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The Culture of Commerce in England, 1660-1720

Author(s):Glaisyer, Natasha
Reviewer(s):Hussey, David

Published by EH.NET (July 2008)

Natasha Glaisyer, The Culture of Commerce in England, 1660-1720. Woodbridge, Suffolk, UK: Boydell Press, 2006. x + 220 pp. $75 (cloth), ISBN: 0-86193-281-1.

Reviewed for EH.NET by David Hussey, Department of History, University of Wolverhampton.

In this persuasively argued and perceptive book, Natasha Glaisyer, Lecturer in the Department of History, the University of York, emphasizes the importance of the cultural component in economic change and the structure of emerging financial markets in late seventeenth and early eighteenth century England. To an extent, Glaisyer has charted some of this territory before and her work on mercantile communities, trading networks, and didactic literature in this period is summarized and amplified by this book. Glaisyer’s starting point is to explore “new directions” in cultural and economic history and the possibilities this allows for fruitful scholarly interdependency. As such, her interpretation of the commercial and financial revolutions of the period is predicated less on the mechanics of change or indeed data-driven models of development, but more upon how “commerce was portrayed and packaged” and thereby rendered more comprehensible to English society (p. 19). Glaisyer demonstrates that for knowledgeable merchants, provincial traders, gentlemen virtuosi, armchair voyeurs and, moreover, the hitherto unlearned, commerce was served up in sophisticated, yet digestible ways for palatable consumption. By demystifying commerce, novelty and change was legitimated and normalized, and the various discourses utilized by merchants and commentators, sifted through a range of periodicals, newspapers, sermons and advice literature, served to impart the knowledge, practices and syntax of trade to a wider audience.

The main body of Glaisyer’s work is divided into four discrete case studies. In Chapter 1, Glaisyer reprises her earlier analysis of the Royal Exchange, arguing that in function and representation, the Exchange acted as a “nucleus of various information networks” (p. 37). Glaisyer subtly teases out this nodal structure by placing the Exchange at the center of commercial dialogue and the nascent stock market, and indicating its role as a place of fashionable resort and elite shopping. To Glaisyer, credit in all its interpretational fluidity formed the key mechanism for understanding the Exchange and by extension the wider commercial world. The Exchange was a “crucial site” (p. 38) wherein reputations could be made and broken, and where probity in financial and commercial matters, and indeed personal and sexual behavior, were tried. Glaisyer’s discussion of these issues is comprehensive, and the marshalling of evidence impressive. However, in the later sections of the chapter, the argument becomes rather more speculative. Glaisyer asserts that through literary and visual representation the Exchange can be read as the “microcosm of the trading world” (p. 47): a construct in which global commerce was collapsed – “packaged” even ? in an ordered, sanitized way for consumers of commercial information. In particular, the linkage here between the symbolic iconography of the Exchange as a reified image of the strength and order of English commerce, a re-born London, and a restored monarchy is perhaps testing the elasticity of her sources.

In Chapter 2, Glaisyer departs from the standard bank of sources available to economic historians by examining the text of fifteen sermons preached before the Levant Company by prospective chaplains. Here, Glaisyer’s objective is to understand how the tensions between the rhetoric of religion and the realities of commerce were resolved. It is perhaps unsurprising to find that the chaplains, mostly well-connected, ambitious and impeccably orthodox young men intent on securing high clerical preferment, should tailor their exhortations to meet the mercantile sensibilities of a major trading company. Undoubtedly, encomia on morality, honesty and charity chimed well with the Company’s desire to eradicate trading abuses and maximize revenues. However, Glaisyer demonstrates that by situating trade within the discourses of religion, individual wealth, mercantile profit and piety were reconciled. Just as the representations of the Exchange served to decode the complexities of commerce, so the sermons subsumed the rationale of trade under an acceptable veneer of religious convention.

Glaisyer returns to firmer ground in Chapters 3 and 4, arguably the most solid sections of the book. In Chapter 3, Glaisyer analyzes a raft of secular advice literature locating its utility in the very practical requirements of writing school education and the wider state and mercantile bureaucracies the latter serviced. These manuals advanced a didactic and improving agenda. They deciphered the mercantile arts, explained neologisms and clarified an opaque world obfuscated by the proliferation of specialist jargon. They also reached beyond a merely technical, commercial audience, permitting the casual reader or curious gentleman convenient, if vicarious, pathways to the cultural and social worlds of the mercantile other. Such “imaginary journeys” (p. 129) were given material solidity by the raft of metropolitan and provincial newspapers ? the subject of Chapter 4 ? that served to further broaden a market hungry for commercial knowledge. Glaisyer demonstrates that, while news sheets and serial publications were often “instantly ephemeral” (p. 151) relaying generic business information that was quickly outdated, they also entertained quasi-Baconian programs of improvement: readers were introduced to the intricacies of the stock market; the prices of key commodities and stocks were compared; and the qualities of political arithmetic were extolled as a form of study fit for the elite and middling sort. In these ways Glaisyer argues that the print culture of the period served to disseminate the vocabularies and practices of trade.

Overall, Glaisyer’s monograph is an important and timely addition to our understanding of the often heterogeneous and fragmented culture of commercial activity in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. Her book is researched with rigor and her command of the evidence remains comprehensive throughout. The fact that the book is primarily located in the crisis years of the 1690s and that the terminal dates omit much of interest, not least in the growing commercialization and commodification of culture in the later eighteenth century, does not detract from what remains an incisive and nuanced analysis of the period. For economic historians interested in the intersection of commerce and culture in this pivotal period, it is an essential text.

Dr. David Hussey is Senior Lecturer in History at the University of Wolverhampton. His publications include Coastal and River Trade in Pre-Industrial England (Exeter University Press, 2001) and, more recently, Buying for the Home: Shopping for the Domestic from the Seventeenth Century to the Present (Ashgate, 2008) [with M. Ponsonby]

Subject(s):Social and Cultural History, including Race, Ethnicity and Gender
Geographic Area(s):Europe
Time Period(s):18th Century

Asian Merchants and Businessmen in the Indian Ocean and the China Sea

Author(s):Lombard, Denys
Aubin, Jean
Reviewer(s):Giraldez, Arturo

Published by EH.NET (November 2000)

Denys Lombard and Jean Aubin, editors, Asian Merchants and Businessmen in the Indian Ocean and the China Sea. New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2000. iii + 375 pp. $35.00 (cloth), ISBN: 0195641094.

Reviewed for EH.NET by Arturo Giraldez, Modern Languages and Literatures Department, University of the Pacific.

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This collection of essays was edited in 1988 by two professors of the L’Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales in Paris and was published originally in French by the institution’s publishing house. The volume was produced after a conference on the same topic organized by these two eminent historians some years before. As Sanjay Subrahmanyam points out in the “Foreword,” it was a response to the perspective taken by Dutch historians of the Early Modern Period who considered the trading world of Asia in terms of the European Companies and the reaction of ‘non-Western’ societies. The economic dynamism was perceived as coming from Europe and acting upon backward economies. Denys Lombard and Jean Aubin tried to promote a contrary view of an Asian history “that was largely controlled by its internal rhythms, even if related in complex ways after 1500 to various forms of European commercial and political presence” (Subrahmanyam, p. i). This historical debate is not new; it follows controversies involving specialists in Indian, Chinese and African histories. Despite the twelve-year lapse between the French version and the current translation, these essays come at a time when the debate between Eurocentric paradigms and new historiographic perspectives is taking on a new life. The work of Andre Gunder Frank, Ken Pomeranz and R. Bin Wong, among others, place China and the ‘rise of the West’ in a different light, showing the importance of China in world history before the beginnings in Britain of the so called ‘Industrial Revolution.’ (See Andre Gunder Frank (1998) ReORIENT: Global Economy in the Asian Age, Berkeley: University of California Press; Kenneth Pomeranz (2000) The Great Divergence: China, Europe, and the Making of the Modern World Economy, Princeton: Princeton University Press; and R. Bin Wong (1997) China Transformed. Historical Change and the Limits of European Experience, Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press. A recent exposition of the ‘Eurocentric’ paradigm is David Landes (1998) The Wealth and Poverty of Nations: Why Some Are So Rich and Some So Poor, New York: Norton. For a criticism of these ideas, see James M. Blaut (2000) Eight Eurocentric Historians, New York and London: Guilford Press.)

Despite inherent theoretical problems related to the meaning of the term ‘Europe,’ with even greater confusion in the case of the term ‘West,’ those intellectual constructs form the basis of historical interpretations of wide acceptance. This set of ideas considers past developments in the “European West” as essentially endogenous processes that produced economic and social institutions whose rationality and efficiency renders them the paradigm of economic modernization. Eurocentric views have the common trait of creating an intellectual template to be applied to the transformations of other societies and ranking them accordingly to the similarities and differences from an ideal historical development. To counteract this view, Denys Lombard and Jean Aubin have collected a vast array of articles dealing with the dense network of exchanges from the Persian Gulf, the Red Sea and the African East Coast to the shores of China and Japan. The Europeans — Portuguese, Spaniards, English and Dutch — took advantage of pre-existing dense economic networks but their disruptions did not essentially upset their control by Asian powers until the nineteenth century.

Four main themes structure the authors’ historiographical perspective: 1) “Harbor Towns” as centers of economic stimulation; 2) The role of Islam in developing merchant networks since the ninth century; 3) The study of merchant ‘diasporas'; and 4) The ‘Continuity’ of business in Asia.

Chronologically, the collection begins with Chen Dasheng and D. Lombard’s “Foreign Merchants in Maritime Trade in ‘Quanzhou’ (‘Zaitun’): Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries” and ends with “The Major Japanese Groups of Enterprises (Kigyoshudan), Heirs to the Zaibatsus” by Bertrand Cheng. This time span was chosen to avoid an Asian economic history “in which all exchanges are seen through the prism of a periodization, whose pulse is to be found in Lisbon, London or Amsterdam” (Lombard, p.3).

Cities were crucial to trade in Asian waters. Denys Lombard distinguishes between the ‘hydraulic’ city connected to an agricultural space and merchant cities, which depended, in fact, on the maritime nexus and its links with foreign land (p.114). An early case was Quanzhou in China: “a precursor of the merchant cities that we shall later see at different points of the Indian Ocean.” (Dasheng and Lombard, p.20). Luis Filipi F.R. Thomaz studies Melaka in the sixteenth century. Genevieve Bouchon places Calicut in relationship with the Arab world, Ceylon, the Moluccas and the trade with China. Studying the city-port of Surat, Ashin Das Gupta discovers how the arrival of the Dutch and English and the Portuguese departure opened a window of opportunity for Indian merchants to became ship-owners (pp.105-112). This is a good example of how Asian entrepreneurs were able to take advantage of changes produced by the European presence.

Islam played a great role in merchant networks after the ninth century. We find Muslim communities in Quanzhou in the eleventh century; by the sixteenth century they were present in Hurmuz, Malacca, Mindanao and Manila. “As late as the 19th and 20th centuries, Islam continued to animate a whole series of intermediate networks from one end to the Indian Ocean to the other” (Lombard, pp. 5-6). Several authors study these Muslim merchants: Hadramis, Gujaratis, Ismailis, Bohras, Kashmiris, Panthay, and so on.

One of the most intriguing aspects illustrated by these essays is the “continuity” of merchant family networks and how they took advantage of the opportunities provided by different social contexts. When “Saudi Arabia developed into a petro-economy state, it attracted a flood of Hadrami emigrants; two Hadrami multi-millionaires were known everywhere, Bin Mahfuz and Bin Laden” (R.B. Serjeant, p.149). Hadrami origins come from Yemen. Claude Markovits studies other industrial groups in India like the Kasturbhais family of Gujarati merchants whose ancestor, Shantidas Zaveri, was ‘jeweler’ to the Mughal Imperial Court. The family owned textile factories but during the 1960s the group expanded into the chemical industry in collaboration with European companies, ICI and CIBA. They passed from traditional merchants to modern industrialists: “This adaptation has been achieved without any basic modification in the working methods or in the forms of organization” (Markovits, p.318). Similar cases can be found among the Chinese Hakka studied by Claudine Salmon. In 1862 Aw Chi Ching, a Hakka doctor from Fujien settled in Rangoon where he practiced traditional medicine and sold medicinal herbs. His descendents marketed a remedy called “Tiger Balm” of great mass appeal. They began advertising in Chinese newspapers in Hong-Kong, Macao and Northern China. To fight competitors in the balm business they bought newspapers in Guandong, Amoy, Singapore, Hong-Kong and Penang. Despite losing their properties in China after the Revolution, the family overcame the post World War crisis. A successor, Sally Aw, bought newspapers in Hong-Kong and Australia and also invested in a variety of businesses. The Hakka network was a great contributor to family success. After World War II one family member founded the first Hakka Bank in Singapore, the Chong Qiao Yinhang.

The vicissitudes of business development in Japan are well exemplified by one prominent conglomerate of the country: “The Iwasaki family had created the Mitsubishi company, which was the result of a commercial enterprise installed in Nagasaki and financed by the Tosa fief. It had closely collaborated with the earlier Meiji administrations” (Akamatsu, p.365). Before World War II Mitsubishi was one of the ‘Big Four’ Zaibatsus — the others being Mitsui, Sumitomo, and Yasuda. “However, as early as the 1950s, a new type of structure called kigyoshudan emerged to regroup the erstwhile zaibatsus” (Chung, p.367). Mitsubishi is one of them. The previous cases go beyond mere anecdote, implying large theoretical issues. In the words of Lombard (p. 7): “The question still remains whether the recent development of Asian capitalism is a reproduction of Western capitalist systems or an outgrowth of an independent stand taken with regard to them.”

Asian merchants were not always able to develop into industrialists. Another completely different role was the symbiotic relationships between Chettiars and Kalangs with European powers. The Chettiar studied by Hans-Dieter Evers were a Tamil caste of South India. Initially they were moneylenders whose activities expanded to South Africa, Mauritius, Ceylon, Burma, Malaya, South Vietnam and Indochina at the end of the late nineteenth century. The Chettiar expansion coincided with development in South-East Asia of the corporate plantation system and the mining and logging industries. “The Chettiar money-lenders played a major role in the transformation of the remaining peasant subsistence economy and connecting it with the export crop-producing sectors” (Evers, p. 206). They also provided capital to Chinese, Burmese, Pathan and Sinhalese moneylenders, but at the same time were connected with European banking institutions. “Chettiar agents had turned peasants into ‘capillaries of a network of financial arteries leading to the banks of London and Paris'” (Evers, p. 208). The Kalangs are a group of Javanese merchants studied by Claude Guillot. Fatimah, a Kalang woman, involved herself in money lending, like her mother, and in buying and selling gold. The gold was melted down and made “into pure gold ingots that Fatimah personally took to sell to the Javasche Bank in Batavia.” After World War I, this bank “introduced Fatimah to diamond merchants from Antwerp.” The family became the most prominent diamond merchants of the Dutch East Indies (Envers, pp. 272-73).

