Explainer

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Economics

Hinduism

Monastic life

16 May 2024

6 min read

The Merc, the monks, and the pursuit of excellence

Exploring the roots of the work ethic.

Rahil Patel

Rahil is a former Hindu monk, and author of Found By Love. He is a Tutor and Speaker at the Oxford Centre for Christian Apologetics.

A large sculpture of the Mercedes Benz three-point star stands in front of a large, low glass fronted showroom.

Mercedes Benz visitor centre, Sindelfingen.

I visited the Mercedes Benz factory in Sindelfingen, Germany, back in 1999. It’s an event that etched a profound impression on my mind. I would even go as far as to say one of the most overpowering “Godly moments” of my life. Hold on! Before you shun me as a “materialist” or silently mutter “of course you love a Mercedes…you’re Indian!” Let me crawl out of your assumptions and rescue myself with an explanation.

Entering the grounds of the Benz factory that cold October afternoon, my guide said that the car park alone was eight square miles of brand-new Benz’. “A robot takes each car from the factory to the car park” I was proudly told. “Germans usually don’t like any mileage on their new cars before they come to collect them, so we’ve made this arrangement to suit their needs.”

“Of course you have,” I muttered cheekily whilst fumbling to hide my astonishment. “Is that a railway station?” I sounded like an eight-year-old who had just entered Disney World.

“Yes, the cars are placed on the train by robots too! We send 1,860 cars via train to the river port city of Hamburg every day. From there they are then shipped to the rest of the world.”

“Ah…,” I nodded pretentiously, as if this was something I frequently witnessed. I was in my late 20s and so trying to hide my feverish temperament was failing as each minute ticked by.

Inside the factory the technology (even in those days) was out of a sci-fi film. A human-like robot calmly held the windscreen of an E-Class Mercedes whilst another robot released a gluey paste around the edges with precision and fluidity. It was like watching a heart surgeon operate on a human but only smoother.

“The dashboard you see arriving on the belt above will be fitted into the main body here below within 30 seconds.”

For a moment I thought my guide was joking with me, as back then I was a monk, dressed in orange robes and looking as if I might be resident in a cave somewhere in the Himalayas. But then I saw the robot in front of me pick up the dashboard at hand and fit it into the mainframe in 20 odd seconds! It was like a quiet day of strawberry picking on a farm for these machines.

After being guided around the gargantuan and astounding array of technology, efficiency and elegance my guide introduced me to the General Manager. I shared my impressions with him with a tad of excitement after which he said, “thank you, yes…we tend to gather together every day for 30 minutes or so, after we close, to see where we can improve on all of this!” After that calm and casual response, I wasn’t sure whether I ought to be impressed with the staggering sophistication surrounding me…or his statement!

Something significant happens in you when you are in the presence of excellence and those who are insistent to pursue it.

There’s something annoyingly attractive about those who are persistent in their pursuit for excellence. It’s as if they are resiliently refining something at hand in the hope of fulfilling another deeper search in the human heart. For these enthusiasts for excellence, a beautiful Mercedes Benz is but a by-product. I’d like to say that it's the outworking of a deeper search.

We are drawn to the beauty of detail. This impalpable gravitation can be attributed to the Divine, as many around the world do. With the precision and detail of that world around them making it possible.

I once heard that a Book of wisdom in the Bible called Proverbs could be categorised into three parts: integrity, creativity and excellence. Although I wasn’t a follower of Jesus back in 1999, I can go back to that factory experience and call it a ‘Godly’ moment because something significant happens in you when you are in the presence of excellence and those who are insistent to pursue it.

Luther’s understanding of the Bible and its implications on work ethic should not be underestimated.

Nearly 350 miles north of the Mercedes factory lies the university city of Wittenberg. The home of another monk, Martin Luther, and Katherine Vona Bora, his wife – and an unexpected champion of excellence.

