How Christianity (and Capitalism) Led to Science
By RODNEY STARK
When Europeans first began to explore the globe, their greatest
surprise was not the existence of the Western Hemisphere, but the extent
of their own technological superiority over the rest of the world. Not
only were the proud Maya, Aztec, and Inca nations helpless in the face of
European intruders, so were the fabled civilizations of the East: China,
India, and Islamic nations were "backward" by comparison with 15th-century
Europe. How had that happened? Why was it that, although many
civilizations had pursued alchemy, the study led to chemistry only in
Europe? Why was it that, for centuries, Europeans were the only ones
possessed of eyeglasses, chimneys, reliable clocks, heavy cavalry, or a
system of music notation? How had the nations that had arisen from the
rubble of Rome so greatly surpassed the rest of the world?
Several recent authors have discovered the secret to Western success in
geography. But that same geography long also sustained European cultures
that were well behind those of Asia. Other commentators have traced the
rise of the West to steel, or to guns and sailing ships, and still others
have credited a more productive agriculture. The trouble is that those
answers are part of what needs to be explained: Why did
Europeans excel at metallurgy, shipbuilding, or farming?
The most convincing answer to those questions attributes Western
dominance to the rise of capitalism, which took place only in Europe. Even
the most militant enemies of capitalism credit it with creating previously
undreamed of productivity and progress. In The Communist Manifesto,
Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels proposed that before the rise of
capitalism, humans engaged "in the most slothful indolence"; the
capitalist system was "the first to show what man's activity can bring
about." Capitalism achieved that miracle through regular reinvestment to
increase productivity, either to create greater capacity or improve
technology, and by motivating both management and labor through
ever-rising payoffs.
Supposing that capitalism did produce Europe's own "great leap
forward," it remains to be explained why capitalism developed only in
Europe. Some writers have found the roots of capitalism in the Protestant
Reformation; others have traced it back to various political
circumstances. But, if one digs deeper, it becomes clear that the truly
fundamental basis not only for capitalism, but for the rise of the West,
was an extraordinary faith in reason.
A series of developments, in which reason won the day, gave unique
shape to Western culture and institutions. And the most important of those
victories occurred within Christianity. While the other world religions
emphasized mystery and intuition, Christianity alone embraced reason and
logic as the primary guides to religious truth. Christian faith in reason
was influenced by Greek philosophy. But the more important fact is that
Greek philosophy had little impact on Greek religions. Those remained
typical mystery cults, in which ambiguity and logical contradictions were
taken as hallmarks of sacred origins. Similar assumptions concerning the
fundamental inexplicability of the gods and the intellectual superiority
of introspection dominated all of the other major world religions.
But, from early days, the church fathers taught that reason was the
supreme gift from God and the means to progressively increase
understanding of Scripture and revelation. Consequently Christianity was
oriented to the future, while the other major religions asserted the
superiority of the past. At least in principle, if not always in fact,
Christian doctrines could always be modified in the name of progress, as
demonstrated by reason. Encouraged by the scholastics and embodied in the
great medieval universities founded by the church, faith in the power of
reason infused Western culture, stimulating the pursuit of science and the
evolution of democratic theory and practice. The rise of capitalism also
was a victory for church-inspired reason, since capi-talism is, in
essence, the systematic and sustained application of reason to
com-merce — something that first took place within the great monastic
estates.
During the past century Western intellectuals have been more than
willing to trace European imperialism to Christian origins, but they have
been entirely un-willing to recognize that Christianity made any
contribution (other than intolerance) to the Western capacity to dominate
other societies. Rather, the West is said to have surged ahead precisely
as it overcame re-ligious barriers to progress, especially those
impeding science. Nonsense. The success of the West, including the rise of
science, rested entirely on religious foundations, and the people who
brought it about were devout Christians. Unfortunately, even many of those
historians willing to grant Christianity a role in shaping Western
progress have tended to limit themselves to tracing beneficial religious
effects of the Protestant Reformation. It is as if the previous 1,500
years of Christianity either were of little matter, or were harmful.
Such academic anti-Roman Catholicism inspired the most famous book ever
written on the origins of capitalism. At the start of the 20th century,
the German sociologist Max Weber published what soon became an immensely
influential study: The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of
Capitalism. In it Weber proposed that capitalism originated
only in Europe because, of all the world's religions, only Protestantism
provided a moral vision that led people to restrain their material
consumption while vigorously seeking wealth. Weber argued that, before the
Reformation, restraint on consumption was invariably linked to asceticism
and, hence, to condemnations of commerce. Conversely, the pursuit of
wealth was linked to profligate consumption. Either cultural pattern was
inimical to capitalism. According to Weber, the Protestant ethic shattered
those traditional linkages, creating a culture of frugal entrepreneurs
content to systematically reinvest profits in order to pursue ever greater
wealth, and therein lies the key to capitalism and the ascendancy of the
West.
