Showing posts with label Kenneth Boulding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kenneth Boulding. Show all posts

2023/09/11

Kenneth Boulding: a Friends’ economist Robert H. Scott, III 2022

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Kenneth Boulding: a Friends’ economist
Robert H. Scott, III
 
Abstract: 

This paper examines Kenneth Boulding’s (1910-1993) religious beliefs and argues he was one of the most prolific religious economists in the 20th century. He was an enigmatic economist whose career spanned over six decades. He helped to establish the field of general systems and furthered peace studies and conflict and defense. His early work earned him the John Bates Clark medal in 1949. But behind Boulding’s theoretical economics was a deep religious ideology. Strongly affected by World War I while growing up in Liverpool, England, Boulding became a lifelong pacifist. Raised Methodist, Boulding discovered Quakerism in high school. While Boulding published widely in the field of economics, he also published almost 100 articles in Quaker journals. Boulding’s body of work in economics and Quakerism led to interesting crosspollination. His work on peace and conflict and defense were a direct result of his pacifism. Boulding’s work shows deep concern for human betterment and prosperity that is steeped in his religious principles. 

Keywords: Kenneth Boulding, human betterment, pacifism, Quakers, Religious Society of Friends 
 
Religion […] has been an important part of my personal life, and it would be surprising if this did not spill over into my professional interests (Boulding 1968, p. vii). 
 
 
Introduction 

This paper studies how Kenneth Ewert Boulding (1910-1993) was one of the most prolific religious economists in the 20th century. This paper explores how Boulding’s pacifist Quaker principles [1] led to work on population, peace studies, ecological economics, and conflict and defense. His concern for human betterment made him accept that economics is normative with moral 
 
The Journal of Philosophical Economics XV (1) 2022
implications. During a time when economics was becoming more positivist, Boulding advocated for a normative, humanist, and transdisciplinary approach. Boulding’s economics stands in stark contrast to the mainstream economics that promotes itself as a value-free dehumanized science. Boulding’s vision of economics is reminiscent of the political philosophers of Adam Smith, Thomas Malthus, and David Ricardo (also a converted Quaker).  
Boulding wrote the following about his childhood, ‘I had a very happy and supportive childhood living in downtown Liverpool in what might easily have been called a slum’ (Boulding 1992, p. 70). At that time coal was used in much of the industry in Liverpool, England and Boulding remembers that on winter days he could not see across the street from all the pollution. He was an only child, and his parents were both from working class families. His father was a selfemployed plumber and his mother a homemaker (and amateur poet). Boulding never shied away from his family’s heritage. He embraced their working-class roots and was always sympathetic to the struggles of that class. His childhood home at 4 Seymour Street was in the middle of Liverpool that in the early twentieth century was working-class cosmopolitan (Scott 2015).  
The quality of education for children of working-class parents in Liverpool was poor. But Boulding was fortunate because he showcased his intelligence early and was able to get scholarships to excellent schools in Liverpool. This preparation led to an Oxford University scholarship to study Chemistry, which was an impressive achievement for a Liverpudlian Methodist from a workingclass family. After his first year he decided to abandon chemistry for economics. He wrote a letter to the warden of New College about his desire to change his studies and maintain his scholarship: And ‘with great generosity the College allowed me to do this’ (Boulding 1989, p. 369). England’s economic depression was in full force while he was growing up in the inner-city of Liverpool, so Boulding saw the effects a weak economy has on real families. He argued that Chemistry was not likely to save the world, and ‘at that time the great problems of the human race seemed to be economic’ (Boulding 1989, p. 369). 
Boulding published nearly 100 articles in Quaker journals [2] starting in 1938. 
Much of this work revolves around the economics of issues relevant to Friends (i.e., the Religious Society of Friends): peace, population growth, distribution, taxation, ethics, and politics. Boulding’s religion played an important role in his 
 
public conversion from a mostly mainstream economist into a transdisciplinary social science philosopher. This transition is complete by the time of Boulding’s American Economic Association presidential address ‘Is Economics a Moral Science’ (1969), which may be summarized by his statement, ‘The concept of a value-free science is absurd’ (Boulding 1969, p. 4). 
The following paper proceeds first with an exploration into Boulding’s early intellectual development. Then, we explore his early professional life from Edinburgh to America and his emergence as a leading Keynesian economist. Next, we see how Boulding’s work diverges from the mainstream into concerns about broader social issues such as ethics, evolution, ecology, peace, conflict, and defense. This divergence seemed sudden and strange for people who only knew one side of Boulding’s work; but in truth, Boulding’s later work was an extension of his values and beliefs. Finally, Boulding’s work from retirement until his death in 1993 is discussed in the context of the body of his life’s work. 
 
Pacifist 
I have lived most of my life on the uneasy margin between science and religion (Boulding 1974, p. 4). 
Boulding’s parents were devout Methodists. Early in Boulding’s life he came to the decision to embrace his Christianity. He was greatly influenced by World War I. According to him, it was the experience of seeing his Uncle Bert, psychologically traumatized by trench warfare, that most impressed upon him the vulgarity of war. He wrote that he was very fond of Uncle Bert and that when he returned from the war he had ‘an expression in his eyes I can still see’ (Boulding 1989, p. 367). Boulding writes, ‘I even recall being horrified at a toy I got, with wounded soldiers in little stretchers’ (p. 367). There were many other injuries and deaths of close friends and relatives. So deeply affected was Boulding that it was around this time he developed a life-long stutter. So common is stuttering (or stammering as it was called at the time) among English boys that it became known as the mark of the English gentleman. It is a hereditary trait, yet no known person in Boulding’s family had a stutter (Kerman 1974, pp. 211-212). Boulding’s stutter became a trait endearing him to people. 
Boulding’s pacifism was resolute. In high school, he read John Williams Graham’s ‘Conscription and Conscience’ (1922) – a study of conscientious objectors from World War I and their struggle to live their faith during wartime. 
Boulding was impressed by arguments in the book and came to respect the Quakers for their commitment to pacifism. This knowledge led him to talk with his friend, Robin Wall (a Quaker), about Friends and their spiritual practices (Kerman 1973, p. 117). Wall took Boulding to some Quaker meetings and Boulding felt an immediate spiritual connection with the Quaker method of worship – especially the silence at the beginning of meetings. Boulding started regularly attending the Liverpool Friends Meeting and continued while at Oxford. But Boulding remained an active Methodist during much of this time until he finally became a convinced Friend in 1931 (Kerman 1974, p. 138). Being a Quaker comprised his primary social circle during the rest of his life – and had a profound effect on his professional life. About half of Boulding’s Quaker publications are on the topic of pacifism (and by his own estimates in 1989, over 17% of all his publications are on peace, war and conflict (Boulding 1989, p. 382)). Boulding discusses not only the immorality of war, but also the economic inefficiencies associated with war (see Boulding 1941; 1944; 1954).  
Boulding’s first Quaker article was published in American Friend in September 1938 and was titled ‘Making Education Religious.’ It discusses that wholly educated people must not only have book knowledge but also a sense of their place in the world. That same year he published ‘An Experiment in Friendship’ that discussed the immorality of anti-Semitism in Germany. Also, in 1938 he wrote ‘In Defense of the Supernatural’ published in Friends Intelligencer. Here we find that Boulding is a devout Christian who does not hide his love of God and belief in God (see also, Boulding 1987). Boulding’s friend Anatol Rapoport, an atheist, wrote about a conversation with Boulding that revealed ‘he believed literally in Jesus’s resurrection and miracles’ (Rapoport, 2013, p. 485). In Boulding’s William Penn lecture in 1942 ‘The Practice of the Love of God’ he exclaims the value in the practice of religion (Boulding, 2004). He writes, ‘And to be ‘religious’ only, in the narrow sense, to be shut up in a little world of the purely personal, is to be a Pharrisee’ (pp. 19-20). He goes on to write, ‘We can only truly express our love for God, then, in expressing our love for God’s family, for all creation’ (p. 20). Against the secularism of the modern age, Boulding stated, ‘Dare to love God! Dare to practice that love everywhere…’ (p. 3).  
 
