Book Review | Theology in the Capitalocene (2022)

This book review was originally published in Faith & Economics, Issue 83, Fall 2024. It has been re-published here with permission from the author.

Book Reviews 

Theology in the Capitalocene: Ecology, Identity, Class, and Solidarity Joerg Rieger. 2022. Minneapolis, MI: Fortress Press. ISBN 978-150-64- 31581. $22.00 (Paperback). 

Reviewed by Jamin Hübner, LCC International University and The University  of the People 

I originally got into the field of theology because I wanted to pursue  the “eternal” and “timeless” instead of selling real estate or farming.  Little did I know how much change theology continually undergoes— and has undergone, for thousands of years. Theology, it eventually  became evident, is not merely a reflection of faith in the past and its  events, but reflection on the urgent moment and the work of the divine today.  

This orientation frames Joerg Rieger’s Theology in the Capitalocene: Ecology, Identity, Class, and Solidarity. If one was to overhaul the task and direction of theology for the present moment (i.e. the globalized,  twenty-first-century world), what would it look like? What would it  center on? For Rieger (and others), our situation requires attention to (1) the ecological crisis, (2) the economic and political crisis, which  relates to (3) the crisis of meaning at work, about which much ink has  been spilt in the last century. 

While many theologians and faith practitioners would like to avoid dirtying their hands with such concerns—perhaps contenting themselves  with rehearsing traditional dogmas, coasting on past progress, and con tinuing to privatize religion, Rieger contends that  everything is ultimately political and public, even that which at  first sight seems personal and private. The personal is political, as  feminist thinkers have reminded us, and we should add that the  political is also personal. (p. 2) 

If religion is relevant to the world, it must deal with the big concerns  of the majority of people. 

The good and perhaps somewhat surprising, news, is that places  exist where all hands are already on deck, even if only by default— for instance, in places where the global 99 percent have to work for  a living. This is why theology in the Capitalocene needs to engage  questions of work and productive and reproductive labor…topics  that theologians at present rarely address. (p. 4) 

By “Capitalocene,” Rieger is building on the work of Jason Moore[1]; “Anthropocene” is misleading because, in many ways, humans have only  altered the entire globe by means of capitalism in the last half millennia.  “Blaming humanity as a whole for climate change and ecological  devastation,” he remarks, “misses the flows of power that determine our  age. The same would be true for blaming religion as such or all sciences,  natural or social” (p. 27).  

In the introductory pages, Rieger dismantles the myths of individu alism (pp. 6–8), centers the topic and problems of power, and examines  the problems with mediocre change in the church and in society (p. 31).  Traditional ideas of God and a few improvements to our energy con sumption just isn’t enough. Quoting Von Logau: “In situations of danger  and great need, the middle road leads to death” (p. 36). There needs to  be a more sophisticated critique of neoliberal capitalism. “Blaming consumers for consumerism not only fails to address what drives the production of consumers’ desires; it also covers up its causes” (p. 37). Similarly,  our images of God—such as those that portray God as “a powerful and  transcendent overlord” and “representative of economic elites”—differ  from “an entity caring for all creatures, suffering and rejoicing with them,  and appreciating diversity” (p. 43). Today’s dominant economic theories,  of course, “display theological affinities” (p. 44).  

Oddly enough, this isn’t really a “progressive theology”: the material  concerns of people exhibit great concern in the Abrahamic religions: 

 in most of the ancient Jewish traditions, the idea of salvation is  not about going to heaven after death but about leading a happy  and productive life, and several Christian traditions have been  inspired by this. (p. 50) .

“God” is not even found in ideas, but on the shop floor and in the  daily struggle for survival. The question then is and this the main ques tion of the book:

What if the major task is neither the formulation of big ideas— the perennial dream not only of religion but of many of the  humanities—nor its opposite, the seemingly neutral collection  of data, the proliferation of descriptive empirical studies, or  technocratic solutions, but the engagement with emerging levels  of resistance to the status quo and the concomitant forms of  productivity and agency, both human and nonhuman, that mark  our age? (p. 57) 

This is by all means a “liberationist” and “immanent” approach—which  takes center stage in Chapter 2. Rieger tries to get back to not the “crucified Lord” as much as the insurrectionary construction worker  who was killed by the state for his subversive organizing (pp. 80, 184).  The chapter demonstrates how Christians and people of faith have been  blind to the essential issues of direct democracy, worker empowerment,  and solidarity (p. 100). It also focuses heavily on solidarity and agency  (nonhuman and human), with contemporary engagement of political  theologians and scholars.  

The next two chapters reveal the startling and unfortunate absence  of concern for class and labor in contemporary religious thought— which is all the more bizarre when one returns to the world of the New  Testament (e.g. colonization, taxes, class power and privilege and con flict, hunger, social justice, and similar issues that saturate the context  of every Gospel). Class isn’t about income levels, of course, it’s about  power, and power differentials is what Christianity and other religious  traditions directly address. Similarly, in the fourth chapter on “Deep  Solidarity” (a topic Rieger has written extensively on), it is clear that few  movements of liberation in the US (civil rights, abolitionism, suffragism,  etc.) succeeded without ground-up solidarity (pp. 144–145), but few  churches are known for their consistent organizing around such change;  these are supposedly “social issues,” not “theological and religious” ones,  as if that distinction in anyway makes sense from a Christian perspec tive. Rieger notes that racism is a class weapon, and  

nationalism is another example of the unite-and-conquer strategy that is often used to defuse the transnational solidarity of working people everywhere, and it is not surprising that  racism and nationalism go hand in hand”. (p. 159)[2]

Similar to DuMez, who argued that the evangelical support for Trump  was not a surprise, Joerg suggests that the resurgence of fascism in the  US and elsewhere (Italy, Brazil, India, Russia, etc.) and the paraly zation of religious communities to collectively resist it, is also of little  surprise[3]; systems of oppression complement one another. Rieger also  provides brilliant analysis regarding the difference between “privilege”  and “power” (p. 165ff), which reminds readers how contemporary  dialogue on privilege can obfuscate essential power dynamics (and  therefore responsibility). “Deep solidarity” (which cannot be reduced to  morality), along with real reparations, is a corrective to both issues and  to ongoing injustice. 

Theology in the Capitalocene is a marvelous volume essential for  anyone interested in the relevance of theology and religious models  today. For those bored and dissatisfied with shaving off the rough edges  of capitalism and the shallow platitudes of Christian philanthropy and  charity, Rieger offers a pressing and much-needed reorientation. It also  complements his edited volume Faith, Class, and Labor, which fleshes  out much of what he outlines.[4]

Notes 

1. Jason Moore, Capitalism in the Web of Life: Ecology and the  Accumulation of Capital (London: Verso, 2015). Cf. Jason Moore  (Ed.), Anthropocene or Capitalocene? (Oakland, CA: PM Press,  2016). 

2. “Nationalism” is here used in its common, pejorative connotation in  relation to the history of western fascism and imperialism, not, for  example, in reference to independence movements or decoloniza tion (where nationalism is anti-imperialist, for example). 

3. Kristin Kobes DuMez, Jesus and John Wayne (New York, NY:  Liveright, 2020). 

4. See Joerg Rieger, Ed., Faith, Class, and Labor: Intersectional  Approaches in a Global Context (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock,  2020). ■

Gabby Lisi