Beyond wealth and wellbeing: how nations flourish

As GDP data is increasingly scrutinised, Ryan Gilfeather asks how to measure the true health and wealth of a nation.

Ryan Gilfeather

Ryan Gilfeather explores social issues through the lens of philosophy, theology, and history. He is a Research Associate at the Joseph Centre for Dignified Work.

Two women sit behind a press conference desk against a backdrop, one listens as the other speaks and gestures.

A recent International Monetary Fund press conference on the world economic outlook.

IMF.

Discussions of GDP loom large in our current age. As we live under the shadow of the threat of a recession in the UK, ministers and commentators anxiously follow our country’s Gross Domestic Product, to see whether we are on the right track. Measuring the total value of goods and services produced in a country, this figure is a litmus test for the health of an economy. Crucially, many policymakers and leaders in government believe this figure reveals the health of a nation.

As we will see, not all agree. Opponents rightly highlight that an increase in GDP does not necessarily mean that ordinary citizens live better lives. There are good reasons to share this opposition from a Christian perspective. However, ultimately, the Christian tradition highlights a very different way to measure the health of a society.

In 2020 The Carnegie UK Trust, a think tank campaigning for greater welfare for all, published a new measure for social progress: GDWe (Gross Domestic Wellbeing). In brief, they gathered and processed ONS (Office for National Statistics) data on a variety of domains in life, giving them a single figure on a 10-point scale to rate well-being. These domains included personal well-being, relationships, health, vocational activities, living environments, personal finances, the economy, education and skills, governance, and the environment. When they plotted GDP against GDWe from 2013-9, they revealed that the two do not always line up. As GDP steadily increased from 2016, overall welfare in society dipped. From 2013-9 GDP increased by 10.34 per cent and GDWe only 5.19 per cent. Hence, measuring GDP does not necessarily reveal whether life is getting better for ordinary.

Economic resources are not useless... However, they are not sufficient unto themselves for us to live full and good lives.

This attempt to shift the conversation about social progress from predominantly centring GDP is commendable. The Bible does not legislate on whether to use GDP or GDWe. However, scriptures within it repeatedly decouple economic wealth from flourishing. For example, in the gospel of Matthew, Jesus says the following:

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal, but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

In life, we can either focus our efforts on attaining wealth or fostering our relationship with God. Only the latter will lead us to flourish. Economic resources are not useless; they are necessary for us to thrive in certain conditions. However, they are not sufficient unto themselves for us to live full and good lives. Furthermore, when wealth becomes the focus of our hearts and minds, our lives will be hollow and fractured. GDWe is a good measure, insofar as it acknowledges that economic flourishing is not the same as a good quality of life, and it attempts to shed light on the latter. However, the Christian tradition highlights a different framework altogether to grasp the health of a society.

Gregory of Nyssa, a fourth-century theologian and bishop, frames wellbeing as a human being reflecting the image of God to the greatest of their ability. The book of Genesis says that God made us all in His image. Gregory argues that this means that we can become like God in certain ways. God is the fullness of all good things, such as love, justice, peace, joy, and courage. Consequently, Gregory argues that when we act in good ways, we begin to share those characteristics, which in turn leads us to act well in the future. For example, if I defend someone who is under attack, I will become more courageous, and more likely to repeat the same action in the future. The more we reflect the image of God, by acting well and taking on His characteristics, the more we will flourish as individuals. In this vision of human flourishing, Gregory brings together an Aristotelian account of virtue, with a Christian understanding of people as the image of God.

This framework for the well-being of an individual also provides a good barometer for the health of a society. All of these actions and characteristics are building blocks for a healthy society. So long as we have a good sense of how to act appropriately with love, justice, peace, joy and courage, then our actions will build up our common life together. They benefit all, rather than one. They are not zero-sum actions. Accordingly, a society made up of individuals who are acting well and reflecting the image of God would be very healthy indeed.