Early professional life  

Boulding graduated from Oxford in 1931 and then won a Webb-Medley Scholarship in Economics that let him study for another year, which he did as a graduate student. The next year he received a Commonwealth Fellowship (essentially a Rhodes Scholarship in reverse) and studied economics at the University of Chicago and Harvard. After two years he had come to love America but had to return to England to teach, as required by his fellowship. He spent three years at the University of Edinburgh, which he found intellectually dead compared to the vibrant atmosphere in Chicago.  
Serving as a Quaker delegate at the Friends World Conference in Philadelphia, PA in 1937 Boulding received a call from a friend about a job at Colgate University in Hamilton, New York. He interviewed immediately, and after some negotiating took the job. His two years at Colgate were largely spent writing a textbook ‘Economic Analysis’ (1941). It was an immediate success that furthered his reputation and acceptance among economists, and he argued later it was a primary reason he won the John Bates Clark Medal in 1949 since it was ‘as pure as the driven snow’ (Mott 1992, p. 356). 
While at a Quarterly Quaker meeting in New York in 1941 he met 21-year-old Elise Bjorn-Hansen and within three months they married. Elise became a devout Quaker and later a first-rate Sociologist. Soon after the wedding they moved to Princeton, New Jersey so Kenneth could work at the League of Nations Economics and Financial Division to study European agriculture. Boulding was part of a team whose work helped lead to the establishment of the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration. His time at the League was short lived after he and Elise published a Quaker pamphlet titled ‘A Call to Disarm.’ His supervisor said if he published the work that he would be fired. Boulding published it and resigned – though he recounted the situation as being fired. They created a stir among the Princeton elite early on because they had a Black family over to their house for dinner. 
From Princeton they moved to Nashville, Tennessee so Boulding could teach at Fisk University, which is a Historically Black College founded in 1866. He got the job because a friend and Quaker, Thomas Jones was the President of Fisk. Boulding enjoyed his time in Nashville. He and Elise lived on campus. They were involved in the local Quaker meeting, and Elise even started a newsletter South Central Friends Yearly Meeting (Morrison 2005). While at Fisk Boulding wrote his second book The Economics of Peace (1945b). This book came from his work at the League of Nations. It primarily focuses on the reconstruction and development of countries and regions after war. Boulding was more focused on the period following World War II (in 1942) than focusing on the war itself. The Economics of Peace was a Keynesian treatment of post-war macroeconomics explaining how to handle the boom-and-bust economic cycle caused by war. Due to many factors, the book was not published until 1945 and did not garner popular attention. Besides his Keynesian economics, the book contained strong moralizing about how economics should have greater compassion and understanding of humans and their struggles. Boulding believed staunchly, perhaps naively, that the fastest way to achieve peace was for each of us to treat one another with empathy, respect, and love. But he also explains that institutions matter too:  
It is no exaggeration to say that responsible government is the key to the whole political problem, in internal as well as in external affairs. We have seen how the development of a responsible foreign policy is the way to the creation of a world order. It is equally true that in domestic politics the achievement of responsible government is the basic problem and is still far from full attainment. Democracy, significant as it is for human welfare, is not an end in itself. It is important mainly as a means to responsible government (Boulding 1945b, p. 251). 
Boulding further argues that the problem is more complicated: 
In the last resort, the problem of responsible government is more than a political problem; it is a moral problem, affecting the thought and conduct of every individual – even the reader of this page. It is true that environments and institutions modify the character of individuals, yet change in institutions only comes about as a result of changes in the individuals whose character the institutions reflect. It is as true today as in Plato’s day that the nature of the state is determined by the nature of the individuals that compose it. Responsible government, whether on a world scale or even on a national scale, can never develop unless there are responsible citizens (Boulding 1945b, p. 253). 
The passage that may best summarize the economics in The Economics of Peace follows: 
Drawing an entirely false analogy from personal and business life, the conservatives argue that just as a private individual must balance his budget, so must a government. Oddly enough, this rule is relaxed in time of war – it is apparently quite proper to finance the destruction of life and property with a budget deficit, but not proper to finance slum clearance, good nutrition, and prosperity! (Boulding 1945b, p. 197). 
Iowa State College offered Boulding a better position with more time to write. The chair of the economics department was Theodore Schultz (winner of the 1979 Nobel Prize in economics and American Economic Association president in 1960), who once stated, ‘Most people in the world are poor. If we knew the economy of being poor, we would know much of the economics that really matter’ (Schultz 1981, p. 3). Schultz had the idea of bringing in a general economist and giving that person a year to study labor issues in order to specialize in labor economics. Boulding appreciated the idea of spending a year to learn an area of economics he knew little about. He spent that year traveling around the country, going to labor conferences, meeting with labor economists and activists and visiting various unions. He recounts visiting roughly 85 head offices of different labor unions during that year and all the unions in Iowa (Boulding 1989, p. 374). He credits this experience with opening his mind to the understanding that economics alone cannot provide answers to social science questions. Boulding stated that this experience ruined him as a pure economist (1989). From then on, he argued that all social sciences are studying the social system – though from difference perspectives. 
World War II was the only time Boulding remembered his pacifism quavering – seeing the atrocities of Nazism. He questioned deeply whether to support the war efforts and was conflicted. However, during this tumultuous time he had a religious ‘vision’ after taking a bath. He wrote the following poem immediately after the experience (Kerman 1974, p. 119): Hatred and sorrow murder me. But out of the blackness, bright I see Our Blessed Lord upon his cross. His mouth moves wanly, wry with loss Of blood and being, pity-drained. 

Between the thieves alone he reigned: 
(Was this one I, and that one you?) 
“If I forgive, will ye not too?” My vial of wrath breaks suddenly, And fear and hate drain from me dry. 
There is a glory in this place: 
My Lord! I see thee face to face. 

Boulding’s pacifism during World War II cost him friends and some people’s respect, but he remained committed to his ideals. For the rest of his life his pacifism only grew stronger. Threats of nuclear war and modern warfare gave Boulding confidence that his convictions were correct – war was never a solution.  
While at Iowa, Boulding was not yet a United States citizen, but for some reason was still eligible for the draft. According to transcripts, Boulding got classification as a Conscientious Objector (CO). At this time, COs were assigned to a Civilian Public Service (CPS) camp. Boulding believed his work was more important than the ‘lands and forest projects’ the CPS would have him do. He understood that refusing to go meant jail or deportation. He agreed to take the physical exam, which required him to travel by bus from Ames, Iowa to Minneapolis. Staying up all night he had anxious energy from the thoughts about whether he would be put in jail or not. Part of the physical exam was a psychiatric evaluation. The psychiatrist asked Boulding about his reasons for not wanting to fight. Boulding explained, as best he could, the Quaker belief in the ‘Inward Light’ (see Boulding 1947). This doctrine confers on people the right to live their lives as they see right and proper – with mediation from God. Of course, one must wait for guidance from the Inward Light. In the transition to the Liberal Quakerism of the twentieth century Quakerism moved from a cataphatic (outward) worshipping of God by wearing simple clothes and so forth to an inward worshipping. This approach meant one would meditate on issues and wait to receive guidance – or be led to a particular decision. Boulding tried explaining this to the psychiatrist, who became befuddled and took him to the chief psychiatrist. After being introduced the chief psychiatrist leaned on the table and roared at Boulding, ‘Do you ever hear the voice of God’? Boulding had a hard time answering this question, but he said ‘Well, not in a physical way.’ Boulding again went into the explanation of the Inward Light leading his decision making and the chief eventually could not take anymore and said, ‘Get out of here’ and put a big X on his paper and issued him a 4-F, which meant he did not have to serve in the Second World War or go to jail (Scott 2015). 
Around this same time, Boulding wrote a popular Quaker book ‘There is a Spirit (The Nayler Sonnets)’ (1945a) for which he thereafter was often referred to as a Quaker poet. This book contains 26 sonnets, each a meditation on the final words of a dying Quaker leader James Nayler in 1660. While there is little in this book on economics (except about greed), it emphasizes his commitment to Quakerism at a time just prior to his economic thought transition, which was his intellectual metamorphosis. Boulding published three more volumes of poetry that covered a broad swath of his views on life, economics, and family (1975; 1990; 1994). 
Boulding was also a talented artist. His archives at the University of ColoradoBoulder contain many wonderful drawings and paintings throughout his life.  
 
