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The Moral History of Interest: How a Sin Became Normal


Interest is one of the most controversial ideas in human history. At different times, it has been condemned as immoral, tolerated as a necessary evil, or embraced as the backbone of economic growth. What is often overlooked is that interest has never been merely a financial concept. It has always carried moral, social, and political weight.
In the ancient world, interest was viewed with deep suspicion. Money was considered “sterile.” Land produced crops, animals reproduced, but money itself created nothing. Earning money from money was therefore seen as unnatural. This view was articulated most clearly in Ancient Greece. Aristotle famously described interest as a perversion of money’s true purpose. To him, money was meant to facilitate exchange, not to multiply itself. Profit generated solely through lending violated the natural order.
This moral framework carried into the Middle Ages. In Christian Europe, charging interest was widely classified as usury and condemned as a sin. The Church argued that lending with interest exploited the poor and turned necessity into profit. Thinkers such as Thomas Aquinas maintained that charging interest meant demanding payment twice: once for the money itself, and again for its use. Economic life was expected to conform to moral boundaries, not override them.
Islamic thought developed a parallel but distinct position. The prohibition of riba was not a technical rule but a moral safeguard. Its purpose was to prevent wealth from becoming a tool of domination and to protect social balance. Interest was seen not simply as inefficient, but as unjust when it allowed capital to grow without shared risk or productive contribution.
As trade expanded and economies grew more complex, this moral rigidity began to soften. The rise of commerce introduced new realities: uncertainty, delayed returns, and financial risk. During the Renaissance and early modern period, interest was gradually reframed as compensation for time and risk rather than moral failure. Money was no longer idle; it became a tool for production, exploration, and expansion.
With the emergence of modern capitalism, interest completed its transformation. Banks, credit systems, and central monetary institutions normalized it entirely. Interest rates became technical variables, discussed in charts and policies rather than ethical debates. Efficiency replaced morality as the dominant language.
Yet the moral question never disappeared. It merely changed form.
Even today, debates around interest reveal deeper tensions about fairness, power, and inequality. When interest supports productive activity, it is praised as necessary. When it amplifies debt, traps borrowers, or concentrates wealth, it is criticized as predatory. The line between these two outcomes remains thin.
The history of interest shows that economic systems cannot fully detach themselves from moral judgment. Numbers may be neutral, but their consequences are not. Interest is neither inherently evil nor inherently virtuous. Its moral meaning depends on how it is structured, who benefits from it, and who bears its cost.
Perhaps this is why interest has survived for thousands of years not only in balance sheets, but in conscience. Every generation inherits the same question, even if it uses different words: at what point does profit stop being fair and start becoming exploitation?

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