After running away from her nunnery Katherine married Martin Luther and changed the work style and living standards of their lives almost immediately. Katherine had learned how to grow fruits and vegetables in the nunnery and applied this skill to the small piece of land surrounding their residence and turned it into a profit-making farm. The local Prince in Wittenberg witnessed her innovative skills and gave a small monastery for Luther and his wife to live in. Katherine used the profits of the first investment to invest in another farmland and produced profits once again- and this continued. By 1542 the Luther’s owned more land in Wittenberg than any other citizen! She had initiated such a change that sociologist Max Weber discussed it in his classic, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism.

When Luther published Table Talks (based around the discussions in their home when students came to stay or visit), scholars understood clearly how his Biblical exposition (and the indirect defence of his wife’s economic model) created Europe’s spirit of free enterprise.

Katherine’s work ethic was influenced by St. Benedict’s monastic biblical tradition which St Paul had also taught (whoever does not work, shall not eat). A bit like the General Manager at Mercedes Benz who felt that there was still room for improvement in work.

Luther’s understanding of the Bible and its implications on work ethic should not be underestimated. He states that a skilled mechanic “steals' ' when he underperforms at his work for which he is being paid! Not giving your best at something is also called “stealing.” Luther also writes that those who are lazy at work or unfaithful with their work are “worse than sneak- thieves.”

One can argue that Katherine and Luther’s understanding of work ethics from the Bible gave rise to the enthusiasm for excellence across many spheres of western culture and industry.

For me, it’s still a chuckling moment to see the often but obvious impression upon the face of a fellow Indian when they read a label marked, ‘Made in Germany.' It says something… let me just say, with all due respect that it doesn't say the same as “Made in India.” At this point in world history my fellow friends in India would agree.

I have known many Indians who would buy a Mercedes Benz however old or broken down it may be. On the other hand, in 2023 the German manufacturer broke all its sales records in India, growing 10 per cent year on year. (Mind you, some Benz models in India are twice the cost as those in the USA or UK)!

So, is it just status? Or Class? No. There may be an element of wealth display, but the deeper desire is the association with excellence, hard work and efficiency. All of which Luther drew from his own Biblical comprehension as well as his creative wife Katherine Von Bora.

Hindu Monks are not drawn into a far-off corner of Germany to see a luxury car being made. They are drawn (unknowingly) by those of us who are pursuing excellence, elegance and efficiency all of which are tied richly in the wisdom of the Bible.

Yes, I know what you might be thinking and yes, I have visited other luxury car factories. Aston Martin is a case in point. But on returning to my fellow folk thereafter in 1999 I was surrounded by monks whose faces were struck with awe and wonder and they asked,” did you really go? How was it?” That’s the exclusive magic of Mercedes Benz. Or should I say, Martin Luther and Katherine. And how they understood the Bible.

Review

Books

Comment

Digital

Re-enchanting

6 May 2024

9 min read

Re-enchanting the anxious generation

The future doesn’t have to be horrible.

Krish Kandiah

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

Two teenager lean against a rail, arms crossed, and laugh together.

LaShawn Dobbs on Unsplash.

I meet many anxious people as I wait for meetings in the Palace Westminster, but one in particular stands out. As I was queueing to get through security, a breathless American man rushed over asking if he was in the right place to meet the Minister of State for Universities. Once I had reassured him that he was, and he had caught his breath, I asked him where he was from and what he did for a job. He told me he was a social psychologist from New York.

Funnily enough, the night before, I had been reading a book by a social psychologist from New York. I asked the man if he had come across the author, Jonathan Haidt. He replied with a smile: “I am Jonathan Haidt.”

I chuckle when I remember that chance encounter, especially considering the title of his latest book – The Anxious Generation. The book tackles a much more serious topic than queueing nerves. It claims to show, in the words of the subtitle: “How the Great Rewiring of Childhood is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness”.

The Anxious Generation is a tightly argued plea to parents and educators for a radical change in the way that young people are allowed to engage with digital technology in general and social media in particular.

It follows the line of thought he began in his book The Coddling of the American Mind which argued that ‘helicopter parenting’ has led to such a fragility in young adults that universities are no longer places of open and free dialogue, but somewhere young people feel the need to be protected from ideas they disagree with. That problem was what Haidt was preparing to discuss with the Minister when we met outside Parliament.

