The Sacred Dollar

Introduction

In October 2025, Amazon announced it would lay off 14,000 corporate workers, despite reporting gross profits of $86.89 billion for the quarter ending June 30, 2025. This isn’t hypocrisy. It’s the logic of a system where money is sacred, and people are treated as machinery to be turned on and off as needed.

We live in a world where corporations receive billion-dollar tax breaks, but a single mom on food stamps is called a ‘freeloader.’ Where CEOs are praised for laying off thousands to boost profits, but workers asking for a living wage are called ‘greedy.’ This isn’t merely hypocrisy; it’s the logic of a system that treats money as sacred. And until we name it, we can’t change it.

How Durkheim's Theory Explains Why Money Trumps Morality in Advanced Capitalism

Émile Durkheim, an early 20th century French sociologist, argued that the sacred/profane distinction was more fundamental to human society than even good and evil. His insight offers us a lens for understanding one of the most troubling aspects of advanced capitalism: how financial imperatives have consistently overridden moral considerations in business and politics. By examining capitalism through Durkheim's framework, we can see how money, the almighty dollar, has become our modern sacred, not only in the United States but increasingly throughout the world. This sacred symbol is a force so revered that it operates beyond traditional moral categories, shaping behavior and justifying actions that might otherwise be seen as deeply unethical.

Durkheim's framework helps us see how capitalism isn't only an economic system but a belief system. By exposing money’s sacred status as a social construction, we can begin to imagine a different approach and begin the reordering of our collective values.

The Architecture of the Sacred

For Durkheim, the sacred represents what societies set apart as inviolable and transcendent. It's not merely about religious objects or beliefs; it's about what binds communities together and what gives them their collective life meaning. The sacred creates social order and provides purpose. Its counterpart, the profane, encompasses the mundane, the ordinary, and the individual aspects of life. This distinction is more foundational than moral binaries like good and evil because it defines what a society holds as beyond question.

In advanced capitalism, money has assumed this sacred status. It's no longer just a medium of exchange as economists have taught us, but a collective representation of value. In other words a sacred symbol of what matters most, including success, and even moral worth. The pursuit and accumulation of wealth have become ritualized through institutions like stock markets, quarterly earnings reports, and consumer culture. These aren't merely economic activities; they're quasi-religious ceremonies that reinforce money's transcendent significance.

Critics (a better term might be the devout) might argue that money’s sacred status drives innovation and growth. But when financial imperatives override ethical considerations, when profit justifies pollution, exploitation, or inequality then we must ask: growth for whom, and at what cost to society, future generations, and our planet?"

When Profit Becomes Prayer

Let's consider how corporate decision-making operates in this sacred framework. When companies prioritize shareholder value over, for example, environmental sustainability or worker welfare, are they making a conscious choice to be "evil?" Probably not. What they are doing is following the sacred logic of capitalism, where financial growth is the ultimate good that justifies all means. This explains why executives can sleep soundly after laying off thousands while posting record profits. Just look at all the announcements in tech over the past year and Amazon's announcement just this week (October 2025).

Profits over labor shows up not only in layoffs but in attitudes that corporation take towards their employees. For example, many CEOs and business leaders are anti-labor. Even, so called "progressive" companies become less so when the whispers of union activity reach their ears Starbucks, Trader Joe's. With or without unions, many companies are quick to cut (or try to cut) benefits when attempting to increase profits. These business leaders are not violating the sacred; they're honoring it.

The hustle culture preaches a gospel of endless productivity and growth. Even our language reveals this sacralization (treating as untouchable or divine): we speak of "market corrections" with the inevitability of natural law, and "disruption" with the reverence once reserved for divine intervention.

The veneration of wealth in our culture mirrors religious devotion. Forbes lists of billionaires function like a roster of saints. Many of these billionaires are looked upon as almost divine, and often sought for their opinions on topics beyond their expertise (think Elon Musk asked and answers about almost any topic in the world). It is almost as if the accumulation of money provides them unlimited knowledge (God like for sure). At the same time luxury, brands and elements like gold, serve as religious icons. The Oval Office itself has recently been turned into the sacred altar, adorned with gold.

Durkheim argues that the sacred creates social cohesion. We see this in our devotion to money. For example, the stock market isn’t just a tool for wealth accumulation; it’s a collective ritual where millions participate in the "worship" of financial growth, reinforcing shared beliefs about success and failure.

The American Taboo: Socialism and the Profane Poor

Perhaps nowhere is the sacred nature of money more evident than in the American taboo against socialism (which links to the anti-union activity) and social welfare. These programs aren't just criticized on practical grounds. They're treated as moral threats to the social order itself (any threat to the economic leadership is automatically tied to the social order). The stigma attached to welfare recipients reveals how thoroughly we've internalized the sacred/profane distinction: those who need assistance aren't just economically disadvantaged; they're morally suspect, vilified, and even subhuman in the eyes of some.

