Let's Talk About Poverty (1)

The concept of poverty has deep roots across human history and reflects more than just the absence of money—it is a multidimensional condition shaped by economic, political, social, cultural, and philosophical forces. At its core, poverty refers to a state in which individuals or communities lack the material resources necessary to maintain a minimum standard of living. However, this definition evolves depending on who defines it and in what context.

From a general theoretical standpoint, poverty has often been seen as either absolute—lacking the basic necessities of life such as food, shelter, and healthcare—or relative, meaning people are poor when they are significantly worse off than the average standard in their society.

Philosophically, poverty has been explored through questions of justice, morality, and human dignity. Thinkers from Plato to Marx have grappled with why poverty exists and whether it is a product of natural inequalities, personal failure, or systemic injustice. Some argue that poverty challenges the ethical structure of societies, as it reveals imbalances in how resources and opportunities are distributed.

Politically, poverty is often both a cause and consequence of power dynamics. Governments and elites may shape policies in ways that benefit the few while marginalising the many. Poverty becomes a political issue when it is tied to rights, representation, and the responsibility of the state to provide social welfare.

Economically, poverty is the product of unequal distribution of wealth, unemployment, inflation, and lack of access to markets or credit. Economists debate whether poverty results from structural problems within capitalism, or whether it can be solved through better fiscal policy, foreign aid, or economic reforms.

Socially and culturally, poverty is not only a matter of income but also of exclusion, stigma, and identity. In many societies, being poor carries a social shame that can affect how people see themselves and how they are treated by others. Culture can both alleviate and perpetuate poverty, depending on values such as mutual aid, individualism, or community solidarity.

Ultimately, poverty is a mirror. It reflects how a society is structured, what it values, and what it chooses to ignore. It is not just about lacking things—but about lacking access, voice, and dignity.

The concept of poverty has existed for as long as human societies have been stratified. Although hunger and hardship are as old as civilisation itself, the recognition of "poverty" as a distinct social problem emerged gradually as societies developed more complex structures.

Philosophically, reflections on poverty can be traced back to ancient times. In Classical Greece, thinkers like Plato and Aristotle acknowledged the existence of inequality and questioned the moral foundations of wealth and deprivation. However, poverty was often regarded as a natural or even necessary feature of society—something that allowed others to be rich. It wasn’t until later religious and ethical traditions, such as Christianity and Islam, that poverty was reframed not just as a fact of life, but as a moral issue demanding justice and compassion.

Politically, the concept of poverty gained sharper definition with the rise of state systems and laws. In medieval Europe, for instance, poor laws were enacted not necessarily out of empathy, but to control vagrancy and protect social order. It was during the Enlightenment and post-industrial revolutions that poverty began to be seen as something the state had a duty to alleviate—leading to early welfare systems and public debates about the rights of the poor.

Economically, the concept of poverty only became measurable in the modern sense during the rise of capitalism in the 18th and 19th centuries. When wealth began to be quantified in wages, property, and productivity, poverty could now be calculated—often as the opposite of economic success. Thinkers like Adam Smith and later Karl Marx identified poverty as either a failure of individual productivity or a by-product of systemic exploitation.

Culturally, poverty evolved from being a condition to a label. In tribal or agrarian societies, being poor may have been a temporary or cyclical experience. But as urbanisation and industrialisation advanced, poverty became stigmatised. Literature and popular media began to portray the poor not only as suffering, but as dangerous or shameful—especially in Victorian England. This cultural framing has lingered to this day.

In sum, while the experience of poverty is ancient, the concept of poverty—as something to be defined, measured, addressed, and even politicised—arose alongside civilisation itself, intensifying during religious reformations, economic revolutions, and the modern nation-state.

Where and who first articulated the concept of Poverty? The concept of poverty was not born in a single place or from a single thinker. Rather, it emerged gradually across civilisations, as humanity began to question inequality, justice, and survival. Each tradition—philosophical, political, economic, social, and cultural—gave rise to its own understanding of what it means to be poor.

Philosophically, some of the earliest recorded reflections on poverty come from Ancient Greece. Plato, in works like The Republic, alluded to the dangers of both excessive wealth and extreme poverty in undermining harmony in the state. Aristotle took it further in Politics, arguing that a healthy society should avoid large gaps between rich and poor, for imbalance breeds resentment and instability. Yet even earlier, in ancient Eastern thought, Confucius in China and the sages of the Indian Vedic tradition discussed poverty in moral and social terms, often linking it to virtue, duty, and cosmic order.

Politically, the concept of poverty as a state concern emerged most clearly during the late medieval period in Europe. The English Poor Laws, especially those under Queen Elizabeth I in the late 16th century, institutionalised poverty as something to be managed by the state. But even before that, Islamic governance during the Abbasid Caliphate in Baghdad had developed sophisticated systems of zakat (almsgiving) and bayt al-mal (public treasury) aimed at redistributing wealth and addressing the needs of the poor—arguably one of the first welfare models in the world.