One might criticize the editors’ decision to “set aside all that we know of the European networks” (Lombard, p.4). Ignoring the presence of the Europeans in Asian waters implies ignoring the substantial links developed between Asian economies, America and other colonial powers. For instance, the Chinese tributary system used Japanese and American silver as one of its main monetary substances; and in the nineteenth century the Atlantic economy, Australian gold, Chinese tea and Indian opium formed a network of exchanges with the British playing a pivotal role. This observation does not detract from the quality of the collection. The essays are full of information and their findings should be carefully incorporated into current historical narratives.

Denys Lombard and Jean Aubin were much aware of the difficulties of studying Asian economies. Whereas European companies and countries contain rich sources amenable to statistical treatment, that is not the case for many economies in the Indian Ocean and China Sea. That explains why many of the essays’ authors use biographical sources and anthropological research to fortify their cases. However, to dismiss their findings because of lack of statistical information would be a serious mistake. In so-called western societies many economic activities are not reported in a reliable numerical form, such as the drug trade that forms part of the, non-reported, “submerged economy.”

Sanjay Subrahmanym’s “Foreword” finishes with the following thoughts that express very well the book’s theoretical relevance. “It is a timely reminder, at the end of the twentieth century, that the family firm, the merchant community, and the networks of capital-raising and investment based on kinship, affinity, and sociability, are still a reality that one needs to contend with, in Asia, but also perhaps in Europe and even in America” (p.ix).

Overall, this is an excellent collection that is tremendously useful for the historian and social scientist willing to get acquainted with aspects of economic and social history usually known only to specialists. It is a deep loss that both Jean Aubin and Denys Lombard are no longer with us. Both were great examples of an excellent French tradition in social sciences. Also two other contributors to the volume, Ashin Das Gupta and R.B.Serjeant died in the last decade of the twentieth century. The book is a great occasion to get acquainted with their work.

Arturo Giraldez has published several articles (in collaboration with D. O. Flynn) on precious metals in the modern era and has edited Metals and Monies in a Global Economy (Aldershot: Varioum, 1997). Also he is a general co-editor of the Variorum collection The Pacific World: Lands, Peoples and History of the Pacific, 1500-1900.

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Subject(s):Business History
Geographic Area(s):Asia
Time Period(s):General or Comparative

Resonancias Imperiales: América y el Tratado de Utrecht de 1713

Editor(s):Escamilla González, Iván
Souto Mantecón, Matilde
Pinzón Rios, Guadalupe
Reviewer(s):Almeida, James

Published by EH.Net (November 2017)

Iván Escamilla González, Matilde Souto Mantecón, and Guadalupe Pinzón Rios, editors. Resonancias Imperiales: América y el Tratado de Utrecht de 1713. México City: Instituto de Investigaciones Dr. José María Luis Mo: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Instituto de Investigaciones Históricas, 2015. 333 pp. $33 (paperback), ISBN: 978-607-02-7529-6.

Reviewed for EH.Net by James Almeida, Department of History, Harvard University.

 
The 1713 Treaty of Utrecht ended the War of Spanish Succession and confirmed the installation of the Bourbon monarchy on the Spanish throne. Historians have long acknowledged the war and the treaty as important turning points in Atlantic History, but the focus of such studies has generally been European territorial concessions and the transfer of the Spanish slave trading monopoly known as the asiento from France to Great Britain. The first decades of the eighteenth century and early Bourbon rule of Spain have been the subject of fewer studies than other periods of imperial history, and have frequently been characterized as a time of continuity with the late Hapsburg administrations, lasting until the Bourbon Reforms of the second half of the century. The authors in this volume challenge this characterization by shifting the gaze away from Europe and the asiento to understand how Iberoamerica helped shape the treaty and exercised significant influence in the development of the post-Utrecht system of international diplomacy.

Resonancias Imperiales grew out of the international colloquium “América y el Tratado de Utrecht, 1713-2013” held in Mexico City in 2013. The volume’s thesis is that the overseas kingdoms of the Iberian empires took an active and decisive role in imperial affairs, and that it is impossible to understand the functioning of an empire without analyzing it as a system in which all parts are interconnected and mutually dependent. While these relationships were hierarchical, the authors contend that acknowledging the American territories as kingdoms, not colonies, best reflects their status in imperial affairs. The essays devote particular attention to the Pacific Ocean navigation and commerce that has seldom been studied for this period.

The book is structured in three parts. The first four chapters consider the repercussions of instability in Madrid for the internal politics of the Spanish American kingdoms. The next three essays focus on Spain’s defensive weaknesses, the implications for its unfavorable negotiating position at Utrecht, and subsequent unfavorable outcomes of the treaty. Finally, the last four chapters reexamine and complicate the narrative of continuity and stasis in early Bourbon administration of commerce. The organizational logic is clear and easy to follow, although it does separate some pieces that read well together, such as the essays on corruption.

The first section of the work contains essays that tackle major historiographical debates and themes. Iván Escamilla González argues that the American kingdoms played an active role in establishing the post-Utrecht system of international diplomacy. A well-connected viceroy in New Spain and new defensive concerns prompted a new strategy of appointing well-connected administrators to important American government positions instead of fortune-seeking second sons of aristocrats. The essay of Francisco A. Eissa-Barroso challenges the idea that the establishment, abolishment, and re-establishment of the viceroyalty of Nueva Granada were in response to local politics and corruption. Using new evidence beyond the one royal decree typically cited, Eissa-Barroso instead suggests that the rise and fall of the French and Italian courts under the early Bourbons affected the policy in New Granada, and that the situation illustrates the post-Utrecht militarization of key posts in the Indies by placing officers with Mediterranean combat experience. Christoph Rosenmüller challenges another historiographical consensus: that corruption in the Spanish Empire increased in the eighteenth century with a surge in the sale of offices (rather than appointments). In his study of the audit of the Audiencia of Mexico conducted between 1715 and 1727, he concludes that both high administrators and the auditor recognized corruption, but drew the line between gifts and bribes in different places. Frances L. Ramos concludes this section by studying sermon texts from New Spain to show that they efficiently disseminated Bourbon anti-English and anti-protestant propaganda and helped to create an imperial consciousness.

Beginning the section on defenses and the Pacific World, Carmen Yuste emphasizes the venality, negligence, and dishonesty of officials on the margins of the Spanish Empire in the Philippines. Judicial proceedings over British seizure of a Philippine galleon serve as a case study, demonstrating that officials were using galleons for illicit and personal commerce. Relying on just one example prevents Yuste from connecting this example to broader debates over corruption raised by Eissa-Barroso, Rosenmüller, and others. Yavana Celaya Nández’s essay shifts the focus back to the Caribbean and the New Spain-based Armada de Barlovento charged with patrolling the sea. She argues that the competition for scarce resources fostered tensions between the local authorities and Madrid, and that increasing centralization under the early Bourbons improved financial efficiency but failed to offset the enormous costs of patrolling the vast sea. Fabricio Prado shows how the post-Utrecht reestablishment of the Portuguese Colonia del Sacramento along the Rio de la Plata allowed the temporary development of a lusophone elite with ties to the rest of the empire.

Adrian Pearce’s essay begins the discussion of commerce by countering the assumption in the historiography that the Treaty of Utrecht froze in place the anachronistic Hapsburg monopoly system while greatly increasing commerce between Spanish America and Great Britain. He compiles quantitative trade data from a number of sources to argue instead that significant British trade had previously penetrated the monopoly system by moving through Cádiz (legally) and the Caribbean (illegally), and the change of allowing British trade in Spanish American ports was one of degree and not character. A major controversy in the newly expanded trade with the British was their penetration into the interior of the American kingdoms. Matilde Souto Mantécon suggests that the creation of trade fairs at Xalapa in New Spain was not, as previously believed, to promote commerce; rather, it was to avoid its disintegration in the face of old tensions between interior merchants and those of Mexico City (heightened by the introduction of the English and vague terms of the treaty). Careful examination of administrative correspondence and post-Utrecht negotiations provides her with the evidence to support this claim. Finally, Guadalupe Pinzón Ríos demonstrates that the threat of English military action in the Pacific prompted increased official and commercial navigation between New Spain and Guatemala, which in turn set a precedent for longer term changes during the Bourbon Reforms of the second half of the century.

This volume ultimately achieves a balance between local, imperial, and Atlantic perspectives on the Spanish American world of the early eighteenth century. Although some of the essays are quite specialized, the strongest contributions use specific contexts to tackle major historiographical issues with broad implications for understanding the empire. The essays by Escamilla González, Eissa-Barroso, Rosenmüller, and Pierce stand out in this category. Others essays like those of Souto Mantécon and Pinzón Rios effectively introduce new evidence to prompt research in areas that scholars have only begun to explore. Overall, the authors ably demonstrate that Iberoamerica did indeed play an active role in shaping the post-Utrecht international order. In addition to specialists on the early Bourbon era and international diplomacy, Resonancias Imperiales will be valuable for students of imperial governance and the Spanish Pacific.

 
James Almeida is a Doctoral Candidate in Latin American History at Harvard University.

Copyright (c) 2017 by EH.Net. All rights reserved. This work may be copied for non-profit educational uses if proper credit is given to the author and the list. For other permission, please contact the EH.Net Administrator (administrator@eh.net). Published by EH.Net (November 2017). All EH.Net reviews are archived at http://www.eh.net/BookReview.

Subject(s):International and Domestic Trade and Relations
Geographic Area(s):Latin America, incl. Mexico and the Caribbean
Time Period(s):18th Century

The Oxford Handbook of Banking and Financial History

Editor(s):Cassis, Youssef
Grossman, Richard S.
Schenk, Catherine R.
Reviewer(s):Neal, Larry

Published by EH.Net (July 2017)

Youssef Cassis, Richard S. Grossman, and Catherine R. Schenk, editors, The Oxford Handbook of Banking and Financial History. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. xviii + 537 pp., $160 (hardcover), ISBN: 978-0-19-965862-6.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Larry Neal, Department of Economics, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign (emeritus).

The global financial crisis that began in 2007-08 and continued to rattle the Eurozone countries after 2010 has certainly been good for the market for financial history.  The Oxford Handbook of Banking and Financial History is clearly a response to these events.  In their introductory chapter, the editors set out their ambitious agenda, which is to deal with the individual parts of our modern complex financial system and trace how each has evolved over time.  Each chapter ends with some insight into how the current turmoil in global banking and finance might affect part of the global financial system. This broad-ranging approach is very much in keeping with current analysis by policy economists, who have become very sensitive to how our financial system intertwines banks, which specialize in particular niches of the economy; shadow banks, which innovate to find new niches; money markets, which deal with short-term finance; capital markets, which provide long-term finance; and regulators, who attempt to oversee the operation of the financial system for the interest of the public (or the government).  The editors’ goal is to provide anyone concerned with a particular aspect of the financial system an authoritative treatment by an acknowledged expert that is clearly written for the non-specialist combined with a useful bibliography to follow up particular aspects.

The Oxford Handbook is organized into four parts: Part I, Thematic Issues, deals explicitly with the problems that the editors confronted at the outset: how have historians approached the issues in financial history (Youssef Cassis); how have economists dealt with the issues that interest them (John D. Turner); and how have policy makers tried to apply lessons from history for promoting economic development (Gerard Caprio, Jr.).  To pay due attention to historical contingency, economic analysis, and policy relevance in each of the following chapters is, indeed, a daunting task for each author.

Part II, Financial Institutions, takes up these challenges by separating out several categories of distinctly different institutions, a useful distinction too often overlooked in practice and one that illustrates nicely the complexity of any financial system.  Youssef Cassis’s “Private Banks and Private Banking” begins with the initial role models for banks, from their origins in kinship networks in Renaissance Italy to today’s Swiss managers of private wealth.  Gararda Westerhuis’s “Commercial Banking: Changing Interactions between Banks, Markets, Industry, and State” follows by dealing with the nineteenth-century spread of industrialization globally, which led to the rise of universal banks.  By the end of the twentieth century, however, it appeared that commercial banks might be in “a state of terminal decline.” (See Raghuram Rajan, 1998, “The Past and Future of Commercial Banking Viewed through an Incomplete Contracts Lens,” Journal of Money, Credit, and Banking. 30(3), 524.)  The financial crisis of 2008 led many observers to push for a separation of investment and commercial banking once again in the interest of financial stability.  Westerhuis goes on to distinguish the motives for establishing market-based systems (U.S. and England) versus bank-based systems (Germany and Japan).  She posits that the two paths diverged early on due to the differences in government control over banks and then the role played by banks in financing industrialization for follower countries, such as Germany and Japan.  Oddly missing from her overview is any consideration of the experience of Scottish banking, which developed joint-stock banks with national branches early in the eighteenth century.  Only after the financial crisis of 1825 did the English care to look seriously at the Scottish example for improving their commercial banking system!  Further, joint-stock banks did not disappear in the U.S. during the “free banking” period as she asserts. While they were confined within state boundaries, limitations on branching within a state varied considerably.  The wide range of experiments undertaken by various states has stimulated a growing and interesting literature among U.S. scholars, largely omitted from her bibliography.

Caroline Fohlin’s “A Brief History of Investment Banking from Medieval Times to the Present” takes up the most challenging role of banks, how to transform short-term liabilities into long-term assets.  Rather than taking specific organizational forms, she prefers to analyze investment banks as a set of services that help finance the long-term capital needs of business and governments. After briefly looking at merchant banks from medieval times to the early nineteenth century, this loose definition requires her to take up individual countries one by one during the nineteenth century.  Sections follow that deal with England, the European continent, Belgium and the Netherlands, France, Germany, Austria and Switzerland, Italy, Japan, and the United States. Each section highlights the differences in organizational structures created to accomplish basically the same goals, helping governments promote industrialization.  The twentieth century presents more interesting differences, essentially due to the ways various governments regulated, deregulated, and then re-regulated from the 1920s to the present.  She concludes, “even well-known investment banking names that have endured over the centuries bear little resemblance to their ancestors” (p. 159).

Christopher Kobrak’s “From Multinational to Transnational Banking” takes up the complex transformations of the world’s leading banks by size as they successively internalized their international operations.  The availability of huge advances in information technology combined with increasing opportunities for re-allocating domestic savings across foreign investments provided the basis for the growth of today’s megabanks.  Oddly, however, Kobrak takes as archetypes of the new transnational bank two of the worst performers after 2008 — Deutsche Bank and Citibank.  Relying on their respective annual reports in 2007-2010, he touts each of them as “market players” rather than staid fiduciary agents, lauding their scale and scope of activities that are only vaguely related to financial intermediation associated with banks “lending long, while borrowing short.” He dispassionately notes that three-quarters of Deutsche Bank’s two trillion euros in assets in 2007 were securities held for trading, and 40 percent were financial derivatives (p. 183), without disparaging the obvious omission of fiduciary responsibility. Citibank, similarly, by 2007 had “invested huge resources in creating an internal market, in essence warehousing securities and derivatives to build hedged positions and for future sale” (p. 182). All these intra-bank holdings of assets and liabilities enabled such banks to make a lot of money by proprietary trading that remained unobserved by regulators or by publicly accessible financial markets.  He refrains from criticizing the model developed by these two megabanks, each of which has suffered huge losses and justified public acrimony since 2008, confining himself to the anodyne remark that “megabanks may be forced, as they have many times in the past, to find an intertwined institutional and organizational adaptation more sustainable in the modern social order” (p. 185)!

