Author: JW Mason

Marx on the Corporation

(I wrote this post back in 2015, and for some reason never posted it. The inspiration was a column by Matt Levine, where he wondered what Marx would think of the modern corporation.)

Let’s begin at the beginning.

Capital, for Marx, is not a thing, it’s a social relation, a way of organizing human activity. Or from another point of view, it’s a process. It’s the conversion of a sum of money into a mass of commodities, which are transformed through a production process into a different mass of commodities, which are converted back into a (hopefully greater) sum of money, allowing the process to start again.  Capital is a sum of money yielding a return, and it is a mass of commodities used in production, and it is a form of authority over the production process, each in turn.

When we have a single representative enterprise, managed by its owner and financed out of its own retained profits, then there’s no need to worry about where the “capitalist” is in this process. They are the owner of the money, and they are the steward of the means of production, and they are master of the production process. Whatever happens in the circuit of capital, the capitalist is the one who makes it happen.

This is the framework of Volume 1 of Capital. There the capitalist is just the personification of capital. But once credit markets allow capitalists to use loaned funds rather than their own, and even more once we have joint-stock enterprises with salaried managers in charge of the production process, these roles are no longer played by the same individuals. And it is not at all obvious what the relationships are between them, or which of them should be considered the capitalist.  This is the subject of part V of Volume 3 of Capital Vol. 3, which explores the relation of ownership of money as such (“interest-bearing capital”) with ownership of capitalist enterprises.

For present purposes, the interesting part begins in chapter 23. There Marx introduces the distinction between the money-capitalist who owns money but does not manage the production process, and the industrial, functioning or productive capitalist who controls the enterprise but depends on money acquired from elsewhere. “The productive capitalist who operates on borrowed funds,” he writes, “represents capital only as functioning capital,” that is, only in the production process itself. “He is the personification of capital as long as … it is profitably invested in industry or commerce, and such operations are undertaken with it … as are prescribed by the branch of industry concerned.”

The possibility of carrying out a capitalist enterprise with borrowed funds implies a division of the surplus into two parts — one attributable to management of the enterprise, the other to ownership as such. “The specific social attribute of capital under capitalist production — that of being property commanding the labour-power of another” now appears as interest, the return simply on owning money. So “the other part of surplus-value — profit of enterprise — must necessarily appear as coming not from capital as such, but from the process of production… Therefore, the industrial capitalist, as distinct from the owner of capital [appears] … as a functionary irrespective of capital,… indeed as a wage-labourer.”

So now we have one set of individuals personifying capital at the M moment, when capital is in its most abstract form as money, and a different set of individuals personifying it in the C and P moments, when capital is crystallized in a particular productive activity. One effect of this separation is to obscure the link between profit and the labor process: The money-owners who receive profit in the form of interest (or dividends) are different from the actual managers of the production process. Not only that, the two often experience themselves as opposed. In this sense, the division between the money-capitalist and the industrial capitalist blurs the lines of social conflict.

Marx continues:

Interest as such expresses … the ownership of capital as a means of appropriating the products of the labour of others. But it represents this characteristic of capital as something which belongs to it outside the production process… Interest represents this characteristic not as directly counterposed to labour, but rather as unrelated to labour, and simply as a relationship of one capitalist to another. … In interest, therefore, in that specific form of profit in which the antithetical character of capital assumes an independent form, this is done in such a way that the antithesis is completely obliterated and abstracted. Interest is a relationship between two capitalists, not between capitalist and labourer.

We might read Marx here as warning against an easy opposition between “productive” and “financial” capital, in which we can with good conscience take the side of the former. On the contrary, these are just shares of the same surplus extracted from us in the labor process. It’s important to note in this context that Marx speaks of a “productive capitalist,” not of productive capital. The productive capitalist and the money capitalist are, so to speak, two human bodies that the same capital occupies in turn.

Once the pirates have burned your fields, seized your possessions and carried off your daughters, it shouldn’t matter to you how they divide up the booty: I think this is a valid reading of Marx’s argument here. Or as he puts it: “If the capitalist is the owner of the capital on which he operates, he pockets the whole surplus-value. It is absolutely immaterial to the labourer whether the capitalist does this, or whether he has to pay a part of it to a third person as its legal proprietor.”

But while the development of interest-bearing capital obscures the true relations of production in one sense, it clarifies them in another. It separates the claims exercised by ownership as such, from the claims due to the specific labor performed by the capitalist within the enterprise. With the owner-manager, these two are mixed together. (This is still a big problem for the national accounts.) Now, the part of apparent profit that was really payment for the labor of the capitalist appears in a distinct form as “wages of superintendence.”

Marx’s analysis here seems like a good starting point for discussions of the position of managers in modern economies.

The specific functions which the capitalist as such has to perform, … [with the development of credit] are presented as mere functions of labour. He creates surplus-value not because he works as a capitalist, but because he also works, regardless of his capacity of capitalist. This portion of surplus-value is thus no longer surplus-value, but its opposite, an equivalent for labour performed. … the process of exploitation itself appears as a simple labour-process in which the functioning capitalist merely performs a different kind of labour than the labourer.

As Marx later emphasizes, one consequence of the development of management as a distinct category of labor is that the profits still received by owners can no longer be justified as the compensation for organizing the production process. But what about the managers themselves, how should we think about them? Are they really laborers, or capitalists? Well, both — their position is ambiguous. On the one hand, they are performing a social coordination function, that any extended division of labor will require. But on the other hand, they are the representatives of the capitalist class in the coercive, adversarial labor process that is specific to capitalism.

The discussion is worth quoting at length:

The labour of supervision and management is naturally required wherever the direct process of production assumes the form of a combined social process, and not of the isolated labour of independent producers. However, it has a double nature. On the one hand, all labour in which many individuals co-operate necessarily requires a commanding will to co-ordinate and unify the process … much like that of an orchestra conductor. This is a productive job, which must be performed in every combined mode of production.

