I Chose Liberty - Ludwig von Mises Institute

James V. Schall 319
recognize with this same Aristotle that we can put too much emphasis on wealth to the
detriment of other more important things in life. Moreover, contrary to many ecology
schools, the world is in fact an abundant place, almost as if it is inviting us to “increase,
multiply, and dominate” it. There would be something radically wrong with a position
suggesting that we ought not work on, improve, make beautiful and productive the land
and seas we are given.
This consideration also brings us to the Platonic notion that our faculty of desiring
material things is, in itself, unlimited, and thus a potential cause of disorder among us. It
needs to be controlled by virtues, specifically those of liberality and munificence. Liberality
was the virtue that enabled us to use a moderate amount of riches for our real good, including
the good of freely giving. Munificence was the virtue of those who had much wealth.
Aristotle was quite clear that wealth in itself was neither an evil nor a detriment to
virtue. He proposed that a great amount of wealth could have a very high social purpose.
Generally, he indicated that it be used for three purposes: for beauty, for truth, for goodness;
think of art galleries, university chairs, hospitals. He understood the need for a certain
graciousness in the use of property. Rich and poor really did not differ when it came to
their possibility of practicing virtue. The poor could be generous, as could the wealthy.
Both could be stingy and narrow. Virtue and vice are not external to our own souls.
I have entitled this essay, “Confessions of a Practicing Socialist.” This experience of
actually living a “socialist” life made it clear to me that such a life, while legitimate in certain
circumstances, is not for everyone and itself depends on that which is not socialist. The
reason for this peculiar title, then, is that I am a member of a religious order whose members
have vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Basically, the effect of these vows is that
members have no private property of their own in any form. They neither own nor use
common property simply on their own choice. Since property was designed, in Aristotle,
as the material support of family life, not having a family means not having a great personal
need for private property. Greek philosophers understood this point.
The purpose of such vows was pretty much the same as that found in Plato’s proposal
for commonality of property, wives, and children, namely to be freed from certain real and
worthy obligations in order to be at liberty to devote one’s full attention to other projects.
The Christian solution to the Platonic proposal was not commonality of wives or children,
or the genetic engineering and state day-care regimes that went with it. Rather it was not
having wives, children, and property in the first place, a more humane and manageable
solution, though one not meant for everyone.
Thus, I have lived most of my life as a “practicing socialist.” Any income that I might
receive from work or gifts belongs by right, actually by gift, to the Order. The Order can
in law own property, but not the individual members of the Order. “From each according
to his capacity, to each according to his needs” is pretty much the principle of monastic
living. Such vows do not mean that one has no access to food, clothing, or shelter, but that
these are not one’s own, one’s personal property to do with as he wishes. Like Plato’s guardians,
we dine in common dining halls. The emphasis is mostly away from personal possession
and toward the freedom to do things without having to worry overly much about personal
wealth and its conditions.