R. Daniel Wadhwani’s “Small-Scale Credit Institutions: Historical Perspectives on Diversity in Financial Intermediation” concludes Part II by lumping together a motley assortment of credit cooperatives, savings banks, industrial banks, pawn shops, and savings and loans associations.  Wadhwani argues their cumulative size makes their impact on their respective economics arguably as great or greater than that made by the commercial, investment, and public banks dealt with in the previous chapters.  Their common origin across many cultures and through past millennia he finds in the ubiquitous presence of ROSCAs (rotating savings and credit associations).  Beginning with small kinship groups desiring to pool their limited resources to enable individual members to acquire a desired goal, perhaps a piece of land, a dwelling, livestock, or even the means to migrate somewhere else for employment, ROSCAs often provide a basis for transition to the more modern forms of intermediation.  These include savings banks, credit cooperatives, and savings and loans, with each evolving quite differently depending on local circumstances.  Critical to their evolution historically is the role of government, whether as regulator (restricting competition), competitor (postal savings banks), or customer (providing sovereign debt as risk-free asset).  The theoretical economic bases for their evolution and persistence are robust, both for their monitoring capability and for their local knowledge of investment possibilities.  Nevertheless, Wadhwani calls attention to more post-modern “theories” that favor the creation of supportive narratives when cultures confront changes in economic regimes.

Part III, Financial Markets, begins with Stefano Battilossi’s “Money Markets,” which emphasizes the importance of access to outside liquidity for banks when they face unanticipated shocks either for increased loans or increased withdrawals of deposits.  Further, Battilossi argues that a key lesson learned by banking theorists and practitioners in the nineteenth century, namely that money markets are essential for a smooth working of the economy but are inherently unstable, was lost over the course of the twentieth century.  The success of the Bank of England in stabilizing the money market at the center of the global economy of the nineteenth century, he argues, was due to a complex combination of close monitoring by the Bank of England and cartel complicity by the major joint-stock banks, each with extensive branching networks domestically and overseas.  U.S. efforts to imitate the British example after creation of the Federal Reserve System in 1913 failed due to irreconcilable differences in institutional structures between the two banking systems and their respective central banks.  It took over a century and a half for the Bank of England to learn how to avoid being a dealer of last resort, a role that the Federal Reserve System in the U.S. had to undertake in the 2008 crisis, and which it has not yet been able to relinquish.  Readers are left to draw the implications for the future of the global financial system for themselves!

Ranald C. Michie’s “Securities Markets” lays out convincingly and clearly the importance of securities markets for a successful financial system.  Divisibility and transferability of a security expands greatly the potential customer base, adding the virtue of diversity in demands for liquidity among the creditors as well.   He distinguishes clearly between “Primary Securities Markets” and “Secondary Securities Markets,” showing their interdependence in layman’s terms.  “Stock Exchanges” provide the effective linkage between the two levels of markets, but fall prey in turn to problems either of monopoly pricing or government repression. His exposition of the underlying theory of securities markets provides the structure for his narrative that follows. From “Early Developments in Securities Markets,” which only mentions briefly the roles of informal markets in the speculative booms of 1720, Michie insists on focusing on the nineteenth century, starting with the London Stock Exchange in 1801.  It’s unfortunate that he ignores recent work on the Amsterdam stock market, (e.g., Lodewijk Petram, The World’s First Stock Exchange, New York: Columbia University Press, 2014), or early work by this reviewer on the precedents for the London Stock Exchange (Larry Neal, The Rise of Financial Capitalism, New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990).  Committed to the importance of formal structures for modern stock exchanges, however, Michie takes up their rise in the advanced capitalist economies of the nineteenth century and then their eclipse from 1914 to 1975.  Thanks to the exigencies of war finance from World War I through the Cold War, stock markets seemed to “appear somewhat irrelevant in a world dominated by governments and banks” (p. 253)  “The Era of Global Banks” did not come to an end in 2008, however, but what had ended was the “self-regulation that had contributed so much to the attractions of stocks and bonds to governments, businesses, and investors through the reduction or elimination of counterparty risk and price manipulation and the certainty that sales and purchases could be made as and when required” (p. 258).  Big banks are bad once again!

Moritz Schularick’s “International Capital Flows” is the most quantitative and instructive of the chapters, as he summarizes succinctly in nine brief tables and one graph, the levels of international capital flows over the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, their size relative to Gross Domestic Product, and the main sending countries and main receiving countries over time.  In sum, rich countries invested in poor countries in the nineteenth century, when international capital flows were highest relative to GDP, and the rich continued to invest in poor countries even when capital flows were severely constrained during the period 1914-1975.  But after the collapse of Bretton Woods, when international capital flows rose sharply once again, the result has been for poor countries to invest in rich countries.  Further, when capital does flow suddenly to emerging economies, financial crises often follow when the flow tapers off, undoing whatever economic advance may have occurred.

Youssef Cassis’s “International Financial Centres” concludes the coverage of financial markets by analyzing the recurring features of international financial centers that lead to their persistence over time.  The physical layout of the dominant cities, the combination of functions they perform (government, communications, education, as well as trade and finance), and their organization may change as the technology of transport, communications, and information change, but, Cassis argues, the network externalities created by the concentration of so much expertise in one location make the existing centers hard to replace.

Part IV, Financial Regulation, takes up the most vexing questions for policy makers, starting with Angela Redish’s “Monetary Systems.”  Redish begins with the complexity of metallic currencies with coins minted in varying combinations of copper, silver, and gold in early modern Europe, and deftly reviews the causes that concerned European policy makers as they sought to maintain coins with fixed legal tender values, whether minted in any or a combination of the three precious metals.  Basically, their concerns were the same as today, “whether nominal change can have real consequence for the balance of trade or level of economic activity?” (p. 327).  Redish goes on to trace out the academic literature that has dealt with the Emergence of the Gold Standard, the Latin Monetary Union, the Cross of Gold, the Classical Gold Standard, and the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, highlighting the controversies that have arisen under each rubric.  Next, she divides the End of the Gold Standard into the First World War and the Interwar Period, Bretton Woods and European Monetary Arrangements, and the End of Bretton Woods and the Rise of the Euro.  Reproducing faithfully the graph produced by Eichengreen and Sachs to show that countries that stayed committed to the gold standard after 1929 suffered in terms of industrial production relative to those that devalued, she doesn’t point out that the outliers of Germany and Belgium are readily explained by mistaking their formal exchange rate regimes with the ones they followed in practice (Germany using bilateral trade agreements to increase industrial exports while keeping the nominal exchange rate fixed, and Belgium reducing its nominal exchange rate while being forced to maintain existing trade agreements with France).  She concludes with a brief discussion of both inflation targeting under fiat currency regimes and the rise of crypto currencies such as Bitcoin, Her conclusion is merely that “money is information, a method to enable multilateral clearing of myriad transactions.  It would be surprising if the digital revolution did not lead to a revolution in how this information is managed” (p. 339).

Forrest Capie’s “Central Banking” takes up the baton passed on by Redish to provide a brief synopsis of the issues confronting central banks as they have increasingly taken control of the supply of money over the past two or more centuries.  Monetary stability, their prime responsibility, can be assessed in terms of price stability, but financial stability, which has become a major concern, he notes is more difficult to assess, much less to sustain.  Central bank independence, however defined, does seem to correlate with monetary and price stability, which shows that policy lessons have been learned successfully on that score.  Continued independence of central banks, however, hinges very much on attaining and then sustaining financial stability.  This task, very much underway now among the world’s central banks, 174 at last count, may require expanding their role to include financial regulation as well as oversight of the banking system.

Harold James’s “International Cooperation and Central Banks” makes an interesting argument that central banks in their pursuit of the goal of monetary stability naturally tend to cooperate with other central banks internationally, but without need for formal mechanisms.  Cooperation can then be merely discursive, as it was during the classical gold standard.  Financial crises, however, often do call for international cooperation, but cooperation is difficult, perhaps impossible, to sustain given the priority of strictly national policy concerns.  Large countries, needed to make cooperative efforts successful, are the most reluctant to join in cooperative efforts.  His examples cover episodes during the classical gold standard, the interwar period, the brief Bretton Woods period, and the ongoing travail of the euro-system, which he concludes is “the global test case for both the possibilities and the limits of central bank action” (p. 391). In an interesting aside, he explains why the Bank for International Settlements was resuscitated to manage the European Payments Union in the 1950s.  Top U.S. officials were wary of using the newly-established International Monetary Fund because its staff were largely protégés of Harry Dexter White, then under suspicion as a possible Russian agent!

Catherine Schenk and Emmanuel Mourlon-Droul’s “Bank Regulation and Supervision” develops a sub-theme to the arguments presented by Harold James, namely the recurring problems of regulatory competition, moral hazard, and regulatory capture.   Essentially, “[r]eputation and private information are key bank assets in a market with information asymmetry, but this complicates the ability to engage in transparent prudential supervision” (p. 396).  The U.S. stands out for having the most complicated and unwieldy array of conflicted regulatory agencies, summarized in Table 17.1.  The authors conclude, as do Charles Calomiris and Stephen Haber (Fragile by Design: The Political Origins of Banking Crises and Scarce Credit, Princeton, NJ: 2014), that it is no accident that Canada and the UK, with more coherent approaches to bank regulation have had fewer banking crises.  Much of the remaining chapter focuses on China and the successive efforts of China’s rulers to establish, then regulate, a banking system to enable industrialization and modernization, concluding, perhaps prematurely, that China managed to reduce the problem of non-performing loans after their peak in 2000.  The difficulties of deciding where to locate the regulator of the banking system are highlighted by tracing the successive efforts of the U.S., then the UK to find an ex post regulatory solution to the problems of recurring financial crises.  The efforts of the Basel Committee, established after the collapse of the Bretton Woods System, are described in the context of the European Union’s efforts to move toward regulatory cooperation within a more limited scope of international cooperation.  Prospects for success on that score are still very much in doubt.

Laure Quennouelle-Corre’s “State and Finance” takes a step back to look at the origins of the ongoing dilemma for the Eurozone of the interaction between governments’ sovereign debt and financial fragility of their banks.  The recurring differences between France and the other members of the European Union form the backdrop for his rambling notes on the interactions of private and public financial institutions, ending with the observation that France alone has had to deal with the European Union’s pro-market ideology versus the French tradition of state intervention.

Part V, Financial Crises, opens with Richard Grossman’s “Banking Crises,” which reprises the standard story of boom-bust cycles, exacerbated when new opportunities for speculative investments open up (first globalization after 1848; second globalization after 1979; post-war adjustments after WWI) but then moderated under strict regulation (capital controls, interest rate restrictions from 1945-71).  In his perspective, the Eurozone crisis fits the boom-bust pattern first described by D. Morier Evans in 1859 (The History of the Commercial Crisis, 1857-58, and the Stock Exchange Panic of 1859, New York: Augustus M. Kelley, 1969).

Peter Temin’s “Currency Crises: From Andrew Jackson to Angela Merkel” takes up the international aspect of the boom-bust paradigm by extending it into national decisions about setting the exchange rate with foreign trading partners and possible investors. To bolster his long-standing conviction that most, if not all, banking crises are really currency crises at heart, he lays out in detail the open macro-economy model developed by Trevor Swan. Swan’s diagram relates a country’s domestic level of production to its real exchange rate.  Internal balance is maintained if production rises with the real exchange rate, while external balance requires the real exchange rate to fall when production increases. The model leads to dire consequences for a country if it does not succeed in maintaining both internal balance (matching domestic investment with domestic supplies of savings) and external balance (matching capital account flows with offsetting trade balances) simultaneously.  Either excessive inflation or long-term unemployment occurs whenever imbalances are sustained due to misguided government policy.  Banking crises then arise as the necessary outcome of such policy failures by governments. The historical evidence to support Temin’s argument starts with Andrew Jackson and the crisis of 1837 in the U.S., continues through the Great Depression in the U.S. in the 1930s, not to mention the concurrent crisis in Germany, and concludes with the ongoing Eurozone crisis, all basically due to misguided political leaders, as named in his sub-title.

Juan H. Flores Zendejas’s “Capital Markets and Sovereign Defaults: A Historical Perspective” concludes the Oxford Handbook.  The first global financial market, arising with the collapse of the Spanish Empire in Latin America after the Napoleonic Wars, saw various devices to cope with the recurring problem of governments defaulting on the sovereign bonds they issued for whatever reason, usually to fight a war or quell a revolution.  Flores recounts the success of the London Stock Exchange in bringing governments to heel if they wanted access to British savers. The monitoring capabilities of the leading merchant bankers, especially the Barings and Rothschilds, put their imprimatur on bonds issued through their firms.  Twentieth century regulatory restrictions on these leading investment banks by their host governments, however, have limited the effectiveness of their “branding” and their intrusive follow-up in monitoring the finances of their customer governments.  Flores casts some doubt as well on the effectiveness of the Council of Foreign Bondholders in the nineteenth century.  He could also have challenged the effectiveness of international financial control committees that served as the model for the League of Nations Financial Commission after World War I if he had cited the recent work of Coskun Tuncer (Sovereign Debt and International Financial Control, The Middle East and the Balkans, 1870-1914, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015).  Flores concludes in general that governments that avoided defaulting in times of general crisis did so because they had been excluded from the earlier expansion of international credit.

All in all, the editors did get the compilation in print still in time to be useful for anyone concerned with how the ongoing financial crisis of the early twenty-first century will play out.  Specialists in each topic, however, may be disappointed in the necessary brevity of treatment, not to mention absence of references to their own work, particularly if they worry most about the future of the U.S. financial system.

Larry Neal is the author of A Concise History of International Finance: From Babylon to Bernanke, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015

Copyright (c) 2017 by EH.Net. All rights reserved. This work may be copied for non-profit educational uses if proper credit is given to the author and the list. For other permission, please contact the EH.Net Administrator (administrator@eh.net). Published by EH.Net (July 2017). All EH.Net reviews are archived at http://www.eh.net/BookReview.