On the other hand … supervision work necessarily arises in all modes of production based on the antithesis between the labourer, as the direct producer, and the owner of the means of production. The greater this antagonism, the greater the role played by supervision. Hence it reaches its peak in the slave system. But it is indispensable also in the capitalist mode of production, since the production process in it is simultaneously a process by which the capitalist consumes labour-power. Just as in despotic states, supervision and all-round interference by the government involves both the performance of common activities arising from the nature of all communities, and the specific functions arising from the antithesis between the government and the mass of the people.

In one of those acid asides that makes him so bracing to read, Marx quotes an American defender of slavery explaining that since slaves were unwilling to do plantation labor on their own, it was only right to compensate the masters for the effort required to compel them to work. In this sense it doesn’t matter that the Bosses are performing productive labor. Their claims are just a version of the German nihilists’: It’s only fair that you give me what I want, since I’ve gone to such effort to take it from you. Or Dinesh D’Souza’s argument that equality of opportunity would be unfair to him, since he’s gone to great effort to give his kids an advantage over others.

But again, the industrial capitalist is not only a slave-driver. They do have an essential coordinating function, even if it is performed by the same people, and in the same activities, as the coercive labor-discipline that extracts greater effort from workers and deprives them of their autonomy. The ways these two sides of the labor process develop together is one of the major contributions of Marxist and Marx-influenced work, I think — Braverman, Noble, Marglin, Barbara Garson. It seems to me that, paradoxical as it might sound, it’s this positive role of managers that is ultimately the stronger argument against capitalism. Because the development of professional management fatally undermines the supposed connection between the economic function performed by capitalists, and the economic form of property ownership. 

Marx makes just this argument:

The capitalist mode of production has brought matters to a point where the work of supervision, entirely divorced from the ownership of capital, is always readily obtainable. It has, therefore, come to be useless for the capitalist to perform it himself. An orchestra conductor need not own the instruments of his orchestra, nor is it within the scope of his duties as conductor to have anything to do with the “wages” of the other musicians. Co-operative factories furnish proof that the capitalist has become no less redundant as a functionary in production… Inasmuch as the capitalist’s work does not …  confine itself solely to the function of exploiting the labour of others; inasmuch as it therefore originates from the social form of the labour-process, from combination and co-operation of many in pursuance of a common result, it is … independent of capital.

The connection Marx makes between joint-stock companies (what we would today call corporations) and cooperative enterprises is to me one of the most interesting parts of this whole section. In both, the critical thing is that the work of management, or coordintion, is just one kind of labor among others, and has no neceessary connection to ownership claims.

The wages of management both for the commercial and industrial manager are completely isolated from the profits of enterprise in the co-operative factories of labourers, as well as in capitalist stock companies. … Stock companies in general — developed with the credit system — have an increasing tendency to separate this work of management as a function from the ownership of capital… just as the development of bourgeois society witnessed a separation of the functions of judges and administrators from land-ownership, whose attributes they were in feudal times. Since, on the one hand, … money-capital itself assumes a social character with the advance of credit, being concentrated in banks and loaned out by them instead of its original owners, and since, on the other hand, the mere manager who has no title whatever to the capital, … performs all the real functions pertaining to the functioning capitalist as such, only the functionary remains and the capitalist disappears as superfluous from the production process.

This, to me, is one of the central ways in which we can see capitalism as a necessary step on the way to socialism. Only under capitalism has large scale industry developed; only the acid of  the market was able to break the bonds of small family productive units and free their constituent pieces for recombination on a much larger scale. So the only form in which the organization of large-scale enterprises is familiar to us is as capitalist enterprises. (At least, this is Marx’s argument. Arguably he understates the ability of states to organize production on a large scale.) But just because large industrial enterprises and capitalism have gone together historically, it doesn’t follow that that capitalism is the only institutional setting in which they can exist, or that the conditions required for their development are required for their continued existence.

In fact, as capitalist enterprises develop, their internal organization becomes progressively less market-like. Markets exist only at the surfaces, the external membranes, of enterprises, which internally are organized on quite different principles; and as the scale of enterprises grows, less and less economic life takes place on those surfaces. So while capital continues, nominally, to be privately owned, relations of ownership play less and less of a role in the concrete organization of production. The “mere manager” as Marx says, “has no title whatever to the capital”; nonetheless, he or she “performs all the real functions” of the capitalist.

When Marx was writing this in the 1870s, he thought the trend towards the separation of ownership from control was clearly established, even if most capitalist enterprises at the time were still directly managed by their owners.

With the development of co-operation on the part of the labourers, and of stock enterprises on the part of the bourgeoisie, even the last pretext for the confusion of profit of enterprise and wages of management was removed, and profit appeared also in practice as it undeniably appeared in theory, as mere surplus-value, a value for which no equivalent was paid.

That’s as far as the argument gets in chapter 23.

The next few chapters are focused on the other side of the question, interest-bearing capital — that is,capital that appears to its owners simply as money, without being embodied in any production process.  Chapter 24 is an attack on writers who reduce both to money capital, and imagine that the accumulation of capital is just an example of the power of compound interest. (Among other things, this chapter anticipates the essential points of left critiques of Piketty by people like Galbraith and Varoufakis, and by me.) Chapter 26 attacks the opposite conflation — the treatment of money as just capital in general, and of interest as simply a reflection of the physical productivity of capital rather than a specifically monetary phenomenon. This is today’s orthodoxy, represented for Marx by Lord Overstone. Chapter 25 anticipates Minsky on the elasticity of finance, and takes the side of the credit-money theorists like Thornton and banking-school writers like Tooke and Fullarton, against quantity theorists and the currency school. Marx’s debt to Ricardo is well known, but it’s less recognized how much he learned from this group of writers — the best discussion I know is by Arie Arnon. When Tooke died, Marx wrote to Engels that he had been “the last English economist of any value.”

Marx returns to the industrial or functioning capitalist in chapter 27, which is focused on joint-stock companies. Marx credits stock companies with “an enormous expansion of the scale of production and of enterprises, that was impossible for individual capitals.” And critically these new enterprises are public in both name and substance (the “public” in “publicly-traded corporations” is significant.)

