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By George P. Brockway, originally published March 3, 1999

3-8-99-the-love-song-of-homo-economicius-title

T.S. ELIOT sang of “Songs[1] that follow like a tedious argument! Of insidious intent! To lead you to an overwhelming question …. ” Economics

sometimes seems like that-tedious as well as dismal. Economics is also very like the next line of The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”: “Oh, do not ask, ‘What is it?”’

For the characteristic economics essay or book lays out-“Like a patient etherized upon a table”-an account of the economy, or some part of it, demonstrating how it works, or doesn’t work. Often the putative truths contained therein are unpleasant, like the iron law of wages in the 19th century or the natural rate of unemployment in the 20th. Nonprofessionals are frequently prompted to ask, not “What is it?” but the truly overwhelming question, “What should we do about it?” Professional economists have tended to brush that question aside. They are, they say, scientists, not humanists; and science concerns what is, not what ought to be.

But there is another reason for the posture of most economists, and that is the problem posed by the first sentence of the last chapter of John Maynard KeynesGeneral Theory of Employment, Interest and Money: “The outstanding faults of the economic society in which we live are its failure to provide for full employment and its arbitrary and inequitable distribution of wealth and income.” One would have to be extraordinarily deficient in empathy for one’s fellow human beings not to recognize the justice and urgency of Keynes’ dictum. One would also have to be exceptionally ignorant of the ways of the world to imagine that the problem will simply solve itself. Indeed, anyone with empathy and knowledge must find it acutely uncomfortable to deny that confronting those “faults” is the special responsibility of economists.

Yet starting with Adam Smith in 1776, the history of modem economics has instead been the story of a search for an automatic polity, a mechanism that, whether it makes all well or not, at least makes everything inexorable. With Smith, of course, it was the invisible hand. With Jeremy Bentham it was the felicific calculus, supposed to operate like Newton’s laws of motion. With Jean-Baptiste Say it was production creating its own demand. With John Stuart Mill it was supply and demand. With Karl Marx it was dialectical materialism. With William S. Jevons, Leon Walras and Carl Menger it was marginal utility. Among our contemporaries, equilibrium is the chosen control-metaphorical with John Hicks, mathematical with Gerard Debreu and Paul Samuelson, quasi-psychological with Frank Hahn and Edmund S. Phelps.

All those I have named are honorable men, as I believe almost every economist to be. I am sure none would dispute the truth of Keynes’ pronouncement. Faced with the enormity of the problem, though, all, with the possible exception of Marx, have found in pseudoscience an excuse for denying the need or ability to do anything substantial, and hence for refusing their responsibility.

The first thing to note about the problem is that originally it was a double pronged affair, but by now the prongs have joined together. In the ancient world, the feudal world and the mercantilist world, you could have full employment along with unconscionable disparities of wealth and income. Perhaps even in Keynes’ day, over half a century ago, it was possible to consider the two great failures of the economy separately. Today, however, we shall not be able to solve unemployment without at the same time solving maldistribution.

An explanation for the intertwining of the two problems was suggested by Joseph A. Schumpeter in an observation of the sort he made so casually and so tellingly. “The capitalist achievement,” he wrote, “does not typically consist in providing more silk stockings for queens but in bringing them within the reach of factory girls in return for steadily decreasing amounts of effort.” The modem economy, unfortunately, may not be quite so good to factory girls as Schumpeter suggests.

The reason lies with the opportunities the wealthy have to dispose of their income. In most cases, their money derives from mass production, but they do not spend much of it on the products of the assembly line. This is not merely a matter of taste. It would be flatly impossible to do so. You can buy a top-of-the-line Mercedes, the archetypal expensive, mass-produced commodity, for about $145,000. If you were a senior officer of a Fortune 500 corporation, or a partner in a major financial house, you could pay cash for a brand-new Mercedes the first of every month, junk it at the end of the month, and still have more money than you and your family could conveniently spend.

Traditionally the wealthy have invested their surplus, a practice generally considered to return it to the producing economy it came from. And, like Prufrock’s Yankee contemporary, Miniver Cheevy, they think they “have reasons” to believe they are doing something good. Theoretically, for example, their investment would make more silk stockings available at lower prices by increasing productivity. But in common with the romantic notions Cheevy holds so dear, the idea is largely spurious.

