Is Money the Root of All Evil? Experts Pick Sides

5:08 AM

Posted by: John S Kiernan

Is Money The Root Of All Evil? Money stresses us out even more than terrorism, according to the American Psychological Association, so it's understandable why some people consider currency to be especially evil. Money also greases the wheels of evil operations, from terrorist groups and violent dictatorships to human traffickers and poachers - just to name a handful. And the pursuit of material wealth can drive us to do some despicable things.

Yet money also does an awful lot of good. The most cost-effective charities can save a life for less than $5,000, for example. And while some might see it as penance for evil deeds, roughly 1.5 billion people give money to charity each year, with Americans donating more than $373 billion in 2015 alone. Plus, to continue with the clichés, both money and gravity are said to make the world go round, but we don't disparage the latter when we stumble. So what gives?

In search of answers about how much stock we should put into the dark side of money’s reputation, WalletHub posed one simple question – “Is money the root of all evil?” – to a panel of experts in the fields of finance, economics, psychology, theology and more. You can find their bios and responses below. And if you’d like to join the debate, just share your thoughts in the comments section at the end of the page.

 

Yes, Money Is the Root of All Evil

None of the experts on our panel believe money is inherently evil. But if you believe there is a case to be made in that regard, let us know.

Money Is Not Evil, But It Can Be Used for Evil

Highlights:

  • Evil results when we do things for the sake of money. It is wrong to exchange intrinsic values for the instrumental value of cash. Our deepest metaphor for evil makes this clear: it is wrong to sell your soul. The soul is priceless and non-exchangeable.

    Andrew Fiala - Chair of the Department of Philosophy, Director of the Ethics Center, California State University, Fresno

  • People often do terrible things to one another for the sake of money. They also do terrible things to one another for the sake of any number of other things. So is money the root of all evil? No. Is it the root of some evil? Sure. All that means is that, were it not for some financial concern on the part of some agent, something traditionally defined as "evil" would not have occurred. I think that's obviously true in some cases. It's also true that were the concept of money abolished, the concept of evil wouldn't just disappear along with it. In short, money is the root of some evil, but not all.

    Charlene Elsby, Ph.D. – Assistant Professor and Philosophy Program Director, Indiana University-Purdue University, Fort Wayne

  • I acknowledge that money, power, fame, intelligence, or beauty can powerfully influence the people that possess them. Once one has wealth one has the ability to exercise the full range of one’s desires in a way that a less wealthy person cannot. Having wealth, therefore, means that one has the temptation to give full rein to one’s desires. The temptation might even be considered like an addiction. Now, if one has evil desires – for example to harm, exploit, cheat, control, etc. other sentient beings – and if one has wealth, then one might perform evil actions. But the root of evil is human desire, not the instrument through which the desires are fulfilled.