The Abbasid Caliphate in Baghdad established one of the most sophisticated and morally driven financial systems in medieval history. At its heart was the institution of Baitul Mal, the public treasury, which was not merely a vault for collecting taxes, but a dynamic, ethically-rooted mechanism for wealth redistribution. Combined with the compulsory charity system of zakat, it created a welfare structure far ahead of its time.

What made it remarkable was the intention and scale. Zakat was treated not as a random act of kindness, but as a legal and spiritual obligation enforced by the state. Wealth was not seen as a private luxury, but as a social responsibility. The Baitul Mal carefully managed funds from zakat, kharaj (land tax), jizyah (non-Muslim tax), and spoils of war, and channelled them towards public infrastructure, hospitals, schools, roads, orphanages, and direct aid for the poor and needy.

Unlike many modern systems, the Abbasids had a real-time, decentralized record of who was poor and what they needed. There are historical accounts of zero poverty zones, where zakat officers couldn't find anyone eligible to receive funds. This speaks to a level of social equity rarely seen even in today's most developed welfare states.

Moreover, the system was backed by religious ethics, legal scholarship, and administrative innovation. Islamic jurists and economists debated how to improve it. Caliphs appointed ministers specifically tasked with ensuring that no one fell through the cracks. The aim wasn’t just to relieve poverty temporarily—but to eradicate it structurally.

This holistic blend of faith, governance, and public service made the Abbasid system of zakat and Baitul Mal a blueprint of social justice. It wasn't perfect, but it was centuries ahead of many later models.

Economically, Adam Smith in 18th-century Scotland helped frame poverty in measurable terms. In The Wealth of Nations, he argued that poverty was not merely a lack of money but the inability to participate fully in society. Later, Karl Marx in Germany reframed poverty as a direct outcome of capitalist exploitation. According to him, poverty wasn’t accidental; it was engineered by a system that enriched the few while extracting labour from the many.

Socially and culturally, the concept of poverty became more pronounced with urbanisation and industrialisation. Writers such as Charles Dickens in Victorian London gave poverty a human face, portraying the struggles of the working class with empathy and moral outrage.

Charles Dickens was a master at portraying the harrowing nature of poverty in 19th-century London. The following is a brief story drawn from one of his most heart-wrenching works, Oliver Twist: "In the grey, soot-stained corners of industrial London, a little boy named Oliver Twist was born into nothingness—no family, no warmth, no future. His first cry echoed not in a home, but in a cold, heartless workhouse, where the poor were treated more like burdens than human beings.

One of the most haunting scenes comes when Oliver, gaunt and trembling from hunger, approaches the workhouse master with a tin bowl in his tiny hands. His voice, barely above a whisper, delivers the line that made literary history:

“Please, sir, I want some more.”

The room falls silent. The masters are scandalised. How dare a poor orphan ask for more food?

This single moment captures the cruelty of a system where asking for basic sustenance was seen as rebellion. Dickens forces readers to feel the desperation—not just of Oliver, but of thousands like him, who lived under the heel of Victorian poverty, where charity was cold, institutions were soulless, and a child’s hunger was considered an inconvenience.

Through Oliver's eyes, Dickens showed a society that punished the poor for being poor. But he also showed the resilience of the human spirit, and the possibility of kindness in the darkest corners."

In France, thinkers like Émile Durkheim analysed poverty not just as deprivation, but as social isolation and the breakdown of collective support systems. Émile Durkheim, one of the founding figures of modern sociology, is best known for his work Suicide: A Study in Sociology (Le Suicide: Étude de sociologie, first published 1897, English edition first published 1952 by Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd.), which explores themes of poverty, alienation, and society.

In the quiet corners of late 19th-century France, Émile Durkheim wasn’t telling bedtime stories—he was telling society about itself. He wasn’t interested in individual gossip or politics of the day. He wanted to know why, in a world that seemed increasingly modern and connected, so many people still felt utterly alone.

Durkheim told a different kind of story—one written in numbers, in patterns, in lives lost silently. His work Suicide shocked the world, not because it spoke of death, but because it showed that something deeply social was at play. He uncovered that even something as private and tragic as suicide was influenced not just by mental health or poverty alone, but by the invisible threads of how society holds—or fails to hold—its members.

He found that people living in poverty were not always the ones most likely to take their lives. Strangely, it was often the wealthy, the educated, or the urban individual, cut off from family or tradition, who were at risk. This wasn’t a story of money—it was a story of disconnection.

