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Religious Ethics, Gift Exchange and Capitalism

W     ’  study, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capita-

lism () is probably his most often—and sometimes most
bitterly—discussed work. There is no doubt that this essay has become a
canonical reference in the field of the sociology of religions and more
generally of the social sciences. The reason for this is simple: linking a
religious movement and an economic process is particularly fascinating
in as far as it succeeds in joining two worlds that a priori seem far
removed from each other. Weber is credited with a stroke of genius
which supposedly opened new perspectives and for a long time left its
mark on the debate between cultural and religious history on the one
hand and economic history on the other. However, this perception is
inaccurate. While Weber’s renown and influence are due to the method-
ological rigor of his analyses as well as the wealth of his documentation,
the fact remains that his approach was already widespread in German
sociology at the end of the th century. Besides, Weber explicitly refers
to his predecessors and audience: Lujo Brentano, Werner Sombart,
Ernst Troeltsch, Georg Simmel, not to mention lesser critics. Between
the first (-) and second () edition of the text, Weber’s
debate with these various authors became more specific as he responded
to their new publications. Surprisingly, however, in spite of comments
by Weber himself on the resistance of Catholic populations to the pro-
cess of capitalist development, no serious attempt was made to interpret
this inertia.
It is noted but not explained. And yet, Weber states the problem
accurately when he reminds an opponent of the importance of the role
of cultural conditions in his hypotheses about Protestant ethic: ‘‘Why
did the Catholic Church not develop these combinations and a type of
training similarly oriented toward capitalism’’ ()? We would have liked
() Weber M. The Protestant Ethic and the () ‘‘A final Rebuttal of Rachfahl’s Critique
Spirit of Capitalism, translated by Talcott of the ‘Spirit’ of Capitalism’’, in M. Weber,
Parsons (New York, Charles Scribner’s Sons, The Protestant Ethic and ‘‘Spirit’’ of Capita-
). lism and other Writings, ed. and trad. by


Marcel H, University of California, San Diego [mhenaff@ucsd.edu]
Arch. europ. sociol., XLIV,  (), -—-//- $. per art + $. per page ©  A.E.S.
  

a detailed answer. Weber seems to think it sufficient to understand the

Catholic case schematically as the negation of ascetic Protestantism.
This point of view makes sense, but it would have been more interesting
to see the investigation started from the other end.
However, another well known sociologist, Werner Sombart, soon
thereafter came up with a tentative explanation. In his famous essay, Der
Bourgeois (), Sombart tries to argue the completely opposite standpoint
of Weber’s ‘‘theses’’, at least in the chapter on the role of ‘‘moral forces’’
in the emergence of capitalism. Here Sombart compares the respective
contributions of Catholicism, Protestantism and Judaism. He wants to
show that scholastic thought, especially that of Thomas Aquinus,
constituted the theoretical framework for rationalizing economic life.
Like Weber, he considers that for capitalism to emerge, such rationali-
zation was essential. More overs, he shows that the condemnation of
usury was in fact the prohibition of profit for profit’s sake and on the
other hand favored loans destined for productive investment—which is
precisely the aim of capitalism. Finally he shows how in the th cen-
tury someone like the great Florentine humanist Alberti, in his treatise
on the family, had already defined the entire range of bourgeois virtues
which Weber had found referenced among the Calvinist Puritans. In
contrast, Sombart shows that reformers had denounced usury and
excessive riches from the beginning and that every Puritan sect had been
constantly animated by this anti-capitalist spirit. In short, the Weberian
theses were turned upside down, point by point. Weber responded in his
notes to the new edition of The Protestant Ethic. Once more he was
forced to repeat that it is not sufficient to demonstrate the presence here
and there of rationality in the management of property, a penchant for
acquiring riches or a rigorous life style in order to detect the existence of
the capitalist spirit. Far more was needed, as we will see later. In short,
Sombart’s counter attack fell short, and generally speaking, his lack of
methodological rigor deprived him of a following in sociological
research.
Such an initiative could have come from scholars from the Roman
tradition. However, Catholic theologians or intellectuals generally limi-
ted themselves to contesting Weber’s analyses [or those of
Troeltsch ()], not in order to claim the modernity that was denied
them—they would not have dared since at the same time ‘modernism’
P. Behr and G.C. Wells (Penguin Books, Lon- () A Protestant theologian and sociologist,
don, , p. ). Ernst Troeltsch was close to Weber. His work
() W. Sombart, Der Bourgeois; zur geistge- is of great importance for the sociology of
sichte des mondernen Wirtschaftmenschen (Mün- religions.
cher, Dunker & Humblot,).

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was the object of the Vatican’s severe condamnation—, but to reaffirm

the incommensurable nature of faith with respect to the material world,
i.e., in this case with respect to economic realities.
Nevertheless, the absence of a serious attempt at presenting the
symmetrical facet of Weber’s analysis cannot be explained by circum-
stances alone. Such an attempt could not be merely defensive; there
needed to be an informed and positive approach to these reservations on
the part of the Catholic world. There had to be a way of seeing some-
thing else besides the negative facet of Protestant modernity. In
short, the triumph of the homo economicus had to become less self
evident in the eyes of historians and sociologists and needed to be put in
perspective. The emergence of the modern economy had to be re-
thought in terms of its relation to pre-capitalist societies, from the most
traditional to those in Europe that preceded the development of the
banking system and international trade.
This reappraisal took place, slowly but surely through the work of
field anthropologists (or their readers) and through research in economic
history that challenged the obvious characteristics of capitalism in ways
that differed from the Marxist analysis. Two names symbolize this turn-
ing point: Mauss and Polanyi. In their wake, whether this was recogni-
zed or not, other questions could now be asked. The resistance to homo
economicus could now be understood not just as regrettable nostalgia—or
the refusal of modernity—but as the affirmation of an alternative to
utilitarian economic rationality.
As a result, the Catholic attitude could be read differently; it became
just another case among similar cases, and could be of interest to schol-
ars who normally never dealt with the Roman Catholic faith. Indeed,
sociologists as well as to historians are beginning to discover that this
attitude signals less the dependency on an ecclesiastic tradition than the
membership in a culture—especially that of the Latin world ()—char-
acterized by a particular kinship organization, a certain form of social
relations, very definite legal practices, original statutory values and
finally by a way of life that remained predominantly rural.
This world had finally become a legitimate subject of historical
sociology. At the same time, hypotheses had to shift ground: no longer
would they try to explain forms of social relations and economic prac-
tices in terms of religion (as Sombart tended to do) or reduce the latter
to the former (according to the Marxist analysis). Rather they needed
() Recall that Catholicism remains domi- Lithuania, Slovakia, Slovenia and Croatia,
nant in southern Germany and Austria, also in among the Slavic countries.
Ireland among the British Isles, and in Poland,

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toconsider—followingtheWeberianmethod—howthoseformsandprac-
tices fared better with some religious representations rather than others.
Such an investigation remains incomplete. Nevertheless, a kind of
match to Weber’s thesis is available in the form of an essay that could
have been called ‘‘Catholic ethics and the spirit of non-capitalism’’. It is
Antidora. Antropologia catolica de la economia moderne (), written by
Bartolome Clavero. We will comment later at greater length on the
merits and limits of this stimulating historical study.
First of all, we must signal in the title of the French version (La
Grâce du don) the appearance of two relevant key concepts in this work:
grace and gift. Clavero uses them as he comments on the texts but does
not analyze them. That will be our task. The important point here is that
those are precisely the two concepts missing in Weber. To be sure, the
word grace does appear, but only as a notion put forward by Reformation
theologians. As we know, the break between Catholics and Protestants fo-
cused on the question of predestination, which is a radical version of the
doctrine of grace. It is essential to understand that the doctrine of grace
itself is the theological version of the theory of the gift-giving relation.
I propose then to return to Weber’s study and to show how it moves
close to these questions without being able to ask them. Perhaps this
domain highlighted by contemporary anthropology since Mauss can
yield another approach to the disagreement between Protestants and
Catholics and help formulate a different hypothesis about the so-called
anti-economic attitude of the latter. What persists is a more difficult
problem; roughly outlined here, the question remains: why did
Southern Europe, i.e., Latin Europe generally (but not only that area),
remain in the Roman Catholic sphere of influence when Northern
Europe went over ‘‘en masse’’ to Protestantism? Differences in economic
development? As we will see, Weber immediately sees the objections to
this hypothesis. We have to look further. The anthropological roots are
perhaps more deeply buried than we imagined. Neither Weber nor
Clavero asks what they are. We might we imitate their caution. Sombart
had offered reflections on the ‘‘ethnic predispositions’’of cert-
ain peoples with respect to capitalism. He could only come up with a
pitiful mass of clichés without any anthropological arguments. Can we
today venture serious hypotheses? I will try to indicate briefly that this is
indeed the case.
() B. Clavero, Antidora. Antropologia cato- logie catholique de l’économie moderne (Paris,
lica de la economia moderna (Dott. A. Editore, Albin Michel, ). There is not yet any
Milano, ); French Translat. by Jean- English translation available. References in
Frédéric Schaub: La grâce du don. Anthropo- this essay will be made to the French edition.