Subject(s):Financial Markets, Financial Institutions, and Monetary History
Geographic Area(s):General, International, or Comparative
Time Period(s):18th Century
19th Century
20th Century: Pre WWII
20th Century: WWII and post-WWII

A 500 años del hallazgo del Pacífico: La presencia novohispana en el Mar del Sur

Editor(s):Yuste López, Carmen
Pinzón Rios, Guadalupe
Reviewer(s):Duggan, Marie Christine

Published by EH.Net (June 2017)

Carmen Yuste López and Guadalupe Pinzón Rios, editors, A 500 años del hallazgo del Pacífico: La presencia novohispana en el Mar del Sur.  México: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, 2016. 423 pp. $32 (paperback), ISBN: 978-607-02-7713-9.  Available at historicas.unam.mx/publicaciones/publicadigital/libros/hallazgo_pacifico/novohispana.html.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Marie Christine Duggan, Department of Economics, Keene State College.

If scholars in the U.S. know the Spanish were in the Pacific since the sixteenth century, we tend to believe they squandered their opportunities to develop it.  The reality is that Mexico City was the center of the Spanish colonial empire precisely because inflows of Asian goods since 1573 gave merchants of Mexico City a competitive advantage in negotiations with Spain. Spanish mercantilism was thwarted by the China trade, so Spain attempted to suppress it but Mexico City merchants resisted.  Because Mexico City’s commerce in Asian goods was contraband, evidence of it is hard to find.

Carmen Yuste may know more about Spanish colonial trade from the Pacific Rim than anyone alive today. Over thirty years ago she published archival research illustrating Mexico City’s connection to merchants in the Philippines[1], and completed her magnum opus in 2007[3].   When the Atlantic was rediscovered in the 1990s as a link between Europe, Africa, and America,’ Yuste went to the Pacific to tie not just three continents, but four, into one thread. She and Guadelupe Pinzón, her former student, have brought together in this volume scholars from Asia, Latin America, Spain and Portugal. Notable is Spaniard Salvador Bernabéu who has been working as long as Yuste on Spain’s China trade.

Fittingly, Yuste’s own essay is a masterwork of archival business history. She takes readers inside the Philippine commercial community at mid-eighteenth century by analyzing the pious endowment known as the Misericordia.  The members of this brotherhood were cargadores, men who purchased and transported Asian products to Acapulco in the state-financed galleon.  The endowment was increased by lending it at high rates of interest to cargadores. The interest rate on the loans for the voyage to Acapulco was typically 35 percent, and to Asian ports 12 percent.  The proceeds were split three ways: costs of administration, growing the endowment, and running pious activities.  The endowment grew slowly, and given these high nominal returns, there were rumors of malfeasance. The Crown sent an auditor in the 1750s.  He found solid reasons for the low growth rate: pirates, sinking ships, and tensions with Chinese intermediaries. Even so, the Misericordia never did release all its secrets.

Luís Alonzo Álvarez uses high level correspondence between Mexico, Manila and Madrid to explore why Asian trade with New Spain was curtailed. From its inception in 1573, New Spain preferred Asian imports to Spanish imports.   In 1580, Spain and Portugal were united, so spices could be obtained via the Horn of Africa on the Portuguese route.  In 1586, the Council of the Indies persuaded the crown to shut down trade between Spanish America and the Philippines. However, Mexico City merchants were making margins of 200 to 300 percent on imports from China, so the Viceroy of New Spain suggested that a clause be inserted that for every 90,000 pesos of silver exported from New Spain, 30,000 must be spent importing gold from Manila.   Furthermore, the costs of ships could be sharply reduced if they were built in the Philippines rather than New Spain.  In 1593, the crown ruled that Manila-Acapulco trade would be government-run with limited tonnage, and Acapulco would be Spanish America’s only Pacific port.

In her essay, Pinzón explains how Asian goods nonetheless arrived in other Pacific ports through a local contraband trading network linking several ports:  Huatulco and Tehuantepec (Mexico); Michatoya (Guatemala); Realejo (Nicaragua); Sonsonate (El Salvador); Caldera (Costa Rica); Panamá, and Guayaquil (Ecuador). The shipyard at Realejo constructed small vessels out of cedar, which traveled under the radar.   Realejo-Acapulco traffic provided cover for contraband because shipyards in both locations exchanged supplies. Ocean travel between Lima and Panama was permitted to pick up Spanish goods brought to the Atlantic side of the Isthmus.  Panama thus became a transfer point for contraband Asian products shipped from New Spain onto vessels heading to Lima.  Pinzón examines records of ships accused of contraband trade in the early eighteenth century. Even a viceroy was implicated, when a ship sailing to Lima under his orders was caught hiding Chinese goods on an island.

Dení Trejo Barrajas explores the same contraband networks, but to the north of Acapulco (Guaymas in Sonora, La Paz in Baja California, San Diego and Monterey in Alta California)[3].   By 1780, Spaniards knew otter hides were a second product (besides silver) that the Chinese wanted. Lieutenant Francisco De Paula Tamáriz proposed in 1814 to move the naval department of San Blas to Monterey, California.  Coastal traders would sail between California and Lima. Otter hides, flour, cattle hides and tallow could be picked up in California, the otter hides exported to Asia from Acapulco or San Blas, and the hides and tallow delivered to points further south.  The possibility of adding salted fish from Monterey was also discussed by Fr. Juan Rivas. The return trip to California could bring Asian products and other basic supplies.  English-language literature on the otter trade is dominated by Adele Ogden 1941[4], which perpetuates the New Englanders’ view of the Spanish as inept.  Officers knew that the New Englanders held them in low esteem.  Trejo points out that coastal traders from Guadalajara were already conducting the trade which De Paula Tamáriz proposed, but California exports were enriching mission Indian congregations rather than private individuals.

Returning to sixteenth century Asia, José Antonio Cervera provides a second reason that Spain held on to Manila: the “China-mania” that erupted around 1550 among friars frustrated with religious conversion in New Spain.  Spain viewed evangelism as the first step to conquering China. Cervera points out that Mexican silver was mined from 1540, and the Chinese paid more for silver than for gold, so commercial and religious motives united for China. By 1542, Ruy López de Villalobos sailed to the Philippines, yet it was only in 1565 that Andrés de Urdaneta found the return route. Fortuitously, Fujian in Southern China experienced a political opening to external trade in 1567.  Paulina Machuco explains that Spaniards eager to conquer China viewed the Cambodian desire to negotiate a military alliance with the Spanish in 1596 as an opportunity.

Salvador Bernabéu has elsewhere explained four Spanish contributions to the 18th century California otter trade.[5]  In this volume, he eschews business for a thoughtful portrait of Hernando Magellan. Born in Oporto, Portugal as Fernão Magalhães, Magellan found the Western route to Asia in 1519 for Portugal’s rival, Spain. Portugal failed to reward Magellan after his first voyage to Asia 1505-1514, and Carlos V of Spain paid him well to find an alternate route to the lucrative Spice Islands.  He was a short man who brought many Portuguese relatives, including Rodrigo Oliveira, on his journey to the unknown.  Oliveira thought there was a passage through South America below Brazil – later known as the Straits of Magellan.  Bernabéu contends that Magellan was not motivated by money; rather, he shared with many Portuguese an eschatological notion that once King Solomon’s gold mines were found in Asia, Jerusalem would fall to Christianity.  Impelled by vocation to complete a second voyage to Asia, he could see it would never happen under Portugal.

It is really too bad that the English-speaking world is so unaware of the Spanish-language scholarship on the Pacific Rim trade.  I hope that my review, which outlines only the highlights of this volume, will help remedy this deficit. The effects of this myopia show up in California as the belief that only a few encounters between Europeans and native peoples occurred prior to 1769.  Manila Galleons touched land nearly every year between 1573 and 1815, from modern San Francisco and San Diego — after five months at sea one suspects they landed and got fresh water.  I have only a handful of criticisms. The two art historians who analyze cargo lists overlook the quantitative dimension — how much the luxury goods cost; a direct Lima-Philippine route was in place by the eighteenth century, and it does not receive mention here; and the impact of trade on native people (including Filipinos) is largely absent. Nonetheless, this volume is an excellent introduction to archival researchers of colonial Spain’s Pacific commerce.

Endnotes:

1. El comercio de la Nueva España con Filipinas, 1590–1785. Mexico: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia.

2. Emporios transpacíficos: Comerciantes Mexicanos en Manila, 1710-1815. Mexico: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Institución de Investigaciones Historicas.

3. See also Dení Trejo, “Pugna por el libre comercio en las postrimerías del virreinato: la Nueva Galicia y las Provincias Internas frente a los comerciantes de la ciudad de México, 1811-1818,” Estudios de Historia Novohispana, Vol. 51, Julio-Diciembre 2014.

4. The California Sea Otter Trade, 1784 to 1848.  Berkeley: University of California Press.

5. “Sobre intercambios comerciales entre China y California en el último tercio del siglo XVIII” in Francisco de Solano et al (eds.), Extremo oriente ibérico. Madrid: Agencia Española de Cooperación Internacional, 1989.

6. See Cristina Mazzeo, “Comerciantes en conflicto: la Independencia en el Perú y la transformación de la elite mercantil, 1780-1830,” Anuario del Instituto de Historia Argentina, No. 11, 2011 (Universidad Nacional de la Plata, Buenos Aires); and Mariano Ardash Bonialian, El Pacífico hispanoamericano: política y comercio asiático en el Imperio Espanol (1680-1784). México: El Colegio de México, 2012.

Marie Christine Duggan is Professor of Economics at Keene State College in New Hampshire.  In 2016, she published “With and Without an Empire: Financing for California Missions Before and After 1810,” Pacific Historical Review, 85 (1): 23-71.

Copyright (c) 2017 by EH.Net. All rights reserved. This work may be copied for non-profit educational uses if proper credit is given to the author and the list. For other permission, please contact the EH.Net Administrator (administrator@eh.net). Published by EH.Net (June 2017). All EH.Net reviews are archived at http://eh.net/book-reviews/

Subject(s):International and Domestic Trade and Relations
Geographic Area(s):Asia
Europe
Latin America, incl. Mexico and the Caribbean
Time Period(s):16th Century
17th Century
18th Century

Remaking the Rust Belt: The Postindustrial Transformation of North America

Author(s):Neumann, Tracy
Reviewer(s):Meyer, David R.

Published by EH.Net (September 2016)

Tracy Neumann, Remaking the Rust Belt: The Postindustrial Transformation of North America. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016. v + 270 pp. $50 (cloth), ISBN: 978-0-8122-4827-2.

Reviewed for EH.Net by David R. Meyer, Olin Business School, Washington University in St. Louis.

Western Europe, especially Germany, Belgium, and the United Kingdom, and the Great Lakes region of the United States comprised the North Atlantic rust belt based on heavy industry and its signature sector of iron and steel production. This belt rose to world dominance in the late-nineteenth century. The iron and steel sector reached its peak output, at least in the case of the U.S., in the mid-1960s and commenced a precipitous decline in the late 1970s under competition from developing countries in Asia. Tracy Neumann’s Remaking the Rust Belt (a contribution to the series, American Business, Politics, and Society) focuses on the Great Lakes portion and specifically on Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and Hamilton, Ontario.

Both metropolitan areas struggled with rapid loss of their signature industry and related heavy industrial sectors of metal fabricating and machinery beginning in the 1970s. At the same time, their central cities had been dealing with the impact of suburbanization and consequent loss of population, especially the middle class, for over two decades previously. The subtitle’s evocation of “postindustrial transformation” signifies the decline of manufacturing and the shift to a service economy or phrased alternatively as the shift from blue collar to white collar jobs or from production to an information/knowledge economy.

The book is organized into an introduction, six analytical chapters, and an epilogue. The introduction sets out the intellectual debate about the meaning of postindustrial. Neumann takes the stance that this debate ultimately rests on ideology and values. While intellectuals framed the debate, the most important consequence for Pittsburgh and Hamilton was that the business elite/civic leaders, politicians, and policy makers executed strategies to transform their cities into what they viewed as postindustrial societies. Chapter 1 traces the roots of postindustrialism to the public/private partnerships of the 1950s and 1960s and the development by the 1970s of a national policy mindset of decentralization of decision making and privatization as means to address the problems of the cities. The emergence of growth partnerships in the 1970s is covered in chapter 2. In Pittsburgh the corporate elite forged new relations with city government compared to prior efforts, whereas in Hamilton, the city officials faced difficulty getting business people to engage with public efforts at revitalization. Chapter 3 argues that the growth coalitions’ execution of their strategy of postindustrial transformation to a service economy was not effectively blocked by critics during the 1980s.

The next chapter covers the emergent geography of downtowns during the 1980s and early 1990s based on corporate headquarters, convention centers, hotels, cultural and entertainment districts, and sports stadiums. These activities received subsidies such as tax breaks and infrastructure, thus redistributing resources from the majority of the population to a favored business elite. Chapter 5 discusses the restructuring of old industrial spaces after the 1970s into sites for new economic activity. While neighborhood groups had some say in the revitalization efforts, ultimately city officials and civic leaders controlled most of the decisions. Marketing the postindustrial transformation of Pittsburgh and Hamilton is covered in chapter 6. The epilogue, asks the question, “cities for whom”? The answer is that blue collar workers and the lower class were left behind as most efforts, including direct subsidies, were devoted to the new service economy workers and their firms.

This well-written book moves in an organized, logical progression through the topics, covering the 1970-1990 period each time from a different angle. Neumann makes extensive use of original sources, including agency archives, government documents, newspapers, and interviews, to create a richly textured interpretation of the postindustrial transformation of Pittsburgh and Hamilton. By choosing these two cities, Neumann is able to contrast divergent political economies. Pittsburgh had access to somewhat more state and federal governmental programs than Hamilton did from the provincial and federal levels, although ultimately both countries devolved much of the postindustrial transformation to the local level which had to fund them through subsidies. Growth coalitions were more structured and effective in implementing programs in Pittsburgh than in Hamilton, but, again, the results were broadly similar. Both cities transformed to the new service economy and left their blue collar and lower income populations to fend for themselves.

The choice of Pittsburgh allows Neumann to draw on a substantial body of prior research which documents and interprets its restructuring and revitalization efforts from the late-1940s to the 1960s, as well as other studies covering subsequent changes. Hamilton, in contrast, does not have the rich base of research background. Pittsburgh has become famous in the academic and popular literature as the epitome of the transformation of an old, heavy industrial city into the new service economy. From that standpoint, therefore, Neumann’s core point of the transformation is not new. Instead, she provides the key details about the underlying political and business dealings which helped drive that process of change. She misses an opportunity to provide trend evidence in several tables and graphs covering the social, economic, and demographic characteristics of both cities’ populations during the 1950-1990 period. This would have precisely documented the long-term transformation to the new service economy and the stress on the blue collar and lower income populations.

Neumann’s study raises intriguing questions for further research. A comparative study of how other old U.S. industrial cities have fared in the postindustrial transformation to the new service economy would provide insight into why some cities successfully made the transformation whereas others either lagged or failed. Thus, Buffalo’s and Cleveland’s, perhaps, laggard efforts, and Detroit’s seemingly failed attempts, would supply ideas about the conditions for transformation. St. Louis has made strides since 2000 in shifting to the new service economy; why did it lag and what galvanized these recent changes? If Neumann had extended her study to the 1990-2010 period, this would have provided evidence on how Pittsburgh and Hamilton currently fare in the postindustrial economy. Still, this study contributes to the ongoing debate about the transformation to a postindustrial society.

