Faith and Capitalism

The issue of increasing inequality in income distribution, both globally and in our country, is of a kind that no person of conscience can remain indifferent to. However, it must be acknowledged that, while its social dimension is distressing to the conscience, the issue also has a highly technical aspect that requires solid knowledge of economics. For instance, an economist (Metin Ercan) writes the following: “The acceleration of international trade and foreign direct investment is cited as the most significant cause of the growing inequality in income distribution. Trade and capital movements driven by the motive of profit and productivity are shifting more and more towards technology-intensive sectors, and the demand for skilled labor in these areas is increasing… As a result, the wages of skilled labor for which demand exceeds supply are rising exponentially compared to the wages of skilled labor for which supply exceeds demand. The OECD study also lists the deregulation of the labor market and the lowering of minimum wages relative to average wage levels as other significant causes.” These are not topics I can venture to write about without dedicating serious time and effort to research and becoming well-informed.

Don’t say we have nothing to say about such a bleeding wound. Of course we do… We, too, have a voice when it comes to the relationship between faith and systems, to the interaction between the system we live in and the system within our minds and psychology, and to the matter of meaning and interpretation. I want to emphasize that our faith does not exist in a glass dome, untouched—it is shaped by our experiences. A faith that does not rise upon the criticism of the times—of the ignorance, monarchy, and feudalism of the past, and of modernity and capitalism today—can be damaged in terms of its creed. It becomes vulnerable because if you fail to evaluate the times you live in and do not take a stance accordingly, before long, you begin to mistake the principles of your era for the tenets of your faith, to construct your network of meaning in alignment with them, and to frame your interpretations within that structure—without even realizing it. Worldly life is difficult, and in every era, it is a challenge to translate the tenets of your faith into lived experience. One must remain vigilant and always strive to stay grounded.

In an old article titled “Fasting, Contentment, and Abundance,” Professor Süleyman S. Öğün emphasized just how difficult it is to remain content under the conditions of capitalism:

“The imbalance between investment and redistribution has been capitalism’s core contradiction since the beginning, appearing before us as a supply-demand disequilibrium. Capitalism has tried to resolve this contradiction through three main policies. The first and most brutal method is war, the second is controlled redistribution, and the third is indebtedness—what we know as consumption or credit capitalism. For this third method to prevail, the concept of contentment, whose roots lie in religion, had to be crushed. A peculiar ‘right’ was invented, called the ‘right to consume.’ To the masses of humanity excluded from the deficient or barren redistribution, the promise of prosperity was made. This promise was coupled with opportunism, laziness, and superficiality, sidelining redistribution altogether. Everyone was to be the captain who saved their own ship. Of course, this was an illusion. The result was nothing but a widening chasm between winners and losers. The loss of value came as a bonus. And that is precisely what is dramatic. Religions, in particular, bore the brunt of this… Consumption has sidelined values such as contentment and moderation, which maintain the general balance between abstinence and abundance. It has invited us back to pagan excess…”

Coping with Capitalism and the Consumer Society

I can pick up my argument exactly from here, by saying: “Don’t get swept away!” Worldly life is, in and of itself, a test… Across different cultures, life produces various socio-economic and political structures within different networks of production relations. What faith and the faithful can do in the face of these systems is to bring them as close to justice as possible, through critique, self-critique, and a principled, doctrinal stance. It is to stand firmly against waste (israf), usury (ribâ), greed and avarice (tamahkârlık), ostentation and arrogance, the aimless hoarding of wealth, stinginess, and—most of all—oppression. It means being a trustworthy, fair, and content person who keeps their promises, safeguards the entrusted natural world, and prioritizes the common good and human welfare.

Struggling to survive within the current global economic system is important. It is critically important to develop local and national policies to overcome injustices in income distribution. And in such a world, showing doctrinal resistance is indispensable…

Yes, when we isolate ourselves for a moment from the economic and technical language of capitalism and reflect, we can see two key areas to focus on for a solution:

First, to oppose greed, envy-driven personal gain, usury and interest, waste, and hoarding in the strongest way possible—through the moral virtues offered by our religion.