Durkheim introduced us to terms like anomie, a state of normlessness where the social glue breaks apart. In such a society, people float untethered—without purpose, without belonging. He showed that modernity’s speed and progress could leave behind a deeper loneliness.

In the end, Durkheim gave us a message: that to solve personal despair, we must heal social fractures. That poverty is not just economic—it is moral, relational, and institutional. His stories didn’t have villains or heroes, but they made us ask the right questions about how we live together.

While no single person or place can be credited with "inventing" the concept of poverty, key figures and civilisations across history have helped define it—each adding a layer of depth to how we understand human deprivation and inequality.

In Indonesian history, the issue of poverty has been at the heart of the national struggle—long before the country even achieved independence. It was never merely seen as an economic problem, but as a symptom of colonialism, injustice, and systemic exclusion. Various Indonesian intellectuals, activists, and political leaders have tackled poverty not only as a condition to be alleviated, but as a manifestation of oppression to be resisted.

Sukarno, Indonesia’s founding president, was among the earliest and most passionate voices to define poverty in political and ideological terms. He argued that colonialism was the root cause of mass poverty in the archipelago. In his speeches—especially in Indonesia Menggugat—he framed poverty not as a failure of the people, but as the deliberate result of a system designed to exploit them. For Sukarno, national independence was not meaningful unless it came with social justice, economic equality, and the eradication of poverty.

Mohammad Hatta, the nation’s first vice president and a staunch cooperative economist, had a slightly different but complementary approach. He saw poverty as something that could be tackled through cooperative enterprise and economic democracy. For Hatta, the spirit of gotong royong (mutual cooperation) and economic self-reliance were vital in building a society free from poverty and dependency. His writings envisioned a just economy that empowers the poor rather than marginalises them.

Tan Malaka, often remembered as a revolutionary and Marxist thinker, took a radical view of poverty. In his seminal work Madilog, he linked poverty in Indonesia to imperialism and capitalist structures. He believed true liberation required not just political independence but also economic transformation. For him, the peasants and labourers—the poorest of society—were the real engines of revolution.

Later, figures like Abdurrahman Wahid (Gus Dur) highlighted poverty through a more humanistic and cultural lens. As both a scholar and a president, he often reminded Indonesians that poverty could not be solved merely through numbers and policies—it required empathy, inclusivity, and the dismantling of discrimination, especially toward minorities and the disabled.

To this day, the discourse on poverty in Indonesia continues to evolve, shaped by a mix of political will, cultural wisdom, and grassroots activism. Yet the legacy of these national figures reminds us that poverty in Indonesia has never been a purely economic issue—it is deeply entwined with the nation's history of struggle, identity, and hope.

Sukarno once poignantly remarked, "I was born amidst poverty and grew up in poverty. I did not own shoes. I did not bathe in water from a tap. I did not know about forks and spoons," reflecting on his early hardships and highlighting that personal suffering fuels his empathy for the poor. Moreover, he declared, “The primary reason for colonisation is shortage of sustenance,” emphasising that colonial exploitation was driven by resource deprivation rather than lofty ideals .

Mohammad Hatta encapsulated his vision for economic justice with the phrase, “Kurang cerdas dapat diperbaiki dengan belajar. Kurang cakap dapat dihilangkan dengan pengalaman. Namun tidak jujur itu sulit diperbaiki,” which, while not directly about poverty, underscores the moral foundation needed to uplift the poor.

Tan Malaka, in his book Madilog, offered a searing insight into deprivation: “Lapar tak berarti kenyang buat si miskin. Si lapar yang kurus kering tak akan bisa kita kenyangkan dengan kata ‘kenyang’ saja, walaupun kita ulangi seribu kali,” emphasising that merely offering platitudes cannot fill the empty stomachs of the impoverished .

Abdurrahman “Gus Dur” Wahid didn’t leave a single iconic sentence specifically about poverty, but his life and actions spoke volumes: as a leader, he championed the destitute, the marginalised and the voiceless.

The concept of poverty is crucial not simply because it reflects a lack of material wealth, but because it is a mirror to the moral, social, and political structure of a society. To understand poverty is to understand how a community treats its most vulnerable. It forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about inequality, injustice, and exclusion.

Poverty is not just about empty stomachs or the absence of shelter. It speaks of restricted opportunities, voicelessness, and systemic neglect. When a society fails to acknowledge and address poverty, it risks stagnation, unrest, and ultimately, moral bankruptcy. Recognising poverty as a concept allows policymakers, thinkers, and citizens to name the problem, study its roots, and work toward solutions that go beyond charity—toward dignity, rights, and inclusion.

Furthermore, poverty affects everything. It determines access to education, health care, decent work, and even the ability to dream. The concept gives shape to suffering that is otherwise invisible. It is a tool for justice—because if we can name it, we can fight it.

[Part 2]

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