Narratives of Catastrophe

This article was first published in an online journal called ‘State of Nature’. As is the way of online publishing, the journal no longer exists. So here is the article, updated and revised, on narratives of catastrophe:

Reports of catastrophe seem to be all around us. It may be the urgent matter of global warming and environmental collapse, or signs of the decline of the ‘West’, or of refugees flooding the last citadels of liberal democracy, of the Eurasian integration of China and Russia, or indeed the culmination of United States democracy in President Trump. Some catastrophes come and go, while others remain with us.

However, if we look a little closer at the way these stories are told in many parts of the world, they seem to follow some familiar patterns. The imminent catastrophes might be new in some way, but the shapes of the stories are certainly not. I like to call them the narratives of Noah, Jonah and Repentance – especially in cultures influenced in complex ways by the Bible.

The Noah Story

Let me use as an example the most consistent picture of catastrophe: climate change and environmental destruction. Despite the desperate efforts of the climate change deniers, the scientific evidence is overwhelming. We have overused the earth’s resources; in fact, thinking about the earth as a ‘resource’ is part of the problem. Since the industrial revolution, the parts per million of carbon in the atmosphere have risen to dangerous levels through our thirst for fossil fuels. We have been encouraged to consume more and more, or at least those in the rich third of the world have. Needs we never thought we had have suddenly arisen, encouraged by the propaganda (advertising) industry. We use too much water, too many plastics, we fly too much, drive too much, eat too many processed foods. Our demand for ‘energy’, produced by heavy-polluting power stations, grows and grows. And when it gets hotter and hotter we simply turn the air-conditioner up. Our ‘carbon footprint’ is far too high.

The scenario here is as grim as it can get. Large-scale extinctions are already under way, clean water for human beings becomes increasingly scarce, crops begin to fail in areas that have been until now the bread-baskets of the world, low-lying coastal cities (the major commercial centres) go under water as the sea rises, diseases we never have seen become rampant, increases in starvation follow, the Greenland ice-cap melts, the Arctic becomes ice-free in summers, large chunks of the Antarctic ice shelf break away, the Gulf Stream stops and northern Europe freezes up, extreme weather events increase, such as storms, floods, and cyclones, the tropics extend their reach into temperate zones, the deserts grow, and life itself faces its biggest challenge.

But how is this story often told? One form is drawn from the age-old structure of the biblical story of Noah. Told of a coming catastrophe (the Flood) some years in advance, Jonah sets about building a massive boat according to a divine blueprint. His neighbours laugh and mock and his family thinks male menopause has addled his brain. But Noah keeps building. When the catastrophe does arrive in the form of torrential rain and subsequent flooding, Noah manages to ensure a remnant makes it onto the ark, two of some species, seven of others, as well as his own family. Eventually the floods subside and the ark finds a resting place in order to start life again (except for the fish who have done rather well).

More than one account of our impending doom has invoked this story form. The occasional Hollywood catastrophe film (meteorite strike, space invasion, monster storm and what have you) has its own version of the Noah’s ark story. Indeed, there is an environmental organisation called ‘Planet Ark’, focused on the planet as a whole, whole some in the environmental movement have called on this story as a means for ensuring some species survive.

An excellent example of the use of the Noah narrative is the ‘Survivalists’, a loose movement that shares the same basic assumptions. For them the arrival of Peak Oil and the catastrophic effects of global warming will mark the end of society as they know it. They buy land in remote areas that will be least affected by global warming, learn to become entirely self-sufficient, and seek to free themselves from oil dependence. However, this is not a collective act, done for the good of everyone. Instead, it is a retreat from the masses, a move to ensure that they will survive, even if everyone else will not. So they stockpile weapons and ammunition to protect themselves from the starving, dispossessed hordes that will soon be raiding their land looking for food and shelter. In other words, they seek to build their own ‘arks’ for the coming deluge and will fight off anyone who might want to join them uninvited.

