Political rhetoric surrounding wealth and inequality increasingly reveals an emotive posture rather than an economic argument, since public discourse now treats success as a moral provocation and prosperity as a form of quiet aggression. Consequently, policy proposals arrive wrapped in moral language that frames redistribution as justice and resentment as compassion. This cultural shift aligns closely with what Thomas Aquinas identified as envy, which he defined as tristitia de bono alterius, “sorrow at another’s good” (Summa Theologiae II–II, q.36, a.1). Therefore, modern class warfare appears less innovative than advertised, since its animating force reflects an ancient vice given institutional form.
Aquinas treated envy as a uniquely corrosive disposition because it warps moral perception rather than merely restraining action. Anger reacts to perceived injury, while greed seeks possession, yet envy resents excellence itself. Therefore, the envious person experiences another’s flourishing as a personal diminishment, even when no harm occurs. Aquinas further observed that envy generates secondary vices such as detraction, joy at another’s misfortune, and hatred (ST II–II, q.36, a.4). Consequently, once envy enters the bloodstream of social policy, it multiplies dysfunction rather than correcting injustice.
This diagnosis finds early narrative expression in the Cain and Abel account. Genesis describes Cain’s offering as receiving divine disregard, whereas Abel’s receives favor, after which Cain’s countenance falls (Gen. 4:5). The Lord’s response targets Cain’s interior state rather than the external disparity: “Sin is couching at the door; its desire is for you, yet you must rule over it” (Gen. 4:7). Therefore, Scripture locates the crisis within the soul before it manifests in violence. Cain’s resentment seeks resolution through elimination of the other rather than transformation of the self, thereby establishing a pattern that repeats throughout history whenever grievance replaces virtue as a social engine.
The Talmud approaches envy with similar sobriety, through the lens of ordered desire and rational discipline. The Torah warned against covetous dispositions that fixate upon another’s possessions or status, since such fixation distorts judgment and undermines communal harmony. Therefore, the remedy for envy involved habituation toward moderation and gratitude rather than structural coercion. Reformed Jewish scholars Bruce and Barbara Kadden, in Teaching Mitzvot, saliently noted that, “according to the Talmud, the tenth commandment summarizes all of the previous ones because envy leads to other sins (pesachin 107a). A desire for something could lead to covetousness, which might lead to robbery, and then to tyranny.” Maimonides in his commentaries on the lo tachmod (“do not covet”) noted:
Coveting leads to robbery. For if the owners do not desire to sell, despite a generous offer and much supplication, motivated by a desire for the item, a person may revert to robbery, as it states in the book of Michah: “They coveted houses and they stole.” And if the owner were to resist and attempt to save his property … then the perpetrators may be moved to murder.
He and the Talmudic authors understood that external leveling without interior reform amplifies vice rather than curing it, since the soul remains restless even after redistribution.
Adam Smith, often mischaracterized as an apostle of unrestrained self-interest, offered a complementary insight through his analysis of sympathy and moral sentiment. In The Theory of Moral Sentiments, Smith observed that human beings instinctively admire success yet resent superiority, yet civilized society requires moral formation to channel these instincts productively lest envy prejudice the outlook of citizens on the good of others. Therefore, commercial society flourishes when admiration encourages emulation rather than resentment. Smith warned that resentment toward excellence corrodes social trust, since citizens begin to interpret achievement as exploitation rather than contribution.
Considering these insights, Marx’s analysis fails at the level of moral psychology, since it treats envy as insight rather than disorder. He also recasts resentment as historical consciousness. By reducing economic life to class antagonism, Marx collapses moral agency into material position, thereby absolving the interior life from scrutiny. Consequently, virtue disappears from the analysis, replaced by structural determinism that interprets success as theft and excellence as domination. This framework offers emotional validation to grievance while discouraging self-command, gratitude, and moral aspiration. Therefore, Marxism functions less as an economic science and more as a catechism of resentment, sanctifying hostility toward productive achievement while promising liberation through coercive leveling that history repeatedly confirms as socially corrosive.