“Embracing all this is a desire to maintain and hand on to our children an earth that offers genuine possibilities of flourishing.”

Mary Grey

Mickey 17: If we replicate then where does our humanity lie?

Krish Kandiah

Bong Joon-ho has a stark warning about dehumanization.

6 min read

2025-03-28

The Anxious Generation makes a compelling case for the way we are failing a generation of children. It likens the social media world to another planet that we are all happily sending our children off to without first learning about or checking any of the risks linked with the potentially toxic environment. It concludes that as much as we are overprotecting our children in the physical world, we are under-protecting them in the digital world, thereby complicit in the resulting tidal wave of mental health disorders.

Haidt writes:

“Are screen-based experiences less valuable than real-life flesh-and-blood experiences? When we’re talking about children whose brains evolved to expect certain kinds of experiences at certain ages, yes. A resounding yes.”

Haidt argues that what children need is less screen time and more unsupervised play. Some might call this the re-enchantment of childhood– a rediscovery of wonder, and simple emotional connections with freedom, food, imagination, curiosity, those around them and the great outdoors. Perhaps there is healthy therapy to be found in this re-enchantment through the sharing of art, poetry, and fantasy. Maybe a rediscovery of faith and hope can help to bring healing.

Mary Grey, Emeritus Professor of Theology at the University of Wales in Lampeter, describes re-enchantment like this:

“The market’s language of desire must be replaced by reflecting what we really long for, like satisfying relationships and intimacy, meaningful communities where our values are shared, with working conditions that do not create an unbearable level of stress, enough income to cover basic and leisure needs, and planning for the future. Embracing all this is a desire to maintain and hand on to our children an earth that offers genuine possibilities of flourishing. … This is not an invitation to exchange reality for Magic Kingdoms, but to become embodied kinships of women, men, children and earth creatures in a re-imagined and transformed world of sustainable earth communities of healing and hope.”

The re-enchantment of childhood is an attractive theory. I often find myself comparing my children’s childhood with that of my own. I’m sure I played more in the garden than they do, climbed more trees, cycled more round the block, round the town, and later round the county in my spare time. I remember as a teenager getting on a bus to travel from Brighton to Durham without either parents or phones. Around the same time, I travelled to Tbilisi, Georgia with just a backpack, a map, a couple of friends and quite a lot of self-confidence. I wish that my children could experience some of the pleasures that come with fixing a bike or looking up at the stars or browsing the library to find answers, instead of just googling.

Yet, at the same time, if my children were making their way to Durham or Tbilisi today, I would certainly make sure they had plenty of charge on their phone and all the necessary mobile data roaming rights, and I would probably WhatsApp them regularly until they arrived safely at their destination.

Haidt presents a perfect story, one that explains all the evidence. He doesn’t mention anything that might challenge it, or anything that the doesn’t quite fit.

Haidt’s book touches a nerve. Not just because of my own contradictory feelings as a parent, but because of the shocking statistics that reflect the wider state of our nation’s children. With waiting lists for Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services at a record high, a 47 per cent increase in young people being treated for eating disorders compared to pre-pandemic, and an enormous leap in prevalence of probable mental disorder from one in nine children (in England aged 8-25 years old in 2017) to one in five (similar cohort in 2023), the mental health of the next generation is rightly highly concerning.

The blame has been levelled in many different directions: COVID lockdowns, school league tables, excessive homework, helicopter parenting, screen time, and general disenchantment in society at large. Some even say the increase is directly related to the increase in public discussion and awareness about mental health disorders.

For Haidt it is social media that is public mental health enemy number one. However, he does admit he is not a specialist in children’s mental health, child psychology or clinical psychology. This has led to some criticism about his conclusions. Professor Candice L. Odgers, the Associate Dean for research into psychological science and informatics at the University of California challenges head on the central argument of Haidt’s book. She claims:

“...the book’s repeated suggestion that digital technologies are rewiring our children’s brains and causing an epidemic of mental illness is not supported by science. Worse, the bold proposal that social media is to blame might distract us from effectively responding to the real causes of the current mental health crisis in young people.”

