Interview
Culture
Economics
S&U interviews
5 min read

Can the economy work for the common good?

Adrian Pabst on the economic framework that is universal yet particular about people.
A man talks animatedly looking at the camera while sitting against a wood panelled wall.
Fondazione Centesimus Annus Pro Pontefice.

Adrian Pabst is Professor of Politics at the University of Kent, and deputy director at The National Institute of Economic and Social Research. His lecture on Just Economy? Catholic Social Thought, Mutualism and Roads Not Yet Taken, was a highlight of the Lincoln Lectures series, organised by Together for the Common Good. Financial markets journalist Laurence Fletcher talks with him to discover more about his thinking.

 

There is no shortage of commentators ready to point out the apparent deficiencies in the UK’s economy. Widespread in-work poverty, poor productivity growth, regional inequality and a perceived reluctance among employers to train up British workers are just some of the accusations that can be levelled. 

But finding realistic, workable solutions is more difficult, as successive governments have found. Is the answer to be found in having higher levels of tax and government spending, or lower? Should governments be intervening more, or give more room for free markets to work? With a general election on the horizon, and with issues of economic growth, government spending and taxation likely to feature prominently, such questions are particularly pertinent. 

Offering one alternative way of tackling the problem is Professor Adrian Pabst, a political scientist at the University of Kent, who is an expert on so-called Catholic Social Thought. This approach, which was developed in the 19th century and draws from the Bible, focuses on the dignity of the individual, care for others and the common good, with the aims of social renewal. It provides a framework for thinking about big topics such as international relations, the economy and the environment, and Pabst believes it has much to say about our economy today. 

Catholic Social Thought “is very particular. It always speaks to the moment. And it’s highly universal because of it,” he said in a recent interview. “This is what the world is like and this is how we must act.” 

Pabst rejects both the idea that everything is fine with our economy (“mythical stories about things working”) and the belief that “everything going to hell in a handcart”. 

Instead, his approach is to look at some of the apparent contradictions in our economy - strengths alongside related weaknesses. For instance, how can a country be rich but have poor citizens, or have a very high output of goods and services while many people do not partake in them? Or how can many people have become worse off in recent years, even though wages are growing? Or how can the UK boast an “incredible” City of London that is one of the world’s top financial centres, yet have people without access to capital? 

“We have to be realistic about where we are - a low wage, low growth, low productivity economy. We can pay people higher wages over time if we increase productivity. That comes from investment,” he said. 

Free markets have at times been heralded as either the answer to all our problems by some on the political right, or the cause of so much misery by some on the left. But Pabst’s approach is more nuanced. Markets should not simply be “the engine for ever-greater inequality”. But, crucially, they are not inherently bad in and of themselves, and often the problem is instead down to a market being stacked in one side’s favour.  

“Markets are not one thing,” he said. “They are an outcome of ownership, regulation… There is not a problem with markets per se, but it’s the wrong regulation, ownership concentrated in a very few people. 

“There are lots of things we can do much better. But if we replace the market with the state, we’d just be doing [communism] and ultimately we’d be poorer,” he added. “The question is, are we putting society first?”  

(As an aside, he also takes a more nuanced view on former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, who he believes brought both positives and negatives). 

Big tech firms are “oligarchies accountable to no-one. It’s simply not a tenable position. They’re like media companies yet they’re not subject to media laws… We’ve allowed them to build private infrastructures. It needs to be tackled.”

So what would Pabst actually change? 

For starters, he believes that too much capital is directed towards the wrong purpose, namely financial speculation. While some would argue that speculation plays an important role in the economy, for instance in price discovery in markets or in taking the other side of the trade, say for farmers who want to hedge crop prices, Pabst is keen to see the economy produce “goods and services that have real worth”. Significantly for how society is structured today, he argues that we do not need “a class that lives off assets at the expense of everyone else”. 

Other areas also need to change, he believes. Loopholes should be closed to make it harder for companies to use agency workers rather than employing people. Trade unions need to be encouraged and improved. A national investment bank, grouping together the existing, disparate pots of money, could direct capital to sectors and regions where it is needed. As is already the case in Germany, companies and society would both benefit from having employees on their boards. 

More economic decisions can be devolved from national government to a local level, but challenges such as climate change or regulating the big, powerful technology companies - which he describes as “modern day plutocracies” - should be tackled at a higher level. 

Big tech firms are “oligarchies accountable to no-one”, he said. “It’s simply not a tenable position. They’re like media companies yet they’re not subject to media laws… We’ve allowed them to build private infrastructures. It needs to be tackled.” 

And (more of a comment on the US than the UK) he sees little value in companies reporting earnings quarterly, which he said is driven by “short-term profit maximisation”. 

Intriguingly, Pabst does not shy away from taking a stance on one of the most divisive issues of our times: immigration. 

Catholic Social Thought, he explains, is humane and pro-immigrant. But, to break with what he calls “a low wage, low skill model”, mass economic migration is to be discouraged, because it is detrimental to both the sending and receiving countries. 

“[We say] yes to refugees, to asylum. But no to mass economic migration,” he said. 

So, going into an election, how likely are we to see things change for the better? 

Rather than being optimistic - the belief that eventually things will get better - Pabst is hopeful, because he believes that things could be different, but he is not necessarily expecting it. 