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The Protestant Ethic and the Question of Grace

The Hypotheses of Weber and Troeltsch

Very early on a kind of vulgate emerged from The Protestant Ethic

and the Spirit of Capitalism, to wit that the Reformation would have
encouraged, or even provoked the capitalist dynamic. Weber, however,
stated over and over again that this was absolutely not what he intended
to demonstrate. From the outset he advanced the opposite hypothesis: it
is economic development in certain regions that promoted the Refor-
mation. And this would presuppose the existence of very ancient cir-
cumstances ‘‘in which religious affiliation is not a cause of the economic
conditions, but to a certain extent appears to be a result of them’’ (). He
adds further on, ‘‘There arises this historical question: why were the
districts of highest economic development [in Germany] at the same
time particularly favourable to a revolution in the Church?’’ (). With
this reminder, which refers to other research, Weber fully intends to
bring out the original link between those two phenomena. Right away,
this link seems paradoxical to him: the Reformation did not appear to
reduce the religious domination over the individual, but on the contrary
to increase it. This appears paradoxical in as far as economic
development—especially in its capitalist form—tends to destroy old
beliefs, to liberate the individual from submission to religious authori-
ties. If then a privileged link developed between the Protestant Refor-
mation and emerging capitalism, it happened, according to Weber, at the
very level of religious behavior, precisely as an ethic. Subsequently, it
became a de facto conjunction, and not the result of somebody’s cons-
cious project. In the first case, Weber speaks of ‘‘elective affinities’’, or
the congruence between two specific aspects: ‘‘forms of religious belief
() The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of toire (Paris, Gallimard, , pp. -).
Capitalism, (underlined by the author), , . The Protestant Ethic, transl. Parsons, op.
p. . For those who are still tempted by an cit., p. . Weber also cautions against the
immediate causal explanation, Weber adds: opposite excess: ‘‘On the other hand, however,
‘‘The fact that this or that important form of we have no intention whatever of maintaining
capitalist organization is considerably older such a foolish and doctrinaire thesis as that the
than the Reformation is a sufficient refuta- spirit of capitalism (in the provisional sense of
tion’’. Tawney’s criticisms () and espe- the term explained above) could only have
cially those of Robertson () are thus arisen as the result of certain effects of the
mostly the result of a misunderstanding. Reformation, or even that capitalism as an
C. Lefort remains ambiguous about this economic system is a creation of the Reforma-
debate in ‘‘Capitalisme et religion au e siècle: tion’’, p. .
le problème de Weber’’ in Les formes de l’his-

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and professional ethics’’ (). Secondly, this conjunction eluded the very
people who were its agents. The Reformers passionately proclaimed the
urgency for each believer to insure his salvation: ‘‘We cannot well
maintain that the pursuit of worldly goods, conceived as an end in itself,
was to any of them of positive ethical value’’ ().
They were never even tempted by a program of moral reform. That
was to be derived from religious choices: ‘‘We shall thus have to admit
that the cultural consequences of the Reformation were to a great extent,
perhaps in the particular aspects with which we are dealing predomi-
nantly, unforeseen and even unwished—for results of the labours of
reformers. They were often far removed from or even in contradiction to
all that they themselves thought to attain’’ (). Weber insists on the
indirect character of this link: it is not a causal relation between a faith
and economic phenomena but between an ethic and a spirit. Ernst
Troeltsch confirms this approach when he writes: ‘‘What it [Protestan-
tism] has here effected, it has effected indirectly and involuntarily by
doing away with old restrictions, and favouring the developments which
we have already characterised in detail [...]. On the whole, the important
political and economic results of Calvinism were produced again its
will’’ ().
We need this reminder in order to avoid from the outset presupposi-
tions that imply simplistic causal relations in the notion of the link
between Protestantism and capitalism. In his essay Weber does not
claim to define what he means by capitalism (which he does elsewhere)
but solely its spirit. Weber puts the term Geist in parentheses, at least in
the  version, probably in order to underscore its problematic and
especially non-Hegelian character. He may also have wanted to indicate
his debt to Sombart who had been the first to use this expression. What
is this spirit about? It cannot be defined, as some have done, by the desire
to acquire, by the auri sacra fames. That desire is as old as the oldest
civilizations and has marked the most diverse professions.
What distinguishes the spirit of capitalism, according to Weber, is the
rational domination of this impulse. This means that the important
thing is not acquisition as such but the search for profitability, the pur-
suit of investments by developing exchanges, the definition of transac-
tions and accounting in terms of money, the use of free labor, the
mobilization of knowledge and techniques to maximize productivity, the
strengthening of property rights. In short, the capitalist phenomenon
() Ibid., p. . () Troeltsch, E., Protestantism and Pro-
() Ibid., p.  gress, Boston, Beacon Press, , pp. -,
() Ibid., p. . .

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asserts itself is at every level of social and economic activity—industrial,

financial, commercial, administrative, technical, scientific and legal.
However, these forms of rationalization alone were insufficient to
account for the surprising dynamics of capitalism. Also needed was an
invisible element, an attitude, an ethos, the will to go beyond the tradi-
tional framework of even very profitable business. ‘‘The question of the
motive forces in the expansion of modern capitalism is not in the first
instance a question of the origin of the capital sums which were available
for capitalistic uses, but, above all, the spirit of capitalism. Where it
appears and is able to work itself out, it produces its own capital and
monetary supplies as the means to its ends, but the reverse is not
true’’ (). It was not necessary to have adventurers, bold speculators or
even outstanding financiers, explains Weber, who adds: ‘‘On the
contrary, they were men who had grown up in the hard school of life,
both calculating and daring at the same time, above all temperate and
reliable, shrewd and completely devoted to their business, with strictly
bourgeois opinions and principles’’ ().
It is precisely at this point, devotion to duty, that the spirit of capi-
talism meets the Protestant ethic (). Weber refuses to assume that the
one produced the other. He confines himself to signaling their remark-
able conjunction. It shows up differently in Luther and Calvin. It also
presents nuances in other Protestant currents (Pietist, Baptist, Metho-
dist, Quakers). But in every case, the model is quite legible. It is to
Weber’s immense credit to have made it so obvious. Thus he highlights
the remarkable equivalency between the notion of calling and profession
when Luther uses the term Beruf. To be sure, Weber is aware that a large
part of Medieval theology had already begun to revalorize work ().
However, in Beruf, there is more: the profession becomes the task par
excellence—the vocation—assigned by God to the believer during his life
on earth. ‘‘This new meaning of the word corresponds to a new idea; it is
the product of the Reformation’’ (). Weber notes the paradox: far
() M. Weber, op. cit. (underlined by the () M. Weber (ibid., p. ). To be sure,
author), pp. -. Weber does not confuse the novelty of the
() Ibid., p. . notion with the novelty of its importance.
() ‘‘Nevertheless, we provisionally use Indeed, the acknowledged significance of the
the expression spirit of (modern) capitalism profession as the earthly task of the Christian,
to describe that attitude that seeks pro- already has an important presence in Medieval
fit rationally and systematically...’’ (Ibid., theology—especially in preaching—from the
p. ). th century on. Good examples are the ser-
() See J. Le Goff, Time,Work and Culture mons of the Franciscan Berthold de Ratisbone,
in the Middle Age, Tr. A Goldhammer (Uni- who preached in southern German towns in
versity of Chicago Press, ) [Ed. orig. : the th century. See A. Gourevitch, ‘‘Le
Pour un autre Moyen Age; Temps, travail, cul- marchand’’ in J. Le Goff L’Homme médiéval
ture (Paris, Gallimard, )]. (Paris, Seuil, ). Weber knew this prea-

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from having caused the secularization of religious values, this trans-

formation led to the penetration of religion into daily life. This religious
legitimization is what provided ‘‘a most favourable foundation for the
conception of labour as an end in itself, as a calling which is necessary to
capitalism...’’ ().
Weber insists on this point. There is another one which he only
mentions in passing and which may be more decisive. It can be sum-
marized as follows: accomplishing professional tasks is more important
than charitable works. What is more, it replaces them. Luther goes as far
as to assume that the division of labor itself fulfills one’s obligations to
others (). In this way, according to Weber, Luther rather naively
anticipates Adam Smith. Or perhaps not so naively. For what is at stake
here, which Weber did not make sufficiently clear, is the whole question
of the social relations within the tradition of the primacy of charitable
relations. And yet, these relations are essential, not only in the Gospel or
Pauline sermons, but also in the Stoic tradition of good deeds, e.g.,
Seneca, Marcus Aurelius. To be sure, Luther wants to eliminate the
practice of charity as ‘‘good deeds’’ guaranteeing salvation. It is easy to
understand how challenging that practice would conform to a theologi-
cal notion of faith as an act of unconditional trust in the divine word. We
will get back to this. However, the break created by the Reformation is
clearly not only about the religious revalorization of the profession as a
vocation.
More fundamentally, perhaps, it concerns the devalorization of the
generous act supposedly essential to salvation and finally its presentation
as an economically irrational act. What is involved here is the form of social
relations itself. If the latter are supposed to be generated by the com-
plementarity of tasks instead of the reciprocity of gifts, then the trans-
formation mentioned by Weber is even more radical. Hyperbolically,
this is indeed what Calvin’s thought shows.
His thought rests entirely on a fundamental dogma, the doctrine of
predestination. To be sure, this is not a new doctrine. It was already form-
ulated quite precisely in the fourth and fifth century by St. Augustine,
whose among followers the Reformers and later the Jansenists, count
themselves, and consists in the unconditional affirmation of divine
cher’s texts, which he mentions in ‘‘Final had already long been a doctrine of catholi-
Rebuttal of Rachfahl’s critique’’ in op. cit., cism’’, Protestantism and Progress, op. cit.,
p. . Troeltsch says the same thing: ‘‘ The p. .
doctrine of the ‘calling’ as a doctrine of the () M. Weber, ibid., p. .
systematic contribution of every worker to the () Ibid., p. .
delege naturae appointed purpose of Society,