This taboo operates through a perverse moral logic. Self-reliance and market success are virtuous; needing help is a character flaw. The "welfare queen" becomes a cautionary tale under Ronald Reagan. This conjured up image exemplified a profane figure who violates the sacred order of individual responsibility even as she was more of a con-artist/thief who stole from the system rather than a qualified recipient of needed aid. The first cuts that DOGE implemented or targeted revolved around programs (food assistance, education programs, foreign aid). Meanwhile, the structural forces that create poverty like wage stagnation, healthcare costs, and educational inequities remain unexamined because questioning them would mean questioning the sacred system itself.

The racialization of welfare in American history has intensified this dynamic by coding poverty as a moral failing of marginalized groups. Again, think of the welfare queen being portrayed as a Black woman even though she presented a fluid racial identity. By coding welfare recipients as "other" the system justifies their exclusion from the sacred community of "deserving" citizens. This isn't just prejudice; it's a mechanism for maintaining the sanctity of capitalism by defining who belongs within its blessed circle and who remains outside.

The Hidden Sacred: Corporate Welfare's Invisible Hand

While individual welfare faces constant scrutiny and stigma, corporate welfare (pardon, I think we need to call them tax breaks, subsidies, bailouts) operates in the realm of the sacred, protected by invisibility and complexity. This double standard reveals how the sacred/profane distinction protects power.

Corporate welfare is framed as "investment" or "incentive," but never as dependency. Its beneficiaries are "job creators," not welfare recipients. The complexity of tax codes and the secrecy of corporate negotiations shield these transfers from public scrutiny. For example, when Amazon pays zero federal taxes or oil companies receive billions in subsidies despite climate catastrophe, these aren't seen as moral failures but as smart business or necessary economic policy.

The 2008 financial crisis momentarily pulled back the curtain on this sacred protection. Banks that had gambled recklessly with other people's money received trillion-dollar bailouts while homeowners faced foreclosure. Yet even this revelation didn't fundamentally challenge the sacred status of corporate welfare. The bailouts were justified as necessary to save the economy and society. The sacred imperative overrode questions of fairness or moral hazard.

The sacredness of corporate welfare doesn’t just coexist with the stigmatization of the poor but it depends on it. By framing some, mostly individuals, as undeserving, the system justifies lavish rewards and economic protection for others, usually corporations.

Some might argue that the elevation of money to the sacred has fueled progress but this progress in measured in production of goods and services. Progress has not meant decreased inequality, environmental harmony, or reduction of many social tensions. So we must ask, progress for whom?

Breaking the Spell

Understanding money's sacred status in capitalism doesn't mean accepting it as inevitable. Throughout history, societies have changed what it considers sacred. Different values arise for example the rise of human dignity during the civil rights movement, the importance of environmental protection in response to climate change, and increase in public health during the pandemic. These moments of transformation often occur during crises when the existing sacred order fails to provide security or meaning.

The COVID-19 pandemic offered a glimpse of this possibility. Suddenly, essential workers were recognized as valuable regardless of their wages. Universal basic income and rent moratoriums became thinkable. The sacred logic of "the economy" was temporarily subordinated to public health. These shifts, though temporary, showed that the sacralization of money is neither natural nor permanent.

Conclusion: Toward a New Sacred

Durkheim's framework helps us understand why moral arguments often fail to constrain capitalism's excesses. When money is sacred, appeals to good and evil are secondary to financial logic. But recognizing this dynamic also points toward transformation. If societies can sacralize money, they can also sacralize other values like community, sustainability, and human dignity.

The sacred has always been a human creation, even when we've forgotten our role as creators. Durkheim's work argues that it is inevitable for human societies to hold things sacred. The question isn't whether we'll have a sacred, it is what we as a society holds sacred. Will we continue to worship at the altar of endless growth and individual accumulation? Or can we imagine new rituals, new taboos, and new forms of reverence that honor our interconnectedness and shared humanity?

So here are the questions: What would it look like to treat healthcare, housing, and education as sacred? To build rituals and institutions that honor care, not just capital? What would happen if we treated people as sacred, and money as a tool? If we built a society where no one had to choose between dignity and survival?

The first step is to name money’s sacred status—and then dare to profane it. In other words to see the money for what it is, not sacred, not divine, but human-made. And that means we can remake it. It's time to remember our power and for us to enact policies and programs of what we really revere. The moral future of our society may depend on it.

Source:

Durkheim, Émile. "The Elementary Forms of Religious Life." Translated by Joseph Ward Swain. London: George Allen & Unwin, 1915.