ERNEST HEMINGWAY: I am getting to know the rich.
MARY COLUM: I think you’ll find the only difference between the rich and other people is that the rich have more money.
Irish literary critic Mary Colum was mistaken. Greater
net worth is not the only way the rich differ from the rest of us—at least not
in a corporatist economy. More important is influence and access to power, the
ability to subordinate regular people to larger-than-human-scale organizations,
political and corporate, beyond their control.
To be sure, money can buy that access, but only in
certain institutional settings. In a society where state and economy were
separate (assuming that’s even conceptually possible), or better yet in a
stateless society, wealth would not pose the sort of threat it poses in our
corporatist (as opposed to a decentralized free-market) system.
Adam Smith famously wrote in The
Wealth of Nations that “[p]eople of the same trade
seldom meet together, even for merriment and diversion, but the conversation
ends in a conspiracy against the public, or in some contrivance to
raise prices.” Much less famously, he continued: “It is impossible indeed to
prevent such meetings, by any law which either could be executed, or would be
consistent with liberty or justice. But though the law cannot hinder people of
the same trade from sometimes assembling together, it ought to do nothing
to facilitate such assemblies; much less to render them necessary.”
The fact is, in the corporate state government indeed
facilitates “conspiracies” against the public that could not otherwise take
place. What’s more, because of this facilitation, it is reasonable to think the
disparity in incomes that naturally arises by virtue of differences among human
beings is dramatically exaggerated. We can identify several sources of this
unnatural wealth accumulation.
A primary source is America’s financial system, which
since 1914 has revolved around the government-sponsored central banking cartel,
the Federal Reserve. To understand this, it must first be noted that in an
advanced market economy with a well-developed division of labor, the capital
market becomes the “locus for entrepreneurial decision-making,” as Walter E.
Grinder and John Hagel III, writing within the perspective of the Austrian
school of economics, put it in their 1977 paper, “Toward a Theory of State
Capitalism: Ultimate Decision-Making and Class Structure.”
Grinder and Hagel, emphasizing the crucial role of entrepreneurship
in discovering and disseminating knowledge and coordinating diverse production
and consumption plans, write: “The evolution of market economies … suggests
that entrepreneurial activity may become increasingly concentrated within the
capital market as the functional specialization of the economy becomes more
pronounced.”
That sounds ominous, but as long as the market is free
of government interference, this “concentration” poses no threat. “None of this
analysis should be construed as postulating an insidious process of
monopolization of decision-making within the non-state market system,” they
write.
Market factors
[that is, free and open competition] preclude the possibility that
entrepreneurial decision-making could ever be monopolized by financial
institutions. … The decision-making within the capital market operates within
the severe constraints imposed by the competitive market process and these
constraints ensure that the decision-making process contributes to the optimum
allocation of economic resources within the system.
All bets are off, however, when government intervenes.
Then the central role of the banking system in an advanced economy is not only
magnified but transformed through its “insulation … from the countervailing
competitive pressures inherent in a free market.” Only government can erect
barriers to competitive entry and provide other advantages to special interests
that are unattainable in the marketplace.
The original theory of class formulated by early
19th-century French classical liberal economists is relevant here. It was these
laissez faire radicals who pointed out that two more or less rigid classes
arise as soon at the state starts distributing the fruits of labor through
taxation: taxpayers and tax-consumers. Rent-seeking is born.
It takes little imagination to see that wealthier
individuals—many of whom, in Anglo-American history, first got that way through
the enclosure of commons, land grants, and mercantilist subsidies—will have an
advantage over others in maintaining control of the state apparatus. (Economic
theorist Kevin A. Carson calls the continuing benefit of this initial advantage
“the subsidy of history.”) And indeed they have.
“It seems reasonable to assume that individuals [in
the tax consuming class] sharing objective interests will tend toward an
emerging and at least hazy common ‘class consciousness,’” Grinder and Hagel
write. (Karl Marx acknowledged his debt to the French economists for his own,
crucially different, class analysis.)
Unsurprisingly, in a money-based market economy the
financial industry, with the central role already mentioned, will be of special
interest to rulers and their associates in the “private” sector. “Historically,
state intervention in the banking system has been one of the earliest forms of
intervention in the market system,” Grinder and Hagel write. They emphasize how
this intervention plays a key role in changing a population’s tacit ideology:
In the U.S., this
intervention initially involved sporadic measures, both at the federal and
state level, which generated inflationary distortion in the money supply and
cyclical disruptions of economic activity. The disruptions which accompanied
the business cycle were a major factor in the transformation of the dominant
ideology in the U.S. from a general adherence to laissez-faire doctrines to an
ideology of political capitalism which viewed the state as a necessary
instrument for the rationalization and stabilization of an inherently unstable
economic order.
In short, financial intervention on behalf of
well-heeled, well-connected groups begets recessions, depressions, and
long-term unemployment, which in turn beget vulnerable working and middle
classes who, ignorant of economics, are willing to accept more powerful
government, which begets more intervention on behalf of the wealthy, and so
on—a vicious circle indeed.
Fiat money, central banking, and deficit spending
foster and reinforce plutocracy in a variety of ways. Government debt offers
opportunities for speculation by insiders and gives rise to an industry founded
on profitable trafficking in Treasury securities. That industry will have a
profit interest in bigger government and chronic deficit spending.