Friends economist  

The idea that there is something called ‘science’ which detects truth faultlessly and cannot have anything to do with valuations is an absurd byproduct of the now largely discarded logical positivism (Boulding 1986, p. 9). 
In 1949 Boulding accepted a position at the University of Michigan, which offered an excellent environment for him to evolve into the economist most people recognize today. He and Elise found an active Quaker community and engaging colleagues and raised their five children in Ann Arbor. His work at Michigan was different than his earlier work. It is important to note that the economics profession up to this time only knew one side of Boulding’s personality. His Quaker writings were only known to other Quakers. From his Quaker writings it is clear that Boulding was focused on social and human betterment all along (e.g., Boulding 1938a; 1938b). Morality was critical to his thinking and served as a strong foundation for his later economic writing. He tried to keep his two personalities (pure economist and Quaker moralist) separate, but once at Michigan the two conflated into one another causing a transformation that continued the rest of his life. Free from the confining static models of economics led to his broad outlook on morality, history, society, and spirituality.  
Boulding’s article ‘What About Christian Economics’ (1951) provides insight into his thinking about the relationship between his economics and Christian values. In this paper he writes,  
The inability of capitalism to command loyalty and devotion probably arises from the fact that exchange, especially monetary exchange, is one of the least emotional of human relationships, and a society built around the institution of exchange therefore is likely to be sadly deficient in emotional vitamins’ (p. 361). Nevertheless our very proper fear of socialism must not lead us to abstain from the prophetic criticism of all societies. In a very real sense Christ stands above all human societies, and sits in judgment on them. It is perilously close to form of blasphemy to attempt to identify the Kingdom of God with any form of society, for this is clearly a problem which man has not yet solved (Boulding 1951, p. 361). 
The idea that economics is a moral science was not new – e.g., Adam Smith’s The Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759) – but Boulding’s open acknowledgement was an important part of his evolution into a social philosopher. Economics, however, was moving away from this thinking and aligning itself with the hard ‘positive’ sciences rather than normative propositions. ‘Market morality’ was supplanting the human morality that Boulding advocated. Making all economic questions answerable to the market eliminates any requirement of economists to think about the social or human implications of their theories. A concept such as profit maximization separates companies from the impact their decisions have on people, the environment, or the global economy – since profit is the only objective. 
Some people argue that companies that fail to consider their employees and environmental effects will be less successful, so it is in their interest to be socially responsible; but many examples suggest this is more myth than reality (see Boulding 1951). 
Perhaps because of this Boulding became involved with the General Committee of the Department of the Church and Economic Life of the National Council of Churches. His experiences led to the book The Organizational Revolution: A Study in the Ethics of Economic Organization (1953). This book was Boulding’s attempt to understand how, why and to what ends over the past century the number, size, and power of various organizations has grown. He is particularly interested in both the growth of economic organizations, which arguably includes most of them, and the ethics of organization. On the second issue, Boulding writes,  
No matter how complex a society, it remains true that most of the moral problems which face an individual deal with person-to-person relationships. The personal virtues of honesty, truthfulness, kindliness, sincerity, sobriety, self-control and so on are still the sign of a morally mature spirit and are still the virtues which hold the world together, no matter how complicated it may become. The individual is ultimately the only bearer of moral responsibility; even when an individual acts in the name of others, or in the name of an organization, it is still the individual who acts, and who ultimately must bear responsibility for the consequences of his acts (Boulding 1953, p. 9).    
Religion and ethics were closely associated for Boulding. Once beyond orthodox economics, he freely blended his religious views and economics. Nowhere is this better presented than in two papers. First, the ‘Religious Perspectives in Economics’ presented at a symposium on Religious Perspectives of College Teaching in 1950; and, second, ‘Religious Foundations of Economic Progress’ published in the Harvard Business Review in 1952 (both articles reprinted in: Boulding 1968). In these articles, Boulding argues that throughout much of history there are many examples where religion influences the economy, and vice versa. This is visible from the pyramids to the Vatican.  Religion, in its early stage, can act as a ‘revolutionary force’ that often occurs at the same time as rapid ‘economic development’ (Boulding 1968, p. 178). As a religion matures, progress slows and a more conservative stance takes hold. Contrary to Karl Marx’s historical materialism that asserted religions stand on foundations of economics, Boulding presents the work of Max Weber and his The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism as a study of the Protestant Reformation and how it helped foment the development of capitalism (in a similar vein as William Petty). It, therefore, reversed Marx’s causation setting religion as the foundation upon which the economy is guided.  
Indeed, one can say with some confidence that when the tide of religion runs strongly in the minds of men it draws them away from worldly power, wealth and security, and offers them in return a power, a wealth and a security which are not of this world, not dependent on the favor of other men, but are secured by a secret inward covenant between the soul and its heavenly Lord (Boulding 1968, p. 184). 
Perceptively, Boulding states in various ways, ‘[t]he nature of the dominant religion, therefore, is determined in an appreciable degree by the economic opportunities that are open’ (1968 p. 184). Boulding writes that in areas where population is large and land scarce the withdrawn mystic life is held in the highest regard (minimalism). Contrast that with a more open American landscape where economic freedom is praised, and hard work and wealth accumulation is honored and the mystic is vilified you end up with materialism and mass consumption as the dominant cultural fabric.  
While it may be impossible to conclude definitively whether economic behavior leads to religious emergence or vice versa, Boulding explains that ‘religions breed civilizations, and civilizations breed and spread religions in a continuous pattern’ (Boulding 1968, p. 185). Finding any causality in these social movements is difficult. It may be easier to spot invasions occurring within society (e.g., deregulation and the rise of financialization) and mutations (e.g., technology and the rise of government spying). These invasions and mutations are constantly changing the social structure. Without these adjustments society would settle into a recognizable equilibrium. Instead, we have an evolving ecosystem that both acts upon and is affected by these changes. Accordingly, ‘we cannot, therefore, understand economic processes in time without reference to the whole universe of social phenomena, of which religion is a vital and significant part’ (p. 186). 
Of particular concern to Boulding was that,  
[T]he student of economics in our universities can easily get through his course and can be turned out as a full-fledged teacher of the subject, without any awareness of this interconnectedness penetrating his consciousness [….] The economist, by reason of the peculiar history of economic thought, is especially in danger of being indifferent to religion (1968, pp. 186-187).  
Boulding argues that part of the reason for this is because Adam Smith, whose 
Wealth of Nations serves as the foundation for the study of economics. He notes that Smith was friends with David Hume who personified the 18th century age of enlightenment intellectuals and ‘[b]oth regarded religious enthusiasm as a serious break of good taste’ (1968, p. 188). Yet, Boulding found that, 
It is indeed curious that no economist since Adam Smith seems to have dealt at any length with the economics of religion – perhaps it was felt that Adam Smith had said the last word on the subject! (Boulding notes possible exceptions such as Simon Patten and Richard Ely, but none of them had the effect of Smith.) (1968, p. 188). 
There exists a thin line between religion and economics; and, therefore, temperance must be exhibited to separate the normative from the positive. 
Boulding, reflecting on his own experiences, wrote:   
Many people are attracted into the social sciences, and especially perhaps to economics, because they feel a concern for the ills of society or wish to learn how to reform them. This is a proper motivation, yet it needs to be disciplined by a strong sense of scientific integrity and by a willingness to acquire real skill in the abstract disciplines before venturing to make applications….goodwill is in no sense a substitute for scientific competence – nor, of course, is scientific competence a substitute for goodwill (1968,  p. 190-191). 
Boulding further noted that institutions of higher learning are so focused on scientific inquiry that there is little opportunity to lose one’s way with fruits of religious fanciful thinking. In fact, for Boulding, 
It is the opposite danger which threatens [the economist] – that of becoming so engrossed in the refinements of scientific abstraction – and in the substantial rewards, which in these days often accompany proficiency in such abstractions – that he forgets the ills of society and becomes deaf to the cry of the hungry and blind to the misery of the oppressed. […] Those who have knowledge have a peculiar responsibility to be sensitive to the ills of the world, for if they are not then it will be the ignorant who will be the movers of events, and the value of knowledge will be lost (1968, p. 191).  
Boulding states that for teachers of economics, the division between religion and economics is a little broader. When teaching economic history, for example, ‘the contact between religious and economic life becomes clear and significant’ (1968, p. 192). So, no economic history course can adequately purge (nor ignore) the effects of religion.   
The other aspect of economics that lends itself to considerations of religious influence is public policy. Here the ends and means can be affected by religious influence. When studying unemployment, pollution, or public finance it is difficult to look at these issues in an objective way without seeing the effects on people:  
For the sake of his own spiritual and intellectual health the economist must face the challenge of prophetic indignation: on the other hand the prophet also must be prepared to submit his moral insights to the rigorous discipline of intellectual analysis when it comes to translating these insights into policies (1968, p. 197). 
The economy is a social construct, so when studying exchange, value and production we are ultimately studying decisions made by people or institutions of people. Boulding argues that where scientific abstraction is perhaps most dangerous is found in the study of labor markets. The pure ‘rational economic man’ sees workers as commodities producing output (an automaton). Boulding, however, sees the value in each worker and each worker’s output (like Marx). This is where an economics teacher’s acquaintance with religion is important (and maybe more than an acquaintance). Boulding writes, ‘To seek God is to find man’ (1968, p. 194). For Boulding, Christians see each person as special and important since each is made in God’s image (he applies this logic to all religions, not just Christianity). Treating people as chattel upon which capitalists through their yokes and whip into productive fervor is as much immoral as it is dishonest, since no person is reducible to his/her economic output. If this were possible, it would likely resemble a diastrophic Orwellian nightmare in which people are more robot than human.  
These examples also highlight why Boulding believes so strongly in a transdisiplinary approach to social problems. An integral approach considers the psychological, social, historical, physical, political, religious, and educational effects of ‘economic’ decisions on people. It is a daunting task to consider this general systems macrocosm. After all, it is much easier to apply ceteris paribus and look at one or two factors ignoring everything else. But this oversimplification masks the real value in studying economics, which is to study social issues and systems. Only in the larger, broader view are we able to see if our observations are valid and if they have the potential of a lasting positive wide-reaching impact. Nowhere is this more challenging than for the religious economist who balances the scientific and the mythical ethic in terms of value and morality. About this Boulding wrote: 
Communication between the intellectual and the religious subcultures is perilous in the extreme. It depends almost entirely on the doubtful abilities of a few individuals who participate in both. Society owes an enormous debt to those marginal men who live uneasily in two different universes of discourse. Society is apt to repay this debt by making them thoroughly uncomfortable and still more marginal (Boulding 1956, p. 146).     
In the article ‘Economic Life’ (1953), Boulding finds that ‘On the great question of socialism versus capitalism, for instance, the Quaker trumpet seems to speak with an uncertain sound. Despite – or perhaps even because of – this apparent weakness in clarity of the theoretical position, the practical impact of the Society of Friends on the economic life of the world has been enormous, and quite out of proportion to the small number of friends’ (pp. 43-44). Boulding further states that Quakers played an important role in the industrial revolution. ‘It is perhaps sufficient to mention that the basic technical changes in such industries as iron and steel, lead and zinc mining, porcelain, and even railroads were to a large extent the work of Friends’ (Boulding 1953, p. 45). Friends also cultivated economic institutions – merchandising, banking, and insurance (e.g., Barclay and Lloyd). Quakers were deeply entrenched in the capitalist market-based system. ‘The two great features of the economic life of the Society of Friends were first, the practices of the ‘minor virtues’ of personal probity, thrift, simplicity of life, and hard work; and second, the willingness to innovate, to try out new ways of doing things, not only in manufacture and trade, but in human relations as well’ (p. 47).  
 
Peace testimony 

During the 1954-1955 academic year, Boulding studied at the Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences at Stanford University. Two important events occurred while at Stanford that had a lasting impact on Boulding (and Elise) personally, professionally, and spiritually. First, soon after arriving at Stanford Boulding, Ludwig von Bertalanffy, Clyde Kluckohn, and Anatol Rapoport were sitting around the lunch table and it was discovered they were all studying general systems, but from different angles. So, they decided to start an association. The Society for General Systems Research was born (now called the International Society for the Systems Sciences). Boulding became the Society’s first president (1957-1958). General systems theory does not have a clear definition; but essentially it is an interdisciplinary approach to studying environments, societies, and institutions. For example, general systems thinkers study a forest and its complex ecosystem working in concert compared to studying one aspect of the forest and ignoring the rest. Only in its totality is the value of the forest fully appreciated. In addition, time plays a role in general systems thinking, because forests (and all ecosystems and institutions) change over time; and studying those changes is important for understanding what happened in the past and present as well as what might happen in the future.  
The second event (closely related to the first) was a focus on research associated with conflict and peace. It was surprising to many of the interdisciplinary scholars at the Center that no one was studying war and peace in a rigorous way (other than historical accounts), yet these were critical issues. So, after Boulding got back to Michigan, he and several others, including Elise Boulding, started the Journal of Conflict Resolution (which remains an influential journal in the field). The journal had the unintended effect of creating by way of inertia the Center for Research on Conflict Resolution at the University of Michigan. Elise, while getting her Ph.D. in Sociology at Michigan, was actively involved in starting and helping to run the Center at the University of Michigan.  
So strong were Boulding’s feelings that in the mid-1960s he was at a meeting with Russian scientists discussing the implications of nuclear weapons on humanity. At the meeting he cried openly at the conference table, which was a turning point in the meeting. One of the Russian delegates said, ‘here [is] a man [we] can trust.’ Then the Russian delegates cried with Boulding. In the middle of the Cold War Boulding was able to use his convictions to reach people by showing his compassion for humanity (Rapport 1996, p. 69).  
Boulding spent the 1959-1960 academic year at the University College of the 
West Indies in Jamaica where he wrote a classic book, Conflict and Defense: A General Theory (1962). This work was the result of his pacifism and desire to understand the nature and consequences of conflict. In the preface he wrote, ‘The origin of this book in my mind can be traced back to a passionate conviction of my youth that war was the major moral and intellectual problem of our age’ (Boulding 1962, p. vii). In particular, Boulding saw that conflict is everywhere, but it can be either helpful or harmful. What Boulding developed was a twotiered structure that identified harmful grants as those resulting from fear, where one party coerces another party to do something out of threat (unhealthy conflict). Essentially one person gains while another loses. Helpful grants are given without the expectation of reciprocation (e.g., love), where one party gives something unconditionally and another party gains. This interaction of love and fear (or benevolence and malevolence) was what emerged from Conflict and Defense, but Boulding had yet to fully form his thinking on this structure until several years later when developing his grants economics – more below (see Boulding 1969).  
In 1965 Boulding presented his influential paper The Economics of the Coming Spaceship Earth (1966) that was remarkably prescient. This paper laid the foundations for much of the development of modern ecological economics. He argues that the traditional pursuit of economic growth leads to environmental and social misery. He states that what is needed is a movement toward renewable energy and a steady-state economy. The previous thinking about economics – that the environment is illimitable and economic growth can continue forever is an outmoded idea he calls the ‘cowboy economy.’ In the face of pollution, finite resources, and population growth we need to think of the earth as a ‘spaceship’ that must be sustained. While he never states that this thinking had any religious influences – the ideas to live within our means, reduce wasteful consumption, be good stewards of the earth, and promote human betterment are all present. 
 