This is because, regardless of what distinguished economists say, the producing economy is, in general, overcapitalized. As things stand, it could very easily, without investment in another machine or machine tool, increase its output by 15 or 20 per cent. It has that capacity right now. More investment will not lead to greater productivity.

Increased demand would. But Chairman Greenspan still hopes to restrain the “exuberance” of the stock market-in which case its upper middle class “wealth effect” will disappear. And far from trying to stimulate consumption, credit card companies can’t wait to put fear of a new bankruptcy law into their lower-middleclass clients.

These actions reduce the nonwealthy to relying on what they earn by working, and what they earn necessarily falls short of being able to buy what industry produces: Schumpeter’s silk stockings (or their millennial equivalent) become less affordable. The shortfall is equal to the earnings and other withdrawals of the wealthy. Its correction must also come from that source.

LEFT TO THEIR own devices, how do the wealthy spend their money? After buying several Andy Warhols and subscribing to tables at a couple of dozen charity balls, it is all too easy to become frustrated by the attempt to consume one’s income and turn to speculation. So the money the wealthy take out of mass production industry stays out, and the money devoted to speculation becomes a flood.

A “moderate” session of the New York Stock Exchange today sees half again as many shares traded as were thrown on the market in the frenzy of the crash of October 1987. And still there is not enough to meet the demand. Besides the NASDAQ and the Amex and the mercantile exchanges and exchanges abroad (including way stations all over the new global village), there are $85 trillion worth of derivative “products” invented by clever bankers and brokers to facilitate betting on almost anything you can think of. In comparison, numbers running is child’s play.

Also in comparison, trying to make money by operating an enterprise that turns out actual goods and services is a mug’s game. As fortunes are made in speculation, the opportunity cost of productive enterprise rises. To keep those who have invested in industry from selling out, they have to be promised increased profits; and the fashionable way of doing that is for lean and mean companies to become leaner and meaner, thereby narrowing the already narrow market. Where once there was a spreading wage-price spiral, heading upward, the economy has slipped into a constricting lean-mean spiral, heading downward.

3-8-99-the-love-song-of-homo-economicius-ts-elliotThe wealthy are not the only ones contributing to this trend. The middle class is the beneficial owner, through what are called “institutions” (especially mutual funds and pension funds and insurance policies), of between one-third and one half of all the shares on the current exchanges. By being funded rather than treated as current expenses, these institutions soak up purchasing power and weaken aggregate demand. The funds’ speculating deprives the producing economy of efficient financing. The resulting shrinkage of the producing economy raises the rate of unemployment, accelerating the erosion of the middle class the institutions were created to protect, and exacerbating the polarization of society.

That is how we are approaching the turn of another century: The nonwealthy are unable to buy the products their industry can produce; industry consequently has fewer opportunities for expansion; the wealthy consequently have fewer opportunities for productive investment; the nonwealthy consequently have fewer job opportunities and more of them become unemployed (“naturally”).

It is easy to convince yourself that looking to the government to fix the situation is hopeless. President Franklin D. Roosevelt couldn’t get a cap on stay-at home incomes even in the midst of World War II, when millions of young men and women (and middle-aged ones, too) were risking their lives for their country. President Richard M. Nixon, despite being re-elected by the second largest percentage of the popular vote yet recorded, couldn’t enlist a Congressional majority for a negative income tax. The current tax law, whose top rate is less than half the top rate of 25 years ago, does not assess even the present top rate against capital gains. And who can imagine the Federal Reserve Board maintaining an interest rate that is either low or steady, let alone both?

Some (if not all) of these things should be done to mitigate the polarization of our society. If they can’t be done in the current political climate, what can economists be expected to do about it? Well, if economists can’t suggest answers, the least they can do is get out of the way. Certainly no solution will succeed if no one has the will to work for it, and certainly those most responsible are the people claiming professional status.

In the meantime, the outstanding “faults” of our economic society, albeit forged into one, are substantially identical with those of Keynes’ day. But the degradation, despair, and (in the words of the late Erik Erikson) negative identity are worse. Will human voices wake us before we drown?

 

The New Leader

[1] Ed. Well, I’ll be damned.  The author, uncharacteristically, has the quote wrong.  Eliot wrote of “streets”, not “songs” that follow like a tedious argument ….

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By George P. Brockway, originally published May 4, 1998

1998-5-4 Learning From Japan titleTHE ECONOMICS profession and the military are similar in many ways, but they differ in one important respect. Generals are notorious for planning and training for the last war, while economists, who do not believe in history, have only one basic prescription for whatever problem may befall.