The development of joint stock companies continues the sociological transformation that begins with the development of interest-bearing capital and the ability to operate on borrowed funds — that is, the 

transformation of the actually functioning capitalist into a mere manager, administrator of other people’s capital, and of the owner of capital into a mere owner, a mere money-capitalist. Even if the dividends which they receive include the interest and the profit of enterprise, … this total profit is henceforth received only in the form of interest, i.e., as mere compensation for owning capital that now is entirely divorced from the function in the actual process of reproduction, just as this function in the person of the manager is divorced from ownership of capital. … This result of the ultimate development of capitalist production is a necessary transitional phase towards the reconversion of capital into the property of producers, although no longer as the private property of the individual producers, but rather … as outright social property. … the stock company is a transition toward the conversion of all functions in the reproduction process which still remain linked with capitalist property, into mere functions of associated producers.

In short, the joint stock company “is the abolition of the capitalist mode of production within the capitalist mode of production itself.”

Announcement: Money and Things

Arjun Jayadev and I are writing a book. The working title is Money and Things: How Finance Shapes the World. Here’s what it’s about:

Money is one of our most ubiquitous social technologies. It is also one of the most misunderstood.  Economics students in college are taught that money is just a convenience to avoid the clumsiness of barter – that prices and incomes depend on underlying “real” values, and money is just a veil. Academic economists insist that money is “neutral” – that the long-run development of the economy depends on “real” factors like population growth and technological progress, which have nothing to do with money or credit. Many people still have some vague notion that money is backed by something “real”, perhaps vaults of gold under Fort Knox, while those who do understand that money is nothing but an entry on bank ledger, often feel this is dangerous and unnatural, and demand that a sharp line be drawn between credit and money. For the vast majority of people money is simply the background hum of the world they live in, something that they pay attention to only occasionally, if perhaps with a sense of unease. 

This book seeks to open up the world of money as it really is and its relationship to the world. Dawing on the work of Karl Marx, John Maynard Keynes, Hyman Minsky, and other “heterodox” economic thinkers, the book argues that there is no real economy behind the monetary one. In economic questions, money itself is what is real.

This claim is developed through two related arguments. First, that money and finance are autonomous — that changes in money flows, assets and debt do not just reflect underlying activities of production and consumption but have their own independent dynamics. And second, that money does not merely facilitate economic activity, but reshapes it in far-reaching ways. This is a challenge to the conventional wisdom that money payments and quantities offer a transparent window onto the concrete, material world – that a certain amount of money must correspond to an equivalent amount of stuff. And it is a challenge to the economics orthodoxy that money is “neutral” in relation to the larger economy. On the contrary, monetary phenomena like debt and exchange rates have profound and lasting effects on the development of economies and the broader society.

The book is organized in three sections, moving from the abstract to the concrete.  The first section explores the rules and logic of money as a distinct social activity, starting with the most basic building blocks of economic units and payments and building up to balance sheets, interest, exchange rates, and other more complex features of money-world. It then explores how these money terms do — and don’t — match up to the material and social world around us, critically examining concepts like “real” GDP. While numbers like this are often thought of as measuring some physical quantity, this is logically incohenerent and practically misleading.

In the second section, the book turns to the institutions that operate at the interface between money-world and society. This section explores the links between money and society, the tensions and conflicts between them, and the ways that they are actively managed. It includes chapters on the politically contested questions of reforms to the monetary system, and the sustainibility of private and public debt. The section’s main focus is on central banks and corporations as two key actors that manage the tension between an economic world imagined purely in terms of money claims and payments, and the concrete human activities of production and reproduction. 

In the final section, the book explores how the tension between society and the world of money plays out politically.  With chapters on Europe in the wake of the euro crisis, the US, the developing world, and the problem of climate change, it shows how many political developments can be understood in terms of a fundamental conflict between enforcing the logic of money, on the one hand, and meeting the concrete needs of human societies on the other. Much of what is called neoliberalism can be seen as an effort to compel politics and society to conform to the logic of money. At the same time, these constraints provoke counter responses, and the institutions constructed to maintain the dominance of money can themselves become vehicles for collective action toward other ends.

The book is an attempt to build a more sustained argument out of various things Arjun and I have written, especially this and this. It will also incorporate material from a great many posts on this blog over the past decade, including these and these and these.

If all goes according to plan, the book will be out from University from Chicago Press in early 2022.

 

Posts in Three Lines, Coronavirus Edition

I haven’t been able to write as much about the current situation as I would like to.

Personally, I am doing fine. My wife and I are lucky to have some of the most secure jobs in the country – we are both public university professors — and we’re all healthy and as comfortable as can be expected under the circumstances, and we have access to outdoor space. But we also have two children who are now home all day, both of them young enough to need more or less constant attention. And I’m teaching three classes this semester, and the transition to teaching online, which I’ve never before done, has been challenging. And of course there is work already in the pipeline that has to be completed, like my project with Andrew Bossie on the economic mobilization of World War as a model for today. (The first part is here and the second should be out soon.)

I don’t mean to complain. Again, my personal situation under the lockdown is fine. But I do feel bad about not being more present in the important moment for economic debate since 2008-2009, if not longer.  There’s an endless number of urgent, challenging, and profound economic questions to be wrestled with. I’m a bit jealous of people like my associates Nathan Tankus and Jacob Robbins, who are in a position to give the economic situation the attention it deserves and putting out a steady stream of excellent posts on their respective blogs.

And to be fair, it’s not just a matter of time. Like, I suppose, most people, I don’t feel any confidence about how this situation will develop, or what the right framework is to think about it through. I feel I’ve spent many years developing a set of economic ideas and arguemnts with, and within, certain positions, that may not be relevant here. I find it hard to gather enough thoughts together to be worth writing down.

