The independence of the economic sphere was a tenet of faith with

The Faith of the Market and the Spirit of Freedom

Hear the words of Francis Parker Yockey, austere and reflective, as he gazed upon the forces that shape civilizations:

“The independence of the economic sphere was a tenet of faith with Liberalism.”

These words, though born of modern times, carry the tone of ancient philosophy. They speak not merely of trade or coin, but of belief—of the faith that once animated an entire age. For Liberalism, that grand creed of the Enlightenment, held as sacred the conviction that the world of economics should stand apart from the world of politics, religion, and morality. To its believers, the market was a realm of freedom—a temple where each man, guided by his reason and desire, might seek prosperity without the chains of kings or priests. Thus, Yockey reminds us that the independence of the market was not simply an idea—it was a doctrine, a faith, and for many, almost a gospel.

The Meaning of Economic Independence

To understand Yockey’s words, one must first see what is meant by the independence of the economic sphere. In ages past, the economy was the servant of the state, and the state, in turn, was often ruled by the altar. Kings decreed the price of bread, popes forbade the taking of interest, and merchants walked cautiously beneath the gaze of both crown and cross. But in the age of Liberalism, the world turned upon a new axis. The philosopher and the merchant joined hands and declared: Let the market be free.

This freedom meant that commerce, labor, and capital would follow their own laws—the laws of supply and demand, of competition and innovation. The market became its own kingdom, answerable not to kings or clergy but to itself. It was the economic expression of a greater human dream—the dream of individual autonomy, of mankind liberated from old hierarchies.

The Birth of a New Faith

Yockey calls this independence a tenet of faith, and rightly so, for it was believed with the fervor of religion. The thinkers of the 18th and 19th centuries—Adam Smith, John Stuart Mill, and their heirs—preached that if men were left free to pursue their own interests, an invisible harmony would arise from their striving. This belief became the creed of an era, shaping revolutions, industries, and empires.

To the disciples of Liberalism, interference in the market was a kind of sin against nature. They saw in free trade the same moral beauty that mystics once saw in divine order. The merchant replaced the monk, and the ledger became the new scripture of progress. Nations that embraced this faith rose swiftly in wealth and power, while those that clung to old restrictions were left behind.

The Example of the Industrial Age

Look, for example, to the Industrial Revolution in Britain—a living embodiment of Yockey’s observation. There, the market was given almost absolute freedom. Men and women labored in mills that hummed like thunder, coal burned in furnaces day and night, and trade ships carried goods to every shore. It was a time of boundless creation and equally boundless inequality. The market, unchained, became both builder and destroyer, lifting nations but crushing many souls beneath its wheels.

Yet even in that age, the faith held strong. The captains of industry saw themselves as instruments of progress, guided not by decree but by competition. They believed, as their fathers had believed in heaven, that freedom in economics would yield order and abundance. It was a new kind of divine providence—one written not in scripture, but in profit and production.

The Rise and Reckoning of the Faith

But every faith faces its reckoning. As the centuries turned, the independence of the economic sphere revealed its cost. When left unchecked, markets devoured their own children—workers enslaved by poverty, cities blackened by smoke, nations torn by financial collapse. And so the state, once humbled before the market, began to rise again. It sought to temper freedom with justice, and the idea of a purely independent economy began to wane.

Yockey, writing in the shadow of two world wars, looked upon this transformation with both awe and irony. He saw that the faith of Liberalism, once unshakable, had been wounded by its own consequences. Yet he also knew that its spirit—the longing for autonomy, for freedom from domination—was too deeply rooted in the human heart to ever die.

The Eternal Struggle Between Freedom and Order

In truth, Yockey’s reflection reveals a timeless struggle—the tension between freedom and order, between independence and responsibility. Every age must decide how much liberty it dares to grant and how much control it must retain. To grant the economic sphere total independence is to risk chaos; to restrain it too tightly is to strangle innovation. Thus, civilization walks forever upon this narrow path, balancing between the hunger for progress and the need for justice.

Like the ancients who sought harmony between heaven and earth, modern man must seek balance between market and morality. For the economy, left wholly alone, forgets the human soul; yet the soul, deprived of freedom, withers under tyranny.

The Lesson for the Living

Let this, then, be the lesson that flows from Yockey’s words: independence must always be tempered by wisdom. Whether in economics, politics, or the heart, freedom without conscience becomes destruction, and control without compassion becomes slavery. The true path lies between—where liberty serves the greater good, and the pursuit of wealth honors the dignity of man.

So, children of the modern age, remember this teaching: the market is a servant, not a master; prosperity is a tool, not a god. Guard your independence, but guide it with justice. Build, trade, and prosper—but never forget that the measure of civilization is not its wealth, but the spirit with which it uses that wealth. For as Yockey observed, even faith in freedom can become idolatry when it forgets the soul it was meant to serve.