A moral science 

In Fall 1966 Boulding moved from the University of Michigan to the University of Colorado. He was brought in to work at the Institute of Behavioral Science (IBS). The director of IBS at the time was Gilbert White a geographer who was a fellow Quaker and eventual good friend of Boulding and his family.  
Boulding was elected president of the American Economic Association (AEA) in 
1968. His presidential address at the national meeting in December 1968 was ‘Economics as a Moral Science’ (Boulding 1969). Here Boulding puts forth his tripartite model of society. His most important point in the presentation is to argue that economics is not a value-free discipline that analyzes the economy from an unfeeling position of neutrality. Instead, economics is normative, and this is not a bad thing. He states correctly that Adam Smith was a professor of moral philosophy, and that economics was for a long time after a moral science. He writes, ‘In the battle between mechanism and moralism generally mechanism has won hands down, and I shall not be surprised if the very title of my address does not arouse musty fears of sermonizing in the minds of many of my listeners’ (Boulding 1969, p. 1). He makes clear that ‘the largest part of human preferences are learned,’ that society and culture define these preferences (p. 2). No science, to Boulding, is without some ethical standards and understand. Boulding further states that economic models must consider benevolence and malevolence to be accurate reflections of the world. Economics is too narrowly focused on pure exchange and easily disregard the role of an ‘economic ethic.’ Yet, it is possible to measure benevolence and malevolence toward each other like other preferences. He relates this back to his peace studies by stating that ‘it apparently costs the United States about four dollars to do one dollar’s worth of damage in Vietnam, in which case our rate of benevolence towards North Vietnam is at least minus four’ (p. 3).  
Boulding states as a threat to the economic ethic is the ‘heroic ethic,’ which includes military, religious, and sporting. He writes, ‘the enormous role which religion has played in the history of mankind, for good or ill, is based on the appeal which it has to the sense of identify and the sense of the heroic even in ordinary people. ‘Here I stand and I can do no other’ said Luther; ‘To give and not to count the cost, to labor and ask for no reward’ is the prayer of St. Francis’ (p. 9).  
No one in his sense would want his daughter to marry an economic man, one who counted every cost and asked for every reward, was never afflicted with mad generosity or uncalculating love, and who never acted out of a sense of inner identity and indeed had no inner identity even if he was occasionally affected by carefully calculated considerations of benevolence or malevolence (p. 10). 
Boulding helped (along with Martin Pfaff, Anita Pfaff, and Janos Horvath) start the Association for the Study of the Grants Economy in 1968 (recently renamed the Association for the Study of Generosity in Economics). Grants economics was the culmination of Boulding’s thinking about general systems, religion, economics, and peace. Essentially, he argues there are three parts of the social system. First, exchange, which economics is primarily concerned with. Second is the threat system, which is outlined in Boulding’s work on conflict and defense (see Boulding 1962). The last part is the integrative system (or love, as Boulding referred to it early on). The integrative system is the grants economy, and Boulding argues that it makes up a substantial part of the economy. Of course, the three systems blend into one another in certain areas. Take for instance religion, where financial donations are ‘grants,’ but perhaps out of fear of damnation (threat system). ‘The reaction of the economics profession to the idea that grants economics should be a regular sub-discipline within the larger field was one of not always polite skepticism’ (Boulding 1981, p. vii). 
Boulding stated that the most important book during his time at the University of Colorado was Ecodynamics (1978), his ‘manifesto of the universe’ (Boulding 1992b, p. 81). In this book Boulding explains his perspectives on evolution and how matter, beings, society and so forth have been subjected to evolutionary forces. The power of evolution is the emphasis on adaptability. Boulding did not see this as contradictory to his religious beliefs. Instead, he deftly weaves religion into the evolutionary process. He states, ‘[f]rom the beginning, therefore, religion has played a part in the great phyla of human and societal evolution’ (Boulding 1978, p. 307). However, Boulding is also quick to point out that religion, as a divisive force, has not successfully eliminated war and at times is the cause of more war and tension than it resolves. However, he also argues ‘[r]eligion has had an important role to play in the integrative system, as the very name suggests. ‘Religion’ and ‘ligament’ come from the same Latin word meaning something that binds together’ (p. 308). Furthermore, ‘Religion like the nuclear family seems to be a very fundamental part of human society and no society has been found without some sort of religious practices and beliefs…. There are deep historical connections that link religion with sex; both are part of the deep emotional layer of the human make-up’ (p. 337).  
 
Market morality 

Boulding retired from the University of Colorado-Boulder in 1980. He remained prolific during his retirement years. He taught at several different universities and traveled extensively. He wrote several interesting pieces in Quaker publications on the intersection of economics and religion more broadly. This section discusses three writings from this period.   
Boulding wrote a comment article in an edited volume titled Morality of the Market (1985b) in which he states ‘The case for Christian origins of capitalism is seldom made, but I think it is almost as strong. Capitalism could not come out of a spiritual culture, or even a gentlemanly culture, like Confucianism. It could only come out of a culture for which the material world is not only real and important but is the way in which the transcendent world is made manifest’  (p. 253). ‘As my wife [Elise Boulding] once said very profoundly, “the difference between Buddhism and Christianity is that Buddha was a prince and Jesus was a carpenter.” Science could only have come out of a culture founded by a carpenter or a like artisan’ (p. 253).  
Christian culture which preceded capitalism, and yet which capitalism itself could not generate. Banks may be enormously useful and productive, but very few people love them. Governments are destructive and morally outrageous, yet they command remarkable amounts of human loyalty and affection. If, as I have argued, it is the integrative system, involving such things as loyalty, legitimacy, love, identity, and so on, which really dominates the other two major systems (which I have called the exchange system and the threat system), then the future of capitalism, and with it perhaps the future of democracy, looks rather bleak (p. 252). 
In his Quaker pamphlet ‘Mending the World: Quaker Insights on the Social Order’ (1986b) he presents how Quaker thinking has evolved. Quakers were always concerned with ‘mending the world.’ Quakers emerged from the devastation of the English Civil War (1642-1649). ‘Once the big rip that separates from God is mended, life is different. Things which perhaps were not seen in need of mending before are now seen as needing it, and there is a change both in personal behavior and in what is urged upon others’ (Boulding, 1986b, p. 6). Boulding asserts that Quakers are people not only of promoting peace (as in the Peace Testimonies), but actively moving the world toward peace – particularly with political activism. Boulding observes that the great challenges have not changed – poverty, nuclear war, income inequality, and the rise of debt (pp. 24-25). Ultimately, ‘learning, indeed, is the key to mending the world. We have to learn to sew before we can mend. We have to learn how to live at peace or we will destroy ourselves. This is not easy, but it can be done’ (p. 27). 
Boulding’s article ‘Religion and the Pathologies of Economic Life’ (1986c) again discusses the interactions between religion and the economy. But he more explicitly notes important differences. ‘Religion stresses human needs. Economic life stresses wants. Religion stresses forgiveness, mercy, and grace. Economic life stresses the payment of debts, interest, legal justice, and the careful keeping of accounts. Religious life at its most intense stresses poverty, chastity, and obedience. Economic life stresses pleasure and is even pretty tolerant of lust. Religion is poetry; economics is prose. It is not surprising that there is tension between the two’ (1986c, p. 12). Boulding argues that the free-market is like an ecosystem, but it is susceptible to pathologies (e.g., Great Depression) – financial markets are particularly notable in financial markets where speculation results in sometimes vigorous price swings. Another pathology is one he calls the ‘Matthew Principle’ (from the book of Matthew in the bible) ‘For whosoever hath, to him shall be given,… but whoever hath not, from his shall be taken away, even that he hath’ (p. 19). This acknowledgement of the fairness of equality is difficult for economics to rectify since it sees disproportionate distributions as a ‘natural’ outcome of market forces.  
Religious criticisms of economic life and institutions has not been insignificant. […] It is less generally recognized that there is an economic criticism of religion, as we find it in Adam Smith’s masterly twenty pages on the sociology of religion in Book V of The Wealth of Nations, in which he argues for free competition in religion and the separation of church and state, as over against his friend, David Hume, who thought that religion could best be handled by stated monopoly. […] The separation of church and state and the remarkable freedom of religion in the United States has not only contributed to the vitality of the American economy, but has also contributed to the extraordinary vitality of American religion (p. 21). 
Boulding ends this piece with the insight that ‘[b]oth religion and economic life are inescapable parts of the heritage of the human race and their mutual critique might help to cure the ever-present potential pathologies of both’ (p. 22). 
 
March 19, 1993 
Boulding maintained his enthusiasm for teaching and writing up to his diagnosis of prostate cancer in October 1992 and passing on March 19, 1993. And soon afterword Elise wrote:  
My fear that he wouldn’t be able to use this time for spiritual growth has vanished. Later in February 1993, while in hospital after breaking his hip, he said to [me] with a smile, ‘Death is a wonderful invention – everyone should try it’’ (Boulding and Boulding 1994, p. vi). 
Boulding’s last diary entry was on October 16, 1992: 
Russell [Boulding’s oldest child] has just gone home. He was here for more than a week. He was just enormously helpful. I can't say how helpful he was in getting me adjusted to my present state of life. We did go to an excellent new doctor and had a very frank conversation about how long I had to live. I gathered from him that he thinks this probably is my final illness and could easily last about six months. At any rate, I have got forward to look for it ending, and I must confess I have had an extraordinarily good life. I will be 83 in three months and I have absolutely nothing to complain about. If there is a future life, well, that's fine; if there isn't, I won't know about it, and that's fine too (Boulding 1992a). 
 
Conclusion 

Boulding had a tremendous academic career. Starting life in a working-class family in Liverpool, England Boulding realized early academic success and leveraged this into an ethic that produced a unique body of research. He was unapologetically Christian at a time when such thinking was considered antediluvian. His religious convictions were unwavering and resulted in writings that reached far beyond economics. Boulding always considered himself an economist, but more than anything he wanted to understand society and how to make it better. As presented above, his thinking was greatly influenced by his Quaker beliefs. Starting in the 1930s he began writing about economics as the study of human betterment. This approach gave Boulding’s writings a timelessness that makes them appear fresh many decades later. Boulding challenges economists and other social scientists to realize we are ultimately studying people (society, institutions, and nations) and trying to make their lives better, more peaceful, and fulfilling.  
 