Perhaps because it was such an elegant thesis, it was widely embraced,
despite the fact that it was so obviously wrong. Even today The
Protestant Ethic enjoys an almost sacred status among sociologists,
although economic historians quickly dismissed Weber's surprisingly
undocumented monograph on the irrefutable grounds that the rise of
capitalism in Europe preceded the Reformation by centuries. Only a
decade after Weber published, the celebrated Belgian scholar Henri Pirenne
noted a large literature that "established the fact that all of the
essential features of capitalism — individual enterprise, advances in
credit, commercial profits, speculation, etc. — are to be found from
the 12th century on, in the city republics of Italy — Venice, Genoa,
or Florence." A generation later, the equally celebrated French historian
Fernand Braudel complained, "All historians have opposed this tenuous
theory, although they have not managed to be rid of it once and for all.
Yet it is clearly false. The northern countries took over the place that
earlier had so long and brilliantly been occupied by the old capitalist
centers of the Mediterranean. They invented nothing, either in technology
or business management." Braudel might have added that, during their
critical period of economic development, those northern centers of
capitalism were Catholic, not Protestant — the Reformation still lay
well into the future. Further, as the Canadian historian John Gilchrist,
an authority on the economic activity of the medieval church, pointed out,
the first examples of capitalism appeared in the great Christian
monasteries.
Though Weber was wrong, however, he was correct to suppose that
religious ideas played a vital role in the rise of capitalism in Europe.
The material conditions needed for capitalism existed in many
civilizations in various eras, including China, the Islamic world, India,
Byzantium, and probably ancient Rome and Greece as well. But none of those
societies broke through and developed capitalism, as none evolved ethical
visions compatible with that dynamic economic system. Instead, leading
religions outside the West called for asceticism and denounced profits,
while wealth was exacted from peasants and merchants by rapacious elites
dedicated to display and consumption. Why did things turn out differently
in Europe? Because of the Christian commitment to rational theology,
something that may have played a major role in causing the Reformation,
but that surely predated Protestantism by far more than a millennium.
Even so, capitalism developed in only some locales. Why not in
all? Because in some European societies, as in most of the rest of the
world, it was prevented from happening by greedy despots. Freedom
also was essential for the development of capitalism. That raises
another matter: Why has freedom so seldom existed in most of the world,
and how was it nurtured in some medieval European states? That,
too, was a victory of reason. Before any medieval European state actually
attempted rule by an elected council, Christian theologians had long been
theorizing about the nature of equality and individual rights —
indeed, the later work of such secular 18th-century political theorists as
John Locke explicitly rested on egalitarian axioms derived by church
scholars.
All of this stemmed from the fact that from earliest days, the major
theologians taught that faith in reason was intrinsic to faith in God. As
Quintus Tertullian instructed in the second century, "Reason is a thing of
God, inasmuch as there is nothing which God the Maker of all has not
provided, disposed, ordained by reason — nothing which He has not
willed should be handled and understood by reason." Consequently it was
assumed that reason held the key to progress in understanding scripture,
and that knowledge of God and the secrets of his creation would increase
over time. St. Augustine (c. 354-430) flatly asserted that through the
application of reason we will gain an increasingly more accurate
understanding of God, remarking that although there are "certain matters
pertaining to the doctrine of salvation that we cannot yet grasp ... one
day we shall be able to do so."
Nor was the Christian belief in progress limited to theology. Augustine
went on at length about the "wonderful — one might say
stupefying — advances human industry has made." All were attributed
to the "unspeakable boon" that God has conferred upon his creation, a
"rational nature." Those views were repeated again and again through the
centuries. Especially typical were these words preached by Fra Giordano,
in Florence in 1306: "Not all the arts have been found; we shall never see
an end of finding them."
Christian faith in reason and in progress was the foundation on which
Western success was achieved. As the distinguished philosopher Alfred
North Whitehead put it during one of his Lowell Lectures at Harvard in
1925, science arose only in Europe because only there did people think
that science could be done and should be done, a faith "derivative from
medieval theology."
Moreover the medieval Christian faith in reason and progress was
constantly reinforced by actual progress, by technical and organizational
innovations, many of them fostered by Christianity. For the past several
centuries, far too many of us have been misled by the incredible fiction
that, from the fall of Rome until about the 15th century, Europe was
submerged in the Dark Ages — centuries of ignorance, superstition,
and misery — from which it was suddenly, almost miraculously,
rescued; first by the Ren-aissance and then by the Enlightenment. But, as
even dictionaries and encyclopedias recently have begun to acknowledge, it
was all a lie!
It was during the so-called Dark Ages that European technology and
science overtook and surpassed the rest of the world. Some of that
involved original inventions and discoveries; some of it came from Asia.