“I remain hopeful,” he said. “I just don’t quite see who’s going to do it.” 

Article
Belief
Culture
Film & TV
Identity
5 min read

Wednesday works wonders bringing the outsiders in

Tim Burton’s echoes of C.S. Lewis

Lauren writes on faith, community, and anything else that compels her to open the Notes app. 

Wednesday Adams scowls while Enid smiles.
Wednesday and Enid.

There’s something delightfully ironic about the mainstream success of Wednesday – Netflix’s Addams Family spin-off directed by Tim Burton. With its whimsy gothic aesthetic, star-studded cast and viral TikTok dance to boot, the first season was a highly bingeable hit in 2022. This summer, the split-release of season two scored over 50 million streams in its first five days. But beyond its cult-like reception lies something deeper: a collective reckoning with identity, acceptance and the desire to belong. 

Jenna Ortega’s Wednesday Addams is an outsider among outsiders. Upon returning to Nevermore Academy – a supernatural boarding school meant to be a haven for ‘freaks, monsters and outcasts’ – she finds herself more alienated than ever. Don’t feel sorry for her: she’s difficult, destructive and I’m not sure I’d want to share a dorm with her (or her pet disembodied hand, Thing.) But that’s why we love her so much. 

Wednesday ‘taps into that sense of not quite fitting in that everyone has,’ praised Marina Hyde on her The Rest is Entertainment podcast. ‘We all feel like we’re the kind of excluded weird mad kid from Burbank, as he [Burton] was growing up.’ 

C.S. Lewis termed the phenomena of not quite fitting in as the ‘Inner Ring’ – the unwritten systems of belonging that permeate all areas of life, from early youth into old age. It can neither be fully defined nor totally avoided. Lewis suggests that all people, at some point or another, experience this ‘desire to be inside the local Ring and the terror of being left outside.’ Ultimately, he warns, this pursuit of surface-level or self-furthering belonging ‘will break your hearts unless you break it.’ 

Lewis, one of Christianity’s most profound cultural influencers, was stirring a deeper call among his fellows Christians: to remember that the gospel is not just good news for those sitting comfortably in the pews – it’s good news for those outside. It’s good news for those searching for belonging in a world that prizes conformity and feasts on exclusivity. 

Tim Burton’s genius lies in his ability to reach out, subverting the mainstream and dismantling the Inner Ring, seemingly with ease. Everyone’s an outsider, so no one is an outsider. As in Edward Scissorhands or Jack Skellington from The Nightmare before Christmas, Burton’s decision to not only tolerate but to celebrate the outcast bridges the gap between the socially excluded and socially accepted. 

The sense of belonging that Burton creates doesn’t feel twee, manufactured or forced. It isn’t the sort of embrace that comes under strait-laced conditions, either. He cultivates spaces where the strange, the sad and the misunderstood become protagonists, empowered to tell their own story. He boldly platforms that which is different, unwilling to conform or compromise. Even the visual language of his work is distinct and unashamed, and his trademark scribbled twists and turns that creep into set designs, costumes and title sequences. 

In Wednesday, this contrast is emphasised by a window that is half-spiderweb, half-kaleidoscope, dividing the room that Wednesday shares with Enid, the optimistic and bubbly roommate. They’re an extreme black-cat, golden-retriever pairing who have little in common, except for feeling that they don’t fit in. 

Their desire for belonging and acceptance looks different. Enid cares very much about how others view her, whereas Wednesday’s cold defiance masks her vulnerability to be seen, known and accepted. This symbolic shared space, and the friendship that is imposed upon Wednesday by Enid, signals a deeper truth: belonging is not found in sameness, but in recognising what connects us and how we can honour one another in spite and because of our differences. 

The subversive nature of Burton’s imagined universe holds a dim mirror to the liberating reality of God’s Kingdom.

While Burton elevates the outsider, his worlds often remain solitary and cut-off. But the Church, at its best, offers not just visibility but the embrace of fellowship. Jesus consistently chose people on the margins – lepers, tax collectors, women – and invite them into relationship. The gospel accounts for him taking less efficient travelling routes seemingly to encounter the lonely, the sick and the despised, to share news of their belonging to God, whose love for them was so strong that he would dwell not only among them, but within them through his Spirit. 

The culture of the early church was informed by Jesus’ example, and their meetings were a mosaic of cultural, ethnic and social diversity, brimming with unlikely partnerships and clashes of custom. Paul reaffirmed the concept that all are ‘one in Jesus Christ’ in his letter to the church in Galatia, declaring that ‘there is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female.’ This is not a call to erasure, but to radical inclusion. Rather than everyone being an outsider, as in Burton’s world, everyone is an insider in the Kingdom of God. 

Perhaps it isn’t about whether Tim Burton or the Church has done more for outsiders, outliers and outcasts, but to invite personal challenge: Am I willing to get used to different? To disturb my norms, routines and expectations in the name of mutual inconvenience? To embrace a little mess and chaos for the sake of greater unity? 

The subversive nature of Burton’s imagined universe holds a dim mirror to the liberating reality of God’s Kingdom, where the last are first, the poor receive a rich inheritance, and the margins become the centre. Where Burton’s audience may find solace in shared strangeness, the gospel offers something greater: a home not built on similarities and commonalities, but on divine welcome and spacious grace. And an unlimited set of keys to welcome others to their room, too. 

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