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freedom in the face of sinful humanity (). This freedom includes first
of all God’s sovereign decision made for all eternity to save some—the
chosen—and to condemn others. The interpretation of this decision,
which remains relatively nuanced in Augustine, becomes radical in
Calvin. For him, the abyss between God and creature is insurmountable.
Divine grace is granted or refused regardless of what man does. God
determines His choice on the basis of His glory and majesty alone; this is
a constant formula in Calvin, the absolutist connotation of which is
striking. What is more, no one can be assured of being elected. No
intermediary can be of any help in the recognition of eternal salvation,
neither preacher, nor the Church nor the sacraments, nor God himself
who cannot change His eternal decree according to which Christ died
only for the elect. Of course then the question arises: what is the use of
doing good if one’s fate is already a foregone conclusion? Calvin answers
that whether we are saved or not, it behooves us to act righteously to
honor the divine majesty. Weber recalls this formulation but does not
inquire any further into its genealogy or ask why the very ancient doc-
trine of divine grace—the hen of the biblical texts, the charis of Paul’s
preaching, the gratia of St. Augustine—becomes this strange form of
divine arbitrariness which determines salvation and damnation. In
short, why that which has always been understood as an act of giving
becomes an act based on the judgment of a distant God who decides
without appeal. It is as if that which had always been understood as
bringing God closer would render Him forever inaccessible. Weber does
not seem to perceive that this is crucial. We will have to come back to this
later. Whatever the genealogy of the doctrine of predestination, one may
investigate its link to ‘‘the spirit of capitalism’’. According to Weber,
however, the link is real and profound. Indeed, both the individual and
collective attitudes generated by this belief, as well as the related set of
religious and moral practices, have produced one of the most substantial
cultural and social changes in the history of the West, which happened
because the ethic turned out to be in perfect harmony with this ‘‘spirit of
capitalism’’. That harmony can be understood when one considers the
effects of the doctrinal position of Protestantism, of Calvinism in par-
ticular.
The first effect, and also the most global, is what Weber calls in a
phrase that remained famous, ‘‘the disenchantment of the world’’ ().
() The essential texts of St. Augustine are () Weber, op. cit., p. . (Tanslator’s note:
(in Migne Patrologie latine, Paris, -), Parsons translates: ‘‘the elimination of magic
De gratia et libero arbitrio (vol. ); De corrup- from the world’’; however, the phrase ‘‘disen-
tione et gratia and De predestinatione (Ibid., chantment of the world’’ has become common
vol. ). place in English and is therefore used here.)

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The first meaning is linked to the refusal of any sacramental mediation,

of any ‘‘magical’’ means of attaining salvation, of any sensual or emo-
tional expression, including religious music. Divine grace cannot be
sought; this excludes any idolatrous or superstitious attitude in the faith.
Generally speaking, Weber describes as magical or enchanted any world
organized by rituals. For him it also signifies a lack of rationality, a
position which of course is no longer acceptable in contemporary
anthropology.
This ‘‘disenchantment’’ is inseparable from another consequence: the
affirmation of radical individualism. For every believer is alone faced
with God in the matter of election. Since there is no conceivable inter-
mediary, the question of salvation becomes strictly personal. Weber sees
here ‘‘one of the roots of this pessimistic individualism, without illu-
sions, which today still manifests itself in the national character and the
institutions of peoples that have a Puritan past’’ (). Troeltsch comes
to the same conclusion: ‘‘This form of Christianity [Calvinism] produ-
ces a fundamental individualism of the most interiorized and harshest
kind’’ (). We will return later to the changes in social relations gene-
rated by such individualism.
As far as the revalorization of the profession is concerned, it follows
the same logic we found in Luther. However, there is a notable diffe-
rence. For Luther, professional duties supplement the function of the
‘‘good deeds’’. In Calvin, there is a more radical break between the order
of grace and the world here below, which makes it possible to live on
both levels in completely separate ways. Since the individual cannot in
any way intervene in the election, all he can do is to devote himself to
terrestrial tasks, to give himself over to his profession-vocation, as the
only means available to the sinner to honor the divine majesty.
But this is precisely how Christians can get closer to certainty about
salvation, at least if they have been truly saved. The more duties have
been accomplished conscientiously and rigorously, the greater the pos-
sibility of certainty. At this point effect turns into cause, and the exem-
plary accomplishment of tasks becomes a sign of being one of the cho-
sen. This work discipline is what Weber calls ‘‘rational asceticism’’ ()
or else ‘‘asceticism in the world’’ () as opposed to asceticism outside
() Ibid., p. . note  on p. : ‘‘The active energies of the
() Calvinismus und Luthertum, . The elect, liberated by the doctrine of predestina-
analyses where Louis Dumont discusses Cal- tion, thus flowed into the struggle to rationalize
vin’s positions, confirm this; see Louis the world’’. Weber explores this perspective
Dumont, Essays on Individualism (Chicago, more fully in other texts such as Sociology of
University of Chicago Press, ). Religion (Boston, Beacon Press, ).
() Weber, ibid., p. ; and also p. ; () Ibid., p.  et passim.


    

the world of traditional monasticism. Just as the monks were seeking

mastery of the body and desires by observing precise rules applied at
every moment of the day, so the Puritan aims at self mastery in the
rigorous and methodical exercise of his profession. In this respect
—without having aimed for it nor even understood it—the Protestant ethic
found itself in remarkable harmony with the spirit of capitalism; at least
with one of its aspects, for this spirit is not limited to the requirement of
methodical and honest work.
However, as in Luther’s case, it seems that Weber passes too fast over
an essential point mentioned above, i.e., the way in which the Calvinist
ethic tends to dismiss traditional social relations without being able to
institute others of comparable strength. Indeed Weber notes a number
of characteristics such as the suspicion of others (), the solitude of the
subject cut off from any intermediary, pessimism without illusions, all
this resulting in ‘‘this tremendous tension to which the Calvinist was
doomed by an inexorable fate, admitting of no mitigation’’ (). The
question then arises: how is a community possible under those cir-
cumstances? What shapes the form of Calvinist social relations?
Nevertheless, a community of believers exists, and it is even essen-
tiel (). But what makes it possible is each and every one’s desire to
testify by disciplined behavior to a life based on the hope (but not the
certainty) of election. And yet, as Weber admits, this in no way consti-
tutes a behavior of personal attention and affection towards others. On
the contrary, ‘‘any personal relation of person to person which is purely
based on sentiment—and thus devoid of rationality—can easily be sus-
pected of idolatry of the flesh’’ (). In summarizing all the attitudes of
denominations of the Calvinist faith, Weber does not hesitate to state:
‘‘the English, Dutch and American Puritans were characterized by the
exact opposite of the joy of living, a fact which is indeed, as we shall see,
most important for our present study’’ ().
At this point, Weber’s analysis stops. While he does give an admirable
description of the effects of this excessively harsh or even inhuman
ethic, he does not say, or says too little about, what he thinks should
constitute real community relations or what would be a more humane or
more amiable ethic. In many passages of his study he seems to grant
Catholicism this advantage. Thus, in opposition to the inner solitude of
() Ibid., p. . ‘‘The traditional American objection to per-
() Ibid., p. . forming personal service is probably connec-
() Troeltsch recalls Calvin’s ambition to ted, besides the other important causes resul-
constitute a kind of ‘‘sacred community’’ (see ting from democratic feelings, at least
Calvinismus und Luthertum, ). indirectly to that tradition’’.
() Weber, ibid., adds in note , p. : () Ibid., p. .