    Beau Shaw - Professor Department of Philosophy at Columbia University

< > William J. FitzPatrick William J. FitzPatrickGideon Webster Burbank Professor of Intellectual and Moral Philosophy in the Department of Philosophy at University of Rochester William J. FitzPatrick Clearly, money isn't literally the root of all evil: racial hatred and misogyny account for plenty of evil quite apart from money, for example. And even where money is implicated in evil, it's not exactly the root of it: money itself is just a tool, and a healthy and principled pursuit of it is both morally unexceptionable and largely socially beneficial. The problem comes with the introduction of common human vices associated with money and the power it brings, which are certainly behind a great deal of evil of many kinds, from exploitation to environmental destruction to the subversion of meaningful democracy. This is probably what is really intended by the spirit of the saying that 'money is the root of all evil'. So if we want to be more careful, we might refuse to take a side either way on the original saying and instead go with the less catchy but more accurate suggestion that 'greedy pursuit of money and power at the expense of other values is the root of a lot of evil'. Andrew Fiala Andrew FialaProfessor & Chair of the Department of Philosophy and Director of the Ethics Center at California State University, Fresno Andrew Fiala Cash is cold, hard and inert. A dollar bill cannot kill a man or enslave him. Only another human being can do that. A fat wallet is a mere lump in the pocket. But there is evil in what we do with money—and in what money does to us. When human relationships are undermined by pecuniary interests, we are in moral trouble. Prostitution commercializes the act of making love. Murder for hire seems worse than a crime of passion. “Selling out” is a mortal sin for artists. Bribes and emoluments undermine the integrity of public offices. Evil results when we do things for the sake of money. It is wrong to exchange intrinsic values for the instrumental value of cash. Our deepest metaphor for evil makes this clear: it is wrong to sell your soul. The soul is priceless and non-exchangeable. The Bible warns that the love of money is the root of evil. Pope Francis has suggested that money is good when it serves the poor, wicked when it does not. He said, “money must serve, not rule.” From this perspective, inequality is evil. It is wrong that some starve while others feast. Christians will also warn that money worship turns money into a false idol. It is wrong to worship Mammon instead of God, wrong to replace monotheism with money-theism. The great Jewish atheist, Karl Marx himself, also warned about the idolatry of money. Marx described money as both a “visible God” and a “common whore.” Marx saw money as a fetish: an inert object falsely endowed with supernatural power. Evil arises when we wrongly think that money can satisfy our deepest needs and highest yearnings. For Marx, the evil of capitalism is that it alienates us from what really counts by transforming our time, our work, and our products into dollar signs. American critics may be less vitriolic. But they also criticized our love of money. Ralph Waldo Emerson, the great American philosopher, said, “Money often costs too much.” Emerson recognized that wealth and leisure are useful goods—if they are spent wisely. But he cautioned against exchanging your integrity for cash. Emerson’s protégé, Henry David Thoreau, suggested that the price of anything is measured in the amount of life you exchange for it. Thoreau advised simple living as the path to self-reliance and freedom. In the American tradition, the evil of money is its tendency to turn us into fawning toadies whose brown noses are always sniffing for greenbacks. This brings us, by way of conclusion, to Buddhism. Like all things, wealth is temporary. Our desire for it is a source of suffering. The remedy for suffering is non-attachment—to learn to be content with what we have. The evil of money is our incessant desire for more of it, our tendency to compare our wallets with those of our neighbors, and our willingness to sell everything, even our souls. Jo-Ann A. Brant Jo-Ann A. BrantProfessor of Bible and Religion at Goshen College Jo-Ann A. Brant The obvious refutation of this proposition is that evil existed in this world long before any monetary system and that it came into use because it has its virtues. Money makes possible all sorts of meritorious ventures. For example, it makes much more sense to invest money to restore an economy that has been hit hard by a natural disaster than it is to continually send over shiploads of grain to sustain a population. Nevertheless, as a biblical scholar, well aware of the principle of Sabbath sufficiency, I must point out that money allows for sorts of hoarding that would be nonsensical if one were banking perishable commodities. Jesus tells the parable of the rich fool (Luke 12:13-21) who stockpiles grain for a future which is cut short by the man’s unexpected death. Part of the humor of the parable depends upon the man’s excessive hoarding. Part lies in his interior monologue that suggests that he has only himself with whom to talk. His wealth has alienated him from the community with which he could be sharing his abundance. His satisfaction lies in an imagined future rather than in the consumption of the grain. When our assets become an abstraction - digits on a spreadsheet - do we find it even more difficult to see them as sufficient for our needs? Early Christian leader, Basil of Caesarea (330-379 c.e.), equated leaving bread to rot in a cupboard and spare shoes to molder in a closet with stealing from the poor. He included hoarding money on that list, but I have to admit that