• I don't understand the superiority of position implicit in this supposed condition. The annual income on $25 million would be not less than $1 million, and to say that you couldn't think of a single good thing you could do in the world with a million a year would be a stunning absence of imagination at the very least. Spiritual pride is not an asset, it's an obstacle, unless you believe in one of the systems in which it's a sin.

• "Greed" is the self-interest of others, and naturally we are unsympathetic. Our own self-interest has other and less shocking names. But the sermon cannot be against self-interest, for if men were angels there would be no need of sermons. The point is to understand our self-interest in relation to the importance of our social commitments and values. Having done so, we neither have to pretend that we are indifferent whether we are potato farmers in Afghanistan or professors in Berlin, nor to imagine for some reason that money plays a very large role in every surrounding human life but our own.

• Speaking for myself, I need more than your supposed fortune, because the work I do presently costs about $2 million per year, which would be the income on something closer to $50 million. Instead of having that money, of course, I go out and raise it, which means that both the way I teach law and the way I practice it are affected by the experiences I have in the course of raising the resources for the work I mean to do. That's not all bad, but I can say—without thereby standing convicted of greed—that I would evidently do things differently if I had $25 or $50 million.

• I think a careful and unsparing discussion of the relation between self-interest and social concern would be immensely helpful in the development of our identities as lawyers. I think you're on the right track in your perception of the issues. But I think the post-colonial Buddha-natured pre-industrial "the love of possession is a disease with them" counterculture politics approach leaves most readers out in the cold. They don't have the combination of Calvinism and social democracy that makes eliminating the need for material comfort a healthy step in the direction of fulfilled adulthood. So maybe there's another way to get the conversation going?

Greed, Justice, and the 25-Million-Dollar Question

Progress for the Sake of Progress

On a tropical island beach, a fictional fisherman relaxes in the sun, leaning against his overturned boat. Next to him, a single fish glitters in the sand. A few hundred feet away, under the palm trees, a stereotypical American law-firm partner on her annual one-week vacation sips a Mai Tai while following the progress of a major deal on her Blackberry. After a while, she walks over to him:

- “Are you a fisherman?” the lawyer asks.

- “Yes,” the fisherman replies, reluctantly opening his eyes.

- “So why are you just sitting here?”

He points at the fish next to him: “Dinner is taken care of.”

The lawyer frowns and asks: “So why don’t you catch more fish?”

- “Why?”

- “You could sell it, make a profit, eventually buy a better boat, catch more fish, make more money, buy more boats, catch a lot more fish…”

- “Why?”

- “Well, ultimately you could pay other fishermen to work on your boats, and you would be so wealthy you could spend your days relaxing on the beach!”

- “And what do you think I’m doing right now?”

The Relationship Between Progress and Greed

Western civilization and its progeny are obsessed with progress. Caught in a global rat race, societies compete to build higher skyscrapers, engineer smarter computers, and extend life by means of science and medicine. Similarly, as individuals, we strive for better jobs, fancier homes, more extravagant vacations – yet when we attain the objects of our desire they invariably fail to bring us lasting satisfaction. An impressive paycheck, a bigger house, and higher status bring us pleasure for a fleeting moment, until a new goal takes shape further away. According to the second of Buddhism’s four noble truths, our insatiable thirst is the cause of human pain. In other words, we suffer because we crave.

From the misconception that there is a causal relationship between material wealth and “happiness,” greed is born. Unaware of our confinement to a metaphorical hamster wheel, we pursue what we think is our individual desire for progress and success. Collectively and individually convinced that there is destination at the end of our “pursuit of happiness,” we run too fast to recognize when we pass the border between progress and greed. Like the proverbial gerbils that we are.

A year ago, in Afghanistan’s central highlands, I met a potato farmer. Statistically, he will die at 44 and at least one of his four children will never reach age 5. His family starves if the crop fails, and their mud-and-straw house disintegrates in heavy rain. Despite my aid worker badge, however, I did not want to “help” this man. Because once we install plastic irrigation pipes, replace donkeys with cars, and build a courthouse in this remote outpost, will he have a way back to innocence? I do not think so. Like us, the potato farmer will be blinded by the name tag saying “HELLO my name is Progress,” and invite Greed in for a cup of tea and a rest in the comfortable crevices of his mind.

For Justice to Flourish, Greed Must Be Tamed

Justice, in its most basic sense, rests on the twin presumptions that all humans have a fundamental and equal right to resources and opportunities, and that all have a responsibility commensurate with one’s advantage. Justice requires a recognition among those born into privilege that their right to the world’s resources is no greater than the rights of those less fortunate. Regardless of religious and political creed, a commitment to justice is a commitment to share: “from each according to his ability, to each according to his need.”

Karl Marx’s utopian dream, however, has so far been the perpetual loser in the tug-of-war against human greed. Wearing the cloak of progress, and in complete defiance of justice, greed has run rampant across the Western world. Today, greed closes factories and ships jobs to countries with lower labor standards, it dumps barrels of toxic waste in the Arctic Ocean, and sells children into sexual slavery. Arms traders’ greed obstructs democracy and peace. Pharmaceutical companies’ greed lets millions die from curable diseases. And the lawyer’s greed effectively silences her gut, helping her believe that the game is fair as long as law does not proscribe it.

Therefore, if our goal as lawyers is to serve justice, we must align to form the front lines in the battle against greed. Together, perhaps, we can bring the rat race to a standstill before it leads us collectively off the deep end.

The Pursuit of Meaning, Not of Happiness

Hypocrits make poor leaders. So, unlike the politician who preaches restraint and then flies to Italy on a lavish business trip, we must make sure to start by cleaning up our own act. But how do we distinguish between healthy ambition and unhealthy greed? How do we figure out what drives us? We may not think that our lives resemble hamster wheels – but how can we be sure? Maybe, just maybe, there is a simple answer.

A few weeks ago, I was at a bar in the East Village with two friends. One of them runs a small non-profit organization that supports creative but disadvantaged young people; the other is a musician who supports a family by writing songs and playing the guitar. Our joint realization that evening was brilliant in is simplicity. At its most basic, it boiled down to the following:

- What would you do differently if you had 25 million dollars?

- Nothing.

If an imagined influx of cash does not make us think about alternative paths, we are propelled by something other than greed. As lawyers, before we can serve justice, this is where we need to find ourselves. This must necessarily be our starting point.