The Jonah Story

Another version is what may be called the Jonah story, a title I draw from the biblical book of the same name. In that wonderful fictional novella Jonah is called by God to go and preach doom and destruction on Nineveh (in present-day Iraq). Jonah is less than impressed by the job description and heads in precisely the opposite direction, boarding a ship, incognito. But God is not going to let him get off the hook so easily, so he follows Jonah, brings on a great storm (as gods tend to do) and then forces him to admit to the crew that he is a prophet fleeing a less than attractive commission. They promptly toss him overboard, the storm ceases but a great fish swallows Jonah, swiftly gives him submarine passage to Nineveh and spits him out on the shore nearby. Properly pissed off by now, Jonah decides to let Ninevites have it. He strides about the city, crying out with great relish that the end is nigh, that they have only days left. Then he takes himself to a hill and finds a comfortable spot to watch the fireworks.

So also do the Jonahs among us take grim satisfaction in telling us that the world is coming to end and that there is nothing we can do about it. No-one will change, they say, people will keep on consuming far more than they should, species will keep becoming extinct, and armies will be deployed to turn back those who come hammering on the gates of the wealthy nations. No one will in fact repent, people have brought this catastrophe on themselves, so damnation to the lot of them. Like Jonah, they preach destruction to an evil generation who will not change. Catastrophe is coming, so we had better get ready for it.

Call to Repentance

Apart from the Noah and Jonah narratives, a third approach involves repentance. Indeed, the purpose of the narrative itself is to call for repentance. In regard to the environment, one book after another, or one film or documentary after another, calls on us to repent of our destructive ways. We are to assess and reduce our ‘carbon footprint’, or find eco-friendly ways to live, whether growing our own vegetables, showering less, buying carbon offsets, or indeed walking, cycling and taking public transport. Or in the case of fossil fuels, repentance requires giving up our addiction to coal and oil and finding some other energy source, whether bio-fuels, or power from sun, wind, tides and hot rocks beneath the earth’s crust. All that stands between us and redemption is a great push for innovation. If we act now and change our ways, we can still save the planet from its doom.

By now it will be clear that this narrative of imminent doom and the call for repentance is by no means new. Warn your audience of the dire consequences of their acts and call on them to change before it is too late. It was and is the favoured mode of fire and brimstone preachers, warning of torments of eternal punishments in hell should we not repent and amend our ways. I wonder whether this is the most effective way to tell the story.

Another Narrative?

What are we to make of these stories? Some will point out that they are mere fictions, scary doomsday scenarios that we should really ignore, for they are no different from many similar prophecies of the end throughout human history. The problem with dismissing these stories is that doing so denies the wall of scientific analysis which shows that climate change is a reality.

Here I want to stress that both the way we choose to tell the story and the reason we do so are as important as the story itself. I must admit that I have indulged in the Jonah narrative from time to time, telling myself it is the most realistic of the lot. People will not change, capitalism will keep ploughing on in its destructive path and so a grim forecast is the best approach. Assume the worst and then anything looks like an improvement. The Noah narrative is as grim although more individualistic and selfish. Once again, it claims to be realistic for much the same reasons as the Noah narrative but then says, ‘stuff the rest, I’m going to save myself’. As for the Repentance narrative, we need to ask, repentance for what? Is it to keep our current system staggering along with a few bandages and splints? Then I am not interested. Or is it a wake-up call to change an economic system that has led us to this point? Then I am more interested.

At least two features are necessary for such an alternative. The first is that the socio-economic conditions of all human beings – not just a privileged few – should be improved to a moderate level. If this entails that those accustomed to much need to do with less, so be it. When people no longer have to worry about adequate food, shelter and clothing, then the environment benefits.

The second is that it requires a strong state with consistent policies to bring about such change. Advocating changes in individual behaviour never works. A consideration of the history of religions is instructive in this point. Why is it that Eastern Orthodoxy dominates today in Eastern Europe and Russia, while Roman Catholicism is characteristic of the south-western Europe and Protestantism in north-western Europe, if not in areas they colonised? In the past, rulers decided and enforced their decisions. Why did Buddhism become a Chinese, Japanese and Korean religion, as well as an Indian one? Again, because rulers enforced and fostered it, so that Buddhism took on local features. So also with socio-economic systems and their cultures. Human beings will act within frameworks provided. And if the framework changes, so will human ways of being in the world.