  

the Calvinist, he speaks of the Catholic, authentically human, to-and-fro

between sin, repentance, and absolution, followed once again by
sin’’ (). This remains rather allusive and needed to be elaborated.
Troeltsch extends the question to the field of aesthetics: ‘‘Catholicism is
in fact, more at home with sensuousness, in the widest sense of the word,
than Protestantism. And, accordingly, Catholicism entered into a much
deaper and more vigorous union with Renaissance art than Protestan-
tism did’’ ().
The major social effects of the break between the Protestants and the
Church of Rome are probably most noticeable at this level of the
expression of sensibility and community relations. It is also at that level
that the difference between Catholic ‘‘traditionalism’’ and Protestant
‘‘modernity’’ can be found. If indeed for Protestants divine grace is
manifested in the acceptance of the profession-vocation (Beruf), this
means in fact that henceforth social relations will have to be established
through this activity; to be sure, those are solid relations, but more
objective and neutral. They are relations without affect, i.e., functional.
Even though he does not pose the question in these terms, Weber is right
in considering this an extraordinary revolution. The question remains:
what older relations were abandoned and why did the Catholic tradition
continue to be faithful to them? And with what consequences for the
economy?

Grace, Protestantism and the Crisis of the Gift Relation

The dimension of the ‘‘disenchantment of the world’’, which is only

alluded to in The Protestant Ethic, appears more insistently in other
texts. This is the disappearance of what Weber calls ‘‘the religious ethic
of fraternity’’. We could also speak of the ‘‘disenchantment of the
community’’. By going back to this theme, I believe we can define a
crucial issue of which Weber had an inkling but which lies beyond the
horizon of his problematic.
Weber proposes the concept of fraternity in the framework of his
research on religions concerned with salvation and deliverance (Erlo-
sung) (). What does he mean by this? We are dealing here more with
() Ibid., p.  (my underlining). also, modern art everywhere proves the end of
() Op. cit., pp. -. Troeltsch adds Protestant ascetism; it is absolutely opposed to
later: ‘‘[Protestantism] never elevated artistic it in principle’’, Ibid., pp. -.
feeling into the principle of a philosophy of () The most important text in this
life, of metaphysics or ethics [...]. That was domain is that of , rewritten in ,
why it repelled the Renaissance. That is why, entitled ‘‘ Religious Rejections of the world


    

prophetic or ascetic movements inside established religions such as

Hinduism, Judaism, Christianity and Islam. These movements gene-
rally present the following characteristics: ) an attempt to interiorize
beliefs and thus the devaluation of rituals and ‘‘magical’’ practices to
attain salvation; ) the search for a spiritual method that makes it possi-
ble to obtain regularly inner goods (such as peace of mind); asceticism is
one of the possible but not necessary variants; ) finally, an attempt at
sublimating one’s relations with others to the point of universal or
unworldly love which makes any human a being worthy of the attention
and the love of the believer.
We are interested in that last point. This unworldly love requires on
the one hand the repression of kinship relations (to cut oneself off from
one’s family, from one’s clan, as Jesus demands for instance), but on the
other hand it establishes a community where relations between members
are modeled on the forms of ‘‘natural kinship’’ (Sippe). Weber calls this
the ‘‘religious ethic of brotherliness’’ (). Such an ethic implies first of
all the exchange of gifts and services, material mutual aid for subsis-
tence, mutual support in suffering. The effects on social life are impor-
tant. They can appear as the softening of hierarchical relations: the
powerful must help and protect the weak. At the economic level, the
ethic of fraternity prohibits interest bearing loans, encourages volunta-
rism and the sharing of wealth. Finally, on a more general level this ethic
turns every relation with others into a personal relation and eludes the
rational scrutiny of situations in favor of an affective attitude.
Now, explains Weber, it is precisely on the basis of the communal
experience of fraternity, at first limited to a ‘‘neighborhood grouping’’,
i.e., on the basis of personal exchanges, that the leap towards universal
love can occur, towards altruistic and generous relations with whomever,
a stranger, a foreigner or even an enemy. According to Weber, we are
dealing here with the offer of love for just anybody, which Baudelaire
defined as the ‘‘holy prostitution of the soul’’ () so characteristic of
Christian love.
Now, at a given point the religious ethic of fraternity ran into deep
conflict with the very movement of economic development. This
movement establishes a rationality that must put aside personal involv-
ement in the exchange of goods; define the cost of every productive
activity; obtain interest for the investment of capital to be productive;
and their Directions’’, in W M., Essays in () Ibid., passim.
Sociology (G H. H. and W Mills C., () W, ‘‘Les Foules’’, in Œuvres com-
trad. and ed., New York, Oxford University plètes (Paris, La Pléïade, t. I, p. ).
Press, ).


  

and for transactions to be efficient avoid bargaining and have set prices.
It so happens that the Protestant ethic met those requirements without
having aimed to do so, while the Catholic tradition remained attached to
‘‘the religious ethic of fraternity’’. Weber suggests this on several occa-
sions.
This gives us a clearer picture. Nevertheless, there remains some-
thing enigmatic, i.e., the role of the concept of grace and the doctrine of
predestination in the disagreement between Protestants and Catholics.
Weber does indeed take this doctrine very seriously, but only in as far as
in Protestantism it is the source of the radical break between the pers-
pective of faith and that of ‘‘asceticism in the world’’. He is not interes-
ted in its genealogy. As we have seen above, the doctrine of predestina-
tion is the radicalization of the doctrine of grace, which is the theological
version of the concept of the gift exchange, at least in the Christian
formulation. It is important for us to review the main elements of this
significant dossier because this question is at the heart of the ethic of
fraternity; it concerns the opposition between generous relations—acts
of gift exchange and profitable relations, i.e., market activity.
Why does Weber not dwell on the description and analysis of the
world of gift exchanges, several aspects of which he glimpsed? There are
several reasons. The first is that the issue was not really considered then
as a sociological or anthropological problem. To be sure, there were
publications, such as those of Boas or Thurnwald, that amply described
ceremonies of reciprocal gift exchanges. However, Malinowsky’s Argo-
nauts of the Western Pacific does not appear until , two years after
Weber’s death and Mauss’ The Gift, not until .
Even if Weber had lived longer, there is no reason to believe that this
problematic would have interested him more from a theoretical point of
view (). In his research, Weber had very little curiosity about the
so-called primitive societies; there are scarcely any allusions to them in
his texts. Given his usual methodological flair, he felt perhaps that the
available documentation in this area was still weak and poorly organized.
In any case, he limited himself to the great civilizations and their reli-
gions, where scholarship, and especially German scholarship, had pro-
duced first-rate knowledge.
() Sometimes Weber mentions gift Thurnwald who, besides his research on
exchanges in his General Economic history ancient Egypt, known to Weber, had done
(London, Transaction Books, ), but only fieldwork in the Bismarck and Salomon Islands
as incipient forms of trade. This confusion is in Melanesia; those results, published in ,
widely shared by other theoreticians of and admired by Mauss, were a prelude to
exchange such as Simmel in his Philosophy of Malinowsky’s investigation of the gift exchan-
Money []. Neither Weber nor Simmel ges on the Trobiand Islands.
paid attention to the work of their colleague R.


    

Today however, essentially in the wake of Mauss, the anthropological

documentation of ritual gift exchanges is one of the most solid and most
fascinating in modern anthropology (). If we were able to determine
in what way the ethic of fraternity discussed by Weber is indeed an
essential version of the problematic of the gift exchange, then we could
shed another light on the issues raised by the process of the ‘‘disen-
chantment of the world’’.
Before Mauss’ essay it was commonplace to classify the phenomenon
of the gift exchange among archaic forms of commerce; or it was
considered as one of the numerous expressions of courtesy which were
lavished among groups or villages during certain celebrations. They
were seen as analogous forms of our own traditions of the gift exchange.
Finally it was perceived as an act of moral generosity of a friend toward
his close relatives; that of the rich man toward the poor; or of a host
toward his guests. However, in its social form the gift exchange cannot be
reduced to any of these practices; it is neither trade, nor simple polite-
ness, nor a charitable act. What Mauss taught us and which numerous
studies in contemporary anthropology have fully confirmed is that the
system of gift exchange represents the fundamental form of expression
of relations between groups in traditional societies. There is no question
here of reopening the scholarship on the gift exchanges or presenting the
theory again. We will assume that the reader is familiar with the main
outlines of the issue. It is important nevertheless to recall here a few
basic elements in order for our argument to be coherent.
First of all, our approach needs be critical of the very concept of the
gift exchange. From the outset we tend to understand this notion in
moral terms. To give is an altruistic act which arouses the respect of
others. The more the act is perceived as discreet and sincere, the greater
the respect. On the basis of this notion one then proceeds to forms of gift
exchange that are more socially coded or institutionalized. It needs to be
() M. Mauss, The Gift, [] translated University of California Press, ); C. Gre-
by W. D. Hals (Norton, N.Y., London, ); gory, Gifts and Commodities (San Diego, Aca-
B. Malinowski, Argonauts of the Western Paci- demic Press, ); M. Godelier, The Enigm of
fic (New York, Dutton, ); C. Lévi-Strauss, the Gift (University of Chicago Press, )
The Elementary Structures of Kinship, transla- [Ed. orig. L’Enigme du don (Paris, Fayard,
ted by J. H. Bell, J. R. von Sturmer and R. )]; A. Iteanu, La Ronde des échanges (Paris,
Needham (Boston, Beacon Press, ); A. Maison des Sciences de l’homme, ); A.
Strathern, The Rope of Moka. Big-Men and Testart, Des dons et des dieux (Paris, A. Colin,
Ceremonial Exchange in Mount Hagen- ); Jacques Godbout and Alain Caillé, The
NewGuinea (Cambridge, Cambridge Univer- World of the Gift (Montreal, Mc Gill Queen’s
sity Press, ). M. S, Stone Age Eco- University Press, ); M. Hé, Le Prix
nomics (Chicago, University of Chicago Press, de la vérité : le don, l’argent, la philosophie
). Annette Weiner, Inalienable Possessions; (Paris, Seuil, ).
the Paradox of Keeping while Giving (Berkeley,