I don’t mean economists deny that Caesar crossed the Rubicon, or that Columbus sailed the ocean blue, or that Paul Revere went for a ride. What they deny is that economics was any different in those years from what it is today or will be tomorrow. They recognize, to be sure, that people in prior eras had different ideas concerning the economy, but they regard these ideas as wrong or irrelevant and not worth bothering about. They note that the laws of physics and chemistry and other such proper sciences are understood to have worked in the days of Aristotle whether he knew it or not, and assert that the same is true for the laws of economics- which, they claim, were not properly formulated until a half century ago, or after the death of John Maynard Keynes.

As a consequence, Japan is now having a rough time. We are likely to have a rough time, too, if we don’t watch out.

At the end of the Good War, General MacArthur explained to the chastened Japanese that it was not polite to steal things from other countries, and that in the future they would have to make or buy whatever they wanted. Economists pointed out to them that in order to buy things from foreign countries they would have to sell things to foreigners. So they set to work to export textiles (the United States had sent warships under Commodore Matthew Perry in search of silk back in 1854), but soon decided to put what they had learned in the Good War to good use.

One important lesson they had learned was how to organize themselves. Everyone was prepared to make sacrifices. Since their land was not rich in resources (it especially lacked oil), they did not waste time and energy on producing items for local consumption and pleasure. Even their captains of industry led relatively modest lives-far more modest than those of their conquerors. As the country gradually recovered, everyone continued to live unpretentiously, and to save famously. Japanese saving became proverbial, the envy of Wall Street and MIT economists.

In fewer than 20 years they supplanted the West Germans as the wonder workers of the postwar world. Japanese radios and television sets took over the American market. Then came a great stroke of luck. The OPEC inflation and oil embargo of the 1970s hit the United States just as the Japanese were trying their compact and subcompact cars on the American market. Ford and General Motors and Chrysler relied on earlier market research indicating a strong American preference for long, heavy, powerful, chrome-encrusted gas-guzzlers. Recent experience has shown the market research was basically not far wrong[1], but the tiny Japanese cars were immediate hits, and their agile manufacturers have not lost their share of the American market.

For another 20 years Japan’s foreign trade balance grew, and still the country maintained its-parsimonious domestic life. To some extent the parsimony was cultural, but in any event, it was enforced.

We are so imbued with Ben Franklin’s ethics of a penny saved equaling a penny earned that we may mistakenly imagine Japan is the second coming of Tocqueville’s America. Indeed, it is not. Bribery of government officials and extortion by government officials are commonplace. Ordinary business is lubricated by expense accounts that put American extravagances to shame. Furthermore, the class distinctions are so strong that there is little protest when the cost of living (not to be confused with the rate of inflation) puts many conveniences and amenities beyond the reach of ordinary citizens. Japanese cameras are notoriously more expensive in Tokyo than in New York[2].

Those who read this column in the issue of June 14, 1982 (16 years ago, I ask you to remark), learned then that Japan was far from the ideal society being described by the Western business press. In particular, the “lifetime employment” the press continues to talk about covers only workers in the largest companies (less than 30 per cent of the total employment in the automobile business) and “runs only to age 55, whereupon the worker is either demoted, farmed out to a supplier of the giant firm, or turned loose with a couple of years’ severance pay. In each case he faces old age without a pension.” Although women were 36 per cent of the Japanese work force, they had none of the foregoing perks.

I went on to explain that “the Japanese economy is hierarchical in an idiosyncratic way.” Operations that in the U.S. would be performed by divisions of a company are performed in Japan by satellite companies that are technically independent but actually at the mercy of the giant firms. As a result, the employees of the satellite firms are paid low wages and are subject to sudden layoff and dismissal.

The vaunted “productivity” of Japanese automobile companies came from dividing the value of the finished cars by the number of employees of the major companies, excluding those of the parts suppliers[3]. “In spite of all of Japan’s ‘sunrise’ industries in steel and shipbuilding and textiles and electronics and optics as well as in automobiles, the Japanese GNP per capita is still well below ours.”

I also noted: “As Gus Tyler has shown (in ‘The Politics of Productivity,’ NL, March 22,1982), the notion that the Japanese are ‘catching up’ is a statistical flim-flam.”