David R. Meyer is the author of The Roots of American Industrialization (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003), and Networked Machinists: High-Technology Industries in Antebellum America (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2006). Recent publications focus on financial centers and financiers’ networks in Asia, including “The World Cities of Hong Kong and Singapore: Network Hubs of Global Finance,” International Journal of Comparative Sociology (2015) and (with George Guernsey) “Hong Kong and Singapore Exchanges Confront High Frequency Trading,” Asia Pacific Business Review (2016).

Copyright (c) 2016 by EH.Net. All rights reserved. This work may be copied for non-profit educational uses if proper credit is given to the author and the list. For other permission, please contact the EH.Net Administrator (administrator@eh.net). Published by EH.Net (September 2016). All EH.Net reviews are archived at http://eh.net/book-reviews/

Subject(s):Economic Planning and Policy
Urban and Regional History
Geographic Area(s):North America
Time Period(s):20th Century: WWII and post-WWII

The Economic History of Mexico

The Economic History of Mexico

Richard Salvucci, Trinity University

 

Preface[1]

This article is a brief interpretive survey of some of the major features of the economic history of Mexico from pre-conquest to the present. I begin with the pre-capitalist economy of Mesoamerica. The colonial period is divided into the Habsburg and Bourbon regimes, although the focus is not really political: the emphasis is instead on the consequences of demographic and fiscal changes that colonialism brought.  Next I analyze the economic impact of independence and its accompanying conflict. A tentative effort to reconstruct secular patterns of growth in the nineteenth century follows, as well as an account of the effects of foreign intervention, war, and the so-called “dictatorship” of Porfirio Diaz.  I then examine the economic consequences of the Mexican Revolution down through the presidency of Lázaro Cárdenas, before considering the effects of the Great Depression and World War II. This is followed by an examination of the so-called Mexican Miracle, the period of import-substitution industrialization after World War II. The end of the “miracle” and the rise of economic instability in the 1970s and 1980s are discussed in some detail. I conclude with structural reforms in the 1990s, the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), and slow growth in Mexico since then. It is impossible to be comprehensive and the references appearing in the citations are highly selective and biased (where possible) in favor of English-language works, although Spanish is a must for getting beyond the basics. This is especially true in economic history, where some of the most innovative and revisionist work is being done, as it should be, by historians and economists in Mexico.[2]

 

Where (and What) is Mexico?

For most of its long history, Mexico’s boundaries have been shifting, albeit broadly stable. Colonial Mexico basically stretched from Guatemala, across what is now California and the Southwestern United States, and vaguely into the Pacific Northwest.  There matters stood for more than three centuries[3]. The big shock came at the end of the War of 1847 (“the Mexican-American War” in U.S. history). The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo (1848) ended the war, but in so doing, ceded half of Mexico’s former territory to the United States—recall Texas had been lost in 1836. The northern boundary now ran on a line beginning with the Rio Grande to El Paso, and thence more or less west to the Pacific Ocean south of San Diego. With one major adjustment in 1853 (the Gadsden Purchase or Treaty of the Mesilla) and minor ones thereafter, because of the shifting of the Rio Grande, there it has remained.

Prior to the arrival of the Europeans, Mexico was a congeries of ethnic and city states whose own boundaries were unstable. Prior to the emergence of the most powerful of these states in the fifteenth century, the so-called Triple Alliance (popularly “Aztec Empire”), Mesoamerica consisted of cultural regions determined by political elites and spheres of influence that were dominated by large ceremonial centers such as La Venta, Teotihuacan, and Tula.

While such regions may have been dominant at different times, they were never “economically” independent of one another. At Teotihuacan, there were living quarters given over to Olmec residents from the Veracruz region, presumably merchants. Mesoamerica was connected, if not unified, by an ongoing trade in luxury goods and valuable stones such as jade, turquoise and precious feathers. This was not, however, trade driven primarily by factor endowments and relative costs. Climate and resource endowments did differ significantly over the widely diverse regions and microclimates of Mesoamerica. Yet trade was also political and ritualized in religious belief. For example, calling the shipment of turquoise from the (U.S.) Southwest to Central Mexico the outcome of market activity is an anachronism. In the very long run, such prehistorical exchange facilitated the later emergence of trade routes, roads, and more technologically advanced forms of transport. But arbitrage does not appear to have figured importantly in it.[4]

In sum, what we call “Mexico” in a modern sense is not of much use to the economic historian with an interest in the country before 1870, which is to say, the great bulk of its history. In these years, specificity of time and place, sometimes reaching to the village level, is an indispensable prerequisite for meaningful discussion. At the very least, it is usually advisable to be aware of substantial regional differences which reflect the ethnic and linguistic diversity of the country both before and after the arrival of the Europeans. There are fully ten language families in Mexico, and two of them, Nahuatl and Quiché, number over a million speakers each.[5]

 

Trade and Tribute before the Europeans

In the codices or deerskin folded paintings the Europeans examined (or actually commissioned), they soon became aware of a prominent form of Mesoamerican economic activity: tribute, or taxation in kind, or even labor services. In the absence of anything that served as money, tribute was forced exchange. Tribute has been interpreted as a means of redistribution in a nonmonetary economy. Social and political units formed a basis for assessment, and the goods collected included maize, beans, chile and cotton cloth. It was through the tribute the indigenous “empires” mobilized labor and resources. There is little or no evidence for the existence of labor or land markets to do so, for these were a European import, although marketplaces for goods existed in profusion.

To an extent, the preconquest reliance on barter economies and the absence of money largely accounts for the ubiquity of tribute. The absence of money is much more difficult to explain and was surely an obstacle to the growth of productivity in the indigenous economies.

The tribute was a near-universal attribute of Mesoamerican ceremonial centers and political empires. The city of Teotihuacan (ca. 600 CE, with a population of 125,000 or more) in central Mexico depended on tribute to support an upper stratum of priests and nobles while the tributary population itself lived at subsistence. Tlatelolco (ca 1520, with a population ranging from 50 to 100 thousand) drew maize, cotton, cacao, beans and precious feathers from a wide swath of territory that broadly extended from the Pacific to Gulf coasts that supported an upper stratum of priests, warriors, nobles, and merchants. It was this urban complex that sat atop the lagoons that filled the Valley of Mexico that so awed the arriving conquerors.

While the characterization of tribute as both a corvée and a tax in kind to support nonproductive populations is surely correct, its persistence in altered (i.e., monetized) form under colonial rule does suggest an important question. The tributary area of the Mexica (“Aztec” is a political term, not an ethnic one) broadly comprised a Pacific slope, a central valley, and a Gulf slope. These embrace a wide range of geographic features ranging from rugged volcanic highlands (and even higher snow-capped volcanoes) to marshy, humid coastal plains. Even today, travel through these regions is challenging. Lacking both the wheel and draught animals, the indigenous peoples relied on human transport, or, where possible, waterborne exchange. However we measure the costs of transportation, they were high. In the colonial period, they typically circumscribed the subsistence radius of markets to 25 to 35 miles. Under the circumstances, it is not easy to imagine that voluntary exchange, particularly between the coastal lowlands and the temperate to cold highlands and mountains, would be profitable for all but the most highly valued goods. In some parts of Mexico–as in the Andean region—linkages of family and kinship bound different regions together in a cult of reciprocal economic obligations. Yet absent such connections, it is not hard to imagine, for example, transporting woven cottons from the coastal lowlands to the population centers of the highlands could become a political obligation rather than a matter of profitable, voluntary exchange. The relatively ambiguous role of markets in both labor and goods that persisted into the nineteenth century may perhaps derive from just this combination of climatic and geographical characteristics. It is what made voluntary exchange under capitalistic markets such a puzzlingly problematic answer to the ordinary demands of economic activity.

 

[See the relief map below for the principal physical features of Mexico.]

image1

http://www.igeograf.unam.mx/sigg/publicaciones/atlas/anm-2007/muestra_mapa.php?cual_mapa=MG_I_1.jpg

[See the political map below for Mexican states and state capitals.]

image2

 

 

Used by permission of the University of Texas Libraries, The University of Texas at Austin.

 

“New Spain” or Colonial Mexico: The First Phase

Mexico was established by military conquest and civil war. In the process, a civilization with its own institutions and complex culture was profoundly modified and altered, if not precisely destroyed, by the European invaders. The catastrophic elements of conquest, including the sharp decline of the existing indigenous population, from perhaps 25 million to fewer than a million within a century due to warfare, disease, social disorganization and the imposition of demands for labor and resources should nevertheless not preclude some assessment, however tentative, of its economic level in 1519, when the Europeans arrived.[6]

Recent thinking suggests that Spain was far from poor when it began its overseas expansion. If this were so, the implications of the Europeans’ reactions to what they found on the mainland of Mexico (not, significantly in the Caribbean, and, especially, in Cuba, where they were first established) is important. We have several accounts of the conquest of Mexico by the European participants, of which Bernal Díaz del Castillo is the best known, but not the only one. The reaction of the Europeans was almost uniformly astonishment by the apparent material wealth of Tenochtitlan. The public buildings, spacious residences of the temple precinct, the causeways linking the island to the shore, and the fantastic array of goods available in the marketplace evoked comparisons to Venice, Constantinople, and other wealthy centers of European civilization. While it is true that this was a view of the indigenous elite, the beneficiaries of the wealth accumulated from numerous tributaries, it hardly suggests anything other than a kind of storied opulence. Of course, the peasant commoners lived at subsistence and enjoyed no such privileges, but then so did the peasants of the society from which Bernal Díaz, Cortés, Pedro de Alvarado and the other conquerors were drawn. It is hard to imagine that the average standard of living in Mexico was any lower than that of the Iberian Peninsula. The conquerors remarked on the physical size and apparent robust health of the people whom they met, and from this, scholars such as Woodrow Borah and Sherburne Cook concluded that the physical size of the Europeans and the Mexicans was about the same. Borah and Cook surmised that caloric intake per individual in Central Mexico was around 1,900 calories per day, which certainly seems comparable to European levels.[7]

Certainly, the technological differences with Europe hampered commercial exchange, such as the absence of the wheel for transportation, metallurgy that did not include iron, and the exclusive reliance on pictographic writing systems. Yet by the same token, Mesoamerican agricultural technology was richly diverse and especially oriented toward labor-intensive techniques, well suited to pre-conquest Mexico’s factor endowments. As Gene Wilken points out, Bernardo de Sahagún explained in his General History of the Things of New Spain that the Nahua farmer recognized two dozen soil types related to origin, source, color, texture, smell, consistency and organic content.  They were expert at soil management.[8] So it is possible not only to misspecify, but to mistake the technological “backwardness” of Mesoamerica relative to Europe, and historians routinely have.

The essentially political and clan-based nature of economic activity made the distribution of output somewhat different from standard neoclassical models. Although no one seriously maintains that indigenous civilization did not include private property and, in fact, property rights in humans, the distribution of product tended to emphasize average rather than marginal product. If responsibility for tribute was collective, it is logical to suppose that there was some element of redistribution and collective claim on output by the basic social groups of indigenous society, the clans or calpulli.[9] Whatever the case, it seems clear that viewing indigenous society and economy as strained by population growth to the point of collapse, as the so-called “Berkeley school” did in the 1950s, is no longer tenable. It is more likely that the tensions exploited by the Europeans to divide and conquer their native hosts and so erect a colonial state on pre-existing native entities were mainly political rather than socioeconomic. It was through the assistance of native allies such as the Tlaxcalans, as well as with the help of previously unknown diseases such as smallpox that ravaged the indigenous peoples, that the Europeans were able to place a weakened Tenochtitlan under siege and finally defeat it.

 

Colonialism and Economic Adjustment to Population Decline

With the subjection first of Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco and then of other polities and peoples, a process that would ultimately stretch well into the nineteenth century and was never really completed, the Europeans turned their attention to making colonialism pay. The process had several components: the modification or introduction of institutions of rule and appropriation; the introduction of new flora and fauna that could be turned to economic use; the reorientation of a previously autarkic and precapitalist economy to the demands of trade and commercial exploitation; and the implementation of European fiscal sovereignty. These processes were complex, required much time, and were, in many cases, only partly successful. There is considerable speculation regarding how long it took before Spain (arguably a relevant term by the mid-sixteenth century) made colonialism pay. The best we can do is present a schematic view of what occurred. Regional variations were enormous: a “typical” outcome or institution of colonialism may well have been an outcome visible in central Mexico. Moreover, all generalizations are fragile, rest on limited quantitative evidence, and will no doubt be substantially modified eventually. The message is simple: proceed with caution.

The Europeans did not seek to take Mesoamerica as a tabula rasa. In some ways, they would have been happy to simply become the latest in a long line of ruling dynasties established by decapitating native elites and assuming control. The initial demand of the conquerors for access to native labor in the so-called encomienda was precisely that, with the actual task of governing be left to the surviving and collaborating elite: the principle of “indirect rule.”[10] There were two problems with this strategy: the natives resisted and the natives died. They died in such large numbers as to make the original strategy impracticable.

The number of people who lived in Mesoamerica has long been a subject of controversy, but there is no point in spelling it out once again. The numbers are unknowable and, in an economic sense, not really important. The population of Tenochtitlan has been variously estimated between 50 and 200 thousand individuals, depending on the instruments of estimation.  As previously mentioned, some estimates of the Central Mexican population range as high as 25 million on the eve of the European conquest, and virtually no serious student accepts the small population estimates based on the work of Angel Rosenblatt. The point is that labor was abundant relative to land, and that the small surpluses of a large tributary population must have supported the opulent elite that Bernal Díaz and his companions described.