Does this sound like a prescription for dictatorship? If we think of individual dictators, of course not. But if it is a collective dictatorship, a democratic dictatorship exercised by the vast majority, then yes.


Class and grain

As part of our research for The Time of Troubles, we have come across the class struggle of grain, or perhaps the in-grained class struggle. Our focus is the Hellenistic era in the eastern Mediterranean. When we enter our era, barley and two basic types of hulled wheat – emmer (Triticum dicoccum) in wetter areas and einkorn (Triticum monococcum) in the Levant and parts of northern Greece – were dominant. Apart from areas under irrigation (such as Egypt or lower Mesopotamia) or well-watered by other means, the average yield was 4:1, or a net product of 400 kilograms per hectare. Both barley and wheat can be used for the staples of beer and bread, although barley was much preferred for beer. Indeed, it may be argued that a major motive for human beings opting to live in such villages, with all their problems, was precisely the desire to produce alcoholic beverages from cultivated grains.

At the same time, class factors began to determine the preferences for barley or wheat. Barley (Hordeum vulgare) was already regarded by the Greeks as a food fit for slaves, peasants, and the poor. Barley is tougher than wheat, and requires less water and labour – precisely why it was preferred by those who knew its value. Both alcohol and bread played crucial roles in the class struggle over the granary. As for alcohol, the Romans and indeed Greeks preferred wine to beer, and with the spread – at least in the poleis – of Hellenistic cultural assumptions, wine displaced beer as the preferred beverage for the citified – on occasion threatening grain supplies since so much land was given over to viticulture. As a consequence, barley was not needed for such refined folk, although it remained a staple in the countryside and among peasants.

Further, the same classes and their aspirants preferred fine-floured bread rather than the course and tough loaves of the village dwellers. On slave estates and in villages required to provide produce for the local polis, the pressure was on to grow so-called naked grains rather than hulled grains, especially high-yield bread wheat (Triticum aestivum), poulard wheat (Triticum turgidum) and durum wheat (Triticum durum). Not only do they require less labour than hulled grains, but, depending on the type, they produce relatively fine-floured breads and semolina. In particular, the most desired bread was the Roman panis siligneus (siligo designated wheat flour), which was produced best in colder zones such as the Crimea, northern Italy and Gaul. If this type of wheat flour was not available, a local variant would have to do. By contrast, the peasants continued to grow the tougher hulled wheats, along with barley and oats, which were courser, more durable, and resistant to disease. Their breads the Roman ruling class called, with some disdain, panis plebeius. Slaves and city poor would also eat such bread, along with types of porridge. It is not for nothing that Josephus noted in the first century CE that in Galilee the rich ate wheat while the poor ate barley.

Book outline: Time of Troubles: Economics and the World of Early Christianity

This is the outline of a book we are working on at the moment. It is due with Fortress Press by the beginning of July. In many respects, it is the companion work to the widely acclaimed book, The Sacred Economy of Ancient Israel, published in 2015.

Time of Troubles: Economics and the World of Early Christianity


Here we situate the book within current studies of economics and the New Testament. We indicate where they fall short, in terms of both economic theory and concrete analysis. Included in this treatment are works dealing with gender, sexuality (including power and the body) and ethnic or postcolonial studies (Schüssler Fiorenza 1983, Schüssler Fiorenza 1999, Marchal 2006, Schüssler Fiorenza 2007, Marchal 2008, Glancy 2010, Nasrallah and Schüssler Fiorenza 2010, Bird 2011, Marchal 2012). Although they do not deal extensively with economics (exceptions are Horsley 1995, Horsley 1996, Elliot and Horsley 1997, Horsley 1997, Cadwallader 2008, Elliott 2008, Cadwallader 2013), these works have implications for understanding the economic situation. By contrast, we indicate the sources of our study, which includes the Régulation School of economic theory and the exhaustive study of slavery by G.E.M. de Ste. Croix. We also present a concise outline of the proposed reconstruction, with a synopsis of the chapters to follow. Each chapter provides both a reconstruction of a key feature of the economy and analyses a relevant biblical text that responds to that feature.

