Toward a Chivalrous Economy

Contributed by Richard Y. Rodgers

In 1790, Edmund Burke mourned the death of chivalry.¹ He saw in its passing the dimming of the moral soul of society. He lamented not merely the specific customs of knighthood but the virtues that had animated them—honor, magnanimity, reverence. Burke foresaw what we now confront: a world governed by “sophists, economists, and calculators,” in which the cold calculus of self-interest has displaced the higher calling of human flourishing. It is a crisis that demands a remedy not only economic but moral. To this end, I propose the revival of what may be called a chivalrous economy—an economic order informed by virtue, subordinated to the common good, and animated by a vision of man as more than a mere instrument of production or consumption.

It must be acknowledged that elements of capitalism have alleviated material want and lifted millions from poverty. Yet, one must not forget to throw out the bathwater for fear of losing the baby. The economic structures of modernity, formed in the crucible of Enlightenment rationalism and industrial capitalism, have, in their pursuit of efficiency, reduced man to a cog in a machine. The market, which should serve man, has instead become his master. While lifting people out of poverty is a worthy achievement, it does not justify systems that subjugate the dignity of the human person. Consumerism, that most seductive of idols, lures us into measuring worth by purchasing power, while gig economies and transient employment undermine the stability of the family and the dignity of labor. It is entirely possible to uplift people without reducing them to mere consumers or workers in a race toward ever-greater efficiency. The liberals of Burke's age have reappeared in ours, and the consequences are plain to see.

Nowhere is this dehumanization more evident than in the condition of the family. Economic pressures, born of policies that exalt productivity over community, compel both parents into the workforce, leaving children to be shaped by screens and strangers rather than by the loving care of their mother and father. Housing has become unaffordable, healthcare has become unattainable, and the sacred duty of raising the next generation is treated as but an obstacle to the relentless pursuit of more. Such outcomes are not the result of blind chance; they are the fruit of a worldview that venerates material gain while neglecting moral responsibility.

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, speaking at Harvard in 1978, offered a prophetic diagnosis of the West’s spiritual malaise.² He saw a society captivated by materialism. “The constant desire to have still more things and a still better life and the struggle to attain them imprint many Western faces with worry and even depression, though it is customary to conceal such feelings. Active and tense competition fills all human thoughts without opening a way to free spiritual development,” he observed. Solzhenitsyn’s words remain as true today as they were then. We have exalted the economy at the expense of the soul, sacrificing virtue on the altar of efficiency.

Yet—hope remains. A chivalrous economy begins with a renewed understanding of human dignity. Rooted in the Christian tradition, it sees man as the imago Dei, endowed with inherent worth and an inheritance that transcends this world. This vision calls for the family to be recognized as the cornerstone of society. It is the family in which virtue is nurtured: to restore the family is to restore society, and this cannot be done without subordinating economic aims to the higher end of human flourishing.

Central to such an economy is the principle of subsidiarity, which holds that matters ought to be handled by the smallest and most local competent authority. This principle does not negate the role of larger institutions: it simply insists that they are auxiliaries, not masters. Families, churches, and local communities must be empowered to fulfill their natural roles, unburdened by the bureaucratic excesses of distant governments or the rapacious tendencies of global corporations. A chivalrous economy, inspired by this principle, would favor the flourishing of voluntary associations—charities, cooperatives, and civic organizations—over bloated welfare agencies whose remedies often perpetuate the maladies they aim to cure.

Complementing subsidiarity is the principle of solidarity, which recognizes the interconnectedness of all men. Solidarity insists upon a moral obligation to one’s neighbor, whether rich or poor, worker or employer. It calls us to reject the false antagonisms that divide society and to seek, instead, a spirit of cooperation grounded in mutual respect.

Distributism, as articulated by G.K. Chesterton and Hilaire Belloc, provides a concrete framework for such an economy. It advocates the widespread distribution of private property and the means of production, opposing the concentration of wealth in either the state or multinational corporations. This is not an egalitarian fantasy but a defense of human dignity, calling for policies that promote family-owned businesses and local entrepreneurship. Such an arrangement restores to men the fruits of their labor and safeguards them from the depersonalizing forces of monopoly and collectivism.

Yet economic reform alone is insufficient. As C.S. Lewis so perceptively argued in The Abolition of Man, when a culture denies objective moral truth, it produces individuals incapable of true virtue—what he called “men without chests,” governed by mere instinct and appetite rather than reason and duty.³ Such a society, bereft of higher goods, cannot sustain justice or order. Similarly, T.S. Eliot, in Notes Towards the Definition of Culture, warned that a civilization severed from its spiritual roots will inevitably wither, for culture is not merely an aesthetic or intellectual enterprise but the very soul of a people.⁴ If we are to revive the chivalrous spirit, we must recognize that culture is not incidental to virtue.

Wendell Berry, too, offers wisdom in this regard. A chivalrous economy, as Berry illustrates in Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front, is more a philosophical ideal than a practical expectation, but it remains no less true in its implications.⁵ Berry critiques the modern obsession with quick profits and transient gains, urging us to embrace practices that prioritize long-term, sustainable value—such as planting sequoias, trusting in a future we may not live to see. Restoring seasonal rituals and following the religious calendar can help ground us in these timeless values, fostering a deeper connection to the land and one another. While this vision may seem idealistic, the essence of a chivalrous economy—focused on stewardship, tradition, and lasting purpose—remains a powerful and true guide for how we can reorder our lives and work.

To build such an economy requires courage—the courage to challenge the idols of our age and to reclaim the principles that make for a just society. It is not a call for mere reform but for renewal, for the recovery of a vision that sees man not as a means to an end but as an end in himself. Edmund Burke grieved the loss of chivalry, yet his lament can inspire us to recover its spirit. As T.S. Eliot wrote, “The end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” Let us, then, return to the wisdom of our forebears, guided by the enduring truths of faith and reason. In so doing, we may build an economy that exalts not wealth but virtue, not power but dignity—a chivalrous economy for a modern age.

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN

A version of this article originally appeared in Wealth of Nations, the February 2025 print issue of the Salient.

1. Burke, Edmund. “On the Death of Marie Antoinette”, 1793.

2. Solzhenitsyn, Aleksandr. “A World Split Apart.” Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn Center.

3. Lewis, C.S. “The Abolition of Man.” 1970.

4. Eliot, T.S. “Notes Towards the Definition of Culture.”

5. Berry, Wendell. “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front.”