us:
God takes each of us through a different journey. Some are poor and need to learn to trust in Him to provide. Others are rich and need to learn that they still need God and that they need to help their fellow man. Many of us go through phases in life where we get to learn both lessons.

3) Inspite of the Bible supporting a more capitalistic view, it has several key socialistic laws to control the greed of man.
 - the poor where allowed to glean in the fields of the rich and take food for free
 - poor people could not be charged interest on loans
 - food could not be sold at a profit so that everyone would be able to afford to eat
 - merchants were not suppossed to create scarcity in order to drive up prices.
 - all debts had to be forgiven in the year of jubilee

These were major socialistic constraints put in place to protect the poor from the greed of an uncontrolled capitalistic system. So I believe that God DID NOT give us a totally free market guidline for living. He gave us a workable form of Capitalism with a sprinkling of Socialistic common sense.

In the USA (arguably the most Capitalistic nation that has ever been) there are still socialistic overtones.
 - unions
 - minimum wage
 - medicare
 - medicade
 - foodstamps (now called SNAP - Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program)
 - Anti-trust laws (prohibiting monolopies)

People are on both sides as to whether these programs and others go too far or don't go far enough. That is a question open for fair debate. However, the question of whether or not there should be Socialistic controls on a Capitalistic society for me at least is clear. Biblically we are given the model that we DO NEED laws to control the greed of man. The Bible is in favour of a hybrid solution, tipped, perhaps heavily, to the Capitalistic side.  

WikiLeaks

I do not believe that leaking sensitive material indiscriminately is a noble thing to do or in the best interest of the public so this is NOT to justify wikileaks. On the other hand, why did the government think that they would be exempt from the rules that apply to everyone else?

 

Lk 12:2-3 There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight, and what you have whispered in the ear in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs.

Capitalism

Capitalism is an economic system of private ownership and management of production for private profit. It uses a free market where the state has no economic intervention or regulation of prices.

This is seen by many to be the only workable system. It has good goal that most people would agree with:

 - everyone should have the opportunity to make profit and be allowed to keep what they have worked hard to produce
 - business will control what is produced based on what the market will buy, so there will always be enough for everyone
 - any shortages that may happen will produce more jobs in order to fill them
 - everyone can give 100% and thereby provide for themselves what they need.

This system seems to be able to continue indefinately, but does it have a dark side?

I still believe that people are basically selfish. So how does that manifest in a Capitalistic system?

Capitalism works because it is a greed based system that appeals to our dark side and uses our greed instead of being destroyed by it. Socialism hopes that all people will be altruistic and it fails as  it hits our lazy tendancies. But Capitalism assumes that we are selfish and it uses that to strengthen the system.

 - Because I am greedy I will give 100% if I can keep all the profits
 - Because I am greedy I will produce what people want because they will pay the most for it and I will make better margines
 - Because I am greedy I will try to undercut my competition by being as efficient as I can and that will drive prices down which benefits our customers

The system works well because it understands our nature. But does that have a down side? Sure it does.

To increase my margines I need cheap labour and for that I need a large labour force that is unemployed and desperate for work. Then they will work for next to nothing.

Capitalism will alway seek a large pool of extremely poor people to feed the system cheap labour and thereby increase the margines for the rich.

This is the fundamental flaw of Capitalism. It would work great if everyone was more concerned about their neighbour than they were about themselves but they are not.

Socialism

Socialism is an economic system of public ownership and management of production for the good of all citizens. It uses a controlled market where prices are set by the state.

If we could get past the negative emotional response to the term "Socialism" that many North Americans have, most people would agree that the goals of Socialism are good:

 - it wants to make sure that all people have access to the basics of life, food, clothing, shelter, medical care
 - it intends that no one would ever be out of work, since the state would control production, there would always be jobs for everyone
 - it would control production to ensure that there was always enough of everything for everyone
 - it would set up a system where everyone could give 100%
 - it would set up a system where everyone could receive what they need

Socialism is a system that promises the poor that they will no longer be poor as everyone will work together and share together.

Historically, it has been a popular system in many places before it is tried, but it seems to have a  very bad record in regard to how it works out.  Instead of everyone being rich together, the result is that the common people becomes poorer together. Why?

I believe that people are NOT basically good. We are basically selfish and we all know it from experience even if we want to hope for something better. That does not mean that we cannot ever do good things, but if you take a group of people without controls, they will tend to drift downward.

