Gazing out of the Abyss #3: Is money spiritual?
There is a German word that doesn’t have a real English translation: “Ersatzreligion”, which means something like substitute religion. An Ersatzreligion is understood as the replacement of religion with an ideology. Atheistic, political, or other foundations can be considered substitutes. But it can also encompass something as banal as football or vegan dieting.
It means that some, but not all, functions of religion are transferred to an Ersatzreligion.
I want to propose something similar here: that capitalism is an Ersatzreligion.
And not just because capitalism rests on an ideology, or unifies people under one system, or is guided by the invisible hand of God, as Adam Smith suggested—implying a divine providence or guiding hand that shapes self-interested actions into beneficial societal outcomes, rather than merely being spontaneous (market) phenomenons.
I will make the case that capitalism is an Ersatzreligion because it actually encompasses not some, but all the functions that were previously attributed to religion, and that capitalism and industrialism really came into full bloom when religion collectively died as the normative belief-system and made way for another belief-system, namely that the that makes us think there is something ultimately to be gaines and achieved through money.
Now, before we start, we have to get rid of one core assumption held by New Age hippies of all kinds: it was never the goal of any religion to deliver enlightenment. This simple statement is proven by the fact that the chances of actually reaching enlightenment – whatever this means - through religion are, statistically, close to zero. And even the ones who did reach it often left us with a bad taste in our mouths—speaking of the fat goblin, the moody, if not narcissistic, carpenter, and the pedophile, illiterate warlord.
If you just look at the sheer and naked number of people who tried meditation, compared with the number who actually reached Satori, Samadhi, or similar structure-states, it’s really not worth mentioning. If enlightenment had truly been the goal, the Catholic Church, Christianity and Islam wouldn’t have been so preoccupied with horny women and little boys.
So, let’s get it out of our system: the goal of religion was never a kind of individual consciousness merged with God.
Religion was, instead, about discipline—self-discipline, to be exact. It was a way for culture and society to auto-regulate. Or, as Max Weber and more recently Thad Russell said: the best way to control a people is to let them control themselves. This is Protestantism in a nutshell.
And the stakes were high. If one assumed there was a God and a Devil, then every failure of self-control meant being destined for hell. The proof of this—reached through simple psychology—lies in the fact that religion was, and still is, mostly concerned with horniness and libido: hence witch burnings, killing of loose women in Islam to this day, pedophilia, seventy-two virgins, disfigured and mutilated genitals, celibacy, marital rape and having sex with a 12 year old, and—as Wilhelm Reich noted—its collective sublimation: killing in the name of the One. In any case, no orgiastic individual (Reich’s words)—that is, a person able to experience a deep and lasting orgasm—ever had The Urge to kill a fellow human being. It´s really that simple.
Religion is in this sense alway about the suppression of sex and libido. Even the tantric system is philosophically complex enough to give Kant a tickle in his anus. But religion collapsed under its own devices, and since nature abhors the vacuum, capitalism jumped into the trenches. In doing so, it used the very same means by which religion had operated. And while religion lost all of its own libido and power, capitalism to this day engages people and stays erect. One belief system died, and another belief system emerged.
The thesis I want to make here is this: capitalism became the de facto religious system of the West.
If you look at the centuries-old system of the Tarot which emerged out of Christianity—and which can be seen as one way western culture reflects on itself, its stories, and its narratives—the meaning of the suit of Coins & Pentacles is always twofold. Yes, it represents to some extent money. But it also represents the sun-self (alternatively through the Pentagram) which means the whole, integrated self.
First, Capitalism is – like Protestantism and Christianity – predominantly about self-discipline—but not for its own sake. Its modus operandi is similar to that of a game: the better you play it, the more closely you come to your senses. There are tribulations in this game, intentionally, and levels. The inherent question is: How can you make money and keep your sanity intact? Or, at even higher stages: How can you detect and figure out your true passions of the self – eudaimonia & the daimon - and make some money with and through them (because you still have to survive, right)?
In a strange way, capitalism helps to build & shape character. Because if there is one thing to be learned from the money-and-business game, it’s this: you learn to say no. Not necessarily no to the game itself, but no as a winning strategy within the game. Saying yes to every deal leads to failure. Conversely, the more successful you are, the more often you say no.
This paradoxical mechanism also holds true for romactic dating. Women select for men who can say no—even if that, at first, means saying no to the woman herself. Hence the female meme going around: “Is he hot, or is he just ignoring you?”—indicating it’s one and the same thing.
Being able to say no to the superficial and passing fads of the ego, to build character and responsibility, is the psychological function of capitalism. Sure, there are other functions, especially if you look beyond what Ken Wilber called the Upper Left quadrant of your subjective, phenomenological experience.
So let me reiterate: being able to say “no” builds character. And there is no system—or what German philsopher Peter Sloterdijk would call a societal practice-system (all societal system are to some extent practise systems) that enables this character trait more than capitalism.
Saying no means being able to sacrifice short-term gratification for the long game. It implies, and requires, staying true to your values and instincts. It shapes responsibility, accountability, character and truthfulness.
Of course, there are bad players out there—but you find that in every system, in every practice-system. Just because you have a Bhagwan or an Andrew Cohen doesn’t mean all spirituality is bad. (Also, it doesn´t mean that everybody with money are more integrated people (they are probably not). But it does mean that capitalism is a practise- or discipline-system that, in large large (society-scale), effectivly primes it´s players to engage in self-disciplinatory behaviors that force society into ever complexer states of play. (It also implies that the ONLY soultion to migration in the west is not to close borders, but to old the new citizens absolutely accountable to the rules of the game)).
Therefore, this very left-quadrant side of capitalism is important. You can choose to suffer because of this dominant belief system of the West. You can cry because you are a loser at this game—because a game it is! Or you can learn to play it, and use it to become a better person. It is, after all, your choice what you make of it.
Second, money and capitalism help you understand that everything is in flux—panta rei. Money flows, the global market knows no bounds: you lose some, you win some; you have to spend to earn; and you can’t be afraid of losing or spending money. There is no system that hammers this point home more than capitalism—not as a fancy bon mot at your spiritual festival or seminar, but as a brutal truth of life. You have to adapt to this rule of life, and not just use it as a feel good meme.
Third, capitalism and money help you generate what Sloterdijk calls an amorous distance—not only to the spoils of capitalism, but to the game itself. This is probably the most important point here, something spiritual practitioners struggle with for decades. You can’t be casual with these phenomena of life, nor take them too seriously. You have to find the sweet spot, on the edge of chaos, the tip of the needle, the edge of the blade: You have to be in love with the phenomomens of life, but from a distance. In other words: you have to learn to be non-attached while still engaging. If there is something to be learned from business, it’s this.
Again, I am not saying everybody necessarily learns this, but it can be learned.
There are many more points to this, but I’ll leave it at that. As a rule of thumb: don’t trust any spiritual practitioner who has no experience in economic matters. In the worst case—which happens more often than not—he will just steal your money.