by Ben Schreckinger
My alma mater, Brown University, was founded in 1764 for the purpose of training clergymen. Today, it trains economists. A lot changed in the interim. A lot didn't. Enlightenment thinking penetrated mainstream consciousness, the industrial revolution rapidly raised standards of living to remarkable levels, and a new world order emerged from the ashes of two world wars. But Brown's output, like those of the American Ivy League's other universities — which have emerged from sectarian pasts to produce economists at similarly high rates and whose graduates control institutions like the U.S. presidency, the U.S. Supreme Court, the World Bank, and the UN — represents a continuity. Today's economists constitute the West's priestly class. Yes, they're in most ways better equipped to guide our lives than the authorities of Catholicism and its Protestant successors. They aspire to the scientific method, for one. But their discipline comes with form, function, and flaws inherited from its medieval ancestor — and recognizable to students of any dogmatic religion. We need look no further than the recent dust-up over an Excel error in a paper by two Harvard economists, which discredited the most influential piece of intellectual output of the last five years, to see that. Once we do, we can start to put the discipline in its proper place.
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But first, how did we get here? For most of history, religion has provided answers not just to metaphysical questions, but to ethical ones. What's the best structure for society? Should money be lent at a profit? How comfortable should we be with change? How should people decide what to do with their lives? How big should my family be? Should we accept newcomers into our midst? And what is the value of a human life? (Approximately $10 million in economics, which does not observe the same taboos as other religions). The answers provided by religion are ones most people can grasp, and when the questions got too difficult, or too pointed, religion appeals to some authority to cut the questioning off before things get out of hand. Despite what might seem like some pretty glaring flaws — Really, we're ruled by a giant invisible bull-man? A guy was dead for three days and then he wasn't? — religion has endured by proving valuable.
At a social level, we need religion to smooth coordination, to make sure we're all on the same page. Life is filled with uncertainty, but uncertainty can cause societies to break down into strife, or indecision, or fear. Religion fills in the gaps in our certainty, so that we can ignore them for a while and push onward. For much of the formation of the Western world, Catholicism played that role. Then people began to reject the structure of the church and ushered in new sects of the same religion. Christianity itself eventually took a backseat altogether and the West tried nationalism, a religion that goes awfully well with a nation-based system of politics. But two world wars provided the reductiones ad absurdum of nationalism's dogmas. The priestly class, those initiated into special knowledge and given special power at the universities, had to decide where to place its faith after God and country. A chunk of them became atheists — specifically existenialist, deconstructuralist, postmodernists — who identified and rejected the dogmas of nationalism and imperialism (and then all the other –isms they could get their hands on) so strongly that they no longer believed in anything, including science.
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