Under Socialism our selfishness manifests itself as laziness. If everyone is supposed to work their hardest but then they all get the same share, it doesn't take long before the hardest workers notice that the person next to them aren't pulling their weight and yet they still get their share. So the hard workers slacken their pace too. "Why should I work hard and not get anything extra for it?" they think.

This is the fundamental flaw of Socialism. It would work great if the whole group of people were inspired to keep working, but it cannot motivate them and within a few years it starts to show cracks. Within a generation or two, it colapses completely.

My Blog

I have resisted blogging for a long time but I thought that I would do it now because I wanted to share some poems that are dear to my heart.

I will likely also post some things I have written or random thoughts on current events, but I suspect that after an initial flurry of activity, this blog will not be updated more than once every week or 2.

If you enjoy my reflections, please check back occasionally for more.

Poem: Well

I was introducted to this WW1 poem a few years ago. It always makes me cry. Unfortunately I took out most of the dialect (spellings, contractions, etc.) and I don't have the original so this is not as good as the way it was written. It should be read with stong British slang

Well? (dialect softened)

by GA Studdert Kennedy

Our Padre were a solemn bloke,

We called him dismal Jim.

It fair gave ye the blooming creeps,

To sit and hark at him,

When he went on 'bout Judgment Day,

About that great white throne,

And how each chap would have to stand,

And answer on his own.

And if he tried to chance his arm,

And hide a single sin,

There’d be the angel Gabriel,

With books to do him in.

He had it all writ down, he said,

And nothin' could be hid,

He had it all in black and white,

And He would take no kid.

And every single idle word,

A soldier chanced to say,

He’d have it all thrown back at him,

In court on Judgement Day.

Well I kept minding Billy Briggs,

A pal of mine what died.

He went to help our sergeant Smith,

But as he reached his side,

There came and bust atween his legs,

A big Boche[1] 5.9 pill[2].

And I picked up his corporal’s stripes,

That’s all there were of Bill.

I called to mind a stinking night

When we was carrying tea.

We went round there by

Limerick Lane

,

and Bill were ahead of me.

‘Twere raining heavens hard, ye know,

And the boards was thick with muck,

And umpteen times we slithered down,

And got the dicksee[3] stuck.

Well, when we got there by the switch,

A loose board tipped right up,

And Bill, he turned a somersault,

And down he came and whup!

I’ve heard men blind, I’ve heard 'em cuss,

And I’ve heard them do it hard;

Well, haven’t I heard our R.S.M.,

Inspecting special guard!

But Bill, he left them standing still.

He turned the black night blue,

And I guess the angel Gabriel

Had short hand work to do.

Well, how would poor old Bill go on,

When he stood all alone,

And had to hear that tale read out

Afore that great white throne?

If what our padre says is right,

He’d have a rotten spell,

And finish up of it, I s’pose,

He’d have to go to 'ell.

And yet he were a decent lad,

And met a decent end;

You’ll never finish decenter,

Than trying to help a friend.

But somehow I can’t think it’s right,

It ain’t what God would do.

This stunt of all these record books,

I think it’s all napoo[4],

‘Twould let some rotten beggars in,

And keep some good ‘uns out,

There’s lots of blokes, what does no wrong,

As can’t do naught but shout.

But t’other night I dreamed a dream,

And, just ‘twixt me and you,

I never dreamed like that afore:

I half think it were true.

I dreamed as I were dead, ye see,

At least as I had died,

For I were very much alive,

Out there on the other side.

I couldn’t see no judgment court,

Nor yet that great white throne,

I couldn’t see no record books,

I seemed to stand alone.

I seemed to stand alone, beside

A solemn kind of sea.

Its waves they got in my inside,

And touched my memory,

And day by day, and year by year,

My life came back to me.

I seed just what I were, and what

I’d had the chance to be.

And all the good I might of done,

And hadn’t stopped to do.

I seed I’d made a dash of it,

And God! but it were true.

A throng of faces came and went,

Afore me on that shore,

My wife, and mother, kiddies, pals,

And the face of a London whore.

And some was sweet, and some was sad,

And some put me to shame,

For the dirty things I’d done to them,

When I hadn’t played the game.

Then in the silence some one stirred,

Like when a sick man groans,

And a kind of shivering chill ran through

The marrow of my bones.