I feel a more acute sense of guilt about food sitting in my fridge that will never be eaten than I do about the money sitting in my savings that never seems sufficient for my anticipated future needs. I see the former as waste and the later as prudent management. Moreover, when my assets are disconnected from the products of the land and others’ labor, is it more difficult for me to recognize the imbalance between what I possess and what I pay and others’ receive. The problem with money may be that we forget that it is a medium of exchange and we treat it as a hedge to avoid exchange with others and against our own future, when we might be the one in need of others. Rachana Kamtekar Rachana KamtekarProfessor of Philosophy at University of Arizona, and Tucson Public Voices Fellow Rachana Kamtekar The Biblical expression is actually, ‘Greed’, which one might gloss as the love of money, ‘is the root of evils’ (1Timothy 6:10). Money itself is just an instrument, and so its goodness or badness depends on its user. That said, money’s instrumentality does arouse our desire for it, and that desire can become excessive unless checked by a clear understanding that (1) the value of money is strictly subordinate to the value of the things one can use it to get, and (2) some things of great value can’t be gotten by money—most famously, love and the kingdom of heaven—or by money alone—such as a quality education or a stress-free life. It’s easy to lose sight of (1) and (2) because there are so many things money can buy, and because when we don’t have enough money to meet our needs, more money can contribute substantially to our happiness (or education, or stress-free living). It’s a problem in liberal societies that a principled respect for different conceptions of the good life limits our opportunities to understand the values that make (1) and (2) true. It’s up to the family and to optional communities like churches or temples to promote reflection about what things are good to have, and to do, in one’s life. It’s a further problem that the way to pursue distributive justice in liberal societies is by a fair distribution of the means by which different people might secure a good life, whatever they think that is—‘universal means’, the philosopher John Rawls called them—and the most obvious of these means is money. These features of liberal societies seem to silence criticism even of the (obviously irrational) pursuit and celebration of wealth for its own sake, or at the expense of goods like peace of mind and time with one’s friends. Of course, liberal societies aren’t the only place where money is overvalued. All it takes to fail to understand (1) and (2) is to fail to reflect on what we value for the sake of what, and failures to reflect can occur anywhere. But once we recognize liberal societies’ unchecked propensity to value money, we should think how we might check money’s overvaluation in our own lives. I’ve suggested that it’s not only, or even primarily, because money is a competitive good and overvaluing it can worsen our relations with others, but also, and more fundamentally, because the love of money is irrational. Charles Goodman Charles GoodmanAssociate Professor of Philosophy at Binghamton University Charles Goodman There have been human societies without money, surviving by hunting and gathering and through the exchange of gifts. As archaeologists and anthropologists have shown, these societies were not free from conflict, and some were extremely violent. People can be selfish without money; they can be envious without money; they can hate and fear strangers without money. When people today cannot meet their basic needs, more money may reasonably be their highest priority. Among those who are not poor, there is a weak tendency for those with more money and social status to be happier. But we all know that it is perfectly possible to be rich and miserable. Someone driven by compulsive emotional needs, lashing out at others with no peace of mind, can be deeply unhappy in a house plated with gold. Research sponsored by the Templeton Foundation has found evidence that, for those who are already rich, the most effective way to use money to find happiness is to give it away in a manner that genuinely helps others. Generosity, moral discipline, patience, perseverance in constructive activities, the practice of meditation, mindfulness and awareness, the wisdom that knows what is important in life - these qualities of mind and heart work together and reinforce each other. Together, these virtues are the most reliable source of happiness. When money supports our life, and thereby sustains our opportunity to develop our minds and to help others, it is almost as important as the air we breathe and the water we drink. When it supports useless luxury and pointless display, it is at best a trivial amusement, at worst a seductive distraction from everything that really matters. When the blind and unrestrained pursuit of money leads us to disregard the suffering of the poor and to countenance the destruction of the natural environment, then money becomes the lure on a fishhook, the bait in a hunter's trap. Money gives us many choices and opportunities; whether we choose wisely, whether we seek enticing appearances or real freedom, is entirely up to us. Beau Shaw Beau ShawProfessor Department of Philosophy at Columbia University Beau Shaw Money is not the root of all evil. Nor, I believe, is money itself evil. Rather, money can be put to evil uses—when, for example, someone hoards it all for himself, makes the purpose of his life its acquisition, or judges others on the basis of whether they have it or not. I believe that most people recognize this; it is not the tenet of any kind of radical politics. In fact, to my mind, the most