Chapter 1: Theory

This section of the book will outline three main approaches to economics in relation to ancient societies and their literatures. The first is the oft-unexamined approach of neoclassical economic theory, which is applied to the ancient world. Neoclassical economics assumes the role of the individualising ‘homo economicus’, the rationality and self-interest of such a figure, and the ‘normal’ state of equilibrium of an economic system. This perspective is not limited to New Testament scholarship (see Friesen 2014), but also bedevils studies of the Western Classics (Ian Morris and Joseph G. Manning). The second is the so-called oikos debate (or the primitivist-modernist debate), which arose in the late 19th century. It consisted of either positing an extreme difference between ancient economies and our own (oikos, or primitivist perspective) and the presumption that the ancients operated with the same economic forms as us—to which the well-known quote from Adam Smith on the propensity of all humans to truck, barter and exchange testifies. The oikos, or primitivist perspective, was subsequently revised and reformulated by Karl Polanyi in relation to the Ancient Near East (with his formalist-substantivist distinction), and the influential work of Moses Finley on the Greek and Hellenistic worlds. The drawbacks of framing debates over ancient economies in this way are many, but we would highlight the tendency to ignore the core economic role of agriculture, as well as a preference – for those who opt for a primitivist or substantivist position – for redistribution as the key to economic activity.

The third approach is the one we adopt. Theoretically, it draws on the work of G.E.M. de Ste. Croix and a modified version of Régulation Theory (Boyer and Saillard 2002; Jessop and Sum 2006) for the context of early Christianity.[1] Ste. Croix’s Marxist-inspired work remains the most thorough study of slavery as a social and economic formation, from 600 BCE to 600 CE. Régulation theory is notable for its flexibility, in terms of developing its categories from the data available and ensuring that such categories remain flexible. In particular, régulation theory argues that the normal state of affairs is not stability disrupted by crisis, but rather assumes the normal state as one of economic instability and crisis, interspersed with periods of controlled stability. The key question is, therefore, how specific economic systems stabilize crises in order to establish continuity for certain periods. In a little more detail, an economic system (mode of production) is made up of key building blocks (institutional forms) that come together in unique formations (regimes) to provide very limited continuity for a time within the larger scale of a mode of production. Due to internal contradictions, these regimes easily fall apart, giving way to the economic norm of “crisis.” In those efforts at continuity, a whole series of compromises have to be made, which are enabled and sustained by cultural assumptions, social forces, and above all religious beliefs (mode of régulation). We use this flexible approach to analyse the shifts that took place in the transitions to the slave-based economy of the Roman Empire.

Chapter 2: Plucking Peasant and Slave: Transformations in Subsistence-Survival

The building blocks of the ancient economy were what we call, drawing from régulation theory, institutional forms. These are the codifications of the fundamental social relations that underpin economics. The first of these institutional forms is subsistence-survival; or rather, the profound and disruptive transformations experienced by subsistence-survival in light of slavery. Our reason for beginning here is that such an institutional form concerns agriculture, which was the prime form of economic activity in the ancient world. Understanding agriculture – its practices and social determinations – is the key to that economy. So this chapter examines practices of crop-growing and animal husbandry, undertaken by peasants in the face of profound disruptions brought about by the increasing imposition of slavery. This appeared in the form of slave estates, and especially the way Roman authorities treated the hinterland as estates for the supply of the poleis. In order to provide a biblical touchstone for this analysis, we focus on the way the Gospel of Mark responds to the economic shifts underway.