If I did feel able to blog regularly about the economics of the coronavirus, here are some of the posts I might write. I don’t claim these are the most important topics, just ones that I would like to blog about. 

Taking the money view. Our economy consists of a network of money payments and commitments, many of them corresponding to some concrete activity. What’s unique about this crisis is that the initial interruption is to the concrete activities rather than the money payments. This complicates the policy response: It’s not enough to inject more spending in the economy somewhere, on the assumption that it will diffuse through the normal circuits of income and expenditure, we have to think about maintaining the payments, and social relations, associated with various specific activities while the activities themselves can’t take place. 

Paging Henry George. While much of the concrete activity we think of as “consumption” is on hold, much of consumption spending is various forms of social overhead that has to happen regardless; housing is far the most important category here, with a large fraction of mortgage and especially rent payments already not being made. We urgently need to replace these payments with public money, or else suspend (not just defer) them in a controlled way; the flipside of this is that here as elsewhere, where private payments are replaced with public ones, there’s an opportunity to transform the social relations structured by those payments. In this case, that could mean not just replacing rent payments  but buying out properties, so as to replace private ownership of rental housing with public or resident ownership.  

Crying “fire, fire” in Noah’s flood. Despite the uniqueness of the current crisis, I still think one important dimension is a shortfall of demand. While many businesses have been directly shut down by coronavirus restrictions, it’s clear that many others are limited by a lack of customers – airlines traffic are down by 95% not because airlines can’t find people to staff the planes, but because no one is buying tickets. (The planes that do fly are empty, not full.) As incomes continue to fall from unemployment — and only a fraction are replaced by UI and other forms of public assistance — the demand shortfall is only going to get deeper, so I’m a bit puzzled when people like Dean Baker say that the problem  in the coming year might be too much spending rather than too little.

The skeleton of the state. One reason I’m confident that the economy is going to need more demand, is that recessions always involve a downward spiral between income and expenditure; once economic units have run through their reserves of liquidity, and/or start changing their beliefs about future income, the fall in spending will continue under its own power, regardless of what started it. One important area where this process is already underway is state and local governments; thanks to a combination of institutional constraints political culture, spending here is even more closely linked to current income than it is for households and businesses. In the last recession state and local spending continued to fall for a full five years after the official recovery.

Credit contraction? Adam Tooze, in the LRB, describes the economic crisis as “a shockwave of credit contraction,” which sounds to me like an uncritical updating of the 2008-2009 script for 2020. Is there any evidence that limits on borrowing are currently playing an independent role in reducing activity, or are likely to in the future? The problem seems obviously to be a collapse in current income, not a sudden unwillingness of banks to lend. 

Send in the Fed. Even if a credit contraction is not a factor in the crisis, it doesn’t follow that efforts to boost the supply the of credit are irrelevant. Easing credit conditions can help offset declining demand from other sources — that’s monetary policy 101, and especially true in the current crisis, where so many incomes need to be temporarily replaced. It’s very important, for example, that the Fed support borrowing by state and local governments, partly because they may be finding it harder to borrow, but mainly because they should be borrowing much more.

Pay as you go vs prefunding. As everyone knows, state and local governments face many constraints on their ability to borrow, which the Fed can relieve only some of. But another important margin for state and local government is on the asset side; it’s not widely recognized, but in the US, subnational governments are substantial net creditors, which in principle allows them to fund current spending by reducing net asset acquisition. One important way that they can do this is by suspending pension fund contributions — this may sound crazy, but what’s really crazy is that they prefund pension expenditure in the first place.

Can we blame the shareholders? A number of us have observed over the past decade have observed that the marginal use of both corporate profits and borrowing now is payouts to shareholders; this, along with the activities of private equity, have left a number of corporations with high debt and weak balance sheets even after years of high profits. There’s an argument that this has left them more vulnerable to the crisis than they needed to be. I’m not entirely convinced on this, especially given that the relevant counterfactual seems to be higher real investment and/or higher wages rather than simply accumulating liquid assets, but it’s a question very much worth exploring.

Seasonal disorder. One technical but, I think, important point about all kinds of economic data right now is that we should not be using seasonally adjusted numbers. Seasonal adjustment for unemployment claims, and for many other economic variables, is based on the percentage change from the previous month, which  produces totally spurious results in the face of the kinds of moves we are seeing. For example, new unemployment claims rose by 3 percent, from 6 million to 6.2 million, from the week ending April 7 to the week ending April 14; but since claims normally increase by 7 percent between the first and second week of April, this was misleadingly reported as a decrease of 4 percent. 

The opportunity to be lazy. This fascinating review of a book on the plague in 17th century Florence quotes a wealthy Florentine who opposed the city’s policy of delivering food to those under quarantine, because it “would give [the poor] the opportunity to be lazy and lose the desire to work, having for forty days been provided abundantly for all their needs”. It’s striking how widespread similar worries are today among our own elite. It seems like one of the deepest lessons of the crisis is that a system organized around the threat of withholding people’s subsistence will deeply resist measures to guarantee it, even when particular circumstances make that necessary for the survival of the system itself. 

Endless austerity, state and local edition

Brian Nichols of the essential Employ America has a useful, if depressing, roundup of the coming wave of state-local austerity. Some highlights: Ohio, Nevada and Pennsylvania have already announced hiring freezes; Ohio is also looking at a 20 percent across the board cut in state spending, while Virginia has canceled planned raises for teachers. Many cities, including New York, St. Paul and New Orleans, are laying off public employees. And as I noted in my last post, New York  State is planning to slash $400 million from the hospitals at the front line of the crisis.

This isn’t new. One of the many drawbacks of American federalism is that state and local government spending — which includes the great majority of public sevices that people use on a day to day basis — is distinctly procyclical. Following the 2007-008 crisis, austerity at the state and local level more than offset stimulus at the federal level. And it lasted much longer than the recession itself.

In fact, as my colleague Amanda Page-Hoongrajok points out, inflation-adjusted state and local final expenditure did not return to its 2009 level until 2019.1 On a per-capita basis, real state and local final expenditure is 5 percent lower today than it was at the bottom of the last recession.

