Unlike current computer programs, such as the one I’m writing this essay with, Seven Deadly Sins, the old medieval spiritual software, do not install or update themselves at their discretion. It had been out of use for many centuries and (as many would wish to add) rightfully so. Yet at the disturbing moment of modernity’s twilight, more post-mortem than post-modern, with the soaring oil prices and the melting icebergs being only the most graphic symptoms, we could perhaps do worse than rummage the dustbin of history to see if the old list of sins wouldn’t do us any good. First, then, meet the venerable sins, in the order of SALIGIA, the Latin mnemonic initials used in late Middle Ages. “S” is for “superbia” or pride, “A” is for “avaritia” or greed, “L” for “luxuria” or lust, the first “I” for “invidia” or envy, “G” for “gula” or gluttony, the second “I” for “ira” or wrath, and finally, the last “A” for “acedia” or sloth. Where did they come from? Not from the Bible per se, although St Paul’s epistles come closest to being the source of this early-Christian blacklisting of the most dangerous sins humankind is prone to succumb to. Let’s jump the queue of Church history and trace the vicissitude of the sins in the modern period, roughly from the 16th to the 20th century. Pride led Satan to rebel against his Maker, bringing down both himself and us humans to hell, ran the orthodox Christian doctrine for some 1,500 years, until proud, bold, and undaunted individuals began to be perceived as heroes and role models in the 16th century. To be proud—and dangerous—seemed to be a mandatory requirement for being a noble individual. A century later, after many lives were terminated on and off the battlefields of civil strife, pride gained wider political currency. Pride became the basis of universal human rights as sovereignty was wrenched away from the sovereign and handed out to the common citizens. Man, at least the propertied man, was encouraged by John Locke to recognize no authority above him other than what he himself granted or conceded. And the rest is a familiar tale—revolutions, declarations, bills of rights, and the costly election campaigns flattering every voter’s pride. Pride, then, far from being a cardinal evil, has become a badge of honour, even a blessing, to the modern man and woman, which is where we should leave it, perhaps. What about “greed” and “envy”? What about them, indeed, for aren’t they the two resident deities celebrated and worshipped by modern market economy? Greed is an innate quality of all normal individuals—thus preached the founders of modern economics. Envy goes hand in hand with greed, for it fuels competition, a word no sober modern man should ever seek to denigrate. Should we leave them alone, then? Maybe not, for greed has gone a step too far, as we are forced to admit. There’s only one earth, which has no competitor, and which is beginning to protest rather loudly that enough is enough. If the altar of greed totters, so does that of envy. Let your neighbor’s SUV belch after guzzling its daily diesel. You ride your lean bike and enjoy your mental pride in being ecologically upright and morally superior. “Green with envy” is given a new meaning, at least in many parts of Europe, for going green cures you of your envy. The more blatantly carnal sins of “lust” and “gluttony” were frowned upon by the modern thinkers who sought to legitimize greed, envy, and pride. Lust had to be kept to the minimum, so that you can concentrate on money matters. Gluttony, likewise, disrupted your business rhythm, for with a sumptuous meal on your stomach and with superb wine you washed it down with still ruling your brain, you risked signing wrong contracts. Gradually, however, the first of these two would be promoted to a respectable status already enjoyed by greed and envy. From Sigmund Freud to D.H. Lawrence, lust was elevated to the status of being the very secret of life itself; in the course of the past century, sex gradually became what made life worth living for the masses. In the meantime, gluttony, without the benefit of such eloquent advocates enjoyed by lust, was most irresistibly promoted by supermarket and fast food businesses. Of course, lust and gluttony are at odds in current postmodern sensibility, for gluttony leads to the protruding paunch, which is bound to turn off your sexual appetite. As far as this particular member of the Seven Deadlies goes, the pre- and the post-modern amicably shake hands. Similarly, wrath is a vice the modern social ideal of politeness sought to keep at bay. Even if you want to punch the nose of the creature sitting in front of you, you contain your anger for business’s sake: concealing your emotions is generally far more profitable than exchanging blows. The post-moderns would project the taboo against wrath onto the global scene. You can’t stand the loud barbarous language of that stinking foreigner sitting next to you, but you never show it, for a good postmodern ought to be subscribe to multiculturalism. Here’s the updated league table, then. Of the original seven, pride, greed, envy, and lust have all become respectable, honorable, or fashionable in the past couple of centuries or so, although greed and envy are recently affected by the gloomy economic prospects the press cannot avoid printing. Gluttony describes a more obscure trajectory, for it is officially condemned but in practice condoned. Wrath has always been at the bottom of the league, and so be it. Now, but that’s only six, so far—where’s the seventh? Hello, has anybody seen my old friend Sloth? Sloth, being what it is, we found taking a peaceful nap somewhere in the corner, utterly content to be forgotten. Laziness, of course, is what modern industrial civilization has been most vigorously battling—above all, laziness of those who have precious little to gain from their hired work for someone else’s business. Not content to rely on moral force alone, machines were invented and constantly improved to keep the wage workers as busy as possible. Even those who officially put paid to wage labour, the Communist regimes in the past century, had no illusions about the value of keeping sloth marked off as a deadly sin. Work, work, and work more, whether for the company or for the country, so that those at the top could enjoy sloth. The history of modern civilization can be summed up, then, as the slimming down process of the Seven Deadly Sins into one cardinal sin of sloth, relegating the relatively innocuous offences of wrath or gluttony to the category of “venial” or minor sins. Yet shouldn’t we begin to reconsider the status of this last of the ancient seven, too? Aren’t we seeing what being busy for its own sake is doing to the earth and to the human psyche? Isn’t it time we all became a trifle bit lazier, so that we can reserve some time for thinking, feeling, breathing, walking, or dreaming? Such words coming out of one who is known by his colleagues to be an ever dependable work-machine must surely come as a surprise. Yet it is from a quiet ancient university town in England just beginning to enjoy the long summer vacation that he penned them. Whether his fascination with sloth will survive the long-haul flight back to the hectic metropolis of his home country seems a rather predictable issue. By Hye-Joon Yoon (Professor of English)