By 1620, or thereabouts, the indigenous population had fallen to less than a million according to Cook and Borah. This is not just the quantitative speculation of modern historical demographers. Contemporaries such as Jerónimo de Mendieta in his Historia eclesiástica Indiana (1596) spoke of towns formerly densely populated now witness to “the palaces of those former Lords ruined or on the verge of. The homes of the commoners mostly empty, roads and streets deserted, churches empty on feast days, the few Indians who populate the towns in Spanish farms and factories.” Mendieta was an eyewitness to the catastrophic toll that European microbes and warfare took on the native population. There was a smallpox epidemic in 1519-20 when 5 to 8 million died. The epidemic of hemorrhagic fever in 1545 to 1548 was one of the worst demographic catastrophes in human history, killing 5 to 15 million people. And then again in 1576 to 1578, when 2 to 2.5 million people died, we have clear evidence that land prices in the Valley of Mexico (Coyoacán, a village outside Mexico City, as the reconstructed Tenochtitlán was called) collapsed. The death toll was staggering. Lesser outbreaks were registered in 1559, 1566, 1587, 1592, 1601, 1604, 1606, 1613, 1624, and 1642. The larger point is that the intensive use of native labor, such as the encomienda, had to come to an end, whatever its legal status had become by virtue of the New Laws (1542). The encomienda or the simple exploitation of massive numbers of indigenous workers was no longer possible. There were too few “Indians” by the end of the sixteenth century.[11]

As a result, the institutions and methods of economic appropriation were forced to change. The Europeans introduced pastoral agriculture – the herding of cattle and sheep – and the use of now abundant land and scarce labor in the form of the hacienda while the remaining natives were brought together in “villages” whose origins were not essentially pre- but post-conquest, the so-called congregaciones, at the same time that the titles to now-vacant lands were created, regularized and “composed.”[12] (Land titles were a European innovation as well). Sheep and cattle, which the Europeans introduced, became part of the new institutional backbone of the colony. The natives would continue to rely on maize for the better part of their subsistence, but the Europeans introduced wheat, olives (oil), grapes (wine) and even chickens, which the natives rapidly adopted. On the whole, the results of these alterations were complex. Some scholars argue that the native diet improved even in the face of their diminishing numbers, a consequence of increased land per person and of greater variety of foodstuffs, and that the agricultural potential of the colony now called New Spain was enhanced. By the beginning of the seventeenth century, the combined indigenous, European immigrant, and new mixed blood populations could largely survive on the basis of their own production. The introduction of sheep lead to the introduction and manufacture of woolens in what were called obrajes or manufactories in Puebla, Querétaro, and Coyoacán. The native peoples continued to produce cottons (a domestic crop) under the stimulus of European organization, lending, and marketing. Extensive pastoralism, the cultivation of cereals and even the incorporation of native labor then characterized the emergence of the great estates or haciendas, which became a characteristic rural institution through the twentieth century, when the Mexican Revolution put an end to many of them. Thus the colony of New Spain continued to feed, clothe and house itself independent of metropolitan Spain’s direction. Certainly, Mexico before the Conquest was self-sufficient. The extent to which the immigrant and American Spaniard or creole population depended on imports of wine, oil and other foodstuffs and textiles in the decades immediately following the conquest is much less clear.

At the same time, other profound changes accompanied the introduction of Europeans, their crops and their diseases into what they termed the “kingdom” (not colony, for constitutional reasons) of New Spain.[13] Prior to the conquest, land and labor had been commoditized, but not to any significant extent, although there was a distinction recognized between possession and ownership.  Scholars who have closely examined the emergence of land markets after the conquest—mainly in the Valley of Mexico—are virtually unanimous in this conclusion. To the extent that markets in labor and commodities had emerged, it took until the 1630s (and later elsewhere in New Spain) for the development to reach maturity. Even older mechanisms of allocation of labor by administrative means (repartimiento) or by outright coercion persisted. Purely economic incentives in the form of money wages and prices never seemed adequate to the job of mobilizing resources and those with access to political power were reluctant to pay a competitive wage. In New Spain, the use of some sort of political power or rent-seeking nearly always accompanied labor recruitment. It was, quite simply, an attempt to evade the implications of relative scarcity, and renders the entire notion of “capitalism” as a driving economic force in colonial Mexico quite inexact.

 

Why the Settlers Resisted the Implications of Scarce Labor

The reasons behind this development are complex and varied. The evidence we have for the Valley of Mexico demonstrates that the relative price of labor rose while the relative price of land fell even when nominal movements of one or the other remained fairly limited. For instance, the table constructed below demonstrates that from 1570-75 through 1591-1606, the price of unskilled labor in the Valley of Mexico nearly tripled while the price of land in the Valley (Coyoacán) fell by nearly two thirds. On the whole, the price of labor relative to land increased by nearly 800 percent. The evolution of relative prices would have inevitably worked against the demanders of labor (Europeans and increasingly, creoles or Americans of largely European ancestry) and in favor of the supplier (native labor, or people of mixed race generically termed mestizo). This was not of course what the Europeans had in mind and by capture of legal institutions (local magistrates, in particularly), frequently sought to substitute compulsion for what would have been costly “free labor.” What has been termed the “depression” of the seventeenth century may well represent one of the consequences of this evolution: an abundance of land, a scarcity of labor, and the attempt of the new rulers to adjust to changing relative prices. There were repeated royal prohibitions on the use of forced indigenous labor in both public and private works, and thus a reduction in the supply of labor. All highly speculative, no doubt, but the adjustment came during the central decades of the seventeenth century, when New Spain increasingly produced its own woolens and cottons, and largely assumed the tasks of providing itself with foodstuffs and was thus required to save and invest more.  No doubt, the new rulers felt the strain of trying to do more with less.[14]

 

Years Land Price Index Labor Price Index (Labor/Land) Index
1570-1575 100 100 100
1576-1590 50 143 286
1591-1606 33 286 867

 

Source: Calculated from Rebecca Horn, Postconquest Coyoacan: Nahua-Spanish Relations in Central Mexico, 1519-1650 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1997), p. 208 and José Ignacio Urquiola Permisan, “Salarios y precios en la industria manufacturer textile de la lana en Nueva España, 1570-1635,” in Virginia García Acosta, (ed.), Los precios de alimentos y manufacturas novohispanos (México, DF: CIESAS, 1995), p. 206.

 

The overall role of Mexico within the Hapsburg Empire was in flux as well. Nothing signals the change as much as the emergence of silver mining as the principal source of Mexican exportables in the second half of the sixteenth century. While Mexico would soon be eclipsed by Peru as the most productive center of silver mining—at least until the eighteenth century—the discovery of significant silver mines in Zacatecas in the 1540s transformed the economy of the Spanish empire and the character of New Spain’s as well.

 

 

 

Silver Mining

While silver mining and smelting was practiced before the conquest, it was never a focal point of indigenous activity. But for the Europeans, Mexico was largely about silver mining. From the mid- sixteenth century onward, it was explicitly understood by the viceroys that they were to do all in their power to “favor the mines,” as one memorable royal instruction enjoined. Again, there has been much controversy of the precise amounts of silver that Mexico sent to the Iberian Peninsula. What we do know certainly is that Mexico (and the Spanish Empire) became the leading source of silver, monetary reserves, and thus, of high-powered money. Over the course of the colonial period, most sources agree that Mexico provided nearly 2 billion pesos (dollars) or roughly 1.6 billion troy ounces to the world economy. The graph below provides a picture of the remissions of all Mexican silver to both Spain and to the Philippines taken from the work of John TePaske.[15]

page16

Since the population of Mexico under Spanish rule was at most 6 million people by the end of the colonial period, the kingdom’s silver output could only be considered astronomical.

This production has to be considered in both its domestic and international dimensions. From a domestic perspective, the mines were what a later generation of economists would call “growth poles.” They were markets in which inputs were transformed into tradable outputs at a much higher rate of productivity (because of mining’s relatively advanced technology) than Mexico’s other activities. Silver thus became Mexico’s principal exportable good, and remained so well into the late nineteenth century.  The residual claimants on silver production were many and varied.  There were, of course the silver miners themselves in Mexico and their merchant financiers and suppliers. They ranged from some of the wealthiest people in the world at the time, such as the Count of Regla (1710-1781), who donated warships to Spain in the eighteenth century, to individual natives in Zacatecas smelting their own stocks of silver ore.[16] While the conditions of labor in Mexico’s silver mines were almost uniformly bad, the compensation ranged from above market wages paid to free labor in the prosperous larger mines  of the Bajío and the North to the use of forced village  labor drafts in more marginal (and presumably less profitable) sites such as Taxco. In the Iberian Peninsula, income from American silver mines ultimately supported not only a class of merchant entrepreneurs in the large port cities, but virtually the core of the Spanish political nation, including monarchs, royal officials, churchmen, the military and more. And finally, silver flowed to those who valued it most highly throughout the world. It is generally estimated that 40 percent of Spain’s American (not just Mexican, but Peruvian as well) silver production ended up in hoards in China.

Within New Spain, mining centers such as Guanajuato, San Luis Potosí, and Zacatecas became places where economic growth took place rapidly, in which labor markets more readily evolved, and in which the standard of living became obviously higher than in neighboring regions. Mining centers tended to crowd out growth elsewhere because the rate of return for successful mines exceeded what could be gotten in commerce, agriculture and manufacturing. Because silver was the numeraire for Mexican prices—Mexico was effectively on a silver standard—variations in silver production could and did have substantial effects on real economic activity elsewhere in New Spain. There is considerable evidence that silver mining saddled Mexico with an early case of “Dutch disease” in which irreducible costs imposed by the silver standard ultimately rendered manufacturing and the production of other tradable goods in New Spain uncompetitive. For this reason, the expansion of Mexican silver production in the years after 1750 was never unambiguously accompanied by overall, as opposed to localized prosperity. Silver mining tended to absorb a disproportional quantity of resources and to keep New Spain’s price level high, even when the business cycle slowed down—a fact that was to impress visitors to Mexico well into the nineteenth century. Mexican silver accounted for well over three-quarters of exports by value into the nineteenth century as well. The estimates vary widely, for silver was by no means the only, or even the most important source of revenue to the Crown, but by the end of the colonial era, the Kingdom of New Spain probably accounted for 25 percent of the Crown’s imperial income.[17] That is why reformist proposals circulating in governing circles in Madrid in the late eighteenth century fixed on Mexico. If there was any threat to the American Empire, royal officials thought that Mexico, and increasingly, Cuba, were worth holding on to. From a fiscal standpoint, Mexico had become just that important.[18]

 

“New Spain”: The Second Phase                of the Bourbon “Reforms”

In 1700, the last of the Spanish Hapsburgs died and a disputed succession followed. The ensuring conflict, known as the War of Spanish Succession, came to an end in 1714. The grandson of French king Louis XIV came to the Spanish throne as King Philip V. The dynasty he represented was known as the Bourbons. For the next century of so, they were to determine the fortunes of New Spain. Traditionally, the Bourbons, especially the later ones, have been associated with an effort to “renationalize” the Spanish empire in America after it had been thoroughly penetrated by French, Dutch, and lastly, British commercial interests.[19]

There were at least two areas in which the Bourbon dynasty, “reformist” or no, affected the Mexican economy. One of them dealt with raising revenue and the other was the international position of the imperial economy, specifically, the volume and value of trade. A series of statistics calculated by Richard Garner shows that the share of Mexican output or estimated GDP taken by taxes grew by 167 percent between 1700 and 1800. The number of taxes collected by the Royal Treasury increased from 34 to 112 between 1760 and 1810. This increase, sometimes labelled as a Bourbon “reconquest” of Mexico after a century and a half of drift under the Hapsburgs, occurred because of Spain’s need to finance increasingly frequent and costly wars of empire in the eighteenth century. An entire array of new taxes and fiscal placemen came to Mexico. They affected (and alienated) everyone, from the wealthiest merchant to the humblest villager. If they did nothing else, the Bourbons proved to be expert tax collectors.[20]

The second and equally consequential change in imperial management lay in the revision and “deregulation” of New Spain’s international trade, or the evolution from a “fleet” system to a regime of independent sailings, and then, finally, of voyages to and from a far larger variety of metropolitan and colonial ports. From the mid-sixteenth century onwards, ocean-going trade between Spain and the Americas was, in theory, at least, closely regulated and supervised. Ships in convoy (flota) sailed together annually under license from the monarchy and returned together as well. Since so much silver specie was carried, the system made sense, even if the flotas made a tempting target and the problem of contraband was immense. The point of departure was Seville and later, Cadiz. Under pressure from other outports in the late eighteenth century, the system was finally relaxed. As a consequence, the volume and value of trade to Mexico increased as the price of importables fell. Import-competing industries in Mexico, especially textiles, suffered under competition and established merchants complained that the new system of trade was too loose. But to no avail. There is no measure of the barter terms of trade for the eighteenth century, but anecdotal evidence suggests they improved for Mexico. Nevertheless, it is doubtful that these gains could have come anywhere close to offsetting the financial cost of Spain’s “reconquest” of Mexico.[21]

On the other hand, the few accounts of per capita real income growth in the eighteenth century that exist suggest little more than stagnation, the result of population growth and a rising price level. Admittedly, looking for modern economic growth in Mexico in the eighteenth century is an anachronism, although there is at least anecdotal evidence of technological change in silver mining, especially in the use of gunpowder for blasting and excavating, and of some productivity increase in silver mining. So even though the share of international trade outside of goods such as cochineal and silver was quite small, at the margin, changes in the trade regime were important. There is also some indication that asset income rose and labor income fell, which fueled growing social tensions in New Spain. In the last analysis, the growing fiscal pressure of the Spanish empire came when the standard of living for most people in Mexico—the native and mixed blood population—was stagnating. During periodic subsistence crisis, especially those propagated by drought and epidemic disease, and mostly in the 1780s, living standards fell. Many historians think of late colonial Mexico as something of a powder keg waiting to explode. When it did, in 1810, the explosion was the result of a political crisis at home and a dynastic failure abroad. What New Spain had negotiated during the Wars of Spanish Succession—regime change– provide impossible to surmount during the Napoleonic Wars (1794-1815). This may well be the most sensitive indicator of how economic conditions changed in New Spain under the heavy, not to say clumsy hand, of the Bourbon “reforms.”[22]

 

The War for Independence, the Insurgency, and Their Legacy

The abdication of the Bourbon monarchy to Napoleon Bonaparte in 1808 produced a series of events that ultimately resulted in the independence of New Spain. The rupture was accompanied by a violent peasant rebellion headed by the clerics Miguel Hidalgo and José Morelos that, one way or another, carried off 10 percent of the population between 1810 and 1820. Internal commerce was largely paralyzed. Silver mining essentially collapsed between 1810 and 1812 and a full recovery of mining output was delayed until the 1840s. The mines located in zones of heavy combat, such as Guanajuato and Querétaro, were abandoned by fleeing workers. Thus neglected, they quickly flooded.