Chapter 3: Disrupting the Household

The social determination of any economic activity is intrinsic to that activity. In this case, the social determination took place in terms of the household. Studies of the household have burgeoned in relation to early Christianity, as have those of the related but distinct phenomenon of patronage (Gager 1975, Kee 1980, Malina 1983, Meeks 1983, Rohrbaugh 1996). However, they have tended to elevate the household to become the key to ancient economies, rather than seeing it in relation to the other institutional forms. To a lesser extent, this tendency is also true of patronage and the pattern of honour and shame. However, we argue that patronage was a feature of both the very rich and the closely related ‘gangsterism’. We draw upon those studies, but do so in order to investigate two features. First, we examine the modes by which households determine the practices of subsistence survival agriculture. Second, we pay close attention to the way households were profoundly disrupted by and how they managed to deal with the economic shifts underway. In order to focus our study, we critically engage with archaeological and sociological research, and pay close attention to the way 1 Peter responds to and manifests the disruptions under way.

Chapter 4: Re-Producing Space: Polis, Chora and Estates

Conflicts between modes of production are inevitably marked by changes in the production of space (Lefebvre). In order to see how such shifts took place, we draw upon Ste. Croix’s insights into the patterns of polis and chora, focusing on the Gospel of John to indicate literary responses to such patterns. In their original Greek form, a polis required a chora (with its komai) to be a polis at all. The chora was the agricultural land that surrounded the polis, supplying the polis with the necessary materials of life. The choice of a new polis was predicated on the potential of a fertile chora. However, by the Hellenistic period and its patterns of colonialism, in colonised areas the relationship between polis and chora changed profoundly. Now the polis was a colonial presence: Greek-speaking, with Greek institutions and modes of life. The chora became colonised space: Aramaic-speaking (in the southern Levant), still using modes of subsistence survival and household. However, the deep disruption to these institutional forms appears in their redeployment as colonial chora, which was now understood (by those in the polis), as the hinterland. The chora as colonised hinterland was subjected to providing the colonial polis with the way of life to which its inhabitants had become accustomed.

With the development of colonial chora we find yet another instance where a where new socio-economic system draws into itself previous institutional forms. New patterns of exploitation are quite able to absorb those older forms. However, the colonised chora was overlaid with yet another layer of economic activity. These were the slave estates, which were also established for the supply of larger cities. Slaves worked the estates and slave overseers managed them. Already we find this tendency in ancient Greece, especially among the Spartans. But such estates came into their own in the Roman era. Initially they were characteristic of the immediate territory of Rome on the Italian peninsula. However, with the expansion of Roman colonialism, such estates began to be established in the colonised areas. Compared to the colonial chora, with its subsistence survival villages, the slave estates provided higher yields for the demands of the poleis (up to 50%). The result is a complex economic situation, with slaves estates interspersed in some colonial places with the patterns of subsistence survival reconfigured in terms of chora.

Chapter 5: The Slave Relation with Regard to Tribute and Exchange

The mention of slave estates brings us to the issue of slavery itself, which has been the subject of increasing attention among scholars of early Christianity (Harrill 1995, Glancy and Oxford Scholarship Online Religion. 2002, Harrill 2006). While we draw upon these valuable studies, they tend to treat slavery in isolation from the wider economic framework. Our reconstruction approaches slavery in three ways. First, slavery as the prime mode of extracting surplus generated the first theories of absolute private property. This innovation (which has made its way into capitalism via a winding route) had a profound impact on social consciousness, which we track in relation to Luke-Acts and the Letter of James. Second, we investigate how slavery altered the patterns of tribute and exchange of the Hellenistic era, with specific focus on the southern Levant. Here we draw upon Ste. Croix’s study in order to show how slavery became the prime mode of extracting surplus – from agriculture, from trade and from tribute. In doing so, we treat tribute and exchange as connected parts of the same institutional form. The third feature is what may be called the ‘slave relation’, which operated at a social, intellectual and psychic level (see Martin 1990). As slavery became integral to economic activity, it influenced the modes of human social interaction. Such interaction became mediated through slaves, but the key is that mediation itself became a wider norm within human consciousness and thereby the literature, linguistic forms and even religions produced at the time. Such was the saturation that slaves need no longer be actually present, for mediation itself became central to the way people thought and behaved.