interesting question is why, given that most people accept that money can be put to evil uses, they nevertheless—and our whole world testifies to this—continue to put it to those uses: why they live their lives believing there is no limit to the money they should acquire; why are they reluctant to donate even a quarter to the needy fellow human being they meet on the street; or why, even, they can’t acquiesce to paying higher taxes that will deprive them a little but help others a lot. Without being able to fully answer this question, I can point to an interesting response that Plato—according to many people the father of philosophy itself—gives. According to Plato in his “Republic,” the human soul has three parts: a rational part, which thinks practically and theoretically; a spirited part, which feels anger and hate; and an appetitive part, which desires things like food, sex and money. Plato goes on to discuss how the different types of human beings (or, one could say, “personalities”) are defined by the organization of these parts of the soul. For example, the tyrannical person is totally ruled by the appetitive part, so much so that the spirited and rational parts are barely active; or the honor-loving person is ruled by the spirited part, yet in a way that allows the other two parts to be active. Particularly relevant here is Plato’s view of the person whose life is devoted to the acquisition of money (the “oligarchical” person): he is ruled by the appetitive part, yet—unlike the tyrannical person—the rational part is active, except only insofar as it serves the appetitive part. This person thinks, but thinks only for the sake of fulfilling his appetite, specifically, his appetite for money. He is, so to speak, a calculating, very focused tyrant. This view of the person whose life is devoted to the acquisition of money clarifies why, knowing that money can be put to evil uses, he nevertheless puts it to those uses. The only thought he entertains is that which helps him acquire money; therefore, he cannot be guided by thoughts that would limit that acquisition, for example, thoughts about helping others, helping his community, or, more generally, what would make his soul healthy. Interestingly, this sheds light on the “evil” connected to this kind of person. In fact, this evil is not found in the particular uses to which he puts money, but rather the condition of his soul as a whole. Subordinated to the appetitive part, the rational part of his soul is severely limited: it simply thinks about money. Consequently, this person never knows the joys of practical or theoretical thinking, thinking devoted to the common good or the nature of things. The “evil” in this person is that of an unfulfilled rational life. Octavian Gabor Octavian GaborAssociate Professor of Philosophy at Methodist College Octavian Gabor We are often tempted to believe that there are evil things around us, things without which our lives would be just fine. This scapegoating attitude helps us to make sense of our existence, to perceive ourselves as members of the group of the righteous. We believe we are good people, and we attribute the evil that we encounter to external forces. Claiming that money is the root of all evil is just an example of such an attitude. But money is an object, like anything else. Without human beings on earth, money would actually disappear, for the banknotes we use to purchase goods would lose their meaning: they would only be pieces of paper with numbers and faces on them. Without us, money is neither good, nor bad. With us, money can be good or bad. Its value does not rest within itself, but in our own approach to it. After all, one can see oneself as steward or as owner of money. In the first case, money may be used so that one can take care of one’s fellow humans and the world that they all share. In the second case, one focuses on one’s own existence, using the world and others for one’s own benefit. What I mean is that whatever we have, so money included, can be used for engrossing our own being or for helping those around us. And perhaps we should remember what Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, who had experienced the hardships and the tortures of the Siberian Gulag, once said, “Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either—but right through every human heart—and through all human hearts.” Money can be used for good or evil depending on this line in my heart and in all of our hearts. Charlene Elsby Charlene ElsbyAssistant Professor and Philosophy Program Director at Indiana University-Purdue University, Fort Wayne Charlene Elsby Money is not the root of all evil, but certainly some evil. Money, like evil, is a human construction. Each concept is intended to measure the value of something relative to our conception of it. In the case of money, the value is a financial one and is represented by numbers. In the case of evil, the value is generally a moral one. So the question is really about the relation of financial matters and moral ones, specifically the causal relation. The fact that such value constructs already exist in a society into which we are born, and the fact that they determine important parts of our lives means that although these are both human constructions, they exist now and have very real effects. People often do terrible things to one another for the sake of money. They also do terrible things to one another for the sake of any number of other things. So is money the root of all evil? No. Is it the root of some evil? Sure. All that means is that, were it not for some financial concern on the part of some agent, something traditionally defined as "evil" would not have occurred. I think that's obviously true in some cases. It's also true that were the concept of money