Internet Archive: Kenneth Boulding books

Internet Archive: Digital Library of Free & Borrowable Books, Movies, Music & Wayback Machine

Title
Creator
Published
Type
Views

Illustrating economics : beasts, ballads and aphorisms
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993, author
2017
6

Sonnets from later life, 1981-1993
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1994
7

The structure of the modern economy : the United States, 1929-89
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1993
10

The structure of a modern economy : the United States, 1929-89
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1993
8

Three faces of power
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1990
97

Three faces of power
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1989
13

Mending the world : Quaker insights on the social order
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1986
18

The world as a total system
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1985
193

Human betterment
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1985
39

Stable peace
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1984
44

A preface to grants economics : the economy of love and fear
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1981
25

Evolutionary economics
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1981
71

The social system of the planet earth
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1980
63

Beasts, ballads, and Bouldingisms : a collection of writings
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1980
19

Ecodynamics : a new theory of societal evolution
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1978
102

Ecodynamics : a new theory of societal evolution
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1978
17

Sonnets from the interior life, and other autobiographical verse
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1975
29

Collected papers / 4, Toward a general social science
Boulding, Kenneth E
1974
19

Transfers in an urbanized economy; theories and effects of the grants economy
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993, comp
1973
13

The economy of love and fear; a preface to grants economics
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1973
35
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Title
Creator
Published
Type
Views

The Image : knowledge in life and society. --
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1969
348

Beyond economics : essays on society, religion, and ethics
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1968
37

The organizational revolution; a study in the ethics of economic organization
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1968
71

The Mayer/Boulding dialogue on peace research
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1967
17

The impact of the social sciences
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1966
29

Economic analysis
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1966
22

Economic analysis
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1966
34

The meaning of the twentieth century : the great transition
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1965
112

The meaning of the twentieth century; the great transition
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-1993
1964
56

The meaning of the twentieth century; the great transition
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1964
46

The meaning of the twentieth century; the great transition
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1964
42

The evolutionary potential of Quakerism
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1964
9

Conflict and defense : a general theory
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1963
293

Conflict and defense : a general theory
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1963
47

Conflict and defense : a general theory
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1963
407

A reconstruction of economics
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1962
58

Ethics and business; three lectures by Kenneth E. Boulding, Carl Hermann Voss [and] Walter A. Kaufmann
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1962
80

Linear programming and the theory of the firm / with contributions by Sherrill Cleland ... [et al.]. --
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1960
29

Readings In Price Theory
Boulding,Kenneth E.
1960
4,989

The skills of the economist
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1958
1,554

Principles of economic policy
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1958
98

The image; knowledge in life and society
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1956
64

The image; knowledge in life and society
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-1993
1956
574

The organizational revolution, a study in the ethics of economic organization;
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1953
52

Readings In Price Theory
Stigler, George J.; Boulding, Kenneth E
1952
3,163

Religious perspectives of college teaching in economics
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1951
9

A reconstruction of economics
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1950
41

Economic Analysis
Boulding Kenneth E.
1948
85

Economic analysis
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1948
30

A Primer On Social Dynamics
Boulding,kenneth
1947
208

There Is A Spirit The Nayler Sonnets
Boulding Kenneth
1945
975

There is a spirit ; the Nayler sonnets
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
1945
8

The economics of peace
Boulding, Kenneth Ewart, 1910-
1945
25

New nations for old ..
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
Dec 31, 1941
15

The practice of the love of God
Boulding, Kenneth E. (Kenneth Ewart), 1910-1993
Dec 31, 1941
5

2023/09/10

Conversations with History: Kenneth Boulding Video 2008


Conversations with History: Kenneth Boulding

Conversations with History host Harry Kreisler interviews economist Kenneth Boulding.  Professor Boulding talks about his theory of a stable peace and discusses the role of peace movements. Series: Conversations with History [Public Affairs] [Show ID: 11286]
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The Practice of The Love of God by Kenneth Boulding 1942

The Practice of The Love of God
The Practice of The Love of God
Delivered at Arch Street Meeting House Philadelphia
by Kenneth Boulding
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KENNETH BOULDING
The Practice of The Love of God
WILLIAM PENN LECTURE, 1941
William Penn Lecture 1942
The Practice of
The Love of God
Delivered at
Arch Street Meeting House
Philadelphia by
Kenneth Boulding
Pu blished by The Book Committee
Religiou s Society of Friends
Philadelphia and Vicinity 302 Arch Street, Philadelphia
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3
God Is Love

How do you respond to these three words? Perhaps they bring a faint smile of derision to your face, as you recall the pious phrases of Sunday School, or the plushembroidered text that hung over Grandmother’s bed. Perhaps they represent something dim that you think you have outgrown as you have advanced into the bright intellectualism of a scientific day. Perhaps they cover you with a warm, safe feeling, perfumed with the scent of red cushions and worn benches, and lit with the gentle light that flows from the smile of a well-fed worshipper. Perhaps they lead you into a comfortable corner of your soul, well insulated from the chilly world of rational thought, where you secretly indulge in spiritual drinking. If any of these conditions is yours, then you have missed a treasure. For to some these words are a key to a Kingdom, a Kingdom where Truth reigns in so great majesty that we can hardly bear the splendour, where life springs born again from every moment of time, and where a rich joy compounded of bitter spices scents every breath we breathe.
We are not sent into this world to walk it in solitude. We are born to love, as we are born to breathe and eat and drink. The babe is hardly separated from his mother’s womb before he stretches out a tiny clasping hand, and from that time forth he will constantly stretch out to touch the world that lies about him and the folk that dwell therein. The purpose of our growth in life is to bring us into unity with the universe into which we are born, to make us aware thatThe Practice of The Love of God
we are not lonely individual meteors hurtling blindly through an abysmal dark, but living parts of a living whole. As we grow we learn to love more and more: first ourselves; then the family within the small kingdom of the home; then the school, the wider circle of friends, the home community, the college, and the still wider community of the nation; and finally, the greatest country of all, which has no boundaries this side of Hell, and perhaps not even there. In some this process of enlargement is arrested at an intermediate stage, and then love turns in upon itself and becomes sour. Some have never truly loved anything but themselves – perhaps ‘because their first outreachings were received with coldness and lack of sympathy – and then love quickly turns putrid, and becomes greed, and lust, and turns even to self-disgust, Some confine their love to the narrow limits of the family, and then too love decays into sentimentality, or hardens into indifference. The couple that are wrapped up in themselves soon find the parcel uncomfortably tight; the mother who pours out her love on her child till both are smothered in a cocoon of sentiment soon tastes the bitter worm of ingratitude and ruins the very object of her love. There are few more depressing spectacles than the perennial “old grad, ” who has never broken the bonds of collegiate enthusiasm or developed beyond the throaty lore of Alma Matriolatry. And the present day provides us with the awful spectacle of what an ingrown love of country can do, what fanatical hatreds and cruelties it can engender, and how again it can destroy the very object of its love.
There is no resting place for expanding love short of God and his whole Kingdom. If our love ceases to expand, it will perish, as a tree planted in a narrow pot must perish if it does not break the vessel that confines it. But this is the mystery of love: that as it grows to wider and wider objects,
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the narrower loves are not made less, but are made more perfect. The man who discovers the exquisite mutual love of a united family life is not thereby made the less in himself, for as he loves his family and gives himself for them, his self is renewed and becomes more worthy of love. The family which reaches out beyond itself in all manner of community concerns does not thereby lose the love that flows within its sacred circle; rather does it purify and intensify that love. There is truth even in the hackneyed phrase “I could not love thee dear, so much, loved I not honor more.” And though the world is slow to recognize it, the love of country is not destroyed by the love of a greater Kingdom, but rather is purified and strengthened thereby. Love indeed is a widow’s cruse for the more its fragrant oil is poured forth, the fuller flows the stream. It is a realm where the laws of economics do not hold, and are turned quite upside down, for what we carefully mete out will wither in our hands, like the manna of old, while what we squander recklessly abroad will multiply till we can hardly contain our riches. Let us not be ashamed of love. It is unfortunate, perhaps, that for so great a thing we have to use a word so smeared by mishandling. There is a melancholy Gresham’s Law of language by which bad meanings drive out the good, and just as the good word “charity” became tainted with the fetid odour of the poorhouse, so even “love” has come to reek of stale emotion and cheap scent. But let us look behind the words that bedevil us to that which “suffereth long, and is kind; envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things – and never faileth.”
Let us not be afraid because love is an emotion. There is a strange heresy abroad at the present time, that things

intellectual are good, and things emotional are bad. It is a curious example of race prejudice in the spiritual realm, and follows from the logical fallacy of all race prejudice – that of generalizing from an inadequate sample. Because some emotional experiences are shallow and unreal, we too hastily condemn the whole gamut. In fact, there is truth and falsehood in the realm of emotion just as there is truth and falsehood in the realm of intellect. We do not condemn mathematics because a schoolboy makes a mistake in his algebra, nor should we condemn emotion because a schoolgirl titters at the sight of a man. So in the religious life we should not condemn the deep stirrings of the love of God in the soul because of the riotous conduct of the Holy Rollers. It is our duty to seek emotional truth, as it is to seek intellectual truth, and indeed as we seek them we shall find that they are not two truths, but one.
In our love also, we must seek that which is true, and reject that which is false. There are grades and degrees of love, as of all emotions: there is shoddy, sentimental love and there is pure, ennobling love. The quality of love depends not only on the quality of the lover; it depends on the quality of the object of love. A worthy object will call forth a worthy love, a trivial object a trivial love. The love of a mother for her child is worthier than that of a spinster for her cat precisely because its object is more worthy of love. And the character of the lover depends in turn on the character of the loved. If we waste our love on unworthy objects, or devote to an object an inappropriate kind of love, we ourselves are weakened. If we give to a cat the kind of love that should be given to a child, we degenerate into mawkishness and the cat is spoiled. If we love ourselves, our wealth, and our position with the kind of love with which we should love mankind, we will become hard without and fearful within. Even if we love our family, our Society, and our country
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5
the narrower loves are not made less, but are made more perfect. The man who discovers the exquisite mutual love of a united family life is not thereby made the less in himself, for as he loves his family and gives himself for them, his self is renewed and becomes more worthy of love. The family which reaches out beyond itself in all manner of community concerns does not thereby lose the love that flows within its sacred circle; rather does it purify and intensify that love. There is truth even in the hackneyed phrase “I could not love thee dear, so much, loved I not honor more.” And though the world is slow to recognize it, the love of country is not destroyed by the love of a greater Kingdom, but rather is purified and strengthened thereby. Love indeed is a widow’s cruse for the more its fragrant oil is poured forth, the fuller flows the stream. It is a realm where the laws of economics do not hold, and are turned quite upside down, for what we carefully mete out will wither in our hands, like the manna of old, while what we squander recklessly abroad will multiply till we can hardly contain our riches. Let us not be ashamed of love. It is unfortunate, perhaps, that for so great a thing we have to use a word so smeared by mishandling. There is a melancholy Gresham’s Law of language by which bad meanings drive out the good, and just as the good word “charity” became tainted with the fetid odour of the poorhouse, so even “love” has come to reek of stale emotion and cheap scent. But let us look behind the words that bedevil us to that which “suffereth long, and is kind; envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things – and never faileth.”
Let us not be afraid because love is an emotion. There is a strange heresy abroad at the present time, that things

