Be a Saint, Not a
Scrooge
Pope Francis's challenge is important,
whatever your thoughts on his economic views.
By Peggy Noonan
We're not a year into
his leadership, but it's Christmastime and the pope has been much in the news.
Let's look at how he's doing.
He continues to
capture the imagination. When he says something, people look and listen. His
approach is not to lecture on the finer points but to embrace, and through the
embrace communicate the essentials. An image of the first nine months: Francis
on the phone, calling strangers. "Hello, it's the pope, I read your
letter!" He famously eschews the special—the regalia, the car, the palace,
the shoes. He wears a cross made not of gold but of common metal. That seems in
line with his tastes and nature but carries a symbolic punch: The church should
not use its dignity and greatness, its art and finery to separate itself,
unconsciously, from the people.
In a world full of
loneliness and poverty he says: We are all equal, and equally loved.
Somehow you get the
impression that even though he is 76—everyone thinks he's younger—he's going to
be around a long time. And his papacy is going to be big.
His apostolic
exhortation released last week set out general guidelines for the church as it
tries to bring people to it. I read the controversial economics section twice,
and to me it sounded pretty much like how modern popes talk and think. The
world is swept by "consumerism," by the worship of things, which
leaves our hearts "complacent yet covetous." The desire to acquire
blunts the conscience, crowds out God's voice, and keeps us from hearing the
only invitation that will make us happy.
His concerns in this
section are classically Catholic and, in their emphasis, economically liberal:
"Today we have to say 'thou shalt not' to an economy of exclusion and
inequality. Such an economy kills. How can it be that it is not a news item
when an elderly homeless person dies of exposure, but it is news when the stock
market loses two points?" That struck me as a rebuke not only of
"Wall Street" but of the media, which report the latter but not the
former. Francis continues: "Today everything comes under the laws of
competition and the survival of the fittest." He scores "trickle-down"
economic theories "which assume that economic growth, encouraged by a free
market, will inevitably succeed in bringing about greater justice and
inclusiveness in the world." This view reflects "a naive trust"
in the economically powerful.
He must have heard
about the carried-interest tax break, and corporate welfare.
All this has been
portrayed as an attack on free-market economic thinking, but it struck me more
as an attack on mindless selfishness, greed and go-with-the-flow acceptance of
the unrightness of the world. It made me think of Charles Dickens. The pope's
message in part is: Don't be Scrooge. He cared only for money, had no respect
for the poor—he thought they should die and decrease the surplus
population—wasn't the least bit interested in treating his employees justly or
with compassion, and missed out on all the real joy of life, until he wised up.
But is Francis saying
more than that? Is he hostile to capitalism, and do we see this hostility in
the pointed use of phrases such as "trickle-down," a term the left
uses to disparage the idea that created wealth, when invested or spent, spreads
and benefits others?
I don't know, I don't
think so, and we'll see. I don't think he's saying be a leftist but something
more revolutionary and fundamental: Be a saint. Be better, kinder, more serious
and loving, and help create systems that reflect good, kind, loving people.
The pope has a way of
colorfully saying, through words and actions, that the church is on the side of
the poor—the materially and spiritually poor—and always has been. I think he's
saying that here: that the Church has a bias for the poor and impatience toward
those who would abuse them. And he is speaking not infallibly but as a matter
of a worldview rightly shared.
The popes of the
modern era have been more or less European social democrats, of the economic
left. I've never heard a pope worry about the depressive effects of high tax
rates, have you? Or the dangers of high spending? Popes are sometimes geniuses
but not economists.
And priests are like
soldiers. I've never met a member of the military who cared much about taxing
and spending. Their general view is that taxes should be high enough to allow a
great nation to support a first-rate military and keep you safe, end of story.
Soldiers aren't really paid commensurate with their responsibility and
importance; it's not as if they're in the 60% bracket. Priests tend to be like
that, too. They're not paid much, they're housed and fed by their order or
parish. Taxes are more or less abstract to them. How high should taxes be? High
enough for a first-rate country to help its citizens get the good things they
need, end of story.
Priests know what's
important in life, and it isn't money. You have to factor that in when you talk
economic policy with them, just as you have to factor in that soldiers would
give their lives for you.
Back to Francis, previous
popes and economic policy. Our experience forms us. It shapes our thoughts and
assumptions. John Paul II and Benedict XVI came from a particular 20th-century
European experience. In their youth it was the rise of Nazism, and through
their adult lives it was the constant threat of Soviet communism, which was
both expansionist—it took John Paul's Poland and half of Benedict's Germany—and
atheistic. They saw communism as a limiter of freedom and a distorter of the
human heart.
The great foe of
Soviet communism? America and the West, which had the wherewithal and spiritual
strength to resist it. The West brought with it—was rich because of—free-market
capitalism. John Paul and Benedict, whatever their private thoughts on how
nations should arrange themselves economically, came to have a natural
appreciation and respect for what made the West wealthy. They understood its
positive utility.
Francis may turn out
to be different in this regard. It is possible his appreciation for the wider
apparatus of economic freedom does not run so deep. He is from Argentina, not a
frontline state in the Cold War, and not necessarily a place—Peronism,
corporatism, the military's influence, the intertwining of money and
government—that would give you a dreamy sense of free-market potential.
Trickle-down didn't always work so well there.
We'll see the
implications, if any, of all that.
For now, Francis
really has a way of breaking through the media clutter, doesn't he? At a dinner
the other night a smart young priest referred to how Francis's comments can
often be taken a number of different ways. He said, "Maybe he's just
unclear. But he's a Jesuit, so I assume it's deliberate." You mean
strategic ambiguity, I said. We laughed because that's what we both thought.
Francis wants to get us thinking about what we should be thinking about. He
wants to invite thought.
And he's succeeding,
isn't he?
The entire link with images can be found
at:
http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424052702303497804579240570542338410
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