abolished, the concept of evil wouldn't just disappear along with it. In short, money is the root of some evil, but not all. Jonathan Edelmann Jonathan EdelmannAssistant Professor in the Department of Religion at University of Florida Jonathan Edelmann A person desires money because he or she believes it will help one achieve particular goals. Money is a means to an end. But it is a person that does the desiring. It is a person who sets the goals, has aspirations, and has desires to fulfil. Money has no agency; it is just an inanimate thing, it doesn’t have desires. Agency is necessary to do or make evil. Inanimate objects can’t perform good or evil actions; good and evil are moral concepts that require agency. Objects are merely good or bad at fulfilling functions that agents assign to them. I acknowledge that money, power, fame, intelligence, or beauty can powerfully influence the people that possess them. Once one has wealth one has the ability to exercise the full range of one’s desires in a way that a less wealthy person cannot. Having wealth, therefore, means that one has the temptation to give full rein to one’s desires. The temptation might even be considered like an addiction. Now, if one has evil desires – for example to harm, exploit, cheat, control, etc. other sentient beings – and if one has wealth, then one might perform evil actions. But the root of evil is human desire, not the instrument through which the desires are fulfilled. Having money might influence what you desire and the intensity with which you desire, but money is only one among the many items that influence how a human being desires. Let us say a wealthy person uses his or her wealth to create a disinformation empire and in doing so exploits the foolish, imprisons the innocent, and in general abuses people. The money that he or she uses to do those things is only an expression of that person’s underlying desires to exploit, cheat and abuse. Moreover, to use money for evil purposes generally depends on larger social, political, and technological structures, but at the root of all of them is the human agent who decide how and in what way to use them. You might say that some financial, social, political, and technological complexes are inherently evil, but a good person with good desires (even a rich person) can always decide not to participate. In conclusion, money cannot be the root of evil because evil is a moral concept that requires agency and money has no agency, because money is merely an instrument to satisfy desire and desire is the real root of good or evil moral actions, and because the use of money for good or evil ends requires larger social structures of which money is just one part. Julie Ward Julie WardProfessor of Philosophy at Loyola University Chicago Julie Ward The question whether money is “the root of all evil” is, of course, contentious: our first response may depend upon the tone in which we interpret the question as being asked. If we consider the question as framed in a moralizing tone, some might reject it as quaintly naïve or pious. Considered as such, this philosopher would reject it, offering a revised formulation in return, namely: “Is material wealth an obstacle to human happiness?” To this revised question, I would reply that it need not be—as long as we understand that such wealth is a means to happiness, and not happiness itself. In taking this position, I align myself with ancient Greek thinkers like Aristotle who claimed that morally virtuous activity is essential to human happiness, and that a certain amount of wealth is necessary for moral virtue. After all, we cannot exhibit the moral virtues of generosity, justice, or moderation in our actions and feelings if we do not possess the necessary elements for living a generous, just and moderate life. So, Aristotle held that a certain amount of material well-being was needed both for moral virtue to arise and be maintained. On this position, I fully concur: if being happy requires being morally sensitive and exercising our moral faculties, then we need to provide the material conditions of life that support our moral capacities. From this perspective, material wealth is not an obstacle to moral virtue and happiness, but a necessary means to it. In addition, however, since any human being has a similar need for material wealth—to attain the benefit of becoming and remaining morally capable—it seems to follow that preventing some people from obtaining material well-being or failing to ensure that they attain its benefit is equivalent to depriving them of their human virtue. It is at this point that we often observe that wealth mistakenly trumps moral virtue as a final end, making us recall the ancient Greek story of Croesus, the King of Lydia, who was renowned for his wealth. According to the Greek historian Herodotus, Croesus showed Solon the Athenian his great wealth, and thinking himself supremely happy, asked Solon who was the happiest man in the world. In reply, Solon named not Croesus but three virtuous young men who had died heroically, implying that Croesus had mistaken his great wealth for virtue and happiness, a common miscalculation, even at executive level. The Love of Money Is the Root of All Evil Highlights:
  • It is not money, per se, that is bad, but the desire that is kindled for more and more that is evil. It is evil because people infuse actual value into the money and material goods when they do not possess any intrinsic value. Thus, the person who is caught in this spiral makes a category mistake: he or she believes that they possess something of ultimate worth when they only possess a material transaction device. Since the most important goods in life: love, friendship, kindness and charity are not material, a flaw exists in the materialists’ logic.