  

said that the approach which moves backwards from the ethical gift to
the ceremonial gift and evaluates the latter by the yardstick of the for-
mer, is irrelevant. At the least it may profoundly distort the understand-
ing of the traditional system of gift exchange. On the contrary, only by
correctly establishing the specificity of the latter can the nature of the
moral gift be understood. Hopefully we might then be able to consider
the question of the ethic of fraternity from a different perspective. How
then should the ceremonial gift exchange be defined?
The definition of ceremonial gift exchange may be applied to the
set of procedures by which a group, or an individual in the name of
a group, recognizes another group by offering it goods considered
precious, by words or acts of respect, by generally showing deference.
These acts of recognition and the goods that are their pledges, institute
intense relations, the most important of which is the matrimonial
alliance.
The concepts of recognition and relation are essential here. Giving is
an act of recognition because it is neither a question of exchanging goods
nor of meeting the needs of the other. In short, the act of giving has
neither a utilitarian objective, not even in terms of domestic economy,
nor a charitable objective. The precious goods that are offered (jewels,
shells, fabrics, wrought objects, livestock, festive food or drink) do not
aim at enriching the partner but at honoring him, at showing the
importance attached to the relation established with him. Most often
those goods do not leave the circuit of gift exchanges, even among shep-
herd peoples where the livestock is destined for ceremonial exchanges
and very little meat is consumed, and then only in ritual circumstances.
To say that the relation of gift exchange allows for reciprocal recognition
means that for human societies it is their own particular mode of esta-
blishing relations and maintaining them.
To be sure, it is a benevolent act but also a challenge; a risky move
of the self towards the other, a wager. It is always simultaneously
a self affirmation and the recognition of the other, the provocation
as well as the gratification of the other. To give is both to give up what
one gives and to impose oneself upon another with what one gives.
It is both an offering and a challenge, game and pact, an agreement on
the verge of disagreement, peace concluded at the edge of a possible
conflict.
This is why such relations are imbued with formalism and what
explains their ceremonial character. Malinowski underlines its impor-
tance: ‘‘I shall call an action ceremonial, if it is () public; () carried on
under observance of definite formalities; () if it has sociological, reli-


    

gious, or magical import, and carries with it obligations’’ ().

Obviously, we are dealing with institutional acts even when in certain
cases the relations only exist between individuals. But what are those
ceremonial obligations Malinowsky is talking about? Mauss was proba-
bly the first to identify them clearly. They are giving, receiving and
returning, i.e., giving in return. Giving is compulsory precisely because
it is the primordial way of recognizing the other and of constituting
relations between groups, and first of all to make matrimonial alliance
possible. Hence the obligation of receiving and giving in return. To
refuse a gift, or to fail to respond in time with a counter gift is to deny the
recognition that is offered and to enter into conflict. The problem is not a
moral one, i.e., whether one is more or less benevolent or generous. It is a
social one, i.e., to be part of the community or not. At this level it is
pointless to ask whether a gift can be a gift when it is compulsory. It
would mean unduly projecting on the ceremonial gift the question of the
moral gift. For Mauss, it can be summarized in a principle: ‘‘To go
outside oneself involves free and obligatory giving’’ (). Besides, this
obligation is never general; it is always determined precisely according to
the status of the partners (e.g., according to the position in the kinship or
the hierarchy) or the circumstances (weddings, deaths, seasonal holidays,
reconciliation rites, etc.).
However, no matter how institutional and public the practice of the
gift exchange, the relations established between partners are above all
personal, in two ways. First, because to give is to give something of
oneself or more precisely, it is to give oneself in the thing that is offered
and which constitutes the token of that act; hence the numerous forms
of magical protection surrounding these relations where one is exposed
to each other. Mauss insists: ‘‘by giving one is giving oneself, and if one
gives oneself, it is because one ‘owes’ oneself—one’s person and one’s
goods—to others’’ ().
Secondly, these relations are personal because exchanges most often
take place between statutory partners such as brothers-in-law, chiefs
among themselves, members of the clan and their chief, or chosen part-
ners, as for instance in the Trobiandan kula. To be sure, there are public
festivals between groups, as in the Kwakiutl potlatch, but even then they
happen through the mediation of the chiefs.
In short, the system of the ceremonial gift exchange constitutes a
tight network of bilateral relations through persons. Of course, this
() B. Malinowski, The Argonauts of the () M. Mauss, op. cit., p. .
Western Pacific (New York, E. P. Dutton, , () Ibid., p.  (underlined by Mauss).
p. ).


  

gives us a hint on how to expand on the Weberian opposition between

the personal and the impersonal. According to Mauss, we are not dealing
here with simple politeness, but with a ‘‘total social phenomenon,’’
which implicates the entire society in all its facets; it is the very expres-
sion of its being.
Rapidly summarized, these are the essential characteristics of
the procedure of recognition and community foundation. It must be
noted that this ceremonial and bilateral form is characteristic of seg-
mentary societies where the kinship system is identified with social
organization. At this point we face a question which will lead us back to
Weber and the problem of grace: what happens when segmentary
societies are included in a larger institutional whole, such as an empire,
or change into a type of political society themselves? In the first case, we
most often find that practices of gift exchange are maintained and
remain relatively unaffected by the appearance of a central administra-
tion. However, the image of an powerful outside authority can be deci-
sive in the idea of an asymmetrical gift, either as unequal (the subordi-
nate cannot really give in return) or unilateral (only the superior can
give).
The second case could be considered particularly interesting in that it
has left its mark on the Western tradition, that is the advent of political
society in ancient Greece. This complex phenomenon took place
through a progressive lessening of the role of the clans—gené—,
through the emergence of a shared public space, and in the recognition
of the written law as imposing the same obligations on all. One might
then ask what links members of the city to one another? Plato first
answers that this link is formed by reciprocal need (). But he under-
stands quite well that this explanation is insufficient. Referring to the
myth of Prometheus in the Protagoras, he gives us another answer: it is
the philia that Zeus, the supreme God, gives to humankind and which
allows them to form a civic community. This story says it all: needs
alone, and the related professions, cannot unite men. For that a divine
gift is necessary, an affective link that circulates among them but pro-
ceeds from a unique source. The passage from segmentary to political
society calls for capping the bilateral reciprocal link with a multilateral
collective link. One could say that the idea of grace is already emerging
in this mutation. Even if we only wanted to read the story in the Prota-
goras metaphorically, we would still have to deal with the Greek expe-
rience of the charis, as the public form of charm, as that which unites the
() Plato, The Republic, translated by F.M. Cornford (London, Oxford University Press, th
ed., , p. ).


    

citizens in the worship of beauty that transcends them all and is given to
all ().
At the same time the idea of a collective gift emerges, which makes it
possible to think the unity of the city as such, that is a civic link which
compensates for the disappearance of the ceremonial gift exchange; it is
also the time when the requirement of the individual gift is formulated,
left to individual initiative; in other words, the moral gift proper. This is
the type of generous gift analyzed and encouraged by the Nichomachian
Ethics. To call it a moral gift means that it becomes a virtue and no
longer in the first instance an act of reciprocal recognition, except
perhaps in encounters and festivals, but an act of mutual aid, which is
profoundly alien to the ceremonial gift. It is the type of gift celebrated
by Seneca in De Beneficiis. Give, he says, give without counting. Imitate
in this way the gods who give us life, the growth of plants, light, in short
all the blessings of nature. Finally Seneca ends up by saying: ‘‘God
bestows without any expectation of return; he has no more need of our
gifts than we are in a position to give him any’’ (). Besides the passage
from the plural to the singular, from gods to God, which gives the text a
monotheistic flavor, there is a surprising correspondence between this
affirmation and the Christian idea of grace. This occurs at a time when it
becomes prominent in St. Paul’s preaching, which itself is profoundly
indebted to the entire biblical heritage and which we should now review
briefly.
It is generally agreed that the term hén in Hebrew corresponds to the
Greek charis and the Latin gratia. Hén means the gift, or rather generous
act, of the only God; this does not seem to really correspond to the charis
of the city. Hén designates two aspects of one and the same reality: first
of all, the act of generous benevolence from a highly placed figure
towards an inferior. It also expresses the content of this favor, which in
turn gives rise to the idea of charm or even beauty that can be applied
more generally to people or things. While Greek grace concerns fore-
most the visible world and flows back towards the act, biblical grace
belongs to the act and can subsequently extend towards the visible
world. This conception of the favor granted by a superior to an inferior
(the connotation of hén is the attitude of leaning forward, to look down
indulgently) is common to all cultures and religions of the ancient
Middle-East ().
() C. Maier, Politik und Anmut (Berlin, Gallimard, ); J. Bottéro, La plus vieille
Siedler, ). religion (Paris, Gallimard, ); J. Bottero,
() De Beneficiis, IV-IX,  (Paris, Editions Mesopotamia: Writing, Reasoning and the Gods
Belles Lettres, , p. ). (University of Chicago Press, ).
() A. Lemaire, Le monde de la Bible (Paris,


