An important object in the sphere of the subjectively satisfying is money, not insofar as it is an indispensable basis of our daily life but as riches, insofar as it provides comfort and gives us the possibility of appropriating many goods to ourselves.
The first distinction that has to be made here is between a purely instrumental function of money, as a means to procure for ourselves certain goods, and the attraction that money possesses for man in itself, being wealthy, the position that wealth implies, the independence, might, security, the Lebensgefühl that riches provide. Money or wealth possesses undoubtedly an attractive power as such, in its potentiality to procure for us various goods, before any direct concern with certain concrete goods to which someone may aspire. Interest in money, the desire to possess it, the aspiration for wealth is as such a normal human tendency. Wealth belongs to the sphere of the legitimate subjectively satisfying. To prefer to be rich rather than to be poor is not necessarily a fruit of concupiscence. We shall briefly analyze the different approaches to this sphere, starting again with the one that is morally most perfect, that is to say, with the approach of the saint.
The saint is not interested in wealth. Money as such has no attractive power for him; he will neither strive to become wealthy nor consider it a great fortune if wealth should be bestowed on him without his intervention. This applies, obviously, only to his own personal wealth. Should he be married, the duty to take care of his family, and especially if his profession is business, may impose on him a certain interest in making money. But even in these cases he will keep an inner distance toward money and wealth and remain free of the spell that this sphere casts on man. He will always be aware of the immanent danger that the attachment to money and wealth implies for inner freedom. He will tend to poverty and never concede the interest in money as such any role in his life. When circumstances impose on him a certain prosperity, he will consider himself a mere administrator, always concerned to make use of his wealth for doing works of charity or for goods possessing genuine value in themselves. Whatever may be his position, he will remain poor in spirit, that is to say, he will possess an indifference to wealth as such, and the whole sphere of money will mean something to him only as a mere means for accomplishing something that has an authentic value. The value-response attitude has absorbed in him any interest in the subjectively satisfying character of money. Wealth as such no longer has any attractive power. Even more, his approach to wealth will be penetrated by the consciousness of the immanent danger of this sphere, and his aspiration will go in the direction of partaking in the poverty of our Lord, flowing out of his heroic charity. He will prefer, as far as his direction of will is concerned, poverty to wealth.
If we abstract from the saint and consider the morally obligatory attitude, it must be said: the interest in money and wealth, being affected by its attractive power as something subjectively satisfying, is as such nothing morally bad as long as one remains in the attitude of religio and as long as this interest remains tamed by the value-response attitude.
This implies, firstly, that the moral man experiences responsibility concerning the use of his money. Secondly, that this interest is never isolated, never separated from his basic value-response attitude. He must never abandon himself to the immanent law of this sphere; he must never yield to this interest in a way that is deprived of the rule of the morally relevant sphere. It is not just that, in any case in which some morally relevant value is in conflict with the gain of money, the readiness to abstain from such a gain lives in him, or as we may put it, it is not just that he is ab ovo disposed to give up any possibility of making money that would imply a lack of charity or a fortiori an injustice. Rather, interest in earning money as such must never play a predominant role in his life; it must not form a constitutive element of the normal outlook of his life. The moral man will not seek happiness in wealth and riches, but besides an interest in securing the possibility of a life in conformity with his social position, the acquisition of wealth as such will not preoccupy him. He will always be aware of the immanent danger of wealth and especially of the attitude of aspiring to wealth.
But the problem arises: is it not completely legitimate that he rejoices in receiving an inheritance, or in any way receiving wealth without having strived for it? Obviously, there is always a fundamental difference from the moral point of view between striving for a legitimate subjectively satisfying good and a susceptibility to it when it is bestowed on us without any intervention on our part. There is certainly no moral objection against rejoicing about such a gift for which we have not been striving. But this joy must ab ovo be penetrated by a consciousness of the responsibility connected with all wealth, the consciousness of the obligations of charity, of our duty to use it for goods having an authentic value, for the common good, and so on. It must not be the mere joy about wealth as such, but about the possibility of doing good procured by this wealth.
However, our main interest is, in this context, to investigate the role that this sphere plays for concupiscence. Obviously, money and wealth are a classical object inciting concupiscence. As soon as the desire for wealth is no longer kept in a subservient role, tamed by the value-response attitude and inserted in the frame of an authentic religio, this tendency assumes a completely new quality and is soiled by concupiscence.
The first, hard type of concupiscent man is normally aspiring to money and wealth in a specific way. It is one of the main objects of his concupiscent interest. He will strive for it at any cost and ignore in this pursuit all morally relevant values that might form an obstacle for his aim. Obviously, there are many degrees concerning his disrespect for morally relevant obstacles, from the hard and uncharitable attitude of a ruthless capitalist to the thief and gangster who will not even shrink back from killing someone in order to satisfy his craving for money. But as different as the attitude of this type of concupiscent man may be concerning the degree of his disrespect for morally relevant values, his attitude always has an outspoken concupiscent character.