Chapter 6: Time of Troubles: Between the Sacred and Slave Economies

Thus far we have dealt with the key institutional forms: subsistence survival, household, chora, slave estates and the slave relation. Institutional forms, however, do not exist in isolation, for they coalesce into regimes, which in turn form the parts of an over-arching mode of production. A regime is unique constellation of the institution forms, with one of those forms dominating the others. Such a regime enables a period of relative economic stability, where the system manages to reproduce itself, and crises are managed.  By contrast, a mode of production comprises varying regimes over time. It is a comprehensive socio-economic system in which a specific combination of the forces (material, technology, products) and relations (social forces) of production may be found. Our study requires careful analysis of the regimes in question, albeit in relation to a significant shift in modes of production.

In order to set the scene, we describe the regime of plunder first (with the institutional form of tribute-exchange dominant), for it characterised the late period of the Persian presence in the southern Levant before the arrival of the Greeks and then the Romans. This regime was part of what may be called the sacred economy, the mode of production dominant over the previous millennia. Initially, the Greek conquerors were content to adapt such a regime to their own uses, as we see with the Seleucids and the Ptolemies.  However, the situation became far more complex with the Romans. Instead of a shift in regimes, we encounter the deeply disruptive, violent and drawn out process of imposing a new mode of production itself. We describe the shift in modes of production as a move from a sacred economy to a slave-based economy. It produced a profound ‘time of troubles’, with the instability ensuring that new regime became clearly dominant. This transitional status is crucial for understanding the economic situation of the southern Levant. Old institutional forms – subsistence survival, household and patronage – are reconfigured in light of the new situation, with their relations to new institutional forms – slave estates, the slave relation and tribute-exchange – shaking them to the core. But these disruptions are also central to the writings of the Apostle Paul, upon which we focus, for his theological innovations may be seen as creative responses to the time of troubles in which the early Christian movement found themselves.

Chapter 7: Christianity as a Mode of Régulation

In light of this reconstruction, how should we understood the rise and eventual appeal of Christianity? We suggest that early Christianity may be understood as a mode of régulation, by which we understand a set of behavioural patterns and institutions which enable and challenge the ideological reproduction of a given regime. All of this takes place in three domains: those of (1) constraint (laws and rules) and compromises; (2) patterns of behaviour and assumptions; and (3) the methods by which these are socially reinforced and undermined. A mode of régulation need not be religious, but in the context of the first centuries of the Common Era, the primary nature of such a mode was deeply and inescapably religious. Further, during periods of relative stability, a mode of régulation provides the necessary social and ideological glue to enhance such stability. Yet, during times of turbulent change, modes of régulation become plural, exploring ways to challenge the problematic status quo, and attempting to find ways through times of troubles. This is how we understand the rise of early Christianity, as both challenge and promise. That it would also fulfil the role of constraint and stability is to be seen when the Emperor Constantine adopted Christianity as the ideology of empire.


The conclusion wraps up the argument of the book by asking what the implications might be for understanding Christianity and economics today. Clearly, we find that careful attention to the economic situation of early Christianity is vital, so that one does not seek to make hasty analogies between its initial context and the context of capitalism. This insight is particularly pertinent for the spate of anti-empire studies that have sought to enlist New Testament texts in arguments against capitalist imperialism. Further, our study provides a way of understanding the way Christianity may be seen as a response to a time of troubles. Thus, it bears the marks of those difficult times in its various formulations (often as contradictions), undermines existing efforts at establishing a status quo in the name of a better world, and offers insights into a new order for which it all too easily becomes the ideological justification.

[1] We use “régulation,” in its French form, and not “regulation,” since the latter suggests juridicopolitical regulation at a microeconomic level (for which the better French word would be réglementation). By contrast, régulation designates the social, institutional, and ideological factors that determine the stabilities and transformations of a system as a whole.