Similarly Henna Cundill, a researcher with the centre for autism and theology at the University of Aberdeen, wrote last week in an article for Seen and Unseen:

“From a scientific perspective, the argument is a barrage of statistics, arranged to the tune of ‘correlation equals causation’. “

Cundill and Professor Odgers are right to be sceptical. Sometimes we let our commitment to a story shape the way that we read the evidence. If there’s one thing I remember from A- level statistics it is that causation and correlation should not be confused. In his bid to add urgency and cogency to his argument, Haidt presents a perfect story, one that explains all the evidence. He doesn’t mention anything that might challenge it, or anything that the doesn’t quite fit. It is not a scientific treatise - which is both the book’s strength and its weakness.

Nevertheless, many of the recommendations Haidt suggests are wise and helpful. Even Professor Odgers, to some extent, agrees.

“Many of Haidt’s solutions for parents, adolescents, educators and big technology firms are reasonable, including stricter content-moderation policies and requiring companies to take user age into account when designing platforms and algorithms. Others, such as age-based restrictions and bans on mobile devices, are unlikely to be effective in practice — or worse, could backfire given what we know about adolescent behaviour.”

Therein lies the issue. Because of the lack of evidence for the causes, all we are left with – even from the experts – is what may or may not be likely to be effective in practice.

I wonder if this paucity of robust scientific evidence stems from the fact that the issues facing the next generation are even more complex than we could ever imagine.

The truth is that hype, hysteria and horror are more likely to gain traction than humdrum and happy medium.

Every generation is different from the last. My own youth in the UK in the late 1980s when I became part of the video games and micro-computers subculture was just as much a mystery to my parents and teachers. My generation’s problems were blamed on everything from the microwave to Mrs Thatcher to the milk that we drank following the disaster at Chernobyl.

It seems to me too simplistic to demonise the technology. It’s an easy sell, after all. In fact, whenever there is a major technical shift, horror stories are created by those who believe the dangers outweigh the benefits. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein seems to be a reaction to the industrial revolution. The nuclear threat led to movies about Godzilla and 60-foot-tall Amazonian women. The advent of the internet brought us the Terminator films.

The truth is that hype, hysteria and horror are more likely to gain traction than humdrum and happy medium. Yet, despite the many and serious problems, the rise of new technologies, even social media, also have much to offer, and they are not going away soon. Instead of demonising new technology as the problem, perhaps we need to find ways to turn it into the solution.

And perhaps there are glimmers of hope. I like the fact that my children are connected to the wider world, that they know people and languages from more diverse places than I ever did. I like that they know what is going on in the world way before the 9 o’clock news. I like the fact that they are on the cutting edge of advancements I will never experience in my lifetime. I like the fact that they can get their homework checked by AI, that they don’t need to phone me up every time they want to try a new recipe, that we can grumble together about the football match in real time even when we are on different sides of the world. I like that they can browse the Bible or listen to podcasts about history while they are waiting at a bus stop. I like the fact that they have libraries of books at their fingertips, that they can disappear into fantasy worlds with a swipe and don’t have to spend hours at the job centre when they need to find work. And I love the fact that my children and their friends are rediscovering board games, crochet, embroidery and hiking and taking them to a whole new level because they are learning these crafts from experts around the world.

I sincerely appreciate that Jonathan Haidt cares about the real and desperate problem of youth mental health. His book adds weight to the pleas of those of us advocating for urgent investment into this area. It reminds us of the world beyond the digital borders and it gives us hope that the re-enchantment of childhood is not impossible.

However, the solution to these complex issues cannot be found in nostalgia alone. We cannot turn back the clock, nor should we want to. The past had problems of its own.

I would love someone to write a book that looks forward, that equips young people to live in the worlds of today and tomorrow. If, by some strange coincidence, Jonathan Haidt is reading this article and is in the process of writing that book, I do hope I will bump into him again to thank him.