The word imperative comes from the Latin imperativus, meaning “that which commands effectively,” that which must be done in order to achieve a just end. When that command is directed toward the good, we speak of a moral imperative, that is, of something that cannot be left undone if one wishes to live according to human dignity. Kant expressed it categorically: “Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.”¹ Understood this way, the moral imperative is not imposed by coercion, but by reason; it does not command arbitrarily, but because it expresses what conscience recognizes as necessary for the good.
Applied to the life of nations, economic growth is not a luxury, but a moral duty. If we want a freer society, more dignified and with greater opportunities, producing wealth becomes a moral obligation. Guatemala’s problem is not poverty, but the lack of wealth. We have not generated enough to free people from necessity, and until we do, no welfare program will be able to transform the underlying reality. True social justice does not arise from distributing the little we have, but from multiplying what we are capable of creating.
Adam Smith, the founder of modern economics, was not an economist in the technical sense of the term. His doctorate was in moral philosophy, and his first work, The Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759), sought to understand how human beings, motivated by self-interest, could unknowingly contribute to the well-being of others. That reflection culminated in his major work, The Wealth of Nations (1776), not as a treatise on greed, but as a moral philosophy of progress. Smith understood that the desire to improve one’s own condition was not a defect, but a civilizing force. “It is this deception which rouses and keeps in continual motion the industry of mankind. It is this which first prompted them to cultivate the ground, to build houses, to found cities and commonwealths, and to invent and improve all the sciences and arts, which ennoble and embellish human life.”² The pursuit of individual prosperity, Smith argued, ultimately elevates the entire community, because no society can surely be flourishing and happy if the far greater part of its members are poor and miserable.³
That moral dimension of work and production has been forgotten in much of the contemporary debate. Tyler Cowen, American economist and professor at George Mason University, powerfully recovers it in his book The Moral Imperative of Economic Growth (2020), published in Spanish by the Instituto Fe y Libertad. Cowen is not just another commentator: he is one of the most influential voices in contemporary liberal thought, author of Stubborn Attachments: A Vision for a Society of Free, Prosperous, and Responsible Individuals (2016), the work that inspired the title of the Spanish edition. His central thesis is that sustained economic growth constitutes an ethical duty, because its benefits extend over time and reach even those who have not yet been born.
Cowen states that “the history of economic growth shows that, with some exceptions, it relieves human misery, improves happiness and opportunity, and extends lives. Wealthier societies have better standards of living, better medicine, and offer greater autonomy, fulfillment, and sources of joy.”⁴ This is not an apology for materialism, but a moral affirmation: every point of sustained growth means less poverty, more education, more art, and more freedom. Every productive cycle generates new jobs that accumulate and multiply, offering opportunities for a dignified life to more people.
Cowen contrasts the fleeting effect of redistribution managed by the State with the cumulative power of productive growth. Redistribution may have immediate effects, but its benefit is one-time only: it is exhausted when the resource is consumed. Growth, by contrast, produces compound effects, because each cycle generates new capacities, investment, and prosperity. That is how countries that produce consistently manage to advance. The Dominican Republic today has a GDP per capita twice that of Guatemala; Costa Rica, three times; Panama, four times more, and Ireland, twenty times more. None of them reached their current level by distributing poverty more efficiently, but by producing more, investing better, and sustaining their growth for decades.
Growth can be compared to a fertile plant that multiplies on its own. Every new branch supports more people, and its shade protects future generations. Redistribution relieves the heat momentarily; growth creates the forest that will allow us to live with dignity.
Joseph Schumpeter, one of the great economists of the twentieth century and author of Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy (1942), explained that capitalism advances not through stability, but through renewal. Beyond his famous concept of “creative destruction,” the essential point of his thought lies in understanding that progress depends on the existence of capital willing to take risks. Without savings and investment, no innovation is possible. The accumulation of capital is not an act of greed, but the condition that makes creation possible.
The societies that progress are those where there are people willing to risk their capital in order to compete. It is not countries, but entrepreneurs who leap without a safety net, trusting in their talent and effort. Their success is not guaranteed: many fail, others persist until they triumph. But that willingness to risk one’s own resources to create something new is what keeps the economy alive and, ultimately, hope itself.
Capital reinvested in knowledge, infrastructure, or technology is not an abstraction: it consists of individuals who believe in their idea and bet on it. Every innovation is the result of a personal decision to take risks. That is why creative accumulation —and not immediate consumption— must be seen as a moral virtue: it is active confidence in the future.
The world today offers clear examples of what happens when a society does not prepare for change. What, for example, will taxi drivers or drivers for technological platforms such as Uber, Cabify, or Yango do when autonomous vehicles begin to circulate? We cannot stop progress; we must anticipate it. If we do not prepare people to adapt to new technological scenarios, the transition will bring poverty, unemployment, and frustration. Technical education, continuous training, and the ability to reinvent oneself are the new civic duties of the twenty-first century.
Economic growth is not greed; it is responsibility. Cowen summarizes it with admirable moral clarity: “We need a stronger, more dedicated, and indeed more stubborn attachment to prosperity and freedom than we have today.”⁵ Guatemala needs to rediscover that moral dimension of progress. Creating wealth is serving others; investing is believing in tomorrow; producing is, ultimately, an act of virtue.
Capitalism was born as a moral idea intended to improve human life. When it forgets its ethical roots, it becomes selfishness; when it remembers them, it transforms into a civilizing force. No society has defeated poverty without sustained growth. No generation has enjoyed greater freedom without having built it upon prosperity.
Economic growth, understood as a moral imperative, is the only path toward a freer, more dignified, and more humane Guatemala. When we understand that producing wealth is an act of virtue, we will stop fearing progress and begin fulfilling our duty to the future.
Notes
- Immanuel Kant, The Metaphysics of Morals (1797). (Madrid: epublibre, 2017), p. 100.
- Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759). (Boston: Wells and Lilly, 1817), p. 248.
- Adam Smith, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations (1776). (Amsterdam: ΜεταLibri, 2007), p. 66.
- Tyler Cowen, Stubborn Attachments: A Vision for a Society of Free, Prosperous, and Responsible Individuals. (San Francisco: Stripe Press, 2018), p. 33.
- Tyler Cowen, Stubborn Attachments …, p. 5.
- Joseph A. Schumpeter, Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy (1942), Harper & Brothers, New York, 1950.