Bird, Jennifer G. Abuse, Power and Fearful Obedience: Reconsidering 1 Peter’s Commands to Wives. London, T & T Clark International, 2011.

Boyer, Robert, and Yves Saillard. Eds. Régulation Theory: The State of the Art. Translated by Carolyn Shread. Updated ed. London: Routledge, 2002. French original, 1995.

Cadwallader, Alan. ‘The Markan/Marxist Struggle for the Household: Juliet Mitchell and the Challenge to Patriarchal/Familial Ideology’. Marxist Feminist Criticism of the Bible. Eds. R. Boer and J. Økland. Sheffield, Sheffield Phoenix, 2008: 151-181.

———. ‘Name Punning and Social Stereotyping: Reinscribing Slavery in the Letter to Philemon.’ Australian Biblical Review 60 (2013): 18-31.

Elliot, Neil and Richard A. Horsley. Romans 13:1-7 in the Context of Imperial Propaganda. Harrisburg, Trinity Press International, 1997.

Elliott, Neil. The Arrogance of Nations: Reading Romans in the Shadow of Empire. Minneapolis, MN, Fortress Press, 2008.

Friesen, Stephen J. ‘The Economics of the New Testament Interpretation: Invisible Hands at Work’. Paper presented at the Society of Biblical Literature’s International Meeting, Vienna, 2014.

Gager, John G. Kingdom and Community: The Social World of Early Christianity. Englewood Cliffs, N.J., Prentice-Hall, 1975.

Glancy, Jennifer A. Corporal Knowledge: Early Christian Bodies, Oxford University Press, 2010.

———. Slavery in Early Christianity. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003.

Harrill, J. Albert. The Manumission of Slaves in Early Christianity. Tübingen, J.C.B. Mohr, 1995.

———. Slaves in the New Testament: Literary, Social, and Moral Dimensions. Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 2006.

Horsley, Richard A. Galilee: History, Politics, People, Valley Forge, Trinity Press International, 1995.

———. Archaeology, History, and Society in Galilee: The Social Context of Jesus and the Rabbis. Valley Forge, Trinity Press International, 1996.

———. Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society. Harrisburg, Trinity Press International, 1997.

Jessop, Bob, and Ngai-Ling Sum. Beyond the Regulation Approach: Putting Capitalist Economies in Their Place. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar, 2006.

Kee, Howard C. Christian Origins in Sociological Perspective. London, SCM Press, 1980.

Malina, Bruce J. The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology. London, SCM Press, 1983.

Manning, Joseph Gilbert, and Ian Morris. eds. The Ancient Economy: Evidence and Models. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2005.

Marchal, Joseph. A. Hierarchy, Unity, and Imitation: A Feminist Rhetorical Analysis of Power Dynamics in Paul’s Letter to the Philippians. Leiden, Brill, 2006.

———. The Politics of Heaven: Women, Gender, and Empire in the Study of Paul. Minneapolis, MN, Fortress Press, 2008.

———. Studying Paul’s Letters: Contemporary Perspectives and Methods. Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 2012.

Martin, Dale B. Slavery as Salvation: The Metaphor of Slavery in Pauline Christianity. Yale University Press, 1990.

Meeks, Wayne A. The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul. New Haven, Yale University Press, 1983.

Nasrallah, Laura S. and E. Schüssler Fiorenza. Prejudice and Christian Beginnings: Investigating Race, Gender, and Ethnicity in Early Christian Studies. Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 2010.

Rohrbaugh, Richard L. The Social Sciences and New Testament Interpretation. Peabody, Hendrickson Publishers, 1996.

Schüssler Fiorenza, E. In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins. New York, Crossroad, 1983.

———. Rhetoric and Ethic: The Politics of Biblical Studies. Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 1999.

———. The Power of the Word : Scripture and the Rhetoric of Empire. Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 2007.

de Ste. Croix, Geoffrey Ernest Maurice. The Class Struggle in the Ancient Greek World: From the Archaic Age to the Arab Conquest. London: Duckworth, 1981.