    Michael Boylan - Professor of Philosophy, Marymount University

  • Money in itself is not evil. We can see many wealthy but well-balanced people (like Warren Buffet or Bill Gates) who are generous givers to charities. But those who love money, putting it above other needs, making it an end (rather than a means to an end), are exemplars of unhappy people. As social psychologist David Myers (2013) reported in his cross-national research, the correlation is virtually zero between measures of wealth and happiness. We would assume poor people are less happy, but our data shows this is inaccurate.

    Harold Takooshian, PhD – Professor of Psychology & Urban Studies, and the Director of the Organizational Leadership Program, Fordham University

  • While having money is a good thing, loving it—continually needing more of it—often leads to all kinds of trouble. Some companies which have introduced incentive plans based on individual and group performance were surprised to discover that aberrant behaviors ensued, ranging from interpersonal strife to illegal activities. On an individual level, there are many negatives attached to the excessive pursuit of money, including stress-related illness and marital conflict.

    Paul P. Baard - Organizational Psychology, Fordham University

< > Harold Takooshian Professor of Psychology and Urban Studies and Director of the Organizational Leadership Program at Fordham University Harold Takooshian For over 25 centuries, we, imperfect humans have looked to the wisdom in the Old or New Testaments to make good decisions for our own lives. How much does this wisdom align with findings of modern psychological science? For example, in 1 Timothy 6:10, Paul warns Timothy: "The love of money is the root of all evils; it is through this that some have... pierced their hearts with many pangs." In my view, yes, social psychology strongly supports this point, in at least four ways.
  1. Flexibility. Human nature is totally flexible, with the same people capable of great evil (Hitler) or good (Mother Teresa), depending on their experiences.
  1. Money is not an innate need in humans, but has become such a strong and universal need across time and nations, that it rivals innate needs like food, water, air, comfort, sexuality.
  1. Money shapes behavior. The past century proved Karl Marx horribly wrong in his lay theories about money, communism and interpersonal relations, but it is obvious that money shapes behavior, often causing us to act and think differently.
  1. Greed. Money in itself is not evil. We can see many wealthy but well-balanced people (like Warren Buffet or Bill Gates) who are generous givers to charities. But those who love money, putting it above other needs, making it an end (rather than a means to an end), are exemplars of unhappy people. As social psychologist David Myers (2013) reported in his cross-national research, the correlation is virtually zero between measures of wealth and happiness. We would assume poor people are less happy, but our data shows this is inaccurate.
Michael Boylan Michael BoylanProfessor of Philosophy at Marymount University Michael Boylan It is a common maxim that money is the root of all evil. This seems to put the causal agent for evil on the exchange medium used to enable developed economies to leave barter (an earlier form of goods exchange). I will argue that this common maxim is wrong on two fronts. The first and most important error this common maxim makes is that it is not money (which is merely a vehicle of goods exchange) but rather the desire for money that is at fault. In the children’s story “The Fisherman and his Wife,” desire for material goods is shown to increase even as each wish is granted. Desire feeds further desire. This, of course, is the central tenet of Buddhism. In my 2007 novel, “The Extinction of Desire,” it was shown that monetary windfalls are not necessarily good. They are bad if they incite greater desire. Thus, it is not money, per se, that is bad, but the desire that is kindled for more and more that is evil. It is evil because people infuse actual value into the money and material goods when they do not possess any intrinsic value. Thus, the person who is caught in this spiral makes a category mistake: he or she believes that they possess something of ultimate worth when they only possess a material transaction device. Since the most important goods in life: love, friendship, kindness and charity are not material, a flaw exists in the materialists’ logic. Money by itself is thus a neutral institutional device that is more efficient than barter for economic transfers. Too much desire can create a logical error that can confuse the agent into infusing real value into something without any (but expedient value as an economic tool). This mistake can turn its adherents toward a series of errors in the direction of life. These errors can cause the materialist true believer into bad (evil) actions. But it is the desire and the illogic that can follow from it that is the real culprit. A better candidate for “all evil” might be the illusion that those successful Mammon-following candidates might hold as a personal worldview: I am so powerful with my accumulation of money that I am The Master of the Universe. This is the sin of ultimate pride—assuming that you are God-like in your power. It leads to many subsequent errors in judgment, which, in turn, lead to bad (evil) actions. Again, it is not the money, as such, but how one’s attitude about the money that leads people astray. In this case it is the acquisition of power (cf. Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings) that causes the acquisition of false attitudes that lead to one’s downfall. Money is not the root of all evil. Rather it is our attitude about money that allows it to corrupt the human spirit. Paul P. Baard Paul P. BaardOrganizational Psychologist at Fordham University Paul P. Baard “The love of money is the root of all kinds of evil” (found in the Bible, 1Timothy 6:10a, NIV, emphasis added). Rather than continuing on this theological track, I now address the topic from an organizational psychology perspective. In the world of motivation, money is often treated as a positive reinforcer of human behavior. If someone experiences receiving significant cash for performing a particular activity, research suggests that the rewarded behavior will more likely be repeated. So, while rewards do work, they can carry a hidden danger. Success at gaining rewards leads many people simply to pursue more rewards. This often undermines their enjoyment of the activity itself because they experience being controlled by the reward. When organizations view money as a prime motivator they are, in effect, making the reward a manipulator of workplace activity. “Golden handcuffs” is a term used by some employees to describe the feeling of being held captive by a desire to continue to enjoy the compensation, prestige and power of their present position. This type of drive is called extrinsic motivation, and while it can often stimulate positive behavior in the short-term, research suggests it undermines the role of intrinsic or self-motivation. Intrinsic motivation describes the experience of engaging in an activity largely because of the inherent satisfaction it imparts to us. Think of a hobby or sport you enjoy. It is undertaken because you find it interesting or enjoyable in and of itself. When the focus in playing a sport