In short, some Japanese may live abstemiously because of their upbringing; some may live abstemiously because they have to; and some may live abstemiously because consumption is discouraged in other ways. Jean-Baptiste Say, who wrote, “It is the aim of good government to encourage production and of bad government to encourage consumption,” would have loved modern Japan.

The trouble with good government as defined by Say is that you soon have more money than you know what to do with. The citizens have their little nest eggs, and the big businesses have their big profits, and the government has an enormous “favorable” balance of trade. Modern economists nod their heads approvingly because exports are a positive factor in the Gross National Product, while imports are a negative factor. Nevertheless, this is not an unmixed blessing.

Japan became (and remains) very rich by almost any definition; yet despite its riches, the economy began to go sour with the worldwide recession that set in after the Gulf War. In fact, Japan’s success in exporting all over the world led to its present weakness. Building its economy completely on the world market, Japan necessarily faltered when the world market faltered.

At this point, a feature of the Japanese economy that has captured the admiration of American observers came into play. Japanese banks, which are not restricted and regulated the way American banking is, naturally became the depository of industry’s enormous profits. Lists of the 10 or 20 largest financial institutions in the world were therefore dominated by Japanese banks. American bankers were (and are) envious of how intertwined giant industries and giant banks were. Banks owned and speculated in common stocks and real estate, and thus owned industrial corporations. The latter owned bank stocks and speculated in them. From time to time the central bank joined in the fun.

As world trade languished, and as Japanese forays in foreign investment from Radio City in New York to the Pebble Beach Golf Course[4] in California proved disappointing, bankers and indeed the whole of the Japanese economy devoted all available wit and energy and money to speculating in domestic securities and real estate. The stock market shot up faster and farther than Wall Street has ever managed, and the newspapers were filled with stories of lots 10 feet square in central Tokyo selling for a million dollars. Memberships in fashionable golf clubs also were said to cost a million dollars. Besides playing the markets for their own account, bankers lent vast sums to other high rollers. Speculation spilled over to Korea and bubbled around the Pacific rim.

THE HOME BUBBLES burst first, years before the current debacle in Southeast Asia. Japan’s economy has been essentially flat for most of the present decade.

Economists know what to do in such situations: increase saving, control consumption, raise the interest rate, cut taxes, balance the budget, and deregulate. As we have seen, however, Japan was already very much the sort of state advocated by Jean-Baptiste Say.

At the same time there were puzzling differences in details. Unemployment remained well under 3 per cent, yet inflation was close to zero (a situation similar to the one in the United States that is currently bewildering the Federal Reserve Board). The interest rate was below 2 per cent-as it had been in America in the decade ending in 1951-yet there was so much money around that raising the rate proved to be difficult. The regulations that the U.S. most objected to were those that made imports difficult and hence restrained consumption.

Well, it’s a long story and includes political plots and subplots and dark tales of gangsters (for some reason not known as the Japanese Mafia), but here I merely want to mention one detail. Evidently to appease sternly anti consumption economists, Japan introduced a national sales tax a couple of years ago. The latest “reform” package included extensive corporate and personal income tax cuts, but the sales tax was left intact.

There is, I think, very little chance that Japan will recover from its extended stagnation without a fundamental change of policy. Japan had a brilliant postwar run from destruction and demoralization to the second largest economy in the world. As we observed at the beginning, modern economics has a one-track mind, and Japan followed it. The economic advice that enabled the country to achieve riches is now hampering the recovery. It is as successful a supply-side economy as the modern world has seen, and as such its difficulties should be a warning to the United States.

A one-sided economy is unjust and, in the end, is inefficient. Adam Smith was a true citizen of the Enlightenment. He wrote, “Consumption is the sole end and purpose of all production, and the interest of the producer ought to be attended to only as far as it may be necessary for promoting that of the consumer.”

Keynes had a broader understanding of the needs and purposes of modern life. He wrote, “The outstanding faults of the economic society in which we live are its failure to provide for full employment and its arbitrary and inequitable distribution of wealth and incomes.” Japan came close to correcting the first fault, and we are nearer to it than we have been in modern times. But Japan has overlooked the second fault and is checkmated, and we are increasingly in danger of the same fate.

The New Leader

[1] Ed:  An example of what Steve Jobs, among others, hated about “market research” in that it echoed what people already knew about cars not what was possible about cars…

[2] Ed: “Yodobashi Camera is two blocks south of the Kamiyachō station on the Hibiya subway line.  Yodobashi Camera means BIG savings!”