Government debt makes inflation of the money supply an
attractive policy for the state and its central bank—not to mention major parts
of the financial system. In the United States, the Treasury borrows money by
selling interest-bearing bonds. When the Federal Reserve System wants to expand
the money supply to, say, juice the economy, it buys those bonds from banks and
security dealers with money created out of thin air. Now the Fed is the
bondholder, but by law it must remit most of the interest to the Treasury, thus
giving the government a virtually interest-free loan. With its interest costs
reduced in this way, the government is in a position to borrow and spend still
more money—on militarism and war, for example—and the process can begin again.
(These days the Fed has a new role as central allocator of credit to specific
firms and industries, as well.)
Meanwhile the banking system has the newly created
money, and therein lies another way in which the well-off gain advantage at the
expense of the rest of us. Money inflation under the right conditions produces
price inflation, as banks pyramid loans on top of fiat reserves. (This can be
offset, as it largely is today, if the Fed pays banks to keep the new money in
their interest-bearing Fed accounts rather than lending it out.)
But the Austrian school of economics has long stressed
two overlooked aspects of inflation. First, the new money enters the economy at
specific points, rather than being distributed evenly through the textbook
“helicopter effect.” Second, money is non-neutral.
Since Fed-created money reaches particular privileged
interests before it filters through the economy, early recipients—banks,
securities dealers, government contractors—have the benefit of increased
purchasing power before prices rise. Most wage earners and people on fixed
incomes, on the other hand, see higher prices before they receive higher
nominal incomes or Social Security benefits. Pensioners without cost-of-living
adjustments are out of luck.
The non-neutrality of money means that price inflation
does not evenly raise the “general price level,” leaving the real economy
unchanged. Rather, inflation changes relative
prices in response to
the spending by the earlier recipients, skewing production toward those
privileged beneficiaries. Considering how essential prices in a free market are
to coordinating production and consumption, inflation clearly makes the
economic system less efficient at serving of the mass of consumers. Thus
inflation, economist Murray Rothbard wrote, “changes the distribution of income
and wealth.”
Price inflation, of course, is notorious for favoring
debtors over creditors because loans are repaid in money with less purchasing
power. This at first benefits lower income people as well as other debtors, at
least until credit card interest rates rise. But big businesses are also big
borrowers—especially in this day of highly leveraged activities—so they too
benefit in this way from inflation. Though banks as creditors lose out in this
respect, big banks more than make up for it by selling government securities at
a premium and by pyramiding loans on top of security dealers’ deposits.
When people realize their purchasing power is falling
because of the implicit inflation tax, they will want to undertake strategies
to preserve their wealth. Who’s in a better position to hire consultants to
guide them through esoteric strategies, the wealthy or people of modest means?
The result is “financialization,” in which financial
markets and bankers play an ever larger role in people’s lives. For example,
the Fed’s inflationary low-interest-rate policy makes the traditional savings
account useless for preserving and increasing one’s wealth. Where once a person
of modest means could put his or her money into a liquid account at a local
bank at about 5 percent interest compounded, today that account earns about 1
percent while the consumer price index rises at about 2 percent. Savers thus
are forced into less liquid certificates of deposit or less familiar money
market mutual funds (which arose because in the inflationary 1970s government
capped interest on savings accounts). Fed policy thus increases business for
the financial industry.
Inflation is also the culprit in the business cycle,
which is not a natural feature of the market economy. Fed policy aimed at
lowering interest rates, a policy especially favored by capital-intensive
businesses remote from the consumer-goods level, distorts the time structure of
production. In a free market, low interest rates signal an increase in savings,
that is, a shift from present to future consumption, and high rates do the
reverse. Behold the coordinative function of the price system: deferred consumption
lowers interest rates, making interest-rate-sensitive early stages of
production—such as research and development, and extractive industries—more
economical. Resources and labor may appropriately shift from consumer goods to
capital goods.
But what if interest rates fall not because consumers’
time preferences have changed but because the Fed created credit? Investors
will be misled into thinking resources are newly available for early-stage and
other interest-rate-sensitive production, so they will divert resources and
labor to those sectors. But consumers still want to consume now. Since
resources can’t be put to both purposes, the situation can’t last. Bust follows
boom. Think of all those unemployed construction workers and “idle resources”
that were drawn to the housing industry.
While some rich people may be hurt by the recession,
they are far better positioned to hedge and recover than workers who are laid
off from their jobs. Moreover, even after the recovery, the knowledge that the
threat of recession looms can make the workforce more docile. The business
cycle thus undermines workers’ bargaining power, enabling bosses to keep more
of the fruits of increased productivity.
Bottom line: inflation and the business cycle channel
wealth from poorer to richer.
The financial system isn’t the only way that the rich
benefit at the expense everyone else. The corporate elite have better access to
the regulatory agencies and rule writers than the rest of us. (University of
Chicago economist George Stigler dubbed this “regulatory capture.”) Wealth also
gives the elite a clearer path to politicians and candidates for office, who
will be amenable to policies that make wealthy contributors happy, such as
subsidies, bailouts, and other measures that socialize costs and privatize
extra-market profits. Campaign finance “reform” doesn’t change this, and even
tax-funded campaigns would only drive the quid-pro-quo process underground.
Finally, a significant source of upward wealth
distribution is intellectual property. By treating ideas and information as
though they were objects to be owned, IP law encloses the intellectual commons
and deprives the public of benefits that a competitive market would naturally
socialize.
The conventional understanding of rich and poor,
capitalism and socialism, is profoundly misleading. A corporatist, mixed
economy institutionalizes financial privilege in ways that are overlooked in
everyday political discourse—in part because of the ideological deformations
created by the system itself. As Austrian-school macroeconomist Steven Horwitz
put it in a lecture this year, one need not be a Marxist to see that the state
is indeed the executive committee of the ruling class.
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