At the same time, the fiscal and human costs of this period, the Insurgency, were even greater.[23] The heavy borrowings in which the Bourbons engaged to finance their military alliances left Mexico with a considerable legacy of internal debt, estimated at £16 million at Independence. The damage to the fiscal, bureaucratic and administrative structure of New Spain in the face of the continuing threat of Spanish reinvasion (Spain did not recognize the Independence of Mexico (1821)) in the 1820s drove the independent governments into foreign borrowing on the London market to the tune of £6.4 million in order to finance continuing heavy military outlays. With a reduced fiscal capacity, in part the legacy of the Insurgency and in part the deliberate effort of Mexican elites to resist any repetition Bourbon-style taxation, Mexico defaulted on its foreign debt in 1827. For the next sixty years, through a serpentine history of moratoria, restructuring and repudiation (1867), it took until 1884 for the government to regain access to international capital markets, at what cost can only be imagined. Private sector borrowing and lending continued, although to what extent is currently unknown. What is clear is that the total (internal plus external) indebtedness of Mexico relative to late colonial GDP was somewhere in the range of 47 to 56 percent.[24]

This was, perhaps, not an insubstantial amount for a country whose mechanisms of public finance were in what could be mildly termed chaotic condition in the 1820s and 1830s as the form, philosophy, and mechanics of government oscillated from federalist to centralist and back into the 1850s.  Leaving aside simple questions of uncertainty, there is the very real matter that the national government—whatever the state of private wealth—lacked the capacity to service debt because national and regional elites denied it the means to do so. This issue would bedevil successive regimes into the late nineteenth century, and, indeed, into the twentieth.[25]

At the same time, the demographic effects of the Insurgency exacted a cost in terms of lost output from the 1810s through the 1840s. Gaping holes in the labor force emerged, especially in the fertile agricultural plains of the Bajío that created further obstacles to the growth of output. It is simply impossible to generalize about the fortunes of the Mexican economy in this period because of the dramatic regional variations in the Republic’s economy. A rough estimate of output per head in the late colonial period was perhaps 40 pesos (dollars).[26] After a sharp contraction in the 1810s, income remained in that neighborhood well into the 1840s, at least until the eve of the war with the United States in 1846. By the time United States troops crossed the Rio Grande, a recovery had been under way, but the war arrested it. Further political turmoil and civil war in the 1850s and 1860s represented setbacks as well. In this way, a half century or so of potential economic growth was sacrificed from the 1810s through the 1870s. This was not an uncommon experience in Latin America in the nineteenth century, and the period has even been called The Stage of the Great Delay.[27] Whatever the exact rate of real per capita income growth was, it is hard to imagine it ever exceeded two percent, if indeed it reached much more than half that.

 

Agricultural Recovery and War

On the other hand, it is clear that there was a recovery in agriculture in the central regions of the country, most notably in the staple maize crop and in wheat. The famines of the late colonial era, especially of 1785-86, when massive numbers perished, were not repeated. There were years of scarcity and periodic corresponding outbreaks of epidemic disease—the cholera epidemic of 1832 affected Mexico as it did so many other places—but by and large, the dramatic human wastage of the colonial period ceased, and the death rate does appear to have begun to fall. Very good series on wheat deliveries and retail sales taxes for the city of Puebla southeast of Mexico City show a similarly strong recovery in the 1830s and early 1840s, punctuated only by the cholera epidemic whose effects were felt everywhere.[28]

Ironically, while the Panic of 1837 appears to have at least hit the financial economy in Mexico hard with a dramatic fall in public borrowing (and private lending), especially in the capital,[29] an incipient recovery of the real economy was ended by war with the United States. It is not possible to put numbers on the cost of the war to Mexico, which lasted intermittently from 1846 to 1848, but the loss of what had been the Southwest under Mexico is most often emphasized. This may or may not be accurate. Certainly, the loss of California, where gold was discovered in January 1848, weighs heavily on the historical imaginations of modern Mexicans. There is also the sense that the indemnity paid by the United States–$15 million—was wholly inadequate, which seems at least understandable when one considers that Andrew Jackson offered $5 million to purchase Texas alone in 1829.

It has been estimated that the agricultural output of the Mexican “cession” as it was called in 1900, was nearly $64 million, and that the value of livestock in the territory was over $100 million. The value of gold and silver produced was about $35 million. Whether it is reasonable to employ the numbers in estimating the present value of output relative to the indemnity paid is at least debatable as a counterfactual, unless one chooses to regard this as the annuitized value on a perpetuity “purchased” from Mexico at gunpoint, which seems more like robbery than exchange.  In the long run, the loss may have been staggering, but in the short run, much less so. The northern territories Mexico lost had really yielded very little up until the War. In fact, the balance of costs and revenues to the Mexican government may well have been negative.[30]

Whatever the case, the decades following the war with the United States until the beginning of the administration of Porfirio Díaz (1876) are typically regarded as a step backward. The reasons are several. In 1850, the government essentially went broke. While it is true that its financial position had disintegrated since the mid-1830s, 1850 marked a turning point. The entire indemnity payment from the United States was consumed in debt service, but this made no appreciable dent in the outstanding principal, which hovered around 50 million pesos (dollars).  The limits of debt sustainability had been reached: governing was turned into a wild search for resources, which proved fruitless. Mexico continued to sell of parts of its territory, such as the Treaty of the Mesilla (1853), or Gadsden Purchase, whose proceeds largely ended up in the hands of domestic financiers rather than foreign creditors’.[31] Political divisions, if anything, terrible before the war with the United States, turned catastrophic. A series of internal revolts, uprisings and military pronouncements segued into yet another violent civil war between liberals and conservatives—now a formal party—the so-called Three Years’ War (1856-58). In 1862, frustrated by Mexico’s suspension of foreign debt service, Great Britain, Spain and France seized Veracruz. A Hapsburg prince, Maximilian, was installed as Mexico’s second “emperor.” (Agustín de Iturbide was the first). While only the French actively prosecuted the war within Mexico, and while they never controlled more than a very small part of the country, the disruption was substantial. By 1867, with Maximillian deposed and the French army withdrawn, the country required serious reconstruction. [32]

 

Juárez, Díaz and the Porfiriato: authoritarian development.

To be sure, the origins of authoritarian development in nineteenth century Mexico were not with Porfirio Díaz, as is often asserted. Their beginnings actually went back several decades earlier, to the last presidency of Santa Anna, generally known as the Dictatorship (1853-54). But Santa Anna was overthrown too quickly, and now for the last time, for much to have actually occurred. A ministry for development (Fomento) had been created, but the Liberal revolution of Ayutla swept Santa Anna and his clique away for good. Serious reform seems to have begun around 1870, when the Finance Minister was Matías Romero. Romero was intent on providing Mexico with a modern Treasury, and on ending the hand-to- mouth financing that had mostly characterized the country’s government since Independence, or at least since the mid-1830s. So it is appropriate to pick up with the story here. Where did Mexico stand in 1870?[33]

The most revealing data that we have on the state of economic development come from various anthropometric and cost of living studies by Amilcar Challu, Aurora Gómez Galvarriato, and Moramay López Alonso.[34] Their research overlaps in part, and gives a fascinating picture of Mexico in the long run, from 1735 to 1940. For the moment, let us look at the period leading up to 1867, when the French withdrew from Mexico. If we look at the heights of the “literate” population, Challu’s research suggests that the standard of living stagnated between 1750 and 1840. If we look at the “illiterate” population, there was a consistent decline until 1850. Since the share of the illiterate population was clearly larger, we might infer that living standards for most Mexicans declined after 1750, however we interpret other quantitative and anecdotal evidence.

López Alonso confines her work to the period after the 1840s. From 1850 through 1890, her work generally corroborates Challu’s. The period after the Mexican War was clearly a difficult one for most Mexicans, and the challenge that both Juárez and Díaz faced was a macroeconomy in frank contraction after 1850. The regimes after 1867 were faced with stagnation.

The real wage study of by Amilcar Challu and Aurora Gómez Galvarriato, when combined with the existing anthropometric work, offers a pretty clear correlation between movements in real wages (down) and height (falling). [35]

It would then appear growth from the 1850s through the 1870s was slow—if there was any at all—and perhaps inferior to what had come between the 1820s and the 1840s. Given the growth of import substitution during the Napoleonic Wars, roughly 1790-1810, coupled with the commercial opening brought by the Bourbons’   post-1789 extension of “free trade” to Mexico, we might well see a pattern of mixed performance (1790-1810), sharp contraction (the 1810s), rebound and recovery, with a sharp financial shocks coming in the mid-1820s and mid -1830s (1820s-1840s), and stagnation once more (1850s-1870s). Real per capita output oscillated, sometimes sharply, around an underlying growth rate of perhaps one percent; changes in the distribution of income and wealth are more or less impossible to identify consistently, because studies conflict.

Far less speculative is that the foundations for modern economic growth were laid down in Mexico during the era of Benito Juárez. Its key elements were the creation of a secular, bourgeois state and secular institutions embedded in the Constitution of 1857. The titanic ideological struggles between liberals and conservatives were ultimately resolved in favor of a liberal, but nevertheless centralizing form of government under Porfirio Diáz. This was the beginning of the end of the Ancien Regime. Under Juárez, corporate lands of the Church and native villages were privatized in favor of individual holdings and their former owners compensated in bonds. This was effectively the largest transfer of land title since the late sixteenth century (not including the war with the United States) and it cemented the idea of individual property rights. With the expulsion of the French and the outright repudiation of the French debt, the Treasury was reorganized along more modern lines. The country got additional breathing room by the suspension of debt service to Great Britain until the terms of the 1825 loans were renegotiated under the Dublán Convention (1884). Equally, if not more important, Mexico now entered the railroad age in 1876, nearly forty years after the first tracks were laid in Cuba in 1837. The educational system was expanded in an attempt to create at least a core of literate citizens who could adopt the tools of modern finance and technology. Literacy still remained in the neighborhood of 20 percent, and life expectancy at birth scarcely reached 40 years of age, if that. Yet by the end of the Restored Republic (1876), Mexico had turned a corner. There would be regressions, but the nineteenth century had finally arrived, aptly if brutally signified by Juárez’ execution of Maximilian in Querétaro in 1867.[36]

Porfirian Mexico

Yet when Díaz came to power, Mexico was, in many ways, much as it had been a century earlier. It was a rural, agrarian nation whose primary agricultural output per person was maize, followed by wheat and beans. These were produced on haciendas and ranchos in Jalisco, Guanajuato, Michoacán, Mexico, Puebla as well as Oaxaca, Veracruz, Aguascalientes, Chihuahua and Sonora. Cotton, which with great difficulty had begun to supply a mechanized factory regime (first in spinning, then weaving) was produced in Oaxaca, Yucatán, Guerrero and Chiapas as well as in parts of Durango and Coahuila. Domestic production of raw cotton rarely sufficed to supply factories in Michoacán, Querétaro, Puebla and Veracruz, so imports from the Southern United States were common. For the most part, the indigenous population lived on maize, beans, and chile, producing its own subsistence on small, scattered plots known as milpas. Perhaps 75 percent of the population was rural, with the remainder to be found in cities like Mexico, Guadalajara, San Luis Potosí, and later, Monterrey. Population growth in the Southern and Eastern parts of the country had been relatively slow in the nineteenth century. The North and the center North grew more rapidly.  The Center of the country, less so. Immigration from abroad had been of no consequence.[37]

It is a commonplace to see the presidency of Porfirio Díaz (1876-1910) as a critical juncture in Mexican history, and this would be no less true of economic or commercial history as well. By 1910, when the Díaz government fell and Mexico descended into two decades of revolution, the first one extremely violent, the face of the country had been changed for good. The nature and effect of these changes remain not only controversial, but essential for understanding the subsequent evolution of the country, so we should pause here to consider some of their essential features.

While mining and especially, silver mining, had long held a privileged place in the economy, the nineteenth century had witnessed a number of significant changes. Until about 1889, the coinage of gold, silver, and copper—a very rough proxy for production given how much silver had been illegally exported—continued on a steadily upward track. In 1822, coinage was about 10 million pesos. By 1846, it had reached roughly 15 million pesos. There was something of a structural break after the war with the United States (its origins are unclear), and coinage continued upward to about 25 million pesos in 1888. Then, the falling international price of silver, brought on by large increases in supply elsewhere, drove the trend after 1889 sharply downward. By 1909-10, coinage had collapsed to levels previously unrecorded since the 1820s, although in 1904 and 1905, it had skyrocketed to nearly 45 million pesos.[38]

It comes as no surprise that these variations in production corresponded to sharp changes in international relative prices. For example, the market price of silver declined sharply relative to lead, which in turn encountered a large increase in Mexican production and a diversification into other metals including zinc, antinomy, and copper. Mexico left the silver standard (for international transactions, but continued to use silver domestically) in 1905, which contributed to the eclipse of this one crucial industry, which would never again have the status it had when Díaz became president in 1876, when precious metals represented 75 percent of Mexican exports by value. By the time he had decamped in exile to Paris, precious metals accounted for less than half of all exports.

The reason for this relative decline was the diversification of agricultural exports that had been slowly occurring since the 1870s. Coffee, cotton, sugar, sisal and vanilla were the principal crops, and some regions of the country such as Yucatán (henequen) and Durango and Tamaulipas (cotton) supplied new export crops.

 

Railroads and Infrastructure

None of be of this would have occurred without the massive changes in land tenure that had begun in the 1850s, but most of all, without the construction of railroads financed by the migration of foreign capital to Mexico under Díaz. At one level, it is a well-known story of social savings, which were substantial in Mexico because the terrain was difficult and the alternative modes of carriage few. One way or another, transportation has always been viewed as an “obstacle” to Mexican economic development. That must be true at some level, although recent studies (especially by Sandra Kuntz) have raised important qualifications. Railroads may not have been gateways to foreign dependency, as historians once argued, but there were limits to their ability to effect economic change, even internally. They tended to enlarge the internal market for some commodities more than others. The peculiarities of rate-making produced other distortions, while markets for some commodities were inevitably concentrated in major cities or transshipment points which afforded some monopoly power to distributors even as a national market in basic commodities became more of a reality. Yet, in general, the changes were far reaching.[39]

Conventional figures confirm conventional wisdom. When Díaz assumed the presidency, there were 660 km (410 miles) of track. In 1910, there were 19,280 km (about 12,000 miles). Seven major lines linked the cities of Mexico, Veracruz, Acapulco, Juárez, Laredo, Puebla, Oaxaca. Monterrey and Tampico in 1892. The lines were built by foreign capital (e.g., the Central Mexicano was built by the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe), which is why resolving the long-standing questions of foreign debt service were critical. Large government subsidies on the order of 3,500 to 8,000 pesos per km were granted, and financing the subsidies amounted to over 30 million pesos by 1890. While the railroads were successful in creating more of a national market, especially in the North, their finances were badly affected by the depreciation of the silver peso, given that foreign liabilities had to be liquidated in gold.

As a result, the government nationalized the railroads in 1903. At the same time, it undertook an enormous effort to construct infrastructure such as drainage and ports, virtually all of which were financed by British capital and managed by “Don Porfirio’s contactor,” Sir Weetman Pearson.  Between railroads, ports, drainage works and irrigation facilities, the Mexican government borrowed 157 million pesos to finance costs.[40]

The expansion of the railroads, the build-out of infrastructure and the expansion of trade would have normally increased output per capita. Any data we have prior to 1930 are problematic, and before 1895, strictly speaking, we have no official measures of output per capita at all. Most scholars shy away from using levels of GDP in any form, other than for illustrative purposes.  Aside from the usual problems attending national income accounting, Mexico presents a few exceptional challenges. In peasant families, where women were entrusted with converting maize into tortilla, no small job, the omission of their value added from GDP must constitute a sizeable defect in measured output. Moreover, as the commercial radius of Mexican agriculture expanded rapidly as railroads, roads, and later, highways spread extensively, growth rates represented increased commercialization rather than increased growth. We have no idea how important this phenomenon was, but it is worth keeping in mind when we look at very rapid growth rates after 1940.