intellectual are good, and things emotional are bad. It is a curious example of race prejudice in the spiritual realm, and follows from the logical fallacy of all race prejudice – that of generalizing from an inadequate sample. Because some emotional experiences are shallow and unreal, we too hastily condemn the whole gamut. In fact, there is truth and falsehood in the realm of emotion just as there is truth and falsehood in the realm of intellect. We do not condemn mathematics because a schoolboy makes a mistake in his algebra, nor should we condemn emotion because a schoolgirl titters at the sight of a man. So in the religious life we should not condemn the deep stirrings of the love of God in the soul because of the riotous conduct of the Holy Rollers. It is our duty to seek emotional truth, as it is to seek intellectual truth, and indeed as we seek them we shall find that they are not two truths, but one.
In our love also, we must seek that which is true, and reject that which is false. There are grades and degrees of love, as of all emotions: there is shoddy, sentimental love and there is pure, ennobling love. The quality of love depends not only on the quality of the lover; it depends on the quality of the object of love. A worthy object will call forth a worthy love, a trivial object a trivial love. The love of a mother for her child is worthier than that of a spinster for her cat precisely because its object is more worthy of love. And the character of the lover depends in turn on the character of the loved. If we waste our love on unworthy objects, or devote to an object an inappropriate kind of love, we ourselves are weakened. If we give to a cat the kind of love that should be given to a child, we degenerate into mawkishness and the cat is spoiled. If we love ourselves, our wealth, and our position with the kind of love with which we should love mankind, we will become hard without and fearful within. Even if we love our family, our Society, and our country


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with the kind of love with which we should love God, we will become narrow, blind, and a danger even to the thing we love.
It is of the utmost importance, therefore, that our greatest love should be devoted to God, and that all our other loves should be subordinated to our love for Him. Only as we love Him with our whole heart, and mind, and strength do we find all other objects of love taking their proper place, and as we love Him we find too that our other loves take on His quality, and shine with ever-brighter lustre. But now perhaps I speak a language which some do not understand. For how can we love God, whom we have not seen? Our selves we know, our home we know, our country we know and have seen – but who is this God who so jealously commands our adoration? Indeed, the greatest obstacle in the way of our love for God is the vague notions which we entertain of Him. One has a certain sympathy for the young man who said that every time he thought of God he thought of an oblong blur, and that he thought of love as a faint pink smell filling the air. Most of us fancy that we are past the stage where we think of God as an old man with whiskers sitting in the clouds. It is extremely unfashionable, especially in university circles, to think of God in personal terms at all. There is a long word of peculiar magical properties. “Anthropomorphism,” which haunts the intellectual in his search for God. Consequently we wander off into all manner of vague phrases and analogies: Spiritual Forces, Wills, Powers, World-Souls, Hidden Dynamos and the like, in a desperate attempt to avoid the simplest, most beautiful, and most penetrating analogy of all; that of the Father who is known through his children. Once we recognize that all analogies, all words, all symbols express less than the truth, once we acknowledge that God is greater than anything that we know or can say, surely we need not be afraid to think of

Him as a person. For the way to God is through mutual love, not through abstract metaphysic, and mutual love is a relationship of persons.
Not more than one or two people in this whole continent knew my father, who lived all his life in England. Yet anyone who knows me knows something of what my father was like, for I resemble him in many respects. So we may look into our selves, and into the faces of our friends, and find there evidence of a heavenly paternity, stained and adulterated with the clay of this earth, but nevertheless stamped with a heavenly form. We have a strange faculty of recognition of that which is God-like. We know that we are not pure, elemental beings, but are compounded, a mixture of earth and heaven, of temporal and eternal, of mortal and immortal.
“Mind that which is pure in you to guide you to God” says George Fox, and good advice it is, for as we find that within ourselves which is worthy of high love – the clear thought, the generous impulse, the rush of unity that binds us to the suffering of all creation – so indeed we are guided to God.
But it is not enough to look merely within ourselves. The God who is to be the object of our highest love cannot be a fragmentary part, however deep, of our own little personalities. “That which is pure within us” is not so much God himself, as his family likeness printed in us. It guides us to God, but we shall be deluded if we seek God only in our own soul. A dear friend of mine who left the Society of Friends to join the Roman Catholic Church, wrote that in the book of Christianity the chapter on “God in the Soul” would contain all that was meaningful to the Quaker. Perhaps there are Friends who think that. If so, I would urge them to think again, for such is not part of the testimony of our Society. The God whom we love and worship is not a
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figment of our personal imagination, but is the Father of all creation. We seek Him, therefore, not only in ourselves, but in His other children. In a large family some are more, and some are less like the father, and so in the world of men we see a better likeness of our other Father in some than in others. There are some who live close to the Father, and daily take on more of His likeness, while others busy themselves with affairs of dust, and continually dilute their heavenly part with dross. Let us then mind that which is pure, not only in ourselves but in those greater than us, and it will lead us to God.
Nor should we confine ourselves to our own times. We who are alive at this moment are but a tiny part of the great host of God’s children, and indeed bear less of His likeness than many who have gone before. In the records and writing of the saints there is a great treasure of coins minted fresh from the golden fires of the King’s treasury. Read Woolman, Fox, and Penington; go further afield and dwell with Brother Lawrence and Saint Francis; go even to the poor in spirit, the agnostics and wrestlers in vain, the Huxleys and Arnolds, and see how they are all minted from the same die. There are at least ten books written in the past three or four hundred years which can hardly be read without experiencing a vision of God. Go back further, to Augustine and to Paul; read the Epistles as if they were written yesterday – as in God’s time they were – and see the Lord wrestling with a day even more terrible than ours. And then, when we have finished with the saints, we find that they have one testimony, that brightly as the light of God shines in their faces, there is one greater than they: an elder brother, so like indeed to his father that they can hardly be told apart. “There is one, even Christ Jesus, that can speak to thy condition,” came the Word to Fox; “and when I heard it, my heart did leap for joy.” We return, after
wandering in many a spiritual wilderness, to the Gospels, and find there a Christ without who answers to the Christ within, a spirit so full of life and power and truth that as we walk with Him we come to know the Father of us all. As we follow him in his ministry, in his teachings, parables, and actions, so simple that a child can understand them, yet so profound that the wisest philosopher often but confuses their meaning, something in us goes out to something in him, in a strange electric spark of recognition. Follow him further, as he sets his face towards Jerusalem, and feel the eternal weight of the Passion story, where each word moves in majesty to the terrible doom, writ in time and yet out of time. Follow him even to the foot of his cross where the broken heart of God pours forth in water and blood, and discover yourself strangely not only in Jerusalem, but in falling Babylon, in burning Rome, in bombed London, in starving France, in the reeking slums of the City of Brotherly Love itself. Unveil the picture in your mind, if you dare of the massed sin and suffering of the world, past, present and future, this terrible ocean of tortured bodies and tormented minds, of suffering innocence and triumphant stupidity on which our middle-class ark floats so insecurely. See the way of God rejected, the laws of God flouted, the love of God perverted, the purpose of God thwarted. Descend, if you dare, to that Hell where all faith is self-deceit, all love is lust, all honor is trickery, all purpose is illusion, where the black waters of universal chaos sweep unhindered through the unhinged windows of the mind. Cry the last despairing cry of the sinking soul: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Say, with George Fox, that you are “in a measure sensible of Christ’s sufferings, and what he went through.” You can go no further than Christ has gone. There is a bottom to all despair, and He has touched it. Incredible miracle, that God is to be found where we think
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Him to be most absent. “If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.” It is the testimony, not only of the Gospels but of all the saints, that after the horror of Good Friday comes the incredible splendour of Easter Morn. After the ocean of darkness and death, there comes indeed an infinite ocean of light and love which flows over the ocean of darkness. After the veil of the temple is rent and darkness has covered the earth the stone is rolled away, the risen Christ appears, the spirit of God descends as a flame of fire, the band of scattered and disillusioned fishermen become the seed of the living Church, the new body of Christ. Whatever doubts the higher criticism may cast upon the details of the gospel story, its historic and spiritual truth speaks to the Christ within us, for Christ is risen not only in the Jerusalem of Caesar’s empire, but in the heart of everyone who comes by suffering and love into fellowship with creation. These days are teaching us what in the fat days of the past we had forgotten – that creation comes not by wishing, not by easy words or polite formulas, but by agonizing love and blessed suffering. So a child is born, so a poem is written, so the Kingdom of Heaven is founded, and by no other means. To share in creation, this indeed is to be a child of God, for as we love and suffer ourselves, so we share in the love and suffering of God, and so we come to know Him and to love Him.
Brother Lawrence gives us this extraordinary account of his conversion: “That in the winter, seeing a tree stripped of its leaves, and considering that within a little time the leaves would be renewed, and after that the flowers and fruit appear, he received a high view of the Providence and Power of God which has never since been effaced from his soul. That this view had set him perfectly loose from the world, and had kindled in him such a love for God, that he

could not tell whether it had increased in above forty years that he had lived since.” If, with Brother Lawrence, we could really see a tree, in all its intricate relationships with the whole of creation, we should indeed see God, and be inflamed with love for Him. For every created thing is stamped in some measure with the image of its creator, were we sensitive enough to perceive it, and from the winter and spring of a tree, from the contemplation of its complex ancestry, its birth, its nourishment, its death, and its descendants, and from the love of its strength and beauty we might indeed come to have a “high view” of God. But not many of us are Brother Lawrences, not many of us are at once simple and sensitive enough to see God’s image in a living tree, nor even in the living men and women that we see around us. For our hard hearts and insensitive spirits God has given a plainer manifestation of the quality of his love, that those who cannot see Him in a living tree may perceive Him hanging from a dead one.
The love of God exhibits many of the phases of human love. In the beginning there is frequently an experience of intense excitement, which may be repeated from time to time, corresponding to that type of human love called by the fleshly-minded psychologists, “cardiac-respiratory.” It is analogous to the first excitement of the young couple in love, and may be accompanied by the same quickening of the heart and breath. It comes upon us when we are in the presence of a “high view of God,” that commands all our adoration and wonder. It is accompanied by a strange sense of invasion, of mutuality, of the love of God for us going out towards us as our love goes out towards Him. This sense of mutuality is the secure evidence, for those who possess it, that the God they love is indeed without as well as within, a being whose existence depends on us in no way, however much our existence depends on Him. The joy of such an