  

In the biblical texts the image of God as a generous giver is a perm-

anent feature structuring three essential aspects of the Hebraic religion:
the election, the alliance, the law. The notion of alliance is particularly
interesting for us. Alliance, berith, is a term that normally designates all
sorts of pacts between individuals or groups such as mutual aid or peace
agreements. But a special meaning of berith concerns the vassalage pact
established between a powerful protector and an individual (or group)
placing himself under the former’s protection and in his dependency.
Such a pact is concluded ritually around a sacrifice involving dividing
the victim, most often a calf, in two. The partners go between the two
halves and then commit themselves with an oath; some memorial will
then mark the occasion: a tree will be planted or a stone erected.
Starting with the very first documents (), the biblical texts put the
alliance at the heart of the belief in the only God. While it is clearly
modeled on the vassalage pact, it has nevertheless a special feature: the
commitment is presented as having been initiated by the overlord him-
self. This is certainly a bold presentation. There does not seem to be
another example of an alliance between a god and a people, ‘‘this motif
seems to be a peculiarity of the religion of Israel’’ (). For this small
people of shepherds rebelling against the practices and life styles of the
urbanized peoples surrounding it, this was a way of giving themselves a
purely religious royalty, a king who was at the same time the unique and
invisible God. This means that no human authority could intervene
between God and his people. For ‘‘the children of Israel’’ any other
overlord is by definition excluded: ‘‘By submitting through an alliance to
the authority of a god, they elude that of earthly kings, of the pharaoh or
the little rulers of the Canaan city-states. They affirm their complete
independence and at the same time cement their union, for the rules and
the laws [...] are sanctioned by the divine sovereign when they replace
the prescriptions of the overlord in vassalage treaties’’ ().
This is an extreme case of the spiritual radicalism typical of peoples
of the desert or the steppe. For this poor nomadic people, more often
than not dominated by its neighbors, the alliance represents the privilege
of being elected. The berith proclaims the following: by choosing his
people, the one and only God himself proposes the pact that unites
them. The offer was not solicited, but it comes from above: ‘‘You have
seen what I have done to Egypt and how I carried you on the wings of
eagles and had you come to me. And now, if you listen carefully to my
() See A. Caquot, ‘‘La religion d’Israel’’ () Ibid., p. .
in Histoire des Religions (Paris, Gallimard, () Ibid., p. .
, vol. I, p.  sq.).


    

voice and if you keep the alliance with me, you will be for me
my personal property among all the peoples, for the whole earth is mine.
And you will be for me a kingdom of priests, a holy nation’’ (Exodus, IX,
).
The structure of this alliance, which is totally original in the context
of vassalage pacts, makes it possible to understand the equally unique
character of grace, of the divine favor, hén, as an act that is uncondition-
al, sovereign, absolutely free and which cannot be reciprocated. The
absolute transcendency of the divine gift will be at the heart of the most
powerful currents of Christianity.
At this point we can finally reconsider the question of the gift as such.
As we have seen, we dealt with three types of gift relations:
— first of all the ceremonial gift exchange which above all aims at
recognizing the partner and constitutes the very social life of traditional
societies;
— then we encountered the unilateral gift from the sovereign or the
city, and its variety of versions in the Greek charis or the biblical hén; we
call this grace;
— finally there is the individual gift of the moral kind which depends
on the free decision by the donor. This gift can be reciprocal or not; it is
above all the expression of generosity and compassion. This is the act
which Aristotle made into a virtue and which Seneca recommended all
should practice. We could probably situate what Weber calls the ‘‘reli-
gious ethic of fraternity’’ at this level.

Generally speaking, we are dealing with the form of social relations in

each case. And thus, where the transition from a clan society to a political
society occurs, as in Greece for instance, in short from a segmentary
system founded on a tight network of reciprocal services to a system
organized around a center—the meson of public space—we will also find
a crisis in the system of the ceremonial gift exchange and ritual reci-
procity, inseparable from punitive justice. Greek tragedy testifies to this
crisis. Then it becomes necessary to invent a link for the new commu-
nity, i.e., the polis, that will be as strong as the link provided by the
ceremonial gift exchange. The answer lies in the double movement of
the divine charis and the individual philia. The collectivity has to be
wholly enclosed in relations that will ensure its unity, just as the network
of gift exchanges between private individuals manifests this grace. The
practice of the generous act, i.e., the ethic of the gift exchange, remains
reciprocal. Providing a network of commitments is precisely what needs
to be done. Yet reciprocity itself is in crisis, as De Beneficiis shows.


  

Reciprocity can no longer be understood and is reduced to the search for

one’s advantage, do ut des.
Now the pure gift needs to be affirmed, without the expectation of a
payback. For Seneca, the reciprocal gift no longer has any meaning.
Only a totally gratuitous gift is truly a gift, the gift that imitates the
divine gift. Without unconditional offerings social relations will fall
apart. In short, after the crisis of the ceremonial gift linked to the
emergence of the city, there comes the crisis of the moral gift linked to
the dismantling of the city.
Then at the same time and in a very different context, Jesus’s preach-
ing encounters just such a crisis, as is shown in a remarkable study by
Camille Tarot (). ‘‘To the question of who must give, to whom and
what, Jesus answers: who? everyone; to whom; to all and what? every-
thing [...] In this sense of overabundant generosity, in the refusal to limit
or even stop the gift, there is potlatch in the attitude of Jesus and his
disciples’’ (). The requirement of a limitless generosity is the most
audacious response to a situation of virulent conflict between several
political and religious tendencies: Pro-Roman followers of Herod,
legalistic Pharisees, purist Qumranians, Samaritans, Sadduceans, Esse-
nes. In this hopelessly blocked and shattered society, the requirement of
unconditional charity offers a universal solution. Henceforth, only thus
can another community become possible.
Each crisis reflects a different stage in the process as gift exchange
relations become more and more interiorized; it testifies to the
increasingly radical movement towards purity of intention, when offer-
ings become unconditional. One could say it is the type of crisis that
reoccurs with Luther’s dissidence and then Calvin’s. However, a new
and unknown threshold is crossed here: God alone can give, no human
gift can add to the divine gift which has to be received by faith. As for the
rest, it is important to stick to what is our vocation: everyday life in a
profession. And so the ‘‘religious ethic of fraternity’’ is set aside; and so
the Protestant ethic finds itself in accord with the spirit of capitalism
which prospers at the moment when the system of gift exchange is
fading away. By restricting the power of giving to God, the doctrine of
predestination leaves it up to the world of work and business to manage
social relations.
If the gift exchange relations and the personal bonds they imply have
become burdensome, it is also because a more profound movement is
() ‘‘Repères pour une histoire de la nais- () Ibid., p. .
sance de la grâce’’ in Revue du MAUSS (),
.


    

emerging. Indeed, everything is happening as if the thought of the

Reformers, driven by theological necessity, obeyed the logic of a fund-
amental change taking place primarily in the urban settings of com-
mercial Europe. It is indeed in those settings that a form of rationality
prevails at the level of daily life itself, which hitherto had only concerned
clerics. This is also the environment where commercial exchanges based
on contracts, even modest ones, overtake relations of service, mutual aid
or gift exchanges. One could say that the legitimate condemnation of the
misuse of ‘‘good deeds’’, made it possible to devalue charitable relations
when it became important to give free reign to contractual relations.
Neutral and rational, only the latter allow for the type of exchange nee-
ded by capitalism. A good Hegelian would see here an extraordinary
ruse of history. A good Weberian would find himself forced to elaborate
on or even go beyond Weber’s analyses, or at least to complement them.
For instance, the following question needs to be asked: what is happen-
ing in Catholic Europe at that same time? If indeed, as Weber sometimes
mentions, Catholics were able to preserve more human social rela-
tions with deeper roots in friendships, this supposedly was also because
they retained closer links to peasant and artisan communities, in spite of
the expansion of large commercial cities. In short, to validate Weber’s
thesis, attention needs to be focused on the Catholic ethic and the spirit
of non-capitalism. It so happens that the elements for such a study exist
even if its goal is different. This is Clavero’s work, mentioned above.