And there before me some one stood,

Just looking down at me,

And still behind Him moaned and moaned

That everlasting sea.

I couldn’t speak, I felt as though

He had me by the throat,

‘Twere like a drowning fellah feels,

Last moment he’s afloat.

And He said naught, He just stood still

For I dunno how long.

It seemed to me like years and years,

But time out there’s all wrong.

“What was He like?” you’re asking now.

Can’t word it anyway,

He just were Him, that’s all I knows.

There’s things as words can’t say.

It seems to me as though His face

Were millions rolled in one;

It never changed yet always changed,

Like the sea beneath the sun.

‘Twere all men’s face yet no man’s face,

And a face no man can see,

And it seemed to say in silent speech,

“Ye did them all to Me.

The dirty things ye did to them,

The filth ye thought was fine,

Ye did them all to Me,” it said,

“For all their souls were Mine.”

All eyes was in His eyes – all eyes,

My wife’s and a million more;

And once I thought as those two eyes

Were the eyes of the London whore.

And they was sad – my God, how sad,

With tears that seemed to shine,

And quivering bright with the speech of light

They said, “Her soul was Mine.”

And then at last He said one word,

He just said one word – “Well?”

And I said in a funny voice,

“Please can I go to Hell?”

And He stood an' looked at me,

And He kind of seemed to grow.

Till He shone like the sun above my head,

And then He answered “No

You can’t, that Hell is for the blind,

And not for those that see.

You know that you have earned it, lad,

So you must follow Me.

Follow me on the paths of pain,

Seeking what you have seen,

Until at last you can build the ‘Is’

With the bricks of the ‘Might have been.’”

That’s what He said, as I’m alive,

And that there dream were true.

But what He meant – I don’t quite know,

Though I know what I has to do.

I’s got to follow what I’s seen,

Till this old carcass dies;

For I daren’t face in the land of grace

The sorrow of those eyes.

There ain’t no throne, and there ain’t no books,

It’s Him you’ve got to see,

It’s Him, just Him, that is the Judge

Of blokes like you and me.

And, boys, I’d sooner frizzle up,

In the flames of a burning Hell,

Than stand and look into His face,

And hear His voice say – “Well?”

---

[1] French slang for German adopted by the English

[2] Bomb

[3] Or dixie a container in which food was cooked (from Urdu dechsie, a copper pot)

[4] ‘it’s all napoo’ is a corruption of the French ‘il n’y en a plus’

Poem: Timothy Took His Time

Another poem that my mother used to recite was this litte one.  I think it struck all too true with her as she herded us kids along.

Timothy Took His Time

by Frieda Wolfe

Timothy took his time to school

and plenty of time he took

but some he lost at the tadpole pool

and more at the stickleback brook

ever so much at the linets nest

and more at the five bar gate.

Timothy took his time to school

but he lost it all and was late.

Timothy has a lot to do,

how can it all be done?

He didn't get home 'til close on 2

when he might have been home by 1.

There's sums & writing & spelling too

And an apple tree to climb.

Timothy has a lot to do,

how shall he find the time?

Timothy sought it high and low,

he looked in the tadpole pool

To see if they'd taken the time to grow, that he'd lost on the way to school.

He found the nest and he found the

     tree

And he found the gate he'd crossed

But Timothy never shall find (ah me!) the time that Timothy lost!

Poems: Softie

This is another poem that I learned from my mother. It is a Canadian WW I poem but I have never found a source for it. This is from my memory. I beleive that Ms. Knight lived around the Thunder Bay area at the time of the war.

Softie

By Gertrude Cornish Knight

Softie was a soldier,

     with a face just like a girl's.

He had cheeks as pink as rosebuds

     and a head of chestnut curls.

His eyes so blue and tender,

     were full of artless mirth,

And he'd a voice, the sweetest tenor,

     that I'd ever heard on earth.

He was crazy over love songs

     and he sang them sweet and true.

He was crazy for the ladies

     and he didn't care who knew.

But he railed 'gainst war & bloodshed,

     they fair moved the lad to tears.

So of course we were astonished

     when he joined the volunteers.

Boys he said, I'm such a Softie,

     for I hate your swords and guns

And its just that stern word duty

     that would make me face the Huns.

So that's how we called him Softie,

     fact he gave himself the name

And we couldn't help but wonder

     how the lad would play the game.