[3] Ed:  Note that this is exactly paralleled in the US practice of using outsourcing to reduce headcount vs revenue thus presenting productivity gain by not counting the now, outsourced, jobs.

[4] Ed:  A great place to shoot 79 by playing the last 5 holes in one under par…

By George P. Brockway, originally published August 7, 1989

1989-8-7 Exxon And Squatter Economics Title

DEAN ACHESON once remarked wearily that if anyone, at any time, found him agreeing with any Indian on any subject whatever, that person should have him certified immediately. His judgment was no doubt colored by his experiences with V.K. Krishna Menon, who wanted all North Korean POWs shipped home whether they wished to go or not.

My feelings about standard economics are similar, perhaps because one summer, in a youthful fit of self-improvement, I spent many hours reading Frank Taussig’s introductory textbook when I could have been sleeping in the sun. My recollection is that Taussig, who was a big man in his day, started off by talking about Robinson Crusoe. I have since come to doubt that Robinson had anything to do with economics at all. So far as I know or Professor Taussig said, he never bought or sold anything, or used money.

One by one the classic laws have lost their savor for me. David Ricardo‘s Law of Comparative Advantage was an early loser, and I wrote three columns[1] about it six or so years ago. The notion that producers are profit maximizers and consumers are utility maximizers attracted my attention last year, and the Law of Diminishing Returns a couple of months ago. I’ve even dropped a hint or two concerning the Law of Supply and Demand, and might supply a column about it, if I detected any demand.

I’m ashamed to say that in one of my early columns I made a slip and endorsed the proposition that free competition in a free market makes for the most efficient allocation of scarce resources. As Abraham Lincoln[2] replied when requested to apologize for saying that Simon Cameron would not steal a red-hot stove, I now take that back.

The issue is in the news because of the great Valdez oil spill. Some excitable people want to punish Exxon, but they have been patiently told it would be inefficient to do so. Encouraged by the sound of their own voices, the naysayers add that it would be inefficient to impose further restrictions on the exploitation of Alaskan oil, and also that an increase in the gasoline tax would distort the allocation of resources. They urge, too, a relaxation of the already relaxed standards of gasoline efficiency (that word again) for new automobiles. Red-blooded Americans, if given their druthers, would prefer very big cars that can go very fast; therefore they should be allowed to put their money where their preference is, and the speed laws should be lifted while we’re at it.

The more beguiling advocates of free market theory admit that sooner or later oil will run out. They are confident, however, that the spur of possible profits will drive some mad scientist to invent a way of using crab grass or zucchini for fuel (as some tried to use dandelions for rubber in World War II), thus rehabilitating suburban agriculture and saving the automobile. In the meantime, they argue, as oil gets scarcer and the price rises higher, those willing to give up coarser pleasures are entitled to enjoy the daintier pleasure of burning gasoline in fast cars, fast boats and fast snowmobiles. Their willingness shows that is the efficient thing to do.

Let’s examine the proposition, not from the point of view of ecology or even of national security (where it’s a clear loser), but from the point of view of logic. Is economics really about the allocation of resources at all? To answer that question, we have to be able to say what a resource is. How about this: A resource is something that is useful or necessary to make something else, a component of an economic commodity.

(At this point there is a side issue we ought to deal with. The Education President tells us that a trained labor force is an essential resource in our struggle with Japan and Germany for the hearts and moneys of the world. But a labor force is not a thing; it is human beings, and human beings are ends in themselves. Trade is for human beings; human beings are not for trade. They are not a resource or a means to anything else. To treat human beings as means is the ultimate sin. I know that George Bush is a kind and gentle man who does not always mean exactly what he says. But if we are to read his lips, he should watch his tongue.)

So resources are things, objects. Natural resources are things untouched by human hands, lying around ready to be picked up or dug up or fished up, and used. Economic resources are also scarce. There is no point in talking about them if they are not scarce. Taussig (if my memory serves after all these years) gave air as an example of a noneconomic resource, the reasons being that there was a lot of it, and that no one could figure out how to bottle it and sell it. We’ve made progress, however. If you’re in the hospital and they decide to pep you up with oxygen, you’ll find $100 a day added to your bill. And Los Angeles knows that breatheable air would be impossibly expensive.

But of course not all scarce natural objects, even those that could be readily packaged, such as bluebird nests, are natural resources. Leon Walras, the patron saint of marginal utility analysis, credits his father Auguste with the notion that an economic good has to be useful as well as scarce. This does not seem a remarkably difficult advance in thought. It does not really advance us very far, either.