In that vein of thinking, modern envy economics rejects virtuous moral formation in favor of moralization of resentment. Wealth taxes and punitive regulatory schemes increasingly present success as evidence of wrongdoing rather than creative service. Consequently, political discourse shifts from opportunity expansion toward grievance management. It can be argued that societies collapsing under envy attempt to suppress visible differences rather than cultivate shared standards of excellence. Therefore, leveling becomes a substitute for aspiration, and coercion replaces admiration as the primary social mechanism.
Envy thrives in cultures that lose confidence in transcendent meaning. When honor, vocation, and excellence detach from moral purpose, status competition intensifies without restraint. Therefore, economic outcomes become proxies for moral worth, and disparity becomes intolerable regardless of its origins. Biblical anthropology anticipated this danger by grounding human dignity in divine image rather than comparative success: “God created man in his own image” (Gen. 1:27). Consequently, Scripture removes the metaphysical fuel that envy requires to flourish unchecked.
Aquinas reinforced this point by locating peace within rightly ordered love. Charity, he argued, rejoices in another’s good as one’s own (ST II–II, q.23, a.1). Therefore, the virtuous soul experiences prosperity as expansion rather than threat. Envy economics inverts this logic by treating gain as zero sum, thereby ensuring permanent conflict. Once policy internalizes this anthropology, it legitimizes coercion as moral necessity, since force becomes the only means to resolve perpetual grievance.
Historical experience confirms this trajectory. Societies that elevate envy into principle gradually abandon creativity in favor of extraction. Enterprise becomes suspect, innovation becomes dangerous, and compliance becomes the safest path. Consequently, talent migrates or withdraws, while bureaucratic management expands to fill the vacuum. God through Samuel warned Israel about this pattern long before modern political economy emerged: “He will take the tenth of your grain and of your vineyards and give it to his officers” (1 Sam. 8:15). Therefore, centralized redistribution emerges as a sign of social distrust rather than communal strength.
The psychological consequences of envy economics also merit attention. Resentment externalizes failure, thereby relieving individuals of self-examination. Aquinas described this process as spiritual acedia in social form, where sorrow toward excellence dulls aspiration and corrodes hope (ST II–II, q.35). Consequently, cultures shaped by envy experience declining initiative alongside rising entitlement. Welfare systems then expand to manage the resulting stagnation, thereby reinforcing the cycle they seek to address.
By contrast, societies that cultivate virtue encourage creative enterprise alongside moral responsibility. Biblical wisdom literature praises diligence while condemning sloth without romanticizing poverty: “The hand of the diligent makes rich” (Prov. 10:4). Therefore, prosperity emerges as a moral outcome rather than as an accident. Charity functions relationally rather than bureaucratically, and assistance preserves dignity through proximity and accountability. Maimonides articulated this hierarchy in his famous ladder of charity, where the highest form involved enabling self-sufficiency rather than permanent dependence (Mishneh Torah, “Gifts to the Poor” 10:7).
Modern class rhetoric frequently dismisses such formation as naive, although its alternatives have produced consistent decline. Envy-driven systems tend to require constant expansion of surveillance and enforcement, since compliance depends upon coercion rather than consent. Therefore, liberty erodes gradually as moral trust dissolves. Aquinas anticipated this outcome by insisting that law functions best when it presupposes virtue rather than attempting to manufacture it (ST I–II, q.96, a.2).
The biblical vision offers a different path, one rooted in gratitude and vocation. The parable of the laborers in the vineyard confronts envy directly, as those who worked longer resent equal wages given to latecomers. The landowner responds with moral clarity: “Am I allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?” (Matt. 20:15). Therefore, Scripture reframes fairness through covenantal generosity rather than comparative resentment. The problem lies within the eye rather than the wage.
Aquinas and Maimonides explain today’s class warfare with greater precision than Marx because they diagnose the moral psychology beneath economic conflict. Envy-driven societies institutionalize sorrow at another’s good, thereby drifting toward coercion, stagnation, and decline. Conversely, societies that cultivate virtue, gratitude, and creative enterprise generate prosperity alongside peace. The choice remains perennial and unavoidable, since Cain still stands at the door, awaiting either mastery or surrender.
