by Igor Karbinovskiy
Every administration wants to create jobs. There can
never be too many jobs, if you ask them, so they're always interested in making
more, even in times of low unemployment. Every administration, therefore,
proposes its own jobs bill. Last year, for example, President Obama spent some
time touring the country to promote his own jobs bill as a way to address the
deepening economic crisis. This seems like a no-brainer. After all, jobs are
clearly and unambiguously a good thing, right?
Suppose I write an article on the economy that no one
wants to read, much less pay me for. Now suppose that the government pays me
for it anyway — as part of a jobs bill. Presto! A new job has been created; a
person who was previously unemployed is now working. Better yet, that person is
me! This job certainly increased my standard of living. But what have I
produced? What have I contributed to the economy? Because no one wants my
article, the value of my contribution to the economy is zero. The time I've
spent in writing, and the money the government paid me, have been wasted.
Worse, because this money allows me to consume things that I (and other people)
want — things like food and shelter — the net effect on the economy is
negative: zero value in, positive value out. This, then, is an example of a
"bad" job.
On the other hand, if someone wanted the article I'd written, at the price I was charging for it, then the situation would be quite different. My contribution to the economy would be positive; its value is determined by my customers, who prefer my work to the money they paid for it. I obviously gain the money, which I value higher than my labor. In this latter example, I was productive. In the former, I was not. This, then, is the difference between a productive job and an unproductive one: whether or not someone freely decides that its output is worth buying.
Everyone makes decisions based on an ever-shifting
scale of personal preferences — a kind of mental shopping list on which we list
all options available to us that we're aware of, in order from most desirable
to least desirable. Economists call this the "law of marginal
utility." We choose that option we find most desirable — why would we ever
pick an option that is less desirable than another (whatever
"desirable" means to us)? I am not suggesting that every choice we
make is made with our personal, selfish benefit in mind, at least not material
benefit. I am simply pointing out that anything we do in the absence of
coercion — even giving gifts — we do because we want to do it. So if we go into
a store and choose one product over another, it is because we valued that
product more than the other.
If we accept that some products are desirable and
others aren't, then it follows logically that the real estate, equipment,
labor, raw materials, and money involved in their creation are also either
desirably employed or not. Anything invested in creation of goods that no one
wants ("bads," really) is wasted — as was my time in writing the
unwanted article — and should be reallocated toward creation of goods people
actually want. On the other hand, assets invested in the creation of goods that
everyone wants most urgently are clearly put to best possible use, and any
effort to reallocate them toward any other use would result in a reduction in
everyone's standard of living.
It's not enough, then, to know how much money,
equipment, time, etc. there is; you also need to know how much the end result
is valued on the free market. Investors know this from experience, after
watching the values of their investments fluctuate on the market. And how can
we know ahead of time how much the final product or service will be valued on
the free market? We cannot. There is only one way to test the quality of any
investment — by putting it to the free market test: produce the goods or
services; offer those goods or services for sale on the free market; if you
make a profit, then your investment was productive.
All this is in complete contradiction to the commonly
(though not universally) accepted economic theory that treats all investments
the same, without regard to how desirable its end product is. Everything is
lumped together blindly into a single aggregate. According to this theory, if
you increase the aggregate, you increase the total level of wealth and hence
the standard of living. Not surprisingly, economists who think this way are
always calling for more inflation.
But if you increase the supply of money (inflation),
and it is allocated into uses that are wasteful, then you don't create any
wealth, and you don't increase the standard of living — even if you use the new
money to create new jobs. When mainstream economists say that the economy has
expanded, therefore, this should be taken with a grain of salt. A skeptical
person should ask which part of the economy has expanded — the productive part?
Or waste?
In the same way economic contraction is not
necessarily a bad thing. Which part of the economy has contracted? The
productive part or waste? When investments are misallocated into wasteful
configurations ("malinvestments"), the result is losses to its owners
(barring government bailout). The owners, then, are faced with the pressure to
reallocate their wealth if they don't want to continue to hemorrhage cash. This
usually involves cutting back on spending, letting employees go, selling
property, etc. In other words, economic contraction. At the end of this
process, the money is released to be reallocated, potentially into productive,
wealth-building uses. The sum total of the economy may have shrunk, but the
productive part of it has grown at the expense of the wasted part.
There is no way to know if a particular sum of money,
machine, building, or worker is put to a valuable, productive use, other than
to put them to the test of the free market. Outside the free market, investing
capital is like throwing darts blindfolded when you don't even know which
direction the dartboard is. What does that mean for a jobs bill? Far from
rescuing the economy from crisis, it would only make it worse. Consumers, being
the rulers of the free marketplace, must be free to decide — to buy or not to
buy. To maximize productive capital therefore requires that consumers are free
from any constraints on their decision making — and especially that nothing
should interfere with the profit-and-loss signals sent out by these decisions. The
sooner capital owners learn that their capital is allocated into wasteful uses,
the better
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