Maybe you are not clever enough to think up uses for bluebird nests, and maybe no one is; that does not mean a use will never be discovered or invented. Think of petroleum. If you had asked Adam Smith about it, he would have shrugged his Scotch shoulders. It was a sticky, stinky substance where it appeared, as in the notorious fields near Cumae, rendering useless the land that harbored it. Or you might have asked Karl Marx about uranium. He would never have heard of it, for one thing. What kind of resource is something you never heard of.  On the other hand, ancient man mined and traded obsidian, which, apart from the art and tools the ancients made of it, is now of no interest to a Harvard Business School graduate.

From these random samples we can infer that the usefulness of objects is not something inherent in them. As it happens, there is no dispute on this point. W. Stanley Jevons, who shares with Walras the distinction of having invented marginal utility, put it this way: “The price of a commodity is the only test we have of the utility of the commodity to the purchaser.” A half century earlier Jean- Baptiste Say had characteristically introduced an intermediate and indeterminable abstraction: “Price is the measure of the value of things, and their value is the measure of their utility.”

In our day, Gerard Debreu, a Nobelist and probably the world’s foremost mathematical economist, is in agreement with Jevons and Say. “The fact that the price of a commodity is positive, null, or negative,” he writes, “is not an intrinsic property of that commodity; it depends on the technology, the tastes, the resources … of the economy.”

(Please forgive another side issue. Noting the word “resources” before Debreu’s ellipses, I confess myself puzzled, since in a subsequent passage he says, “The total resources of an economy are the a priori given quantities of commodities that are made available to (or by) its agents.” It would appear that the price of a commodity depends, at least in part, on resources, and that resources are commodities-a line of argument that looks suspiciously circular to me.)

ONE WAY or another, then, we come to the conclusion that it is not so easy to say what economic resources are. They are useful, yes, but neither petroleum nor uranium nor a bluebird nest is, in and of itself, useful. Indeed, if you don’t know how to use them petroleum is nasty and uranium is dangerous. But our economy does know how to use them, up to a point. So they are resources for us. They are resources for us because of the way our economy is organized.

The organization of our economy is, as the marginal analysts say, a price system. (Like Oscar Wilde’s cynic, we economists know the price of everything and the value of nothing.) Every price is dependent on every other price in a delicately beautiful equilibrium. It is this balanced price system that allocates resources. If tomorrow morning some bright fellow comes up with a use for bluebird nests, the supply of and demand for them (the story goes) will set the price for them. Not only that, but as the demand for bluebird nests develops, the demand for some other things must decline. But other resources (including, sad to say, human resources) are shifted into the bluebird nest industry, restoring the equilibrium. Everything is properly allocated again.

Bluebird nests are now a resource, not simply because they are rare and a use has been found for them, but because they fit into the price system. That is crucial. The market does not so much allocate resources as tell us what resources are.

What, then, becomes of efficiency? It disappears. It is not separately discoverable, for resources are resources because the market says so, and their allocation is efficient only because the market says so. The market is not a better way of allocating resources; it is the only way. This is what the theory says.

Having said this much, it has uttered nonsense. If you really want to learn about resources and their allocation, you should go, not to Wall Street, but to someplace like World Watch Institute, which publishes an annual report called State of the World that explains the consequences of what we are doing and tells how we could do better.

Nonsense is always dangerous. The horror story that “The Market Knows” damages the ecosystem.  It also destroys economics itself, reducing the whole exercise to a defense of the status quo. True believers in the market apparently do not understand this, for they are very liberal (if you know what I mean) with advice about the sorts of issues we mentioned earlier – finding a way to make Exxon pay, restricting further exploitation of Alaskan oil, and so on. Yet these matters, as they now stand, are part of the present system. Changes in favor of the oil industry are no less an interference with the market than are changes in favor of the world and them that dwell therein.

Once any sort of change is admissible, every sort can be argued up or down. In the 1850s, Stephen A. Douglas proposed squatter sovereignty (allowing the territories to vote on slavery), which appeared to be impartial but actually favored the South. In their renowned debates, Lincoln forced Douglas to admit that slavery could be voted down as well as up. That won Douglas the Senate seat, but cost him the Presidency two years later. It would be lovely if we could come to understand the vacuity of squatter economics.