But what was so remarkable was the way that the full capacities of new
technologies were recognized and widely adopted. By the 10th century
Europe already was far ahead in terms of farm-ing equipment and
techniques, had unmatched capacities in the use of water and wind power,
and possessed superior military equipment and tactics. Not to be
overlooked in all that medieval progress was the invention of a whole new
way to organize and operate commerce and industry: capitalism.
Capitalism was developed by the great monastic estates. Throughout the
medieval era, the church was by far the largest landowner in Europe, and
its liquid assets and annual income probably exceeded that of all of
Europe's nobility added together. Much of that wealth poured into the
coffers of the religious orders, not only because they were the largest
landowners, but also in payment for liturgical services — Henry VII
of England paid a huge sum to have 10,000 masses said for his soul. As
rapid innovation in agricultural technology began to yield large surpluses
to the religious orders, the church not only began to reinvest profits to
increase production, but diversified. Having substantial amounts of cash
on hand, the religious orders began to lend money at interest. They soon
evolved the mortgage (literally, "dead pledge") to lend money with land
for security, collecting all income from the land during the term of the
loan, none of which was deducted from the amount owed. That practice often
added to the monastery's lands because the monks were not hesitant to
foreclose. In addition, many monasteries began to rely on a hired labor
force and to display an uncanny ability to adopt the latest technological
advances. Capitalism had arrived.
Still, like all of the world's other major religions, for centuries
Christianity took a dim view of commerce. As the many great Christian
monastic orders maximized profits and lent money at whatever rate of
interest the market would bear, they were increasingly subject to
condemnations from more traditional members of the clergy who accused them
of avarice.
Given the fundamental commitment of Christian theologians to reason and
progress, what they did was rethink the traditional teachings. What is a
just price for one's goods, they asked? According to the immensely
influential St. Albertus Magnus (1193-1280), the just price is simply what
"goods are worth according to the estimate of the market at the time of
sale." That is, a just price is not a function of the amount of profit,
but is whatever uncoerced buyers are willing to pay. Adam Smith would have
agreed — St. Thomas Aquinas (1225-74) did. As for usury, a host of
leading theologians of the day remained opposed to it, but quickly defined
it out of practical existence. For example, no usury was involved if the
interest was paid to compensate the lender for the costs of not having the
money available for other commercial opportunities, which was almost
always easily demonstrated.
That was a remarkable shift. Most of these theologians were, after all,
men who had separated themselves from the world, and most of them had
taken vows of poverty. Had asceticism truly prevailed in the monasteries,
it seems very unlikely that the traditional disdain for and opposition to
commerce would have mellowed. That it did, and to such a revolutionary
extent, was a result of direct experience with worldly imperatives. For
all their genuine acts of charity, monastic administrators were not about
to give all their wealth to the poor, sell their products at cost, or give
kings interest-free loans. It was the active participation of the great
orders in free markets that caused monastic theologians to reconsider the
morality of commerce.
The religious orders could pursue their economic goals because they
were sufficiently powerful to withstand any attempts at seizure by an
avaricious nobility. But for fully developed secular capitalism to unfold,
there needed to be broader freedom from regulation and expropriation.
Hence secular capitalism appeared first in the relatively democratic
city-states of north-ern Italy, whose political institutions rested
squarely on church doctrines of free will and moral equality.
Augustine, Aquinas, and other major theologians taught that the state
must respect private property and not intrude on the freedom of its
citizens to pursue virtue. In addition, there was the central Christian
doctrine that, regardless of worldly inequalities, inequality in the most
important sense does not exist: in the eyes of God and in the world to
come. As Paul explained: "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither
bond nor fee, there is neither male nor female, for ye are all one in
Christ Jesus."
And church theologians and leaders meant it. Through all prior recorded
history, slavery was universal — Christianity began in a world where
as much as half the population was in bondage. But by the seventh century,
Christianity had become the only major world religion to formulate
specific theological opposition to slavery, and, by no later than the 11th
century, the church had expelled the dreadful institution from Europe.
That it later reappeared in the New World is another matter, although
there, too, slavery was vigorously condemned by popes and all of the
eventual abolition movements were of religious origins.
Free labor was an essential ingredient for the rise of capitalism, for
free workers can maximize their rewards by working harder or more
effectively than before. In contrast, coerced workers gain nothing from
doing more. Put another way, tyranny makes a few people richer; capitalism
can make everyone richer. Therefore, as the northern Italian city-states
developed capitalist economies, visitors marveled at their standards of
living; many were equally confounded by how hard everyone worked.
The common denominator in all these great historical developments was
the Christian commitment to reason.
That was why the West won.
Rodney Stark is university professor of the social sciences at
Baylor University. This essay is adapted from The Victory of Reason:
How Christianity Led to Freedom, Capitalism, and Western Success, to be
published in December by Random House. Copyright © by Rodney
Stark.
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