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experience is too great to be borne for very long, so that for most of us these experiences are rare, and some of us perhaps hardly experience them at all. But this peculiar exalted state is not of course the only, nor is it the most important manifestation of the love of God. Just as the love of man and wife is more constantly and perhaps more truly expressed in the quiet devotion of everyday life than in the ecstasies of courtship, so the love of God also is expressed in a constant devotion and obedience, seated as much in the will as in the emotions. There is the wine of God’s love, as expressed in the exalted experience. But there is also the bread of His love, the daily bread without which we could not live, the devotion and obedience which we give to Him in the commonplace tasks of life. Brother Lawrence again says “that our sanctification did not depend upon changing our works, but in doing that for God’s sake, which commonly we do for our own.” If therefore we are a sober, businesslike, unemotional person, as little given to celestial visions as Benjamin Franklin, let us not say that the practice of the love of God is something which does not concern us. We can still eat His bread, even if he withholds for a time His wine. And let those who are otherwise inclined beware a little of spiritual intoxication, and remember that the surest remedy for the deadly sin of spiritual pride is to take bread as well as wine in our spiritual sacrament. Love, wherever it appears, is a living, growing thing, and follows the laws of life rather than of machines. It must therefore be nourished, or it will die. It is nourished by attention to the object that inspires it, and it dies by forgetfulness and neglect. Love feeds on the presence of the loved one. We have all had the experience of losing a friend by neglect. Someone, perhaps, who has been very dear to us, removes to a distant place where we cannot visit them. At first the friendship is kept up by correspondence, but
gradually other interests crowd in upon the attention, letters become fewer, and finally cease, and the very thought of our friend drops out of our life. So it is too often with our love for God. In youth perhaps we are privileged to receive a “high view of God” which commands our love and service. But as the years go by the vision fades, the cares of business and of social life crowd in upon us, we take up bridge and golf, we come to move in a circle in which it is unfashionable to be religious, our attendance at worship and our practice of prayer become formal and spasmodic, and the bright flame of our early devotion cools to a little brief ash of occasional nostalgia. It is tragically easy to exchange the eternal treasure for a stale mess of earthly pottage, for our love cools by imperceptible degrees if it is not renewed. The renewal, this constant new birth, is accomplished in the way that all love is renewed: by contact with the object of love. It is the principal task of the discipline of the life of Godly love to keep us constantly aware of God’s presence, and His love-inspiring attributes, and of His great love for us. It is a light and gracious discipline, but it requires a certain conscious attention, particularly in its early stages, before its observances have become habitual, and also in its later stages, when habit may degenerate into formality. It is bar each person to find for himself those observances which are most helpful, but there are certain broad experiences that we cannot afford to neglect. We must allot some time for the conscious lifting-up of the soul to God. Some find it necessary to allot a specific time each day, for instance on retiring, or on rising. Some find it possible to set their face Godward at all manner of odd moments – in the street, in a moment of waiting, in the midst of reading, conversation, or business, or even, like Brother Lawrence, when washing dishes. There is a quiet, open place in the depths of the mind, to which we can go many times in the

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day and lift up our soul in praise, thankfulness and conscious unity. With practise this God-ward turn of the mind becomes an almost constant direction, underlying all our other activities. As a compass swings towards the north immediately after each disturbance, so we swing towards the Pole that draws the life of our being the moment a temporary distraction is removed.
Another essential part of the discipline of the nourishment of love is the refreshment to be obtained from fellowship with the family of God, that is, with His creation, both that which is here present with us, and that which lies in the past. There is a renewal of the love of God to be found in nature, in the unbelievable drama of beauty and order that lies all about us, and as we consider the lilies of the field and the sparrows of the city street we too can receive a “high view of the Providence and Power of God.” The pure love of truth is but a colder version of the love of God, and when the selfless pursuit of truth leads us to awe and wonder, the most critical scientist may be led into an experience which is essentially religious. But for those of us who browse only on the foothills of natural knowledge, the love of God is most clearly revealed in those who have known Him best. It is as we hold converse with the Saints, both the spoken word of the living and the written record of the departed, that our love is renewed. This renewal of love should be the great task of our Meeting for Worship; it should be the central theme of all our ministry, and the prime object of our devotional reading. We have perhaps relied too much in our day on intercourse with the present only. We read only the book of the month, we listen only to the speaker of the hour, and we forget that we are but a small band of newcomers to the great Family of God. It is a peculiar disease of the modern mind to think that the present supersedes the past, and we need to recapture a sense of unity with the

body of the past, without which we cannot grow. If we confine our spiritual fellowship to this thin skin of things we call the present, we are in grave danger of spiritual death. The surface of a body is nourished from below, and if cut off from the deeper layers it will die. So does our spiritual life decay if it is cut off from the past. If we neglect the records of those who have been close to God, and especially if we neglect the greatest record of all, the Bible, we cannot hope to maintain a full and conscious love of God. If love is to grow, it must not only be nourished, it must be expressed. Love that is one-sided is not perfect, and to be complete, love must be mutual and must find expression. If we never show our love to each other, how can love grow into mutual unity? It is a poor marriage in which a man never kisses his wife. Unless love is expressed, it turns in on itself, and becomes cancerous. Unless we allow our vision of God, and our love for God, to overflow in all directions, into every corner of our life and activity, it will harden into religiosity and hypocrisy. There is nothing that brings religion more justly into disrepute than the man whose religion feeds entirely on itself, who lives within a world of abstract notions about God and His plan of salvation.
“To be good only, is to be A God, or else a Pharisee.”
says Blake. And to be “religious” only, in the narrow sense, to be shut up in a little world of purely personal experience and belief, is to be a Pharisee.
But how can we express our love for God? We express our love for earthly friends by doing things which will give them satisfaction. But what can we do for God? Surely there is nothing that we can do for Him, who is so far above us. No word of ours can affect His majesty, no deed of ours can
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shake His love. In primitive times men thought that they could please God by making sacrifices and burnt offerings. But the prophet soon discerns that God desires mercy, and not sacrifice, and that the thousands of rams, the ten thousands of rivers of oil, the costly churches, the elaborate ritual, where they are devoid of justice and mercy, are an insult to the integrity and righteousness of God Himself. But we cannot show justice and mercy to God! He is above our justice, and we are not in a position to show Him mercy. We can only truly express our love for God, then, in expressing our love for his family, for His creation. By no direct act can we do anything for God, except as we show our love towards those whom He loves. The love of God, therefore, leads us directly into the love of our neighbor, and even into the love of our enemies; for our neighbor and our enemies are beloved of Him, and as we exclude them from the circle of our concern, so we exclude Him also. “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
Indeed, the love of God is the only sure foundation for the love of neighbor. Without the love of God the command to love our neighbor is a monstrous sarcasm, the imposition on mankind of impossible conflict between the moral sense and the will. For even though we may agree, intellectually, that the height of morality is to love our neighbor, how can we do this if our neighbor is not lovable, and more, if our neighbor is also our enemy? How can I love the Germans, who with seeming wantonness have destroyed the prim, spinsterish suburb in which I first grew, who have unroofed the chapel in which I first learned the things of God, and the meeting house in which I joined the Society of Friends? How can we love those who out of the lust for power have crushed under foot the tender plant of European liberty and cooperation, and made of Europe a hell of hatred, hunger,

and bitterness that generations will hardly fill up? How can we love the Japanese, who threaten to destroy the balance of the world that forms our particular environment? How can a German love the English and the Americans, who are threatening to starve him for a second time into submission, and who are exposing him to a defeat that will bring revenge, desolation and chaos to his homeland?
There is only one answer to these questions: we can only love our enemies, we can only truly forgive a wrong, by the overflow of the love and forgiveness of God. Forgiveness is more difficult than many of us realize, especially those who have not had much to forgive. When someone does us a desperate injury, or what is worse, when someone does such an injury to something or to someone that we love, forgiveness comes hard. We may recognize, intellectually, that forgiveness is desirable, we may even try to persuade ourself that we have forgiven, but underneath there will be a hard lump on our hearts and a scar in our memory. True forgiveness comes only in a flood of divine love, that wells up in our souls from places too deep to be hurt by mortal injury, love that draws us together with God and with our enemy in a healing, uniting experience. Perhaps the greatest fruit of the love of God for the individual soul is the ability to be born again each moment, in a world newly created and set free from the clinging bondage of the past through love and forgiveness. In such a world there is no fear, for fear is not innate, but is built on the experience of past defeats unresolved and past injuries unforgiven. Perfect love indeed drives out fear, because it breaks the cruel thread of history, and sets us above the hideous determinism of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a revenge for a defeat. The love of God again makes us free, for it draws us to set a low value on those things wherein we are subject to others – our wealth, our position, our reputation, and our life –

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and to set a high value on those things which no man can take from us – our integrity, our righteousness, our love for all men, and our communion with God.
The love of God expresses itself not only in individual life, but in family life. A man and wife whose love for each other is part of their love for God, discover a more splendid love and a more exuberant life than those who love each other only. The popular books and films of today teach us that the most important question a man can ask about the lady he wants to marry is, “Does she love me?’ It would be considered a most improper infringement of individual rights to ask, “Does she love God?” But no marriage is secure if it is based on purely self-contained affection. We are discovering to our cost that the romantic molasses on which our young people feed is a poor substitute for the nourishing food of God’s love.
Our relationship with our friends and neighbors also can be trivial or fruitful, according to whether they are based on the love of self or the love of God. That is not to say that we must always go about with serious faces and black Bibles. There is a large place in life for the pure occasion of fellowship – the dance, the convivial company, the hike, the swim, the game. There may even be a place for the bleak complexities of the suburban bridge party, or the manufactured elegance of a formal dinner. But if all our social relationships are of this kind, how poor we are! If we never know our friends “in that which is eternal,” if our friendship is confined to polite pleasantries and physical exercise, how bodiless it is! Perhaps the greatest source of spiritual weakness of our day is that we have not subjected our social relationships to the discipline of God’s Love. In reacting against the formal “family prayers” and the black-visaged religion of a day that feared God too much and loved Him too little, we have cast aside many practices of great value to the perfecting of our love.

