Rishi Sunak’s wealth and why he doesn’t apologise for it

Commentary on wealth prompts Rahil Patel to explore Hindu, and Christian, attitudes to prosperity.

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 red carpet lies on a grand entrance to a newly constructed Hindu temple.

A £86m Hindu temple newly constructed in the UAE.

When Rishi Sunak was on the verge of becoming the UK’s first Asian Hindu Prime Minister much of the British media was hounding him about his extraordinary wealth . At the time, the BBC’s North America editor Jon Sopel had just returned to London from Washington DC and commented on Twitter/X that the media commentary on Mr. Sunak’s wealth were ‘very British’ in nature. After considerable time covering the America’s financially seismic politics we might sympathise with Mr. Sopel’s diagnosis.

However, the question of money and wealth in politics or elsewhere for that matter is not just a cultural divide between Britain and America. It is a significant religious divide between those of the Christian faith and those from a Hindu background.

A startling truth that many Christians is that in Christianity you can’t serve God and Money. In Hinduism, you can. In fact, you must! Dharma (moral duty), Artha (wealth), Kama (pleasure) and Moksha (liberation of the Self from birth and rebirth) are the four ‘spiritual paths’ all Hindus of all traditions must pursue (unless one decides to take a more monastic route of course)!

PM Sunak could have shot back at the press by simply saying, ‘could you please not offend my Hindu faith!’ Frankly, he would have been one hundred percent right. And as a minority faith believer in today’s United Kingdom that volley response to a hawkish media would have halted them in their tracks. For better or worse, Christian political leaders can’t get away with that sort of thing…

Wealth is a sign that ‘God is on your side.’ The only catch I must hasten to add is that when money is asked from a Hindu, one must not hesitate to give it away.

It is true, along with all the intricately meditative, contemplative and devotional teachings across various Hindu traditions, nearly every single Hindu Guru will encourage and guide their followers to pursue money. After all, that’s how one builds beautiful temples and grows the Hindu faith. The Swaminarayan Hindu Movement for example have spent close to $700m building temples in North America over the last twenty years alone. Temples and shrines line the streets and sideways of India supplying its one billion Hindus plenty of space for belonging, prayer and worship.

The Hindu concept of a temple to house the images of god is a Greek import into Hinduism during the fourth century AD. It is now a central spiritual pillar across all Hindu religions and money plays a key spiritual role lying primarily on the shoulders of the Hindu believer.

Temples tend to attract more wealth. The famous Tirupati Balaji Temple in South India’s Andhra Pradesh State has a net worth more than the market capitalisation of companies like Nestle, Wipro or Indian Oil Corporation.

Yes, it can be very transactional for Hindus at times but then there is a beautiful reminder in the minds of many Hindus that says, “it’s not mine anyway.”

Tithing is a huge part of a devout Hindu’s life and so making money to give away is equally important. Wealth is a sign that ‘God is on your side.’ The only catch is that when money is asked from a Hindu, she must not hesitate to give it away. That’s the spiritual trick that reveals the attachment or detachment to money in a devout Hindu’s life. This spiritual test almost gives the guru the upper hand. His or her work will always flourish.

In my life as a Hindu monk I have witnessed time and again how Hindus have been struck by the selfless giving of Christians and more so to causes that would never cross the mind of a Hindu.

Giving to the downtrodden and marginalised in India is a very Christian action as it contradicts how a Hindu must play out their karma if they are destined to be poor or destitute. Hindus prefer to give to temples and earn god's direct blessing. Yes, it can be very transactional for Hindus at times but then there is a beautiful reminder in the minds of many Hindus that says, “it’s not mine anyway.”

Every Hindu seeks Moksha (a liberation of the Self from birth and rebirth), not Salvation. One of the four key practices for that ultimate liberation from birth and rebirth is Vairagya which is to remain detached from earthly pleasures. Hindu doctrine does not say one can’t enjoy wealth but does say that if it is not in your possession one day for any reason one mustn’t lose Stita Pragnata (a still and balanced mind). Staying unaffected is the aim. If you are unaffected at the loss, your Atma (the Self) is very much on the path to Moksha.

Famous stories of detachment to wealth are often woven into Hindu teachings as a healthy reminder. The ancient Hindu king Janaka sat rooted to the spot listening with rapt attention to his guru whilst his palace in the famous city of Mithila south of the Himalayas was burning. Ironically, it was the monks that stood up and ran to fetch their burning robes and food bowls revealing how detachment is an internal affair.