is primarily to earn a trophy, the event becomes one of being pressured and controlled. These feelings frustrate the innate psychological need for autonomy, a prerequisite to becoming intrinsically motivated. Intrinsic motivation has been found to be superior to extrinsic motivation in such variables as long-term performance, creativity, health, and happiness. One of the outcomes associated with extrinsic motivation is amotivation—the absence of purposeful activity, even dropping out entirely. Bottom line: While having money is a good thing, loving it—continually needing more of it—often leads to all kinds of trouble. Some companies which have introduced incentive plans based on individual and group performance were surprised to discover that aberrant behaviors ensued, ranging from interpersonal strife to illegal activities. On an individual level, there are many negatives attached to the excessive pursuit of money, including stress-related illness and marital conflict. Can intrinsic motivation be found at work? Just think of the best job or boss you ever had, where compensation played a role, but not a preoccupying one. He or she likely attended to your innate psychological needs for autonomy (having some influence over how one’s work gets done), competence (ensuring optimal challenges to your abilities), and relatedness (experiencing mutual care and respect). These psychological needs, when satisfied, result in intrinsic motivation. Love God. Love spouse. Love children. Love friends. Love money? Victor Saenz Victor SaenzDoctoral Candidate in Philosophy at Rice University Victor Saenz Strictly speaking, money is not the root of all evil. But the disordered desire for money is itself vicious and the root of many evils. Looking at Greek philosopher Aristotle’s (384–322 B.C.E) discussion of wealth-related virtues and vices in that important text, the “Nicomachean Ethics,” can help us see why. The virtue of generosity (‘eleutheria’) directs the giving and taking of money (IV.1); it includes taking care of one’s material resources, so as to be able to continue giving in the right way. For Aristotle’s generous person, what qualifies as good giving and taking is indexed to the life of the particular political community—the polis—that they are members of. Am I concerned not just with my own comfort, or that of my family and friends, but also with that of the political community as such? How am I taking care of and using my resources to contribute to the common good? These are questions the Aristotelian generous person will ask. While we may not live in the polis, we do inhabit diverse communities—work places, schools, cities and so on. Part of Aristotle’s insight is that, insofar as we are human, we require communities—ultimately political communities—if we are going to flourish as the kind of thing we are. But to lack the virtue of generosity just is to exhibit a disordered desire for money; this can happen in different ways. The person with the vice of wastefulness (‘asôtia’) errs in giving money away. The wasteful is bound to spend not on things that are truly good, but merely on things and people that give him or her pleasure. Aristotle notes—and I think most of us would agree—that pleasure can be an immensely powerful, seductive drive. Pleasure, as it were, tricks us into thinking that something is good when it is, in fact, not (III.4.1113a33-5). So by habitually performing wasteful actions, we are bound to deform our drive for pleasure and end up self-deceived in crucial respects. The natural progression for the wasteful is to acquire the separate vice of intemperance (‘akolasia’); the intemperate is ruled by the drive for pleasure, most centrally the pleasures of touch that come from food, drink and sex. Not that such things are bad in themselves, in Aristotle’s view—but it is clear even to us that they can and much too often are abused. Another vice, avarice (‘aneleutheria’) deforms our desires in a different way. The avaricious are, Aristotle tells us, ‘money-lovers’ (philochrêmatoi); they do not give, but rather hoard. An aspect to highlight is one that Aristotle alludes to in the Ethics, but emphasizes in the Rhetoric (1389b25-30): the avaricious are small-minded (mikropsuchoi), and seem to not have their sights set on greater things than what will keep them alive. Thus, a key tragedy of character for the avaricious is not so much their merely their keeping their resources, as much as that they have become small-minded; they have failed to see the great possibilities that their financial resources—nay, their lives—could help them realize for themselves and their communities. All this requires further elaboration and argument. But if Aristotle is generally right, then our failure to be generous is itself an evil (kakon), a vice (kakia), and the source of other vices. In becoming vicious not only do we fail to help our friends, communities, and so on. But what should be just as disquieting, if not more, is that the agent of these vices—both in the sense of the one who has them, and the one who brought them about—is precisely us. Rick Repetti Rick RepettiProfessor of Philosophy at CUNY’s Kingsborough Community College Rick Repetti Like energy, strength, wit, and the like, money itself is inherently morally neutral: it can be put to good or evil ends, to harm or help. However, greed is definitively negative, involving excessive grasping at objects or experiences one is attracted to. Given how money affords access to such objects and experiences, greed for money is one of the major sources of morally negative choices. So, the excessive “love of money” is implicated in much evil. The flip side of the coin of greed is hatred, excessive repulsion to objects or experiences to which one is averse. Greed and hatred go together, because anyone who threatens to thwart access to the objects of greed is disliked, if not hated. However, even well intentioned actions often lead to negative consequences, and vice versa: almost any action can conceivably be acceptable or unacceptable under the right circumstances. For this reason, it makes sense to define ‘evil’ not in terms of consequences, but intentions. I can give to charity with good intention, and the charity could be corrupt, but I’m not responsible for that (unless I knew). It seems intuitive that the only motive that makes something intrinsically evil is the desire to see or cause an innocent person to suffer precisely because seeing or causing the innocent person’s suffering brings one some sort of satisfaction. If so, the satisfaction some get from seeing the non-innocent suffer is different, though this involves only a difference of degree. The flip side of evil is sympathetic joy, experiencing satisfaction upon seeing or causing another to experience happiness. Some wealthy people experience sympathetic joy engaging in philanthropy, which wealth makes possible. Thus, it is not money that causes evil. Not even love of money or greed, since one may love money for the good it enables, or gluttonously relish food, mindless of the suffering in the factory farm that produced it. The root of evil, on this “intentions-matter” view, is an evil heart. But “evil” is ambiguous, and also refers to terrible injustice and suffering irrespective of intention, e.g., collateral damage from presumably good intentions, in the most obvious case of the military. But similar evils can result, less obviously, from unnoticed privilege. If everyone