We are not yet concerned with the immorality of this attitude that is the result of the concrete disrespect for morally relevant values, which form an obstacle for acquiring money, but exclusively with the immorality of the concupiscent attitude as such that is also found when no disrespect for morally relevant goods is connected to it.
The way in which this type of man is interested in money, his greedy, passionate desire for it, is a typical actualization of concupiscence and necessarily implies in the measure to which it dominates his soul a corresponding indifference toward the realm of morally relevant values. If we look at this greedy, passionate craving for money, the specific quality of concupiscence reveals itself in a most drastic and typical way.
The second, lazy type of a concupiscent man is not so much characterized by the craving for money as by the possessive way in which he holds on to the money he possesses. He is too lazy for the restless, passionate tension that the craving for money implies. I am not yet thinking of the avaricious type here. He forms a quite special phenomenon that we shall analyze later on. I am thinking of the lazy, Fafnerlike, satisfied man sitting on his riches, characterized by a readiness to defend them against anybody who would touch them.
The third type, the whimpering, soft type of concupiscence is generally less directed toward the possession of money as such than toward the comfort that wealth provides, toward being spoiled and being able to avoid any hardship. He will not crave money; nor will he aspire to wealth in a passionate way.
Nor will he hold on in a greedy, heavy way to what he possesses. But he will have a tendency to live continuously in fear of losing his comfort, of being exposed to hardships. His concupiscence will express itself in an exaggerated dependence upon comfort and an easy life, in complaining about any loss in this direction, in being preoccupied by the aspiration to acquire wealth insofar as it assures him of an easy life in which no effort and hardship will touch him. This type is not necessarily stingy. But he will generally be very particular concerning his own property, unwilling to let others share the things that belong to him because of his self-centered, petty mentality. What matters for us is to see the specific role that money, wealth, and riches play for the different concupiscent types and the specific appeal to concupiscence that this sphere implies.
Again, we have to state that the decisive difference between the concupiscent interest in this sphere and the legitimate, innocent interest in money, riches, and wealth is not the mere quantity, the size of the role which it plays. It is not the mere difference between a moderate and passionate interest, but a definite qualitative difference.
A completely different center in the person is actualized as soon as the subjectively satisfying power of this sphere is no longer “tamed” by the value-response attitude, as soon as it unfolds outside of the setting of the fundamental attitude of religio toward the realm of morally relevant values, and in the last analysis, of God. Whether it is a reasonable, moderate striving for money or a passionate craving for it does not make the decisive difference from a moral point of view. We must not be fooled by the fact that passionate craving has a fortiori the character of a concupiscent attitude because any passion in the strict sense of the term implies turning away from the fundamental attitude of religio.
This is not merely a consequence of the intensity of the passion but of the very nature of the passion, its tendency to dethrone our reason and our free spiritual center, and thus also our value-response attitude. But this separation from religio does not necessarily presuppose passion. It is not a mutual relation. Passion implies always this separation from religio if it dominates a man; but passion is not the only form of this separation. A moderate man may also be concupiscent; he too may crave the subjectively satisfying in his way of relinquishing religio and the value-response attitude.
In what concerns the specifically avaricious man, it must be said that it represents a concupiscent type sui generis. Insofar as avariciousness is opposed to genuine generosity, it will be found in different forms in every type of radical concupiscence. The lack of charity, the absence of any genuine interest in the needs and happiness of our fellow man, is deeply linked to concupiscence as such. But this does not yet constitute the typical stinginess. There also exists a prodigal type of the concupiscent man. He spends money without any restraint in order to procure for himself subjectively satisfying goods, but he refuses to give anything to his fellow man, because his own pleasure alone counts for him.
And even when he should rejoice in bestowing money on other persons, it is not real charity that moves him. He enjoys, firstly, the gesture of spending money, and secondly, he may enjoy the superior position that bestowing gifts on others implies, and thirdly, he may like the atmosphere of jolliness in his surroundings, not for the sake of his fellow man but in order to be undisturbed by the disagreeable aspect of misery. In what concerns the second motive, relishing the superior position, an element of pride intervenes besides concupiscence. In any case, it is obvious that his prodigality is separated from genuine generosity by an abyss. It is a fruit of his concupiscence as well as the avaricious attitude.
But in order to understand the specific character of concupiscence present in the avaricious person, we must stress, besides the lack of genuine generosity that he shares with every concupiscent type, the particular kind of enslavement that makes him prefer the potential element of money to real goods that he can enjoy by his money. It is a specific form of a paradoxical perversion where the means are more appreciated than the end that objectively endows the means with its importance.