As a measure of a society, we should ask whether it leads citizens away from virtuous actions and characteristics. For example, between 2019 and 2021, gun murders in the USA rose by 45%. Earlier this year, journalist John Burn-Murdoch argued this rise is partly due to decaying public trust in that country. This tells us that a culture marked by fear of others can lead some of its citizens to commit terrible actions and live lives full of violence. GDP may rise during this time, as may other markers of welfare. However, to see the whole picture we need also consider how societal forces are leading citizens away from flourishing in their reflection of the image of God. Then, we should go about addressing these malignant forces.

In times of adversity... individuals in societies marked by high levels of trust are more satisfied with their lives and act more benevolently.

At the same time, we should also consider how a society enables its citizens to reflect the image of God. Societies with high levels of social trust create space for a variety of positive actions and characteristics. The World Happiness Report studies people’s sense of life satisfaction worldwide. It routinely finds that in times of adversity, like the Great Recession in 2008 or the COVID pandemic, individuals in societies marked by high levels of trust are more satisfied with their lives and act more benevolently than others. Again, these social forces are not the same as GDP, yet they have a significant ability to shape the extent to which citizens can reflect the image of God, and thereby flourish.

In my work for the Joseph Centre for Dignified Work, I am particularly concerned with low-wage workers’ pay and conditions. As I have argued elsewhere, low pay leads to some workers needing to take on two or more jobs. They, consequently, have no time to see their children, nourish their faith, or participate in community institutions. It is clear, therefore, that the widespread pattern of paying below the Real Living Wage (£11.94 p/h in London, £10.90 elsewhere), hinders people in their expression of love for God, family and neighbour. Pay and conditions are but one further example, amongst many, of how societal forces can hinder or help our flourishing in the reflection of the image of God.

Needless to say, GDP and GDWe are still useful and necessary tools. However, they do not tell the full story. GDP only describes the progress of the economy as a whole, and GDWe can only describe the quality of an average person’s life. In contrast, when we set a goal that each citizen should reflect the image of God, we can begin to explore how societal forces enable or squeeze out this aim. With this greater knowledge in mind, we can strive for progress in our nation by fostering good structures and stamping out bad ones, so that all may reflect the image of God to the greatest of their ability.

Article

Assisted dying

Comment

Mental Health

2 December 2024

6 min read

No, it is not your life to dispose of

What could not be said about the assisted dying debate

Steve Hellyer

Steve is the former vicar of St Matthew's Oxford.

Empty bus seats are lit in dark neon colours.

Vy Tran on Unsplash.

It is 1979. I am aged 23 and have been in great mental and emotional anguish and pain for years. I am on a pointless journey, on Greyhound busses, from the East coast of America to the West, and am presently sitting in a parked bus just outside a city in Arizona; the powerful engine idles as we wait for departure time, giving a gentle to-and-fro rocking motion to the bus. I have not eaten for days, am unspeakably tired of my life, and have made a written list of possible ways to end it.

But not on that list is one possibility I have not previously considered, but which is now before me. As I look out to my right, up into the Arizona desert hills, I realise that here is an option which perfectly fits with my desire, not so much to do away violently with myself, as simply to drift into a passive oblivion; I realise that I could simply rise from my seat right now, get off the bus, stumble off into the desert hills, lie down, and wait to die. I need not shoot or poison myself after all. I know I can do this, and fairly easily; to die will take time, but no matter. No-one knows where I am, no-one will know I am missing, no-one will come looking for me, and probably no-one will find me. It is suddenly an immensely attractive prospect, and I am seconds away from rising up from my seat...

There is one thing, one thing only, that makes me hesitate; it is what other people would call ‘a religious belief’, but to me it is simply a truth.