Second, to ensure that the state strives to establish economic justice, not for the enrichment of a small elite, but for the enrichment of the people as a whole.

Of course, in saying this, we must also admit how difficult it is to resist capitalism—that no matter what is said, the snake of greed will somehow still manage to bite you.

There is also a more naïve way of dealing with capitalism and the consumer society: by turning our attention to art and artists—especially poets, and writers of stories and novels…

(But beware! Painting is a great art form, and painters are important, but the spoiled rich have long ago sunk their claws into it, turning art into profit. These days, they commit the same crime through cinema.)

Why am I talking about shielding ourselves with art as a means to fight the greed within us and the spoiled rich who plunder our world? Let me explain.

My friend, our great poet Ömer Erdem, ends his lyrical piece titled “Childhood is a Bucket Full of Water” with the following lines:

“Childhood is the period in which a person’s sense of contentment is at its strongest. You won’t find a child who isn’t satisfied with a bucket of water. A bucket of water is enough to make a child happy, but adults can never get enough of the sea…”

In just two sentences, our poet has expressed what we have been struggling to convey in countless articles. But here’s the bad news! The consumer society is striking us at our core—at our most essential nature, our most reliable foundation. Today’s children have been made the primary customers of consumption and waste. Of course, they are not to blame. The culprits are clear: the parents who fell into the trap—you, me, him…

My elder brother, our great storyteller Mustafa Kutlu, has a book titled The Voice of the Heart: A Treatise on Migration. As a psychologist, I try to express complex socio-economic issues to the extent that I can understand them, but at times I may have unknowingly made them even more complicated. Yet Mustafa, as a storyteller, possesses an understanding as pure and clear as spring water. For me, he is no longer just a great storyteller, but also a great simplifier. He doesn’t beat around the bush—he simply says “economy of contentment” and gets straight to the point. He avoids theory and detours altogether. He strikes the dragon squarely on the forehead:

“All of humanity seeks progress, development, wealth, prosperity, and comfort. But as we mentioned in earlier writings, 10% of the population controls 90% of the world’s income. Despite this, every country is chasing development.

More investment, more production, more consumption, more R&D, more advanced technology, more profit, more growth. Well then! What is the endgame? This is a mad dash, a dead-end, a mirage. How much longer can you exploit nature and humanity?

Those who contemplate these issues, even if unable to form a united front of opposition, are sounding the alarm. The depletion of the ozone layer, the melting of glaciers, the exhaustion of water resources, the slaughter of millions in Iraq and Syria, the deaths of several children every minute in poor countries—none of it is shaking anyone.

So what is our responsibility?

It is this: to mentally, intellectually, and scientifically formulate and implement an ‘Economy of Contentment’ in response to this ‘Economy of Consumption.’

Only this understanding can bring an end to the mad dash.”

Mustafa abi refers those who ask him about the economy of contentment to Mustafa Özel—but not without noting that even he can only express his concern through novels. He quotes these lines from Mustafa Özel:

“The economy of contentment is a Don Quixote-esque notion. Don Quixote is the most sympathetic guardian of justice of the last four centuries. He is the most serious and most sorrowful hero in world literature. He wants to live by principles—in other words, to live by the Book. He cries out the ‘truth of the Book’ in the face of a corrupt age. That’s why he seems comical!

The prerequisite for an economy of contentment is a contented society. Show me a contented society, and I will explain the economy of contentment to you!”

That’s how it is!… When artists simplify things, everything in this wretched and unjust world becomes strikingly clear. That is why we must never leave the economy to politicians—let alone to economists. Let us not leave the economy to you, but as for you, oh affluent hoarder (mütref), it’s time you gave up your stockpiling! Stop trying to accumulate wealth that could feed seven generations. Stop twisting logic to make your actions seem religiously permissible. Take a break from indulgence and luxury—read some poetry, read a story.

And don’t go around bragging, “But I employ so many people in my businesses.”

Go on then—be a Don Quixote, don’t darken your heart!