Whilst money might deal with the ideas of detachment and attachment in a Hindu world it doesn’t really deal with the deep longing in the human heart which is to be able to trust in someone who is a good Father for all one’s needs. The deep but unknown longing that God has your back and will provide even when you falter or fail is never fulfilled. This is where and when Karma puts the final nail in hope’s coffin for a Hindu and this is why there is always a sense of restlessness and striving simmering underneath the face of spiritual detachment at all times. “All my worth in God’s eyes and man lies in this accumulation of wealth” is quite a common but subtle heart posture. This is not articulated in the mind of course but it is the engine driving the relentless hard work.

Yes, Indians are a very successful community at every level of western society. The culture of family and frugality plays a good role in that success but if we were carefully and respectfully to place a microscope over the heart and mind of a Hindu the intricate mechanism behind the ‘success’ is running on the pistons of striving and performance. It is a tiring and gruelling inner world.

Detachment from the world or money does not bring the rest, joy and hope that the heart truly cries and craves.

Jesus often talks about money because it’s probably the best tool for revealing the heart. It highlights the obvious pitfalls of the prosperity gospel whilst equally but more subtly exposes the false spiritual facade of the poverty gospel. “It’s very spiritual to be poor” can sneak into our hearts under the guise of humility quite often. Apologising for the Father’s blessing in life is one of many signs of the poverty gospel. To revert back to Jon Sopel's transatlantic perspective, the prosperity gospel is quite obvious in parts of the American church but the poverty gospel not so much. And, in my view it is quietly hidden in parts of the British church.

You can give money because you are genuinely generous while others may part with money because they are guilty for having it! And yes, there are those of us who give away money because we are simply bad stewards of money. It all looks very much the same but Jesus is interested in the heart and what this profound tool amplifies in that deep and protected place.

One very awkward question Hindus tend to ask a Christian when they feel a level of trust has been developed is ”why aren’t you financially blessed by your God?” It’s a fair question now that we know a Hindu’s general worldview on the matter. A Christian can answer by offering the security and sense of significance that Christ offers not just intellectually through eastern-style self-talk but by His Spirit who dwells in the heart of a believer. If wealth is added to that, so be it but one doesn’t chase after or apologise for it.

Detachment from the world or money does not bring the rest, joy and hope that the heart truly cries and craves. An “unaffected mind” brought forth with striving and performance is not the same as the deep Peace th that Jesus wants to offer.

When Mahatma Gandhi was fasting during his ‘Quit India Movement’ he wasn’t fasting in the Hindu context of immolation of the body’s desires. Instead he fasted for those in the British administration, who he believed from his knowledge of the Christian faith, were slaves to money and power. He made this very clear in a letter to Lord Irwin who was the Viceroy of India during the Independence struggle.

He knew that Christians should have one master uncoupled from mammon and if he used Christian principles against a civilisation based upon the message of the Messiah he would stand a far better chance. A Hindu was fasting, for a Christian result. In short, he was fasting in the most un-Hindu way…

Prime Minister Rishi Sunak recently in January 2024 revealed his weekly fasting routine in the aim of a ‘balanced lifestyle’ so that he can indulge in ‘sugary treats later in the week.’ Not quite the same as Gandhi’s desired result but still a devout Hindu at that and quite unapologetic about his wealth.

Article

Assisted dying

Comment

Life & Death

23 May 2024

5 min read

The careless conflation of independence, autonomy and dignity

As Jersey begins to legalise assisted dying, there’s keyword confusion.

Henna Cundill

Henna is a researcher with the Centre for Autism and Theology at the University of Aberdeen.

A elderly women in a care home stands and places her hands on the shoulders of a seated woman.

Eberhard Grossgasteiger on Unsplash.

Reviewing Canada’s legislation on assisted dying, one anonymously authored article raises the concern: “Does it make dying with dignity easier than living with dignity?” This insightful question cuts to the centre of the debate: dignity. Or more particularly, the unwitting conflation of dignity with independence, and of independence with autonomy.

As Jersey becomes the first place in the British Isles to begin the process of legalising assisted dying, I feel that we should listen carefully as to how and where these terms are being used, both in the formal debate, and in the commentary that surrounds it. The States Assembly in Jersey voted to allow the development of assisted dying legislation for those with six months to live (or twelve months if their condition is neurodegenerative). A second vote to make assisted dying available more broadly to those who experience conditions that entail “unbearable suffering” was defeated by a narrower margin. Reading the flurry of press releases that followed the vote, these keywords, autonomy, independence, and dignity, are everywhere. But are we really thinking about what these words communicate?

