Many in the media industry believe that audiences prefer lighter content on weekends, even though data doesn’t fully back this claim. I find this notion worthwhile, though. The relentless pace of news can make it challenging to step back and view things from a different perspective.
I recall Sundays from my childhood when my father left early for coffee, returning with the newspaper and the weekly magazine. The magazine was full of engaging content, especially the children’s section, while I largely ignored the harder news in the newspaper. At the time, I was only about ten years old.
So, it’s clear I lean towards weekend content, and with that in mind, I write this piece. However, I aim to keep it mostly thought-provoking rather than overly gentle. What I propose is a thought exercise that encourages us to reassess some of our entrenched beliefs.
We often hear that we live in an era defined by the homo economicus, which doesn’t accurately reflect human behavior. Humans do not function as perfect machines solely focused on maximizing profits. Even efforts to adopt such a mindset are hindered by emotions, biases, and desires.
In fact, we exist in a time where almost every aspect of human life has been commodified. Even rest has to be ‘productive.’ Financial gain appears to be the primary motivator at both personal and societal levels. While GDP serves as a limited measure of growth, we continuously refer to it. Our relationships—with ourselves, others, and society—are almost invariably mediated by an elusive concept we fail to precisely define: money.
Money As the Tao of Today
According to the foundational text of Taoism, the Tao Te Ching, and its most notable interpreter in the West, Alan Watts, the first principle of Taoism is that “the Tao that can be defined is not the Tao.” Watts elaborates:
“There is no definition for it. It is referred to as ‘the Way’ or ‘the course of things.’ It encompasses what everything fundamentally is—what you are. It should not be defined, just as there’s no need to bite your own teeth or touch one finger with another. It underlies everything—eternal; it is what exists; it’s that which eludes definition.”
We may consider that which defies definition, yet permeates our existence today, to be money. Conversely, the money we can define is not truly money. What is it then? A commodity? A medium of exchange? A store of value? A means of payment? An accounting entry? A digital mark? A social construct?
Indeed, our understanding of money encompasses all of these aspects and more. However, we cannot confine it to a single definition, as new interpretations constantly emerge, rendering prior definitions obsolete. Thus, while we cannot identify a concrete representation of money, it permeates every aspect of our lives. It constitutes the essence of existence, the origin of all endeavors as well as their ultimate aim.
In the past, people required minimal money to survive because they had access to most essentials. Today, however, in many regions around the globe, money is required for everything essential to life. We have constructed a society that hinges on the continuous flow of money, leaving it ambiguous whether money serves as a medium for other purposes or has become an end in itself.
As the entity that allows us to pursue our insatiable desires, money has transformed into the object of our longing, as it promises to unlock all those aspirations. However, this yearning is perpetually unfulfilled due to a fundamental realization of lack—what Lacan referred to as “objet petit a.” This lack signifies our understanding that we possess no inherent reality; our identities are products of our circumstances. Money, then, becomes the reality we depend upon, affirming our existence through our unquenchable desires.
This principle governs how we structure our societies. The pursuit of our desires drives our actions because without them, we lack purpose. Hence, money becomes the tangible embodiment of our yearning, much like our desires, it cannot be precisely defined; the moment we do so, it evolves into something else. Consequently, money stands as something indefinable: “It is basic to everything — eternal; it’s what exists; it’s that which eludes definition.”
Capital and Labor Arise Mutually
The second principle, as per Watts, is one of mutual arising: “This means that the great contrasts of life—black and white, positive and negative (or, as the Chinese say, yang and yin), self and other, long and short—are not in opposition; they coexist much like the north and south poles of a magnet.”
In this context, if we accept that money represents the essence of everything, we see that capital and labor emerge together, not in conflict, but as two sides of the same coin. Labor generates capital, which subsequently creates additional labor that produces more capital, ad infinitum. Money provides substance to both forces.
Without money, labor would cease to exist. Labor is that which we expect to receive financial compensation for—whether we actually receive it or not. Thus, for labor to persist, money must exist; where there’s money, there’s capital, either as a form of accumulation or as something that can be obtained through it.
To grow, capital requires labor, with that growth measured in monetary terms. Yet, if money symbolizes the essence of existence and the fulfillment of our desires, the quest for more capital is never-ending, consequently driving increased labor. Therefore, money functions both as the means and the end from which both capital and labor are derived, sustaining a constant supply of money.
Marx’s critique of capital, which subjugates labor, often overlooks the mutual relationship between money and both systems. In the Taoist view, this would be akin to criticizing day for oppressing night; indeed, day cannot exist without night.
The Invisible Hand as Wu-Wei
Alan Watts defines the third principle of Tao as wu-wei: “It essentially signifies ‘not interfering’—not acting in a manner that contradicts the natural order.” However, this does not imply complete passivity; rather, it encourages acting in harmony with the flow of life, in accordance with the Tao, the Way.
If money embodies the Tao, with capital and labor emerging from it, then it is instinctive to allow these forces to work in harmony. Labor and capital converge in the markets, in both their abstract and tangible forms, while humans cooperate with these elements by aligning with the natural order. By permitting labor and capital to interact freely, we are participating in “accordance with the course,” which is essentially living by the principles of money, the Way.
Adam Smith referred to this phenomenon as the invisible hand: the way self-interested individuals respond, often unintentionally, to the dynamics of supply and demand, thus harmonizing labor and capital. According to Taoism, “humans are viewed as part of nature, or in unity with nature,” in this case represented by money, working in tandem with the markets like a sailor navigating a sailboat with the wind.
Interfering with this natural order can lead to instability and should be avoided. Those who intrude prioritize either labor over capital or vice versa, without comprehending their mutual dependence. This is similar to trying to legislate that day should extend into night or vice versa.
But Money Can Never Be the Tao
I realize that this thought experiment stretches the imagination. The Tao, as understood in Chinese philosophy, cannot be equated with money. For Taoism, the Tao encompasses the essence of everything, including the natural world, distant galaxies, and even dark matter—the very fabric of existence. Money cannot encompass this totality, even though we are constantly trying.
In our societal realities—where a newborn arrives not with original sin, but rather with an original monetary debt—the parallel between these principles might offer insight into the substantial role the economy plays in our lives.
This exercise may also reveal the ironic nature of our perceptions, helping us to better contextualize the significance of the economy in our lives.