The Catholic Ethic and the Spirit

of Non Capitalism According to B. Clavero

In spite of its limits, Clavero’s book, Antidora. Antropologia catolica

de la economia moderna (), is of major interest in that it presents the
missing piece of the case opened by M. Weber and E. Troeltsch. His
method, documentation and hypotheses make his argument quite
convincing. The two German sociologists enabled us to understand the
profound link between Protestantism and emerging capitalism. Calvero
makes crystal clear the relation between Catholic doctrine and an idea of
the economy which resists the very emergence of capitalism. However,
this wording still implies a retrospective approach, as if the rise of
capitalism had been either resisted or applauded by one or the other, at a
time when no one had named or recognized it as a global process.
() Op. cit. see note .


  

Catholics no more knew they were resisting capitalism than the Calvi-
nists knew they were favoring it. By situating himself as much as possi-
ble at the level of the actors in the past, Clavero shows that things were
lived and understood in significantly different ways from what a retros-
pective perspective imagines.
With respect to the Catholic world, it is customary to mention only
the central role that the condemnation of profit, identified with usury,
supposedly played in burdening banking and trade. That point is well
established (). How then can we account for the equally severe
condemnation on that score in Luther’s preaching? Clearly, this gene-
ralization is insufficient. Actually, the prohibition of usury is but the
negative side of the essentially positive injunction of generous recipro-
city. Clavero finds a name for it which recurs in theological treatises or
manuals on morality during the Renaissance: antidora, a term from the
Greek which literally means counter-gift. In short, usury (this definition
covers all profits) stands condemned because it contradicts the require-
ment of charity, of the obligation to give in return. However, things are
not that simple, as we will see. For this command implies a whole way of
thinking related to ideas of friendship and justice, of what is natural and
what is artificial, of intention and formalism, of symmetrical equality
and proportional equality, of family and state.
Before returning to these issues, I would like to make a preliminary
commentonClavero’sanalyses.Inadvancingsuchahypothesis,theauthor
could have been expected to make an attempt to find out more about
generous reciprocity, either in earlier Western thought, or more gene-
rally in what anthropology has brought to light since Mauss wrote about
relations based on the system of gift exchanges in traditional societies.
Calvero does not ask these questions. He even appears to exclude them
in his methodological concern to rely solely on documents of the period
in question, the th and th centuries in Spain. For him this seems to
guarantee avoiding the risk of imposing alien concepts on the past.
Such a choice unquestionably increases the credibility of his argu-
ment since it produces convincing results without outside recourse.
However, it also weakens its scope since it remains silent on the entire
philosophical (Aristotle and Seneca for instance) and theological (the
Church Fathers and Medieval theologians) tradition concerning the
condemnation of profit and the valorization of gratuitous generosity.
Most significantly however, it fails to situate this ‘‘Catholic anthropo-
() B. N. Nelson, The Idea of Usury PUF, ); Le Goff, Your Money or Your Life
(Princeton University Press, ); J. Le Goff, (New York, Zone Books, ) [Ed. orig.: La
Marchands et Banquiers du Moyen Age (Paris, Bourse ou la vie (Paris, Hachette, )].


    

logy’’ in the general framework of a problematic of gift-giving found in

every culture. Finally, even if his argument shows how the rejection of
profit was formulated, it does not say why the Catholic world tended to
resist the emergence of economic practices which suited the Protestant
ethic so well. To clarify this difference is going to be a most difficult
theoretical task.
The main lines of Clavero’s argument focus on a number of issues
that may be summarized as follows: the priority of generous and chari-
table relations over contractual and legal relations; the priority of pro-
portional and distributive equality over strict commutative equality; the
priority of the order of family and friends over public and administra-
tive authorities. Those three types of priorities can be found in theolo-
gical treatises as well as in exchange practices. This implies a whole
range of important consequences when it comes to legal formulations,
debates about the legitimacy of business dealings, and finally the pree-
minence of the order of grace with respect to everything that could be
thought of as the ‘‘economy’’.
Let us consider first of all generous relations. In the discourse of
Catholic theologians, social relations are understood to be defined by
charity. Charity means benevolence, friendship, to wish the other well, to
help him and support him. Such relations are presented as the only
‘‘naturel’’ and spontaneous ones. Natural, because they arise from the
order of things desired by God. Besides, they are also God’s relations
towards man: pure generosity without calculation. There is community
among men only because there exists between them the same type of
relations God has established towards them. ‘‘It is with the same charity
that we honor God and our neighbors,’’ writes Victoria, a Spanish
theologian at the beginning of the th century (). From this alone
ensues the illicit character of usury. By usury is to be understood every
form of profit in loans. According to one author of that time: ‘‘There is
no doubt that to accept a high rate of interest for money given is in itself
unjust’’ (). Usury is identified with profit no matter what it is. This
refusal is nothing less than a divine command: ‘‘the Lord says: give each
other loans without expecting anything in return’’ (). However, and
this is the point, it does not prevent the beneficiary from giving back more,
not for the lender’s profit, but as a token of gratitude. The surplus in the
restitution is in turn a mark of generosity. Clearly, Victoria and so many
other theologians of his time pose the problem in these surprising terms:
he who provides a loan in reality makes some kind of a gift and he who
() Cited in B. C, La grâce du don, () Cited in ibid., p. .
op. cit., p. . () Ibid., p. .


  

returns it with a surplus only gives back and honors the received
gift. ‘‘Obtaining something through friendship does not constitute
usury’’ (), affirms a theologian. This is indeed the remarkable process
of Catholic thought: translating the loan into a gift and the interest
received as a counter-gift: antidora. The economic transaction has cer-
tainly taken place, but is understood or at least presented as an act of
generous reciprocity. This means that it remains in the range of personal
relations, in the logic of the ‘‘warm’’ social link. Hence the emergence of
the concept of antidora. For anyone familiar with classical Greek voca-
bulary, this terms seems strange. One could have expected antidosis (gift
in return, exchange) used by Aristotle. Clavero pretends not to know this
as he only refers to Spanish treatises of the sixteenth century that use the
Latin term antidorum or the feminine form antidora. What prevails is the
idea of an obligation that is not legal but moral or statutory. The require-
ment to be generous also has its antecedents in the ethic of gift-giving as
formulated by Seneca. What appears surprising is the precedence given
to the notion of counter-gift rather than gift. Clavero does not seem to be
quite familiar with the contemporary anthropological data on this issue.
He only tells us that the term has been sanctioned by numerous texts.
This may be so. Those he cites seem to imply that giving is always also to
give back, the reply to a gift which already preceded us. This is unders-
tandable in a universe haloed with divine grace; and one could consider
that the prefix anti insists on the point of view of the beneficiary and his
response.
As we see, theological thought that privileges the logic of charity and
of gift-giving relations, ends up recoding profitable actions in terms of
this logic. It is easy to surmise what the ‘‘modern’’ problem will be: to
uncouple economic activity from the relations based on the exchange of
gifts that remain personal, fraught with ‘‘warm’’ sociality, dependency,
affects. This is precisely the uncoupling that will be achieved by the
Lutheran doctrine of profession-vocation (Beruf) and by the Calvinist
thought of inner-worldly asceticism.
Thus the major problem posed by Catholic doctrine is not only the
devaluation of business for the sake of charitable relations, but even
more the formulation of business as a variation of those generous rela-
tions. All in all, this moral theology of exchange requires the translation
of any form of commercial exchange in terms of reciprocal gifts. The
risk then is that agents of financial exchanges will play on words, and
hypocritically call loaned money received gifts and returned gifts the
money paid back with interest. Of course, it is precisely to deal with such
() Cited in ibid., p. .


    

a risk of abuse that the question of intention is introduced: the generous

relation must first be an inner disposition, otherwise the gift-giving
relation could hide ‘‘mental usury’’ ().
Intention makes all the difference between the profitable and the
selfless act. The power of intention then allows for the constant transfer
of the commercial exchange into the order of charity: to loan as if one
were giving, to pay back as if one were giving back liberally. Intention
operates the translation of the commercial relation into a gift-giving
relation.
This is why the charitable order is radically different from the legal
relation, from the order of the Law ruled by the category of the contract:
‘‘The law of friendship (jus amicitiae) precedes and prevails over the
Law itself’’ (). What is the goal of friendship? It is to make friends, as
Aristotle told us already, which is another way of saying that the
exchange of goods has no other purpose than to maintain or reinforce
social relations. Such is not the purpose of the order of the Law. What is
the latter’s domain? It is to attend to the formal equilibrium of relations.
It defines what is due according to convention, not nature. It insures that
nobody is wronged, no more. It does not expect feelings of gratitude
from partners. Thus it can guarantee that the merchant will be comp-
ensated for his efforts and his work. But these earnings have no charita-
ble value. The legal relation does not engage partners personally. It does
not create social relations. It strictly insures that due is given and
punishes when commitments are not respected. Thus it operates in a
restrictive rather than positive mode. It distributes, limits, protects,
constrains, prevents, punishes, confirms, concludes. It does not per se
create links between two individuals.
The contract is undoubtedly its most constant expression. In busi-
ness the latter fixes prices, financial interests and temporal limits to
commitments. It is restrictive, i.e., it imposes an absolute obligation—
such as guaranteed profits—under the threat of sanctions. It does not
require good intentions directly, nor the expression of benevolence, even
if such sentiments may accompany or favor it. That is why the contract
is the clearest expression of the legal order. However it would be exces-
sive to reduce the idea of justice to this form alone. There are indeed two
types of justice, one which is strictly contractual and egalitarian and is
called commutative. The other type, a superior and more flexible type,
remains compatible with the order of charity. The latter is distributive or
proportional justice. These are of course Aristotelian categories, revived
by Thomas Aquinas in the Middle Ages.
() Domingo de Soto, cited in ibid., p. . () Ibid., p. .