The New Leader


[2] Readers should see the upcoming link about “stealing a red-hot stove.”  The author attributes the quote to Lincoln but it was, according to Wikipedia, Thaddeus Stevens talking TO Lincoln.

Originally published January 27, 1986

ON A RECENT Sunday the New York Times ran a long story headlined, Waking Up to the Glut Economy.” A series of  “graphics” preceding the text dramatized its major points: More of us are unemployed than in any pre-Reagan year since World War II; more downtown office space is vacant than in recent decades; there are excess supplies of oil and of most basic metals; our grain stocks have reached record levels; we have more computers than we know what to do with; despite billions said to have been spent on  productivity, our trade balance continues to worsen; and we have the largest reserve of unused production capacity since the ’30s.

Those facts certainly add up to what a layman thinks of when he uses the word “glut.” But I have a suspicion the headline writer had more than layman’s language in mind. For “glut” is a highly charged word in the history of economic thought. It was-given currency in 1803 by Jean- Baptiste Say (or his translator), of whom we’ve spoken several times before. The curious thing about Say is that he thought a universal glut impossible. My guess is that the headline writer was slyly calling attention to yet another failure of Say’s Law. I wish I thought the Times’ readers got the point.

As John Kenneth Galbraith told us in American Capitalism, “Whether a man accepted or rejected Say’s Law was, until well into the 1930s, the test of whether he was qualified for the company of reputable scholars or should be dismissed as a monetary crank.” When Galbraith published the first edition of American Capitalism in 1952, the Great Depression was scarcely over a decade in the past, and everyone, even academic economists, knew a universal glut was possible. We were there. It had happened to us. It wasn’t funny.

I don’t suppose 200 American economists have read deeply in Say’s Treatise on Political Economy. Nevertheless, the depressing truth is that his ideas are once more being taken as gospel, and not merely in ivory towers. Here are a few quotations: “It is production that opens a demand for products.” (This is the famous-or notorious-Say’s Law, which is aphoristically restated as “Production creates its own demand.”) Again: “Sales cannot be said to be dull because money is scarce, but because other products are so.” Again: “It is the aim of good government to stimulate production, of bad government to encourage consumption.”

Although the quotations are from a book published in 1803, you will surely remember hearing similar sentiments from contemporary lips. The first might have been pronounced yesterday by Congressman Jack Kemp; the second by Federal Reserve Board Chairman Paul Volcker; and the third by Senator Gary Hart. Of course, it is nothing against these ideas that they are 183 years old. As Alfred North Whitehead said, all philosophy is a series of footnotes to Plato, and Plato wrote more than two millennia before Say. What is against these ideas is that they’re misconceived, mistaken, grievously misleading. There is a speck of plausibility in all of them, but only a speck.

Over the past five years, however, they have made the rich very much more powerful (they were already as rich as need be). They have caused many millions to lose their jobs. They have forced many thousands of businesses into bankruptcy. And now they are going to be used to defeat many of the good provisions (such as they are) of House Ways and Means Committee Chairman Dan Rostenkowski‘s tax bill.

Any rational discussion of these matters should start by recalling that there really and truly was a universal glut from 1929 to World War II. It should then go on to note that there is indeed a universal glut at present, too, just as the Times says.

Say’s original error was characteristic of his times: He brushed aside the surface appearance of events and sought a hidden reality-what his contemporary Wordsworth called “something far more deeply interfused.” Therefore he easily convinced himself that money was a screen behind which real economic activity went on. “You say you only want money,” he wrote, “I say you want other commodities, and not money.” In a footnote he added, “Money, as money, has no other use than to buy with.” This sounds sensible enough (it is the speck of plausibility I mentioned), yet you have to be careful about the conclusions you draw from it.

Say was not careful, nor are those who follow in his footsteps. Their careless reasoning goes like this: Since commodities are really bought with other commodities, the thing to do is to get commodities made. Perhaps some will prove to be unsalable; but unless an officious government jostles the unseen hand (Say was an admirer of Adam Smith), those who have produced commodities will immediately exchange them with each other, and everyone will live happily ever after.

Modern econometricians have reduced this notion to a formula relating to the gross national product. Elementary textbooks define the GNP as the sum of personal consumption plus private investment plus government expenditures plus net exports. Since personal consumption and government expenditures seem purely passive (they seem to use things up, not to produce them), it is concluded that the way to increase the GNP must be to increase private investment and (if possible) net exports.