He is more attracted by the consciousness of preserving the potential of enjoying goods than by the real enjoyment of them. Thus he will not only lack generosity and be unwilling to give anything to his fellow man, but he will also shrink from spending money for subjectively satisfying goods for himself—given that this implies a diminishing of his money.
This perversion is not only found among men who are dominated by concupiscence and indifferent toward the world of morally relevant values, but also sometimes in persons who have an outspoken respect for morally relevant values, who will even spend money for goods endowed with an authentic value rather than for the merely subjectively satisfying. The specific mark of their stinginess will be the regret with which they spend money for any kind of good, their peculiar attachment to money as such that makes it a great effort for them to spend money, their concern to attain their end with the least possible expenditure. Money seems to them something so precious, sometimes even so dignified, that they shrink from spending it. Sometimes money and preserving their riches assumes the character of an idol, and is treated as if it were an authentic value. People under the spell of this idol feel disturbed in their conscience when spending money, and they will spend as little as possible, always attempting to avoid any expenditure that is not strictly indispensable or imposed on them by some strict moral obligation.
The point that is of a specific interest for us is that avariciousness represents a type of concupiscence sui generis insofar as its object is, in a new sense, money and the preserving of one’s own property. It is to be found not only in the morally indifferent man, who is dominated in general by concupiscence, but also in man who remains in religio, who possess basically a value-response attitude. But it is nevertheless always a fruit of concupiscence.
We have thus to distinguish two different kinds of concupiscence in the typically avaricious man. Firstly, the general concupiscence that is opposed to charity and shuts the avaricious person up against the needs of his fellow man, which makes him an egoist, imprisoned in his self-centered interests. It is this concupiscence that makes him specifically hardhearted, which is the same in the luxurious, prodigal type, as found in the rich man in the Gospel who gives nothing to Lazarus, does not hesitate to spend money for his own pleasures, but refuses to give anything to his fellow man. Secondly, there is a more specific tendency of concupiscence that is specifically directed toward money as such, toward the possession and preservation of the possessed money, the peculiar preference of something potential over real goods.
The first element of avariciousness, that is to say, the hardheartedness and indifference toward the morally relevant values, which the avaricious shares with every man who is a slave of his concupiscence, which excludes every value-response attitude, and especially charity, is obviously, from the moral point of view, much more negative than the specific paradoxical attachment to money as such. The morally negative value of avariciousness is above all due to general concupiscence, which is equally to be found in the covetous man, who is not specifically avaricious, but equally hardhearted and shut up in his own selfish interests, and even in the luxurious, prodigal egoist. But it would be wrong to overlook the fact that the specific perversion of the avaricious person also has a morally negative value of its own. It may seem at first glance that the attachment to money as such, when we abstract from the general immorality of concupiscence, is more a ridiculous and repulsive temperamental disposition, but not something specifically immoral. The fact that someone prefers the possession of money rather than the enjoyment of the subjectively satisfying goods seems to be something morally neutral as long as no morally relevant value is at stake. Someone could, for instance, ask: is it something morally bad when someone does not grant himself any pleasure because of his stinginess? In this case, in which the love of neighbor is not at stake, in which no moral obligation compels him to spend money, is the attitude of stinginess morally negative?
It must be said: even this stinginess is morally negative, though not comparable to the immorality of the lack of charity and egoistic hard-heartedness. Firstly, this attachment to money is as such a fruit of concupiscence and as such immoral, just as much as concupiscence directed toward any other subjectively satisfying object, regardless of the disrespect for any morally relevant value to which it may lead. But this would not yet concern the specific perversion of stinginess, that is to say, the preference of the potential over the real subjectively satisfying good. We have to ask: is stinginess as such endowed with an element of immorality that the prodigal does not possess? Why should it be morally worse to hold on to money as such than to spend it unreservedly in order to plunge ourselves into the satisfaction of our concupiscence? It must be said: stinginess represents as such a higher degree of self-centeredness; preferring the possession of money to the enjoyment of a subjectively satisfying good, for instance, a luxurious meal, implies a still colder and harder attitude; the idolization of money and the possession of it as such contains a moral poison sui generis. Not only that it deprives us in a continuous way of inner freedom, that it imprisons us in a more fixed way, but it implies also the danger of an idolatrous respect for money, which in many cases makes the stinginess appear to the avaricious as a virtuous attitude. The luxuriously prodigal is at least more sincere, more unmasked in his concupiscence, whereas the avaricious is in some way still less human, still more self-centered.
EDITORIAL NOTE: This article is excerpted from The Roots of Moral Evil (Hildebrand Press, 2024. All rights reserved.