  

Commutative justice presupposes or institutes formal equality

between partners; it ignores differences in status or resources; it only
takes into account that which is exchanged. In that respect it is abstract
and impersonal. This is why it is appropriate for contracts which also
deal with objects and tend to ignore the uniqueness of the contracting
parties. On the other hand distributive justice is superior because it is
more subtle and remains compatible with the order of charity. It is
proportional in as far as it takes into account the status of agents, such as
the difference between husband and wife, parents and children, master
and servant, lord and peasants, etc. In this particular theological
conception this means that it fits well with the ‘‘natural’’ order of things.
This ‘‘natural’’ order of things, which constantly dominates this
outlook, means first of all that society is nothing but the association of
families. Even though Aristotle had established the primary and natural
character of the family, he nevertheless considered that the order of the
city which presupposes it, is different and superior (). This idea still
persists in Scholastic thought. However, in large sections of Catholic
theology, the family takes over as the social authority. ‘‘The family pre-
vailed and with it charity, a dimension that has priority over justice.
There existed a certain autonomy of the family that was superior to the
civil, political or social order, just as there existed a religion that deter-
mined this autonomy by capturing it’’ (). Besides, the vocabulary of
the family presupposes its natural character when it names the relations
within the Christian community: father, brother, sister, mother. This is
not new but the erosion of the civil order reinforces its impact. This is
why the economy also wants to be ‘‘natural.’’ It is supposed to be just a
family affair, household business, very literally that of the oikos. Hence
the ‘‘oïconomia’’, according to Clavero. There is no general economy,
but there are particular economies for each household (). Here an
anthropological perspective needs to complement Clavero’s: the family
in question is the kinship system, or rather what at the time was called
the parentele, the Roman or Medieval familia, bound together by reci-
procal obligations of service and mutual aid.
We can now begin to see some of the consequences of these concepts
and practices. First, it is impossible to imagine an economy in the
modern sense of the term in this universe of the antidora. Or rather, this
is in fact an economy (production and exchange) but without economic
objectives. Clavero needs to be reminded that this is true of all ancient
economies and those of all traditional civilizations. Economic objectives
() Polit. I, a-. () Ibid., p. .
() B. C, op. cit., pp. -.


    

presuppose the rationality of investments aiming at profits in order to

further increase the investments. But to make a profit in order to increase
one’s well being and prestige, that is a traditional attitude. From that
point of view then Catholic culture is not specific but essentially faithful
to the immemorial values of social relations based on the exchange of
gifts, and to aristocratic values of lavish liberality.
The second consequence is that if the charitable relation is more impor-
tant than the order of the Law, there will be insufficient legal form-
ulation to regulate contractual exchanges. One could say that it is pre-
cisely in this matter that the Protestant world will take the turn towards
modernity by allowing the world of business to decree precise rules for
commercial and financial transactions. Economic rationality cannot
function without conventions that fix prices, obligations and deadlines.
But what happened in the universe of the antidora? ‘‘Actually at work
here were relations of grace. Banking activities could leave no room for
economic forecast nor for legal responsibility [...] The legal system did
not offer enough coverage; judges were incapable of providing it’’ ()
[...] The banks could not count on a proper legal system’’ (). What was
there instead? Clavero answers: a society of patronage and clienteles, in
short a society where relations centered on the exchange of gifts and
services imply the personal commitment of partners. These are relations
between protectors and protegees. This is not a marginal dimension but
an entire world: on the one hand celestial protectors, that is saints with
various competencies, and on the other hand terrestrial protectors,
relatives or well placed friends. It would be interesting here to continue
the analysis and try to understand in which way a form of classical cor-
ruption is nothing but the perverse crossing of the traditional logic of the
gift exchange with that of modern business; the concept of corruption
indicates then the point at which they clash, are confused and become
incompatible. One thing appears remarkable: while the term grace in the
Protestant context invariably evokes the doctrine of predestination, in
the Catholic context it implies first of all the idea of charity, but also the
idea of relations based on personal favors and almost clan-like solida-
rity ().
() Ibid., p. . them very clear. There is general agreement
() Ibid., p. . that Catholic theology and sermons remained
() This study needs to be supplemented faithful to the concepts of charity and generous
by further research into the cultural roots of gift-giving, implying a more personal and
the two traditions in Western Christianity. The active sociality than in the Protestant world,
case of the Orthodox tradition would also need while the latter was acknowledged to be more
to be reevaluated. Comparing the results modern and efficient
obtained by Weber and Troeltsch with Cla- However, the fact that the Protestant ethic
vero’s findings makes the distance between corresponded to the world of business and


  

*
* *

Perhaps we should now measure the distance we have covered so far.

We started out with Weber’s thesis on the convergence of the Protestant
ethic and the spirit of capitalism. Weber clearly outlines the increase in
rationality generated by this ethic, the rigidity of which he recognizes at
the same time. He clearly shows in what way the Protestant doctrine of
predestination, by reinforcing the notion of divine transcendence, leads
to the paradox of another reinforcement, that of the investment of
human capacities in professional life. Weber notes then that such a
transformation does not occur in the Catholic world where an ‘‘ethic of
fraternity’’ continues to prevail, which is certainly more livable but less
favorable to the economic rationality and its dynamics embodied by
capitalism. Why the resistance? Weber does not say. Interestingly,
something becomes doubly clear by considering the issue of grace, so
central to the dispute between Protestants and Catholics, as the trans-
formation of the anthropological question of the gift exchange, i.e., as
the interiorized version of the unilateral gift. First of all the Protestant
doctrine of the absolute nature of grace is the affirmation of the
intransitive nature of the divine gift to which no answer is possible.
Hence predestination. It is not even desirable any longer to interiorize
the gift. Freed from an impossible response, the believer is called on to
honor God by his work: Beruf, profession-vocation. This is the only way
social relations will be established. They are relations of reciprocal
dependency rather than of mutual attachment.
What also becomes clearer is the condition of societies where ‘‘the
religious ethic of fraternity’’ prevails, which is the interiorized form of
emerging capitalism, and that the Catholic mation spread almost exclusively in the areas
ethic seemed to have resisted, does not explain that were not subject to the tradition of Roman
why the Reformation spread primarily in Law. This would certainly be a major factor in
Northern Europe and why the Latin countries creating the differences. Other less obvious
remained more faithful to Rome than the elements need to be brought out; those would
others. The traditional answer is to oppose the make it clear that the opposition between Pro-
urban and progressive North to the agricultu- testantism and Catholicism originates less in
ral and conservative South. This would mean doctrinal differences than in a sharp diver-
an opposition between the individualism of the gence between two models of structuring the
cities and the ancient solidarity of the social bond, the anthropological origins of
countryside. Then what about Northern Italy which remain to be unearthed. The first model
where capitalism first emerged? What about is based on the interdependence of needs and
the great commercial centers of France and the logic of profit; the second model ack-
Southern Germany that remained Catholic? nowledges the importance of status, solidarity
Conversely, how then to explain Luther’s suc- and personal relations, which remains close to
cess among the poorest peasants? Other para- the traditional forms of community and then
meters need to be taken into account, such as appears as a lack of modernity.
for instance the fact that the Protestant Refor-


    

the traditional gift exchange. Catholic culture maintains the principle

that a return gift to God is possible, by giving to others, in short by
charity. Social life and exchanges then remain under the influence of that
requirement. Clavero’s inquiry shows this clearly. The primacy of per-
sonal and generous relations over neutral and contractual exchanges led
to an ethic which turned out to be ineffective given the needs of capita-
lism in its emergent phase. We must note here that this maladjustment is
and remains characteristic of all traditional cultures where there is warm
sociality dominated by links of kinship and reciprocal obligations.
Whatever the anthroplogical and historical antecedents of the opposi-
tion between Protestantism and Catholicism may have been; whatever
the doctrinal reasons for the break, there remains the exemplary diver-
gence between the two resulting types of ethic. Those two attitudes are
no longer theirs alone; they can be found everywhere in contemporary
societies. In a way they have been ‘‘globalized’’: the one tends to manage
social relations in a rigorous and operational way, while the other will
first appeal to privileged personal trust. Perhaps it is the talent of the
new spirit of capitalism to call on them simultaneously or to mix them
with innocent cynicism. *

* Translated by Anne-Marie Feenberg.

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