As you can see, the conclusion fits in very snugly with Say’s Law. It also underwrites the views of supply siders like Jack Kemp, of people like Gary Hart who want to rebuild America, and of White House Chief of Staff Donald Regan, who wants to tax consumption. It was the justification for the tax credits introduced under President John F. Kennedy and for the rapid depreciation regulations introduced under President Ronald Reagan. It prompts lobbyists for big business to misrepresent Rostenkowski’s tax bill as a blueprint for depression.

At this point a glimmer of common sense may give us pause. We already know that Say was wrong, that a universal glut is possible. We also know or should know-that we had a Jim Dandy depression (call it a recession if you want to kid yourself) from 1981 until well into 1983. And we know that depression was preceded by the Reagan tax law increasing investment tax credits and speeding up depreciation write offs. As a result, business’ share of the tax burden fell to 5.8 per cent-the lowest since the days of Herbert Hoover. Deserving companies like General Dynamics, in addition to paying no taxes at all, actually got hundreds of millions of dollars in rebates.

The fact that the depression of 1981-83 followed the 1981 tax breaks for big business may not be conclusive proof that the tax breaks caused the depression (it is post hoc, not necessarily propter hoc), but it is sure as shooting proof they didn’t cause prosperity. Moreover, the highly touted business recovery of 1983- 84 followed the 1982 tax law, taking back some of the earlier giveaways. This being the empirical record, it is at best quixotic to pretend that rescinding a few more of the tax breaks, as in the Rostenkowski bill, would bring on another recession. It is more than quixotic. I’ll compromise my reputation for mildness and say that it is illogical, devious and mischievous.

NOWLOOK BACK at the components of the GNP, in particular at personal consumption and government expenditures. These seem purely passive, but of course they aren’t. Quite apart from the fact that consumption is a human activity (note the syllable “act”), not a galvanic reaction, there are two sides to consumption, as there are two sides to everything in this double-entry world (see “The Chicken and the Egg,” NL, September 9, 1985). Nothing can be consumed unless it has been produced.

But isn’t that what Say said? No, it is almost the diametric opposite. Say and his followers claim that whatever is produced will be consumed (hence no glut is possible). What we are claiming is merely that whatever is consumed must have been produced. There is no way to consume more than has been produced; it is very easy to produce more than will be consumed. Every businessman knows this. It would be no great trick for Harper and Row to turn out 10 million (why not more?) copies of my book; they are timid, though, and fear they might not be able to sell them all. Even Say couldn’t avoid recognizing a further weakness of his Law. “There is nothing,” he wrote, “to be got by dealing with people who have nothing to pay.” In short, some products are not consumed because people don’t want them, and some because people can’t afford them. In either case, producing more won’t solve the problem. To put it another way: You can’t dissolve a glut by producing more of what you already have.

One of the great contributions of John Maynard Keynes-possibly the greatest-was his demonstration that in a capitalist system (or in any system that is advanced much beyond bare subsistence) glut is not only possible, it is always imminent. This is because of what he called “liquidity preference,” which is partly a function of the necessity to have assets (mainly money) on hand for daily needs and partly a function of our inevitable uncertainty about the future, leading us to keep assets readily available to guard against (or to  exploit) the unexpected. Everyone (except those who have no money at all) exhibits some preference for liquidity, the very rich probably more than the rest.

Whatever is kept liquid is neither consumed nor invested. It is withheld from the economy, making it impossible for the economy to buy and pay for everything it produces; hence a glut. Some sort of glut is inevitable; the problem is to keep it manageable. There are two principles guiding glut management: The first and (assuming the brotherhood of man) most important is to take steps to increase the purchasing power of the poor. The second is to make intelligent use of the purchasing power of the government (see “All You Need to Know about the Deficit,” NL, October 29, 1984).

Reaganomics has violated both principles. The Rostenkowski tax bill is a very modest attempt at correction. Gluttonous conservatives don’t like it because it deprives a few of the rich of a few of their recent benefits and re-imposes some taxes on corporations. The claim is the altogether smelly canard that incentives will be sapped if the rich and prosperous are asked to pay their share of the taxes. Equally disgusting and stupid is the attempt, in the face of a glutted economy, to “balance” the budget and thus reduce government expenditures at the very moment they should be expanded. There may be other ways to kill a cat, but choking it to death on cream may prove sufficient.

The New Leader

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