It is this; I am absolutely sure that there is a God. And suddenly there is something grimly, darkly humorous even, in what I thus believe will follow my death; I will find myself, not in peaceful oblivion, but in the presence of God. I will, as they say, ‘meet my Maker’. And what then will I say to God? I will say: “Apologies: I could not go on, there was no other way out for me”. But what, I reason, if God were then to say: “You are wrong. There was a way forward. Look: you could have stayed on the bus, and had you done so, let me show you how your earthly future would have panned out…” And I will listen, and I will watch, as the film rolls on, showing me an alternative future. But of course, by then it would be too late…

And suddenly, sitting on that bus, in a moment of cold clarity, I realise, with a kind of desolate logic, how I am caught. In a very real sense, my belief in God my Creator means that I am not in fact ‘free’ to dispose of myself; more, that what I refer to so glibly as ‘myself’ is not in fact MY self. The bus ticket in my pocket may be ‘my’ ticket, my rucksack ‘my’ rucksack, but my life is not after all my possession, mine to dispose of; it is a loan, a gift, from a Giver, to Whom I am responsible, answerable…

I remain in my seat. The bus continues its gentle rocking motion a while longer. The driver gives his familiar 1970s Greyhound driver’s recitation, the various admonitions and prohibitions I have heard so many times as I have crossed America, I could give the speech myself (ending with the words ‘and no marijuana’, which always raises a smile) – and the bus pulls out onto the freeway. I look back over my shoulder at the desert hills as they recede, and feel I am leaving more than the desert hills behind; I am still in deep pain, but know I have left a possibility behind me, for good. Months later I will reflect on this moment and realise with a smile that the name of the city where I had put death behind me by not rising was Phoenix.

And so my journey has continued – on, in due time, to a return to England, to a measure of healing, to getting ordained as an Anglican priest, to thirty-four years of Church ministry, to marriage to a very remarkable woman, to fatherhood of two children - and, at some future moment, to my own death: all in God’s time.

How shoddy, shrunken and lonely, is our much vaunted and trumpeted vision of the autonomous individual.

The word ‘God’ was probably used very little, if at all, in the MPs debate on assisted suicide - and this debate has really been about assisted suicide, not ‘assisted dying’, given that people will be given drugs to self-administer. Even the Christian MPs who spoke, did not mention God, as they knew what could be said, and what could not, in order for them to be heard at all. The public arguments for, and against, the legalisation of assisted suicide have almost without exception had to be premised on one agreed assumption, apparently the only one now permissible in a post-Christian, liberal humanist, agnostic/atheist society: the assumption that my life is mine. The arguments used for assisted suicide resolve down to: “It is my life: I should be allowed to decide when to end it”. Most of the arguments used against resolve down to: “Yes, of course, granted, agreed, it is your life: but there may be unintended consequences for others in allowing you to end it, others may feel obliged to end their lives”, etc. At no point could anyone say, as I so passionately would claim: “No, it is not your life to dispose of”; there is now, it seems, no public place for the apostle Paul’s blunt statement in his letter to the Church in Corinth: ‘You are not your own.’

Yet this is now one of the most fundamental beliefs of ‘my’ life: and I have found it to be totally liberating and beautiful. I think of those glorious sculptures on the outer walls of Chartres Cathedral, including the representation of the creation of Adam, presented as emerging from the very mind of God. I think of the glory of man and woman made in God’s image as stewards of creation. I think of the extraordinary wonder of the Incarnation, of God embodied in Christ. I think of the sufferings of Christ on the cross; and I think, yes, of course I think, of the sufferings of my fellow men and women and children, and of my own sufferings, and of the call to me to shoulder the burden, both of living, and of dying, in God’s time.

And, alas, I think I also see something of how shrivelled, how wizened in comparison, how shoddy, shrunken and lonely, is our much vaunted and trumpeted vision of the autonomous individual – “my life, my rights, my body, my choice” - in the dominant contemporary Western mindset, eating away steadily like a corrosive acid any wider conception of community and the social institutions that enshrine it, and any sense of a deeper accountability to God.

Where will the current assisted suicide decision ultimately lead? What is the destination? It is difficult to predict, but the signs from other countries who have gone down this road are not good.

But what do I know? Do I have answers to all the questions around assisted suicide? I confess I do not. But one thing has become clearer to me: I am on a very different journey from the one my nation is travelling now.