People in positions of wealth and power have more independence and autonomy, more choices and freedoms, but it is we who ascribe dignity to those in that position.

The word dignity comes from the Latin word dignus, meaning ‘worthy’, and this is still the primary definition given to the English word dignity today. The OED has it as “the quality of being worthy or honourable”, immediately followed by reference to “honourable or high estate”. If this is so, then dignity is not something that can be bought, nor assumed – it is a status conferred upon someone by the esteem in which other people hold them. The haughtiest person in the world can still be esteemed undignified, as can the richest. Moreover, the opposite is also true: we are never prevented from conferring dignity upon, and esteeming the worthiness of, those who live the humblest of lives.

And yet, if we are honest with ourselves – do many of us not quietly associate the idea of becoming rich and powerful with becoming dignified? Do we not tend to assume the worthiness of those in high office – at least until we meet them and realise pretty quickly that they all put their trousers on one leg at a time, the same as the rest of us. This association happens because we have such a tendency to conflate dignity with independence (the ability to live without assistance from others) and autonomy (the ability to make one’s own decisions, and not have those decisions limited or interfered with). People in positions of wealth and power have more independence and autonomy, more choices and freedoms, but it is we who ascribe dignity to those in that position. It is society who sees the autonomy of those in high status, and esteems it as dignified.

Does this not unwittingly suggest that choosing to live in a state of extreme dependence on palliative care is, by implication, undignified?

Repeatedly ancient wisdom, in the bible, warns us not to assume that dignity comes with the freedom of wealth or power. All the great ‘heroes’ of that book suffer their indignities. Fresh from the success of his Ark project, Noah gets drunk and exposes himself. Elated from a victory against an enemy, King David dances half-naked through the streets. These are just two examples of the catalogue of embarrassments and mishaps that beset nearly all the kings and leaders whose stories are told as part of the Christian story. One after another, they stumble and struggle with life and leadership. The apostle Paul explains that this is because God uses the foolish things of this world to shame human pride, “for even the foolishness of God is still wiser than human wisdom.” Therefore, Paul argues, God chooses to speak to us through the weak and the lowly things and people of this world. Never was this demonstrated so clearly as when Jesus was born in a draughty stable, lived a life of poverty, and died a criminal’s death on a cross.

But what has all this to do with the debate over assisted dying? Well, I am struck by how often the idea of losing one’s independence (through disabling or terminal illness) is conflated with losing one’s dignity, and so dying through personal choice (autonomy) is presented as regaining it. One campaign group that speaks to this debate even calls itself ‘Dignity in Dying’ – but does this not unwittingly suggest that choosing to live in a state of extreme dependence on palliative care is, by implication, undignified?

Independence is not possible for everybody, or not possible to the same degree. And dignity? Well, dignity is possible for anyone.

The Dean of Jersey, the Very Reverend Mike Keirle, has spoken of his concern that the change in legislation will make vulnerable people feel pressured to end their lives. Examples from Canada, where physician assisted dying is already available, show that his concern is not unfounded. In 2022, Canadian veteran and Paralympian Christine Gauthier phoned her caseworker to chase up the over-due installation of her new wheelchair ramp. She then describes how she was horrified to find herself being advised to consider assisted dying instead.

"It is remotely just what they're doing,” says Gauthier, “exhausting us to the point of no return. […] I was like, 'Are you serious?' Like that easy, you're going to be helping me to die but you won't help me to live?"

Gauthier is not alone – she spoke out when she learned that four other Canadian veterans had reported similar experiences. In these unhappy moments, one can see how dangerous the assumption can be – the assumption that no one would want to live a life of needing help. Here are disabled people who do want to live, and this assumption, this careless conflation of independence, autonomy, and dignity, leaves them fighting for their right to do so. Why should anyone have to fight or even speak for their right not to commit suicide? It is little wonder that disabled actress, Liz Carr, describes assisted dying legislation as “terrifying” for disabled people.

I respect that there are terminally ill people, and those who love them, who speak from a desire to end their suffering; it is clear that people on all sides of the debate need to have this difficult and emotionally charged conversation. But whatever the eventual outcome in terms of legislation, we must be careful that it is not based on careless assumptions, or on the conflation of one thing with an entirely different other. Independence is not possible for everybody, or not possible to the same degree. And dignity? Well, dignity is possible for anyone – it is a state that can be conferred whenever, and upon whomever society chooses to confer it. Autonomy is the matter in question – we are talking about autonomy in dying. And whatever happens, we should by no means legislate in a way that leaves disabled people esteemed unworthy, left open to the indignity of fighting for their right to live.