But he stood camp life and drilling

     just as good as any there

And he seemed to like the teasing

     'bout his pretty face and hair.

He kept the boys good humoured

     with his music and his wit

And if just in song and laughter,

     dear old Softie did his bit.

There was one song that he gave us,

     heard him sing it 50 times

And to me it lingers sweeter

     than a great cathedral's chimes.

It was something 'bout a tulip,

     yes that's how the story goes,

"You wear a yellow tulip

     and I'll wear a big red rose."

The ladies, they all loved him

     and he knew it too, the rouge

And twice he got the guard house

     for stopping on the road

And rolling up those big blue eyes

     at a girl he thought he knew,

Instead of marching forward

     as a soldier ought to do.

In every town in which we halted

     on our way to hapless France,

Softie left some girl behind him,

     with the love-light in her glance.

And the treats they showered on him

     keep our whole platoon supplied.

He had just 14 Bibles,

     each one from a would-be bride.

When at last we struck the trenches

     Softie paled and held his breath,

While he openly acknowledged

     he was well nigh scared too death.

We all laughed and called him coward

     and were sure he'd come to grief,

Though there wasn't one among us

     but was shaking like a leaf.

We'd been fighting just a fortnight

     when one eve our captain stood,

With 3 score men about him

     in a sheltered bit of wood.

When all at once a bomb came hurling

     straight toward us at a bound,

But someone sprang and caught it

     just before it hit the ground.

Like a shot he leapt beyond us,

     left us standing safely there.

Then the crash of an explosion

     and the shrapnel filled the air.

There was silence for a moment,

     then the captain raised his cap,

"Boys," he said, "Softie saved us

     but he's gone himself, poor chap."

And we called that hero Softie.

     Well there's one thing now I know.

I'll think no man a Softie

     'til I've seen him face the foe.

He'd saved him chums and captain.

     Could a soldier boy do more

To keep the old flag flying

     where the British lions roar?

We buried him at midnight

     that battered broken form,

That had been as fair and perfect

     as a rosebud of the morn.

And as the chaplin read the service

     and his clear voice fell and rose,

I seemed to hear old Softie

     singing about his big red rose.

In this locket I've a treasure

     set around with gold and pearls.

No, its not a ladies ringlet

     but just one of Softie's curls.

And when war and strife are over

     far beyond where Jordan flows,

I'll know that Softie's happy

     singing about his big red rose.

Poems: THE ELF AND THE DORMOUSE

My mother used to recite poetry to us kids and this is one she taught us. This version is taken from Modern American Poetry. Ed. Louis Untermeyer. New York: Harcourt, Brace & Howe, 1919

by: Oliver Herford (1863-1935)

The Elf and the Dormouse

UNDER a toadstool crept a wee Elf,

Out of the rain to shelter himself.

Under the toadstool, sound asleep,

Sat a big Dormouse all in a heap.

Trembled the wee Elf, frightened and yet Fearing to fly away lest he get wet.

To the next shelter--maybe a mile!

Sudden the wee Elf smiled a wee smile.

Tugged till the toadstool toppled in two.

Holding it over him, gaily he flew.

Soon he was safe home, dry as could be.

Soon woke the Dormouse--"Good gracious me!

"Where is my toadstool?" loud he lamented.

--And that's how umbrellas first were invented.

All Through the Night

I sang this song to my mother the night she died. I don't know if she heard it or not as she never really woke but I like to think she did. She was a remarkable woman and I hope to make my journey to heaven as well as she made hers.

All Through the Night

Traditional Welsh lullabye of unknown author. English translation by Sir. Harold Boulton

Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee

All through the night

Guardian angels God will send thee

All through the night

Soft the drowsy hours are creeping

Hill and dale in slumber sleeping

I my love a vigil keeping

All through the night

While the moon her watch is keeping

All through the night

While the weary world is sleeping

All through the night

O'er thy spirit gently stealing

Visions of delight revealing

Breathes a pure and holy feeling

All through the night

Though I roam a minstrel lonely

All through the night

My true harp shall praise sing only

All through the night

Love's young dream, alas, is over

Yet my strains of love shall hover

Near the presence of my lover

All through the night

Hark, a solemn bell is ringing

Clear through the night

Thou, my love, art heavenward winging

Home through the night

Earthly dust from off thee shaken

Soul immortal shalt thou 'waken

With thy last dim journey taken

Home through the night