Ola Osinaike | The new god

Although I have practiced Christianity for most of my life, I sense that I am beginning to place faith in another god.

As a student at the best undergraduate finance program in the most wealth-obsessed country in the world, I spend so much time updating my resume and establishing connections on LinkedIn in the name of networking that doing extra preparation for the business world is almost ritualistic.

This obsession with career prospects is not reflective of an obsession with comfort and the ability to provide for my family. It’s not even an obsession with “peacocking” in order to show status and attract attention and sex. Rather, it is a way of worship, a ritual to praise the new god: money.

Penn serves as an example of the money culture that is ubiquitous in the United States. There is this pervading mindset on campus that the main reason to be in business is to make money over all other passions, interests, hobbies and talents — we’re in Wharton, we’d be fools not to make money off of it.

This doesn’t stop at Wharton students. Econ majors in the College and other academically-focused students see being rich as the ultimate goal. Suffer for five years with impossible work hours, and live the rest of my life like a god.

If we have this much dedication towards making only money, we might as well call it what it is: a religion. Just think — we’re already immaculate.

Surely, some of us have reason to prioritize salaries. Different students face varying amounts of pressure to find high salary jobs. International students and those who pay full tuition feel obligated to make a lucrative career out of the education their parents are spending a quarter of a million dollars on.

But especially in the U.S., people see money not only as a necessity, but also as the ultimate qualifier that turns a “nobody” into a “somebody.” We assert net worth over self-worth, turning capital into a karmic gauge — the more money you make, the harder you’ve worked, the more nobility and diligence you exemplify.

Those without money, on the other hand, are ironically ascribed with the harshest vices — laziness, sloth and even entitlement. The inability to scheme others into giving you what you desire is not only seen as a weakness but an inept character flaw.

Those of us who wish to redeem ourselves with the aforementioned “virtues” certainly are not blissfully ignorant of the crime that happens on Wall Street. In many respects, most people who work there are just like us, pursuing their own financial security. However, that environment has a clear tendency to reshape the moral character of our predecessors, no matter what religion or moral scope they might have once had. Money reigns supreme on a throne made of dreams.

And rightfully so, right? What other “god” could compete with currency? You can’t feel your “god,” grasp “him” in your hands. Money is the only tangible deity, the one who’s always around to hold you when you need him. He can give you what you want and when you need to feel good, he can surround you with clothes and cars and anything to help drown whatever pain you carry inside. Money will always “love” you, and if you never turn your back on him, he will come when you call and give whatever you ask — spoiling you in his generosity and care.

Though I try to fight it, I can easily convince myself into thinking that a career in finance is a priority worth following through on. Though I don’t find it interesting in the slightest, the simple implication that there is money waiting to be made is enough fodder to keep me coming back to the on-campus recruitment events.

Being at the feet of wealth and the opportunity to live in splendor, my attempt to not bow down and surrender my free will to this god is shaky at best.

And I’ve only started sophomore year.

Ola Osinaike is a College and Wharton sophomore from Chicago. His email address is osinaike@sas.upenn.edu. “Aristeia” appears every other Thursday.

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