Source

As we face the rising wave of public-service cutbacks, we need to be fighting on all levels. We need to demand a massive package of aid to state and local govrnments as part of Stimulus IV. We need to be pushing the Fed to do more to support municipal finances. We need to keep the pressure up on mayors and governors not to throw their hands up and wait for the feds, but to be creative in working around their fiscal constraints.2 And also, we need to keep in mind: As far as state and local spending is concerned, the Great Recession never ended.

Daily News Op-Ed: Why Is Governor Cuomo Still Trying to Cut Medicaid?

(My Roosevelt colleague Naomi Zewde and I have an op-ed in the March 26 Daily News, criticizing Governor Cuomo’s plans to push ahead with cuts to state Medicaid spending despite the epidemic.)

Last week, as the coronavirus shut down much of New York, the state announced a bold plan to drastically cut funding for the state’s hard-pressed health care providers.

That’s right: As the coronavirus crisis escalates across New York State, Gov. Cuomo is proposing to slash funding for those at the frontlines.

Specifically, the cuts come via the Medicaid Redesign Team, appointed last month by the governor with the charge of cutting $2.5 billion from the state’s annual health spending. These cuts will not only mean an even more overstretched health care system; they will mean lost jobs.

For example, $200 million is slated to be cut from Consumer Directed Personal Assistance (CDPA), which allows elderly or disabled New Yorkers to hire their own home care assistants. As a Daily News editorial recently noted, CDPA was responsible for 36,000 new private-sector jobs in New York City in 2019, a lion’s share of all such jobs.

The biggest savings come from across-the-board cuts to health care providers, including $400 million from the state’s hospitals.

Cutting health spending in an epidemic seems like obvious lunacy. But it’s even worse than it seems.

Since the start of this epidemic, nearly one in five American households have had their hours cut or been laid off due to the virus. In New York, Cuomo said that the state has “never seen such volume” of unemployment claims.

As the economy slides over a cliff, we desperately need to keep people employed so that they can pay their bills and keep local businesses running. The proposed cuts will not only kneecap our health care system, but they will also deepen the coming recession.

But don’t we have to do something about out-of-control Medicaid spending? No, we do not. Medicaid spending is already under control.

Over the past five years, Medicaid spending in New York has risen by a steady 4% a year — exactly the same growth rate the state’s economy has had as a whole. And thanks to the Affordable Care Act, the share of total Medicaid costs paid by the state has gone down.

The apparent Medicaid crisis is entirely of the governor’s own making. When an arbitrary “global cap” on Medicaid spending turned out to be unachievable, instead of accepting reality, the state shifted a portion of the bill from fiscal year 2019-2020 to 2020-2021. This created the illusion of a big rise in this year’s costs.

Not only are there no runaway costs to rein in, but health spending is also an important economic stimulus. About 13% of New Yorkers work in health care — more than in manufacturing and finance combined. New York’s hospitals are stable sources of employment in many communities where good jobs are scarce. While many of the state’s traditional industries are in decline, health care promises to be a growth industry in the 21st century — if its growth isn’t cut off by shortsighted cutbacks.

Cutting state Medicaid spending today would be especially perverse, as the federal government appears poised to pick up a larger share of the program’s spending, just as it did in the last recession.

When private sector spending falls in a recession, the role of government is to lean against the wind, and boost public spending to fill the gap. Fiscal stimulus is primarily the responsibility of the federal government, but a state as large and rich as New York should also do its part — especially if leadership in Washington is lacking.

In normal times, trying to balance the budget through Medicaid cuts would be a mistake. Today, it is economic malpractice.

Talk on the Economic Mobilization of World War II

Two weeks ago – it feels much longer now – I was up at UMass-Amherst to give a talk on the economic mobilizaiton of World War II and its lessons for the Green New Deal.

Here is an audio recording of the talk. Including Q&A, it’s about an hour and a half. Here are the slides that I used.

 

 

The big three lessons I draw are:

1. The more rapid the economic transformation that’s required, the bigger the role the public sector needs to take, in investment especially, and more broadly in bearing risk.

2. Output can be very elastic in response to stronger demand, much more so than is usually believed. There’s a real danger that over-conservative estimates of potential output will lead us to set our sights too low.

3. Demand conditions have major effects on income distribution. Full employment is an extremely powerful tool to shift income toward the lower-paid and to less-privelged groups, even in absence of direct redistribution.

EDIT: The underlying paper is being revised to update the lessons for the present in light of the fact that “the present” is now an acute public health crisis rather than an ongoing climate crisis. The first part of the new version is here. The rest will be forthcoming in the next couple weeks.

You can also listen to an interview with me on Doug Henwood’s Behind the News here.

Tracking COVID-19

FIGURES UPDATED 3-15-20

You’ve probably seen various graphs online showing the increase in coronavirus cases in various countries.

I don’t know that I am adding any value here, but I decided to reproduce those graphs using the convenient data from Johns Hopkins Coronavirus Research Center. (I can’t vouch for  the reliability of the Johns Hopkins data, but it seems to be what most news organizations are relying on.) Here’s one showing cases for all countries other than China that have reported at least 100 cases. The x axis is days after the 100-case mark was reached.

 

What we see here is that most countries show a consistent 35-45 percent daily growth in reported cases. Only Japan, at 20 percent, and Singapore and more recently Korea, at around 10 percent, depart significantly from this. It’s also interesting how stable the growth of cases in Japan has been over the past three weeks.

Now here is the same figure, but for US counties that have reported at least 10 cases. The x axis here is days since the first day with a least 10 cases. [UPDATE: I have stopped updating this graph since the Johns Hopkins site now reports cases only for US states.]

What surprises me here is that we basically see the same ~40 percent daily growth rate in cases. I would have thought that given all the insitutional differences and issues around testing, the US picture would have looked somehow different. But it seems like we might reasonably extrapolate from the international experience, that New York or Seattle could reach 10,000 cases in the next two weeks.