If our meetings for worship grow dry, and our meetings for business contentious, is it not because we do not visit each other in our homes, in the spirit of worship? If we meet only for a brief time on Sunday, how can we truly get to know and to love one another? Let a few concerned people invite members of the Meeting to their homes, for a simple meal, and a period of worship, and of reading together, and of sharing the food of the spirit, and see how the life of the meeting will spring up. Are any of us in a position where it would embarrass us to bring up matters of religion in our home among our guests? Have we relegated the love of God to a part of our time, a part of our life? Have we tried to shut God up in a Meeting House? If so, let us look to our life, and that quickly, for the Lord is not to be fobbed off with polite entertainment in the parlor; if any room in our house is closed to Him he will not visit us for long. Let us see that He is welcome everywhere, in our social relationships as well as in Meeting. Let us “walk cheerfully over the world, answering that of God in every man,” and not rest content until we have shared the deeper life and joy with all our neighbors. Within our own Society let us revive the noble practice of the “religious opportunity,” and visit in the homes of Friends in the conscious exercise of the love of God. Let us each make our own home the Lord’s house, where it is easy and natural to find opportunities for worship and spiritual fellowship. Let us make our table the Lord’s table, from which none of his children can be excluded by reason of race, color, or social position. Then if we sit thrice daily at His table, can we long endure to be served by those who do not sit at meat with us, or to feed on elaborate dishes in rich settings? For in His house we are all servants, and at His table the food is good bread, not kickshaws and spices. Not only do we often fail to bring the life of our home under God’s love, but – strange paradox – we fail to bring
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the life of the Meeting, or of the Church into His presence. An organization often comes to usurp the place of the spirit which founded it. Men come to love their government more than their country, to love their party more than justice, and to love their church more than God. It is temptingly easy to love the Society of Friends more than we love God – its noble history, its endearing charm, its ancient observances, its manifold activities claim our attention and affection until we almost forget the object of the whole structure. I have heard it said of Friends that they talk too much in Meeting about “Quakerism.” We are given to selfobservation, we twirl ourselves around in our fingers with sincere self-satisfaction, we bask in the world’s praise, and we lose the sight of God’s face because we are absorbed in our own benevolent contours. But if we do this, we are lost; our meetings lose their freshness, our spirit loses its spring, we lose even our love for one another, and unless we rediscover the love of God itself whose expression is the reason and purpose of our Society, the very Society that we cherish dwindles into nothingness. There are no more tragic instances of the neglect of the love of God than are to be found in religious conflicts and separations. That the name of the loving Savior should be the occasion for so much strife and bitterness through history is a mystery of suffering almost as great as that of the cross itself. Yet why have these things happened? It is because we have not loved God enough, and not loved Christ enough, and not loved each other enough. How can the broken body of Christ on earth be healed, if not by love? Will not notions of God, and notions of Christ, and theories, and theologies, necessary as they are, lead us into contention, and bitterness, if we have not much love? And can we not draw our sundered parts together in a common love for God, for Jesus, and for one another? If our lives, our homes, and our churches but imperfectly express the love of God, what can we say of our

country, or of our civilization? With its greed, its cruelty, its hatreds, its wars, its poverty, its injustices, and above all, its shallowness of life and its vulgarity, it seems almost to be given over to the pursuit of evil and of self-destruction rather than to the love of a loving God. Yet I am not ashamed to say that I love America, its great spaces and free air, the more perhaps because I am not a “birthright” but a “convinced” American. Nor am I ashamed to say that I love my mother, England, for though she is sometimes blind and boastful, she has suffered much, and has green fields and gray towers. Even do I love this whole rantipole civilization of ours, with its street cars and automobiles, movies and machines, its noise and shouting and bright lights, its science and sanitation, its impertinent questioning and swaggering progress, that straddles the earth from Samarkand to Patagonia, and winks a daring 200-inch eye at the farthest galaxies. Because I love these things, I long for their redemption, for they are not yet redeemed, they may never be redeemed, and yet they can be perfected in the love of God. The love of God does not destroy, but purifies and liberates our love of country. The love of country without the love of God is a destructive emotion; it leads into selfishness, pride, arrogance, injustice, cruelty, domination and war. Wars are not fought primarily for economic reasons, for the web of economic conflicts coincides hardly anywhere with the pattern of national boundaries. Most men go to war because they love their country more than they love God, or because the God they love is a national God, speaking the national tongue, thinking in national ways, hating the national hates. But when we love the universal suffering Father before all else, our love of country becomes pure. We wish to see her a Christ among nations, not conquering by guns and bombs and starvation, but by love and suffering. We do not wish her to be respected out of fear for the harm
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her vast fleets of ships and planes can do to her enemies; rather do we wish her to be respected for her integrity and unselfishness, for the greatness of her life, not for the range of her guns. He who loves his country in the light of his love for God, expresses that love by endeavoring to make his country respected rather than feared, loved rather than hated. But he who loves his country only, expresses that love by trying to make his country feared, and succeeds too often in making it hated. We see clearly that German bombs, German soldiers, German tanks, German rule and German victories make Germany hated – indeed, it is because her people have loved her so passionately that she has become the most hated nation on earth. But it is equally true that American bombs, American soldiers, American tanks, American rule and American victories make America hated. For this reason the man who admits the Love of God to every corner of his soul cannot participate in war, for he must seek to express his love for his country in ways that will make his country loved. To love God truly is indeed to live in “that life and power that takes away the occasion of all wars,” for it cannot possibly be an expression of His love to kill, maim, and burn His other children, no less beloved than we.
Apart from the love of God there is no end to the cycle of war. For war will not cease until governments everywhere, and the people who make them, sense a unity with all men and recognize a responsibility for the good of all men, whether they are fellow-countrymen or so-called “aliens.” But this will not come until there is forgiveness; until the Jew, the Pole and the Norwegian forgive the German, and the German forgives the Englishman; until the Japanese forgive the white races, and America’s slogan becomes not “remember Pearl Harbor,” but “forgive Pearl Harbor.” But how can there be forgiveness of such great wrongs? How can the Pole forgive

the German his atrocities, the Japanese forgive the Exclusion Act, the Americans forgive the blows at their pride and prestige? By human power it is impossible. Let us have no illusions about this war, or the peace to follow. It will not be a just peace: it will be a revengeful peace; it will lay the seeds of another war. There are some wrongs that cannot be forgiven, save by a powerful upsurge of the Love of God, and Germany has committed them all. But there can be no peace, and no security, without forgiveness, without a new birth, a new start, a wiping of the slate. And this will never come as long as men love anything – self, family, culture, religion, civilization – more than they love God. In our economic and social life, in the sphere of race and class also we have reached a point where conflict threatens to become acute. Many of the problems of economic life are technical rather than spiritual, and will be solved in the due course of the progress of truth. But behind the technical economic problems of our day there lies a true disease of the spirit, the same disease that rots our political system. It is the lack of responsibility, a lack of that extension of self-interest that brings all men into its sphere. We have wars because nations approach all questions asking “how will this affect us,” not “how will this affect the world.” We have economic strife and discontent because business men and trade unionists and professional workers alike approach all questions asking “how will this affect us,” and not “how will this affect everybody.” So we have no compunction in pressing for a tariff that will ruin half a million lives across the seas, nor in raising our own wages at the expense of unorganized workers, nor in squeezing a competitor out of business to add a fraction to our own power and wealth. Whatever economic system we adopt, whether a free economy or a planned economy, its spiritual foundation must be a certain sense of unity with all men, a code of honor, a

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willingness to forgive and to forget the past, and to build our actions on hope for the future. This is of increasing importance as our system crystallizes into organized groups, for let nobody think that organization, or socialization, lessens conflict. The less we act as individuals, the more we are organized into interest-groups, the more acute economic conflicts become, and the more necessary it is to have a principle within society by which conflicts can be resolved fruitfully. This principle is that men should wish to act in the general welfare, and not in their particular interest. But apart from the love of God, this principle is a mere moral platitude, incapable of execution, and we shall never stir the mass of men to observe it unless we first fire them with the love of God.
Let us then not be ashamed of the love of God. Too long have we hidden our light under the bushel of unobtrusive good works. We have made of our religion a holy relic, to be kept in a discreet plain box, brought out perhaps to be dusted on Sunday morning, but never to be exhibited to the unfriendly gaze and polite laughter of the world. But relics decay, and soon our box will be empty, and then perhaps we shall mourn our loss, and say “Religion is dead.” And all the while God will be smiling sorrowfully at us, and His love will spring up again as a flower comes up in the spring, fresh and sweet-smelling. It will spring up in strange places where we never thought of looking, among the poor and the outcast, the uneducated and the foolish, the wayward and the heathen. And if we are awake and sensitive it will spring up, alive and gay, out of the dust of our own hearts, through the matted growth of our intellectual pride and worldly riches.
I have a vision for the world. I see a band of men and women going out unto all people, preaching this splendid news of God’s love by word and deed, using all the resource

of their minds, and of the knowledge of our day, but speaking principally to the spiritual hunger that grips the hearts of men everywhere. I see them preaching fearlessly – “Love God more than your country, more than your class, more than your race, more than your creed.” I see them persecuted, and cast into prison, and put to death, but conquering all these things through the love that fills their whole being, leaving no room for mistrust, or fear, or pain. They shall absorb the world’s hate and anger into their own bodies, and will give none in return, so that the streams of hatred that fly around the world, bounding and rebounding from the flinty surfaces of unredeemed souls, will dwindle and pass away. I see the hardness melting from men’s souls, a new and eager look brightening in their eyes, a dissolving of old hates, a coming together in joyful unity. Let us not despair of the world. It is God’s world, and He has made it for Himself, as He has made us. Is our life threatened? It is not ours to withhold from Him. Is our peace, our comfort, our security threatened? These things have come between us and His glory, and we shall find the true peace, the true comfort, the true security that lies in His riches, not in ours. Are we threatened with prison, with concentration camps, with the loss of our jobs, the withdrawal of the esteem of our fellows? If so, we shall be in a goodly company; we shall sing with Paul and Silas, and enter prisons as palaces with William Dewsbury. Is our country going to be defeated, our civilization going to collapse? Out of the utter defeat of Israel came the sweetest psalms and the noblest prophets; out of the collapse of Rome came Augustine and the City of God; after the fire and fury of the Thirty Years War came the divine cadences of Bach. After a disastrous war in Denmark came Bishop Grundtvig, the Folk High Schools, the cooperatives, and the agriculture that is the model of the world. God is always redeeming His

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world, in ways that we often do not recognize, and out of the very depth of the misery of our time there will come a reawakening of His love in the hearts of millions of His prodigal children, a new springtime to the weary earth. Let us press forward to that time; let us do more, let us anticipate it in our own lives, secure even in the midst of destruction, secure in the persuasion that whatever may happen to us, “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”