who can do so has as many children as they could afford, and does what they can to provide everything for them, population explosion will cause overconsumption of limited resources, causing great suffering, much of which will play out in unjust ways for the least well off. So too with the rapid development of the third world. These latter types of evil aggravate prior global inequities that historically burden people of color. It might not be evil on the intentions-matter view, but it is on the “consequences-matter” view. An African proverb states “the rich man is a thief” because he is not helping the poor, for whom we are all somewhat responsible. Money is not the root of intentional evil, but its inconsiderate enjoyment is probably implicated in much consequential evil. Rick Repetti, Ph.D (CUNY 2005), has published numerous articles, chapters, and books on ethics, free will, Buddhism, meditation, contemplative philosophy, and the philosophy of religion, among other topics. Professor Repetti teaches philosophy at CUNY’s Kingsborough Community College. Ian McCready-Flora Ian McCready-FloraAssistant Professor in the Department of Philosophy at University of Virginia Ian McCready-Flora Kind of, yes—but not because money is bad in itself, like cruelty or cowardice. The quote from 1 Timothy (6:10)—“for the love of money is a root of all evils”—is on the right track. A root, because it’s one among others. Love of money, because its ill comes from how we let it shape our lives. Aristotle, in the “Politics,” distinguishes “property acquisition”—which everyone needs—from “wealth acquisition,” which is suspect. (I’m a scholar of Greek philosophy, so please indulge me.) Both are systematic bodies of know-how. Different aims define them, though. Property acquisition aims at “the self-sufficiency that promotes the good life” (1256b32, trans. Reeve), while wealth acquisition is “concerned to find sources from which a pile of wealth will come” (1257b5-6). It aims at getting money, period. This matters because aiming at what promotes the good life sets a limit on money-grubbing. Money is incidental—having a certain bank balance does not constitute living well—so property acquisition does not pursue wealth without limit. Wealth acquisition does, though; it aims at monetary gain regardless of whether it promotes the good life. And acting without regard for what promotes the good life sure sounds like the root of all evil. At this point someone might say “So what? That doesn’t prove money is the problem. Someone who aimed at maximizing his hamster collection would make the same mistake.” That’s half-right. Both the miser and the hamster obsessive err in their conception of the good life. Still, there seems to be something dangerous about money in particular. Wealth acquisition, says Aristotle, arose only “after money was devised” (1257b1-2). I think he’s on to something. You can only hoard so much food and shoes before it spoils and you run out of feet. Money keeps, though, and can buy pretty much anything. Plus, having it does promote living well: no one ever flourished by starving barefoot in the street. This, then, is how money differs from hamsters: it’s the hammer that makes every question of the good life look like a nail. “Now you’re begging the question,” someone objects, “assuming the good life requires only modest resources. But I say the good life comes from satisfying my desires or (since others are listening) giving to charity. Expensive work, either way, and limitless.” The objector has a point: I haven’t said what the limit of good-promoting wealth is. That’s a separate, tricky question. For the objection to hit home, though, there would have to be literally no limit. It would follow that living well requires insatiable desires for things money can buy. That doesn’t sound like the good life to me. It sounds like addiction or enslavement. We can’t settle how much is too much without a conception of the good life. My conclusion—slightly self-serving, I admit—is that there’s no substitute for philosophy. Technical expertise (be it financial or any other) does not tell us when it would be for the best to pursue the defining aim of that expertise. To know that, we have to know the good, and as soon as we start doing that, we’re doing philosophy. Shane Maxwell Wilkins Shane Maxwell WilkinsPostdoctoral Teaching Fellow in the Philosophy Department at Fordham University Shane Maxwell Wilkins Money is not the root of all evil. Nor have most thinkers concerned with good and bad in human life believed it to be so. Even in the Bible, whence the saying comes, money itself is not named as the root of all evil, but “the love of money” (1 Timothy 6:10). Many Great Dead philosophers would agree with this intuitive distinction between money itself and our habits for using it. Still, even if we accept the distinction, many important questions remain unanswered. The first one liable to spring to mind is: What is the right way to use money after all? Fortunately, philosophy can help us answer this question. One powerful approach to understanding how to use something is to ask what it is for. For instance, a wristwatch is a “good” wristwatch only if it does what wristwatches are for, namely keep time accurately. Let us perform a little thought experiment to illustrate. Imagine you were an archaeologist who uncovers a new kind of artifact, unlike anything you or your peers seen before. One obvious question you might ask yourself in trying to understand this artifact is “What was this thing for?” Of course, money is an artifact of human culture, just as much as potshards and pickaxes are. So, we might well try to think about money just the same an archaeologist would investigate any other artifact. From that point of view, the question “What is money for?” has an obvious answer: money is a medium for exchanging goods and services. That is, money provides us a way to coordinate with our fellow citizens, soliciting their help and expertise on a free, voluntary basis for mutual benefit. (Think of the difference with slavery.) So considered, it becomes clear why there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with money itself: it enables the valuable cooperation between citizens that allows human communities to flourish. The other important consequence of this point of view is that it gives us the clue about what the right way to use money is. Just as a good wristwatch keeps time well, so the good money user uses money to build up communities of citizens who exchange their time and talents freely. If that’s right, then we have a nice explanation of what makes somebody’s use of money good. It is good to spend money to attain other important goods like food, shelter, safety, education, and the arts because these are the sources of human happiness. Likewise, it is good to save and invest money prudently when you’re flush, to secure those same vital goods against the vagaries of future fortune. Likewise, it will (generally) be good to give to charity and pay your taxes for the same reason: doing so supports our fellow citizens whose help we may well need ourselves in the future. Therefore, the root of all evil is not money, but the attitude which values the possession of money higher than the purpose of money, which is sustaining the free, voluntary, mutually-beneficial relations between fellow citizens in which human flourishing consists.

 

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