I have no expertise whatsoever on infectious diseases, so I am not going to say anything else about this.

Anyway, here is the R code if you want to produce figures like these from the most current data on the Johns Hopkins site. They also give latitude and longitude for every place included, so it wouldn’t be much more work to make an interactive map. Could be an interesting excercise for anyone teaching a statistics or data science course.

UPDATE: I had to change the code because Johns Hopkins is no longer reporting data for US places other than states. Here is the equivalent state-level figure. As you can see, the states with significant numbers of cases all show the same 40 percent daily growth rate.

 

#install.packages('reshape2')
#install.packages('ggplot2')
library(reshape2)
library(ggplot2)

corona <- read.csv('https://raw.githubusercontent.com/CSSEGISandData/COVID-19/master/csse_covid_19_data/csse_covid_19_time_series/time_series_19-covid-Confirmed.csv',
                   stringsAsFactors = F)
state.abbrevs <- read.csv('https://raw.githubusercontent.com/jasonong/List-of-US-States/master/states.csv', stringsAsFactors = F)
corona[,-1:-4] <- apply(corona[,-1:-4], 1:2, FUN=as.numeric)
US <- corona[corona$Country.Region=='US', ]
USplaces <-  US[grep(',',US[,1]),][,-2:-4]
USstates <- US[grep(',',US[,1], invert=T),][,-2:-4]
USstates <- USstates[grep('Princess',USstates[,1], invert=T),]
states.temp <- USstates
for (i in 1:nrow(USstates)){
  abbrev <- state.abbrevs[state.abbrevs[,1]==USstates[i,1],2]
  rows <- grep(abbrev, USplaces[,1])
  states.temp[i, -1] <- colSums(USplaces[rows, -1])
}
states.temp<- states.temp[!is.na(states.temp[,1]),]
USstates[,-1] <- USstates[,-1] + states.temp[,-1]
corona <- rbind(corona, c('', 'United States', NA, NA, colSums(USplaces[,-1])))
corona[,-1:-4] <- apply(corona[,-1:-4], 1:2, FUN=as.numeric)
china <-  corona[corona$Country.Region=='China',-2:-4]
corona <- rbind(corona, c('', 'China', NA, NA, colSums(china[,-1])))
corona[,-1:-4] <- apply(corona[,-1:-4], 1:2, FUN=as.numeric)
countries <- corona[corona$Province.State =='', c(-1, -3:-4)]

makePlot <- function (x, threshold){
  cases <- redate(x, threshold)
  data <- melt(cases, id.vars=1)
  names(data) <- c('place', 'day', 'cases')
  
  p <- ggplot(data, aes(x=day, y=cases, group=place)) +
    geom_line(aes(color=place))+
    geom_point(aes(color=place, shape=place))
  p <- p + scale_shape_manual(values=1:length(levels(as.factor(data$place))))
  p <- p + theme(axis.text.x = element_text(angle=45))
  p <- p + scale_y_continuous(trans='log10')
  p
}

redate <- function (x, threshold) {
  out <- data.frame(place='', stringsAsFactors = F)
  values <- matrix(nrow=99, ncol=99)
  n <- 0
  for (i in 1:nrow(x)) {
    v <- x[i,-1][x[i,-1] > threshold]
    l <- length(v)
    if (l > 1) {
      n <- n + 1
      out[n,1] <- x[i,1]
      values[n,1:l] <- v
    }
  }
  values <- values[!is.na(values[,1]),]
  cols <- length(colSums(values, na.rm=T)[colSums(values, na.rm=T) > 0])
  values <- values[,1:cols]
  out <- cbind(out, values)
}

makePlot(USplaces, 9)
makePlot(USstates, 10)
makePlot(countries[countries$Country.Region != 'China',], 99)

Teaching notes on capitalism

I just put up a some new notes on my teaching pages, a brief handout on capital and capitalism.

The goal of this isn’t, of course,to give a comprehensive overview of what capital means or what capitalism has been historically. I just want to introduce students to the basic terms and concepts that they’ll encounter in the sort of Marxist and Marx-influenced historians I assign in my economic history class — Sven Beckert, Immanuel Wallerstein, Fernand Braudel, Ellen Meiksins Wood, Eric Foner, Mike Davis, and so on.

That said, I’ve tried to write it in clear, non-technical language and keep it focused on the most fundamental concepts, so if you are looking for an eight-page introduction to how Marxists think about capital and capitalism, perhaps this will do.

If you are a teacher yourself and think this is useful, feel free to use it in your own class. And if you have thoughts about ways it could be improved or expanded, I’d love to hear them.

2019 Books

Books I read in 2019. I’m sure I’m forgetting one or two.

Novels and stories

Transit. This is a lovely short novel by the German communist Anna Seghers, which I stumbled across on my parents’ shelves. Set, and written, in World War II France, it tells the story of various refugees waiting in Marseilles to work through the interminable bureaucratic process of acquiring the exit and transit visas they need to leave the country. It’s a beautiful evocation of the mix of unsettledness and bureaucratic stasis that is the life of the refugee, but it’s also got the tight construction of a classic 19th century novel, where the plot unfolds with a retrospective inevitability. There was apparently (and coincidentally) a movie based on it that came out this year.

Jews without Money, by Mike Gold. The classic autobiographical novel of the early 20th century Lower East Side ghetto, which I was shamed into finally reading by my friend Ben. It is, obviously, a socialist realist novel, which walks through, with unconcealed anger, all the deprivations, petty and not-so-petty humiliations, pointless tragedies, and self-defeating compensations of being poor in a rich city. (“It’s better to be dead in this country than not to have money,” says the narrator/author’s father in his final defeat, when he fails even at selling bananas. “Promise me when you’ll be rich when you grow up, Mikey!”) But it’s also and even more a novel of the intense emotions and heightened contrasts of the world seen through a child’s eyes – what it reminded me of most was Bruno Schultz’s magical realist stories of his Polish childhood. 