Chinese attitudes to life and economics

Despite all that has been written about the economic powerhouse that China is becoming, the basic approach to life and economics remains largely the same. A recent survey of Chinese women produced the following results:

65.23% subscribe to ‘jianku pusu, jingda xisuan’: a hard and simple life requires careful calculation and strict budgetting.

19.45 % prefer ‘meiyou jihua, suibian hua’: random spending without plan.

11.19 % follow ‘sheng duoshao, hua duoshao’: spend as much as you earn.

Only 4.13 % are comfortable with ‘daikuan xiaofei’: getting a loan to consume what you want.

Why do Americans make such bad coffee?

‘What is this? Brown water?’ He said with a look of disgust after sipping from his cup.

‘Isn’t it supposed to be coffee?’ I said.

‘Americans make such bad coffee it barely deserves to be called coffee at all,’ he said. ‘I once spilled a cup on my lap. After it dried, there was nothing, no stain. Coffee is supposed to leave a decent, black stain’.

We were on a long haul train journey across the USA (Amtrak is one of the great hidden gems here), having breakfast somewhere between Colorado and New Mexico. Our meal companions were a couple of young Chinese men who had been sent to Kansas from Tokyo for a year by their employer. Apart from getting used to the culture shock of such a move and the absence of public transport, they found they had to come to terms with the dreadful coffee.

It is difficult not to agree. Only in the USA can Starbucks seem like good coffee. Elsewhere it might universally be regarded as dreadful coffee, but in the USA it seems like a good drink. Less watery, with a trace of taste, and an effort at socially responsible business practices – Starbucks at least tries. Or I should say it used to try. Now they have succumbed to the status quo. Gone are the individually ground cups of coffee; gone are the bang, twist, hiss and gurgle of a something that might resemble coffee. Instead, they now have computerised machines that require a mere press of a button. A trickle of brown water flows into a cup and that is it.

Watery, tasteless, lukewarm. Making such bad coffee is not laziness. It requires dedicated attention over many years to come up with that formula.

Is coffee in the USA a metaphor for the failure of neoliberal economic policies that have been pursued here with such energy? Possibly. Travel by train through the back yard of the country. Stop a while in a trailerized town, witness the sea of poverty all around, and realize that the propaganda of the American dream applies only to a privileged few. Islands of privilege in a sea of poverty. The economic ‘benefits’ are for the majority barely that at all: watered down, tasteless, lukewarm. You are better off without it.

Yet what astounds me is the way such an economic approach can in any way be touted as the model for others. How can this approach to economic life be regarded as anything but a failure? Why would anyone in the right mind think that it should be copied anywhere else?

Crisis for whom?

The powers that be like to tell us that an economic crisis affects everyone. In the same way that bankers, business leaders, and politicians suffer in an economic crash, so do the little people such as workers, farmers, and so on. We’re all in it together. That means it is in everyone’s interest that the system recover, so that all may benefit.

Crisis for whom? For some a crisis makes little difference. Let me illustrate by repeating the story of a phone conversation that took place on 11 September 2001. Three people – in Minneapolis, New York, and Washington – were discussing the logistics of getting some basic equipment to the farmers of Haiti. These were not tractors or combine harvesters, but hammers, saws, hoes, a bucket or two.

In the midst of their discussion, the one in New York said: ‘Wait a minute, something seems to have happened to the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center’.

The one in Washington said, ‘I’ve just been told that a plane has crashed into the Pentagon’.

The one in Minneapolis said, ‘Should we stop our phone call and see what is happening?’

After a moment’s deliberation, they decided to continue planning for the supply some basic tools for the Haitian farmers. Why? It made no difference to their subsistence existence whether the symbols of global capitalism had been destroyed or not. Their economic situation would not be affected; their lives would barely register any change. They still needed a few tools to enable to carry on a way of life that had remained resilient and stable for millennia. It was certainly not a crisis for them.