Religion and Capitalism

In this episode

The connection

A 19th-century English poet studying ancient Hindu texts seems worlds away from modern political strategists arguing over capitalism. Yet something interesting emerges when putting these two eras together. Writing just last month, Matt McManus tracks a modern trend where right-wing thinkers borrow anti-capitalist language to enforce a strict moral order. By contrast, an essay by Ajay Kamalakaran steps back in time to follow a Victorian writer who found the exact opposite, seeing his socialist demands for equality perfectly mirrored in the teachings of a Hindu guru. Placed side by side, these stories reveal a strange flexibility, showing how spiritual traditions can inspire left-wing egalitarianism in one context and right-wing control in another.

Matt McManus leaves you with a very specific image of modern conservatism: political figures using the language of economic reform to build a stricter moral order. They critique the free market, but their goal is to enforce traditional social hierarchies rather than dismantle them. Turn the page to Ajay Kamalakaran, and a historical mirror image emerges. Kamalakaran follows Edward Carpenter, a Victorian poet who traveled to India in 1891 and hated the privileged lifestyle expected of an English colonial. Like the thinkers McManus writes about, Carpenter was deeply suspicious of the social structures produced by capitalism, and he looked to ancient spiritual traditions for an alternative. The interesting thing is where Carpenter ends up. While modern postliberals use traditional values to demand social obedience, Carpenter looks at Hindu philosophy and sees a mandate to tear down class barriers completely. Read alongside McManus, Kamalakaran’s account of a frustrated Englishman refusing to act like a "sahib" takes on a different weight. It shows how incredibly malleable religious ideas can be. The exact same spiritual impulse that one political movement uses to enforce cultural control can just as easily drive someone else toward radical, working-class equality.

A dusty sacred text might inspire a Victorian poet to dream of equal wealth. A century later, a political strategist might use those same ancient teachings to demand strict moral obedience. What lingers is how easily faith bends to fit modern desires. The scriptures remain untouched while the people reading them find completely different instructions for society. The question left to sit with is this: If the same spiritual ideas can justify both radical equality and rigid control, does religion actually shape politics, or do politics just shape religion?