Overthrow. A novel of Occupy, or more precisely the period immediately after Occupy was shut down, by my Brooklyn neighbor Caleb Crain. It’s the very rare novel of graduate school and radical politics that takes its protagonists seriously. The plot revolves around a post-Occupy working group, and their frictions and collisions with each other and, eventually, with the security apparatus. The working group is focused on something like ESP or telepathy, whose status is never quite resolved – it appears variously as a metaphor for the alternative forms of collective action and decisionmaking that  Zuccotti Park was an experiment in; or a metaphor for sociality itself (as in Ursula LeGuin’s story “Solitude,” where any kind of social relationship is understood as a form of magic); or as a literalization of hacking and surveillance and the various other intercepted signals of our world; or as the kind of shared imaginary object that holds together any community; or at face value, in which sense it functions as the McGuffin that keeps the story moving.

I am very much the target audience for this novel —8 years ago, a very pregnant Laura and I were running away from the cops after a brief reoccupation of Zuccotti Park, and a bit later our now-emerged son’s first political action was a rally in support of striking grocery workers organized by Occupy Kensington, a post Occupy working group not unlike the activists Crain writes about. So take my opinion with a grain of salt, but I liked this book very much.

Cloudburst, Tom McGuane. A greatest-hits collection of stories by the author of Gallatin Canyon and Crow Fair, both of which I liked very much. The stories are mostly set in Montana, among more or less downwardly mobile people. Not having spent any time in that part of the country, I can’t say how realistic they are, but to me they feel true to life. 

Books I read for teaching (do these even count?)

Modern Macroeconomics: Its Origins, Development, and Current State, by Snowdon and Vane. Delivers what it says on the tin. Randy Wray used to use this to teach macroeconomics at UMKC.I tried it for the first time this year, and I thought it worked pretty well. 

Data Visualization, by Kieran Healy, and Quantitative Social Science, by Kosuke Imai. I used these two for my research methods class in the John Jay MA program. They worked ok.

The Book of Why, by Judea Pearl. I would never have made it through this book if I hadn’t assigned it — the early chapters are full of over-the-top auto-hagiography, as if the author were the first person to ever think about how statistical evidence could be used to answer questions of cause and effect. But if you persevere, there’s actually quite a bit of interesting stuff in here on how to think rigorously about causality.

Books I read with Eli, age 7/8 (missing some for sure here)

What If and How To by Randall Munroe, the xkcd guy. These are genuinely good books about applying physics concepts and quantitative reasoning to interesting real-world problems. How To is the better one.

The Hobbit. I’d forgotten how charming and light-hearted and funny this book is. It was wonderful reading it with my son, but it didn’t leave me with any desire to move on to Lord of the Rings.

A Short History of the World, by Enrest Gombrich. This is really nicely done. I highly recommend it to anyone with kids aged six to 12 or so. 

Peter Pan. This is a much weirder book than I had realized – Barrie did have some ideas about mothers. But it kept Eli riveted.

The Pushcart War. On of those wonderful New York books everybody should read.

How to Invent Everything. Another pop science book. The joke ratio is a little high for my tastes – I don’t see why you would write a book about science if you don’t think the science is interesting enough to carry it on its own. But there is a lot of good practical science mixed in with the jokes. before I read it, I didn’t know what coppicing was, or how charcoal is made. Now I do.

Crossing on Time. The latest from the prolific David Macaulay, author of City, Cathedral, How Things Work, etc. (We probably read some of those too this year, come to think of it.) This combines a history of passenger steamships with the story of the particular ship he and his family sailed on when they immigrated to the US in the 1950s.

Books read for professional reasons

Austerity: When It Works and When It Doesn’t. See review here.

Open Borders, by Bryan Caplan. Caplan is a right-wing libertarian who I don’t agree with about much. But I do agree with him that there is a clear economic and moral case for unrestricted immigration. I reviewed this book for the publisher, and while I did suggest some changes — some of which were incorporated into the final draft — I had no reservations about recommending it for publication.

Books by friends

Never a Lovely So Real. A biography of perhaps my favorite novelist, Nelson Algren, by my neighbor Colin Asher. (Our kids are in the same karate class. It’s Brooklyn!) It’s a beautifully constructed book — when I’d finished it, I wanted to start it over again, just to see better how the story fit together. I don’t know how much people read Algren today — I used to have the habit, when I went into a bookstore, of looking for Never Come Morning on the shelves, and seldom found it. But in my opinion he should be in the first tier of the American canon, ahead of Updike and Hemingway and whoever else people read in high school. “The son of a Polish baker and mulatto pigsticker crouched across the canvass,” begins the final chapter of Never Come Morning; that’s more of humanity than you’ll find in the collected works of Saul Bellow. The book gets that, and it gets his writing, which combines lyricism and social realism in a way I don’t think anyone else has managed.

It also gets his politics, and how those politics were essential to the art. Like his friend Richard Wright, or like Mike Gold, Algren is someone who never would have become a novelist if it hadn’t been for the Communist Party. A major contribution of the book is to document, based on FBI files among other evidence, how the inexplicable stalling-out of Algren’s career after The Man with a Golden Arm was the country’s best-selling book and a movie starring Frank Sinatra, is fully explained by McCarthyism. Algren’s friends may have thought he was falling into paranoia, but he really was being followed on the street, his house was being surveilled, his mailed opened, his calls listened into. The publishers who rejected his books, and the editors who spiked his essays, were doing so on the advice of the FBI. It’s a huge loss for humanity: As Laura says, the cost of McCarthyism “is not only those imprisoned or deprived of their livelihood: it is the unions never organized, the books never written, and the films never made.” Algren, who knows, might have had a whole shelf. 

The People’s Republic of Wal Mart, by Leigh Phillips and Michal Rozworski. The fact that production under capitalism is organized not by markets but by the conscious plans of corporations, is one of those facts that is completely obvious when you think about it, but still somehow radical and controversial. I don’t, to be clear, mean plans for for world domination, I mean the routine plans of getting input a from the warehouse here via a truck driven by this person, in time for that person to combine it with this other input using those tools. These tasks are all assigned by planners. A huge number of people cooperate in the production in all of the worldly goods around us, and essentially none of this cooperation is organized through markets. (Which doesn’t mean that markets are not an important feature of capitalism, they just don’t coordinate production.) Phillips and Rozworski make this case clearly and pointedly for the world’s largest corporation, and draw the natural conclusion that there’s nothing utopian about a planned economy – the raw materials are all around us. In large part it’s framed around the “calculation debate” of the 1920s. This is possibly not the most direct way of approaching the topic. But it does pass through some interesting territory, like Project Cybersyn, the precursor to the internet developed in Chile under Allende, which I had never heard of before.

Capital City. A short book on the politics of real estate and of urban planning by Sam Stein. Sam is a graduate student in geography at CUNY, and the book is very much written from that social position — animated by an expansive vision of the possibilities of urban planning, and by fresh anger at the ways it instead functions as an adjunct to the landlords’ lobby. Arguably the book’s strengths would have been better communicated if it were presented as a book about city planning, rather than a book about cities. (I don’t imagine it would have gotten nearly as many readers that way, so Sam and Verso probably made the right call.) One of those strengths is his perfect ear for the cant of really existing planning. Here’s Amanda Burden, Bloomberg’s planning director, describing black neighborhoods as effectively uninhabited: “We are making so many more areas of the city livable. Now young people are moving to neighborhoods  like Crown Heights that 10 years ago wouldn’t have been part of the lexicon.” Here’s her successor in the de Blasio administration, Carl Weisbrod, explaining that what’s good for the landlords is good for New York: “There are very few industries where the self-interest of the industry and the fundamental interests of the citizens are so deeply intertwined as the real estate industry.” And here’s Mayor SUV himself, with one of his classic but-what-can-I-do? shrugs: “I think there’s a socialistic impulse, which I hear every day, in every kind of community, that they would like things to be planned in accordance to their needs. And I would, too. Unfortunately, what stands in the way of that is hundreds of years of history that have elevated property rights and wealth to the point that that’s the reality that calls the tune.” Sure, it would be nice to organize the city to meet human needs, says our progressive mayor, but landlord profits come first and that’s just the way it is. If quotes like this fill you with anger and you’d like to experience more of it, you should definitely pick up this book.

Other nonfiction books

The Racketeer’s Progress, by Andrew Wender Cohen. Nathan Newman has been telling me to read this book since forever and I finally did, mostly on a couple of long plane flights. The subject is the labor movement in Chicago in the early decades of the 20th century. It’s in the service of a very specific argument: that we misunderstand the historical labor movement if we think of it like today’s, as bargaining on behalf of employees of a specific employer. Rather, he argues that turn-of-the-last-century unions saw themselves — and were at least intermittently accepted — as sovereign governments of their crafts or industries. Membership as such didn’t matter, it was about establishing rules that everyone in an industry had to follow. Employers went along, at least sometimes,  partly because the unions enjoyed broad popular legitimacy; partly because they had the power to make their rules stick; and partly because, at least in industries exposed to national competition, workers and businesses had a shared interest in excluding outsiders. There were, for instance, major and successful strikes to enforce the principle that only Illinois milk could be sold in Chicago, and only local electrical components could be installed in Chicago’s skyscrapers.

Why “racketeer”, tho? It’s true that Al Capone got his entree into Chicago labor thanks to this system of craft governance — not, as you might expect, as an enforcer of it, but rather as the publicly-announced guarantor of local employers defying union authority. (It was dry cleaners specifically who enlisted the mob to enforce their property rights against labor.) The term “racketeering” meanwhile, was coined specifically to describe union activities aimed at a form of sovereignty rather than at narrowly-defined economic interests. The term from its beginning, in other words, was intended not describe a legitimate activity corrupted by the presence of organized criminals, but to suggest that unions as they existed were inherently corrupt. The idea that unions historically represented the interests of an industry or occupation as a whole, and not of a particular employer, suggests that the historical model of American unionism may be more, not less, relevant, in the gig economy. 

Turtles as Hopeful Monsters, by Olivier Rieppel. The best book I’ve ever read about evolution is Mary West-Eberhardt’s Developmental Plasticity and Evolution. This isn’t that, but it’s the best book I’ve read on evolution in a while. And it makes the same basic argument: Evolution, at the macro level, is more than natural selection. It isn’t just differential reproduction of randomly varying organisms, but rather depends on a set of specific mechanisms that generate useful variation in body plans, and that conversely ensures that the random genetic variation generally gives rise to a functional organism. The genes, in other words, are just one input to the developmental process; or to put it another way, the capacity for evolution on a more than bacterial scale is something that itself had to evolve. The specific issue with turtles, in this context, is not just their shell; it’s also the distinct but related fact that their shoulders are inside their ribcage, rather than outside it as in all other vertebrates. Like the double-jointed jaw in a handful of snakes — the original “hopeful monsters” — this is a feature that can’t have developed incrementally but had to arrive all at once.  The question then is what it says about evolution that such leaps are possible, and what it says about the study of evolution that there’s been such reluctance to acknowledge them.

Warfare State, by James Sparrow. A nice history of domestic policy during World War II, or more precisely, how the scope of government in American life expanded during the war and how people reacted to it. The book draws heavily on reports from the Office of War Information, the 1940s-era propaganda and morale agency, and that shows in its choice of topics — there’s a bit more than strictly needed on the PR side of the war effort. But there’s also lots of interesting, well-organized material on policy around labor, housing and so on during the war, as well as on the more radical but unrealized proposals of people like Walter Reuther, which are arguably one of the great roads not traveled in US history. I read this in the course of putting together a Roosevelt paper on the war mobilization as a model for the Green New Deal, which should be coming out soon.

 

Previous editions:

2017 Books

2016 books

2015 books

2013 books

2012 books I

2012 books II

2010 books I

2010 books II