There are various measures of cumulative growth during the Porfiriato. By and large, the figure from 1900 through 1910 is around 23 percent, which is certainly higher than rates achieved during the nineteenth century, but nothing like what was recorded after 1940. In light of declining real wages, one can only assume that the bulk of “progress” flowed to the recipients of property income. This may well have represented a reversal of trends in the nineteenth century, when some argue that property income contracted in the wake of the Insurgency[41].

There was also significant industrialization in Mexico during the Porfiriato. Some industry, especially textiles, had its origins in the 1840s, but its size, scale and location altered dramatically by the end of the nineteenth century. For example, the cotton textile industry saw the number of workers, spindles and looms more than double from the late 1870s to the first decade of the nineteenth century. Brewing and its associated industry, glassmaking, became well established in Monterrey during the 1890s. The country’s first iron and steel mill, Fundidora Monterrey, was established there as well in 1903. Other industries, such as papermaking and cigarettes followed suit. By the end of the Porfiriato, over 10 percent of Mexico’s output was certainly industrial.[42]

 

From Revolution to “Miracle”

The Mexican Revolution (1910-1940) began as a political upheaval provoked by a crisis in the presidential succession when Porfirio Díaz refused to leave office in the wake of electoral defeat after signaling his willingness to do so in a famous pubic interview of 1908.[43] It was also the result of an agrarian uprising and the insistent demand of Mexico’s growing industrial proletariat for a share of political power. Finally, there was a small (fewer than 10 percent of all households) but upwardly mobile urban middle class created by economic development under Díaz whose access to political power had been effectively blocked by the regime’s mechanics of political control. Precisely how “revolutionary” were the results of the armed revolt—which persisted largely through the 1910s and peaked in a civil war in 1914-1915—has long been contentious, but is only tangentially relevant as a matter of economic history. The Mexican Revolution was no Bolshevik movement (of course, it predated Bolshevism by seven years) but it was not a purely bourgeois constitutional movement either, although it did contain substantial elements of both.

From a macroeconomic standpoint, it has become fashionable to argue that the Revolution had few, if any, profound economic consequences. It seems as if the principal reason was that revolutionary factions were interested in appropriating rather than destroying the means of production. For example, the production of crude oil peaked in Mexico in 1915—at the height of the Revolution—because crude oil could be used as a source of income to the group controlling the wells in Veracruz state. This was a powerful consideration.[44]

Yet in another sense, the conclusion that the Revolution had slight economic effects is not only facile, but obviously wrong. As the demographic historian Robert McCaa showed, the excess mortality occasioned by the Revolution was larger than any similar event in Mexican history other than the conquest in the sixteenth century. There has been no attempt made to measure the output lost by the demographic wastage (including births that never occurred), yet even the effect on the population cohort born between 1910 and 1920 is plain to see in later demographic studies.  [45]

There is also a subtler question that some scholars have raised. The Revolution increased labor mobility and the labor supply by abolishing constraints on the rural population such as debt peonage and even outright slavery. Moreover, the Revolution, by encouraging and ultimately setting into motion a massive redistribution of previously privatized land, contributed to an enlarged supply of that factor of production as well. The true impact of these developments was realized in the 1940s and 1950s, when rapid economic growth began, the so-called Mexican Miracle, which was characterized by rates of real growth of as much as 6 percent per year (1955-1966). Whatever the connection between the Revolution and the Miracle, it will require a serious examination on empirical grounds and not simply a dogmatic dismissal of what is now regarded as unfashionable development thinking: import substitution and inward-oriented growth.[46]

The other major consequence of the Revolution, the agrarian reform and the creation of the ejido, or land granted by the Mexican state to rural population under the authority provided it by the revolutionary Constitution on 1917 took considerable time to coalesce, and were arguably not even high on one of the Revolution’s principal instigators, Francisco Madero’s, list of priorities. The redistribution of land to the peasantry in the form of possession if not ownership – a kind of return to real or fictitious preconquest and colonial forms of land tenure – did peak during the avowedly reformist, and even modestly radical presidency of Lázaro Cárdenas (1934-1940) after making only halting progress under his predecessors since the 1920s. From 1940 to 1965, the cultivated area in Mexico grew at 3.7 percent per year and the rise in productivity in basic food crops was 2.8 percent per year.

Nevertheless, the long-run effects of the agrarian reform and land redistribution have been predictably controversial. Under the presidency of Carlos Salinas (1988-1994) the reform was officially declared over, with no further land redistribution to be undertaken and the legal status of the ejido definitively changed. The principal criticism of the ejido was that, in the long run, it encouraged inefficiently small landholding per farmer and, by virtue of its limitations on property rights, made agricultural credit difficult for peasants to obtain.[47]

There is no doubt these are justifiable criticisms, but they have to be placed in context. Cárdenas’ predecessors in office, Alvaro Obregón (1924-1928) and Plutarco Elías Calles (1928-1932) may well have preferred a more commercial model of agriculture with larger, irrigated holdings. But it is worth recalling that one of the original agrarian leaders of the Revolution, Emiliano Zapata, had an uneasy relationship with Madero, who saw the Revolution in mostly political terms, from the start and quickly rejected Madero’s leadership in favor of restoring peasant lands in his native state of Morelos.  Cárdenas, who was in the midst of several major maneuvers that would require widespread popular support—such as the expropriation of foreign oil companies operating in Mexico in March 1938—was undoubtedly sensitive to the need to mobilize the peasantry on his behalf. The agrarian reform of his presidency, which surpassed that of any other, needs to be considered in those terms as well as in terms of economic efficiency.[48]

Cárdenas’ presidency also coincided with the continuation of the Great Depression. Like other countries in Latin America, Mexico was hard hit by the Great Depression, at least through the early 1930s.  All sorts of consumer goods became scarcer, and the depreciation of the peso raised the relative price of imports. As had happened previously in Mexican history (1790-1810, during the Napoleonic Wars and the disruption of the Atlantic trade), in the medium term domestic industry was nevertheless given a stimulus and import substitution, the subsequent core of Mexico’s industrialization program after World War II, was given a decisive boost. On the other hand, Mexico also experienced the forced “repatriation” of people of Mexican descent, mostly from California, of whom 60 percent were United States citizens. The effects of this movement—the emigration of the Revolution in reverse—has never been properly analyzed. The general consensus is that World War II helped Mexico to prosper. Demand for labor and materials from the United States, to which Mexico was allied, raised real wages and incomes, and thus boosted aggregate demand. From 1939 through 1946, real output in Mexico grew by approximately 50 percent. The growth in population accelerated as well as the country began to move into the later stages of the demographic transition, with a falling death rate, while birth rates remained high.[49]

 

From Miracle to Meltdown: 1950-1982  

The history of import substitution manufacturing did not begin with postwar Mexico, but few countries (especially in Latin America) became as identified with the policy in the 1950s, and with what Mexicans termed the emergence of “stabilizing development.” There was never anything resembling a formal policy announcement, although Raúl Prebisch’s 1949 manifesto, “The Economic Development of Latin America and its Principal Problems” might be regarded as supplying one. Prebisch’s argument, that a directed change in the composition of imports toward capital goods to facilitate domestic industrialization was, in essence, the basis of the policy that Mexico followed. Mexico stabilized the nominal exchange rate at 12.5 pesos to the dollar in 1954, but further movement in the real exchange rate (until the 1970s) were unimportant. The substantive bias of import substitution in Mexico was a high effective rate of protection to both capital and consumer goods. Jaime Ros has calculated these rates in 1960 ranged between 47 and 85 percent, and between 33 and 109 percent in 1980. The result, in the short to intermediate run, was very rapid rates of economic growth, averaging 6.5 percent in 1950 through 1973. Other than Brazil, which also followed an import substitution regime, no country in Latin America experienced higher rates of growth. Mexico’s was substantially above the regional average. [50]

[See the historical graph of population growth in Mexico through 2000 below]

page39

Source: Essentially, Estadísticas Históricas de México (various editions since 1999; the most recent is 2014)

http://dgcnesyp.inegi.org.mx/ehm/ehm.htm (Accessed July 20, 2016)

 

But there were unexpected results as well. The contribution of labor to GDP growth was 14 percent. Capital’s contribution was 53 percent, and the remainder, total factor productivity (TFP) 28 percent.[51] As a consequence, while Mexico’s growth occurred through the accumulation of capital, the distribution of income became extremely skewed. The ratio of the top 10 percent of household income to the bottom 40 percent was 7 in 1960, and 6 in 1968. Even supporters of Mexico’s development program, such as Carlos Tello, conceded that it probable that it was the organized peasants and workers experienced an effective improvement of their relative position. The fruits of the Revolution were unevenly distributed, even among the working class.[52]

By “organized” one means such groups as the most important labor union in the country, the CTM (Confederation of Mexican Workers) or the nationally recognized peasant union, the CNC, both of which formed two of the three organized sectors of the official government party, the PRI, or Party of the Institutional Revolution that was organized in 1946. The CTM in particular was instrumental in supporting the official policy of import substitution, and thus benefited from government wage setting and political support. The leaders of these organizations became important political figures in their own right. One, Fidel Velázquez, as both a federal senator and the head of the CTM from 1941 to his death in 1997. The incorporation of these labor and peasant groups into the political system offered the government both a means of control and a guarantee of electoral support. They became pillars of what the Peruvian writer Mario Vargas Llosa famously called “the perfect dictatorship” of the PRI from 1946 to 2000, during which the PRI held a monopoly of the presidency and the important offices of state. In a sense, import substitution was the economic ideology of the PRI.[53]

Labor and economic development during the years of rapid growth is, like many others, a debated subject. While some have found strong wage growth, others, looking mostly at Mexico City, have found declining real wages. Beyond that, there is the question of informality and a segmented labor market. Were workers in the CTM the real beneficiaries of economic growth, while others in the informal sector (defined as receiving no social security payments, meaning roughly two-thirds of Mexican workers) did far less well? Obviously, the attraction of a segmented labor market model can address one obvious puzzle: why would industry substitute capital for labor, as it obviously did, if real wages were not rising? Postulating an informal sector that absorbed the rapid influx of rural migrants and thus held nominal wages steady while organized labor in the CTM got the benefit of higher negotiated wages, but in so doing, limited their employment is an attractive hypothesis, but would not command universal agreement. Nothing has been resolved, at least for the period of the “Miracle.” After Mexico entered a prolonged series of economic crises in the 1980s—here labelled as “meltdown”—the discussion must change, because many hold that the key to relative political stability and the failure of open unemployment to rise sharply can be explained by falling real wages.

The fiscal basis on which the years of the Miracle were constructed was conventional, not to say conservative.[54] A stable nominal exchange rate, balanced budgets, limited public borrowing, and a predictable monetary policy were all predicated on the notion that the private sector would react positively to favorable incentives. By and large, it did. Until the late 1960s, foreign borrowing was considered inconsequential, even if there was some concern on the horizon that it was starting to rise. No one foresaw serious macroeconomic instability. It is worth consulting a brief memorandum from Secretary of State Dean Rusk to President Lyndon Johnson (Washington, December 11, 1968) –to get some insight into how informed contemporaries viewed Mexico. The instability that existed was seen as a consequence of heavy-handedness on the part of the PRI and overreaction in the security forces. Informed observers did not view Mexico’s embrace of import-substitution industrialization as a train wreck waiting to happen. Historical actors are rarely so prescient.[55]

 

Slowing of the Miracle and Echeverría

The most obvious problems in Mexico were political. They stemmed from the increasing awareness that the limits of the “institutional revolution” had been reached, particularly regarding the growing democratic demands of the urban middle classes. The economic problem, which was far from obvious, was that import substitution had concentrated income in the upper 10 per cent of the population, so that domestic demand had begun to stagnate. Initially at least, public sector borrowing could support a variety of consumption subsidies to the population, and there were also efforts to transfer resources out of agriculture via domestic prices for staples such as maize. Yet Mexico’s population was also growing at the rate of nearly 3 percent per year, so that the long term prospects for any of these measures were cloudy.

At the same time, growing political pressures on the PRI, mostly dramatically manifest in the army’s violent repression of student demonstrators at Tlatelolco in 1968 just prior to the Olympics, had convinced some elements in the PRI, people like Carlos Madrazo, to argue for more radical change. The emergence of an incipient guerilla movement in the state of Guerrero had much the same effect. The new president, Luis Echeverría (1970-76), openly pushed for changes in the distribution of income and wealth, incited agrarian discontent for political purposes, dramatically increased government spending and borrowing, and alienated what had typically been a complaisant, if not especially friendly private sector.

The country’s macroeconomic performance began to deteriorate dramatically. Inflation, normally in the range of about 5 percent, rose into the low 20 percent range in the early 1970s. The public sector deficit, fueled by increasing social spending, rose from 2 to 7 percent of GDP. Money supply growth now averaged about 14 percent per year. Real GDP growth had begun to slip after 1968 and in the early 1970s, in deteriorated more, if unevenly. There had been clear convergence of regional economies in Mexico between 1930 and 1980 because of changing patterns of industrialization in the northern and central regions of the country.  After 1980, that process stalled and regional inequality again widened. [56]

While there is a tendency to blame Luis Echeverria for all or most of these developments, this forgets that his administration coincided with the First OPEC oil shock (1973) and rapidly deteriorating external conditions. Mexico had, as yet, not discovered the oil reserves (1978) that were to provide a temporary respite from economic adjustment after the shock of the peso devaluation of 1976—the first change in its value in over 20 years. At the same time, external demand fell, principally transmitted from the United States, Mexico’s largest trading partner, where the economy had fallen into recession in late 1973. Yet it seems reasonable to conclude that the difficult international environment, while important in bring Mexico’s “miracle” period to a close, was not helped by Echeverría’s propensity for demagoguery, of the loss of fiscal discipline that had long characterized government policy, at least since the 1950s. The only question to be resolved was to what sort of conclusion the period would come. The answer, unfortunately, was disastrous.[57]

 

Meltdown: The Debt Crisis, the Lost Decade and After

In contemporary parlance, Mexico had passed from “stabilizing” to “shared” development under Echeverría. But the devaluation of 1976 from 12.5 to 20.5 pesos to the dollar suggested that something had gone awry. One might suppose that some adjustment in course, especially in public spending and borrowing, would have occurred. But precisely the opposite occurred. Between 1976 and 1979, nominal federal spending doubled. The budget deficit increased by a factor of 15. The reason for this odd performance was the discovery of crude oil in the Gulf of Mexico, perhaps unsurprising in light of the spiking prices of the 1970s (the oil shocks of 1973-74, 1978-79), but nevertheless of considerable magnitude. In 1975, Mexico’s proven reserves were 6 billion barrels of oil. By 1978, they had increased to 40 billion. President López Portillo set himself to the task of “administering abundance” and Mexican analysts confidently predicted crude oil at $100 a barrel (when it stood at $37 in current prices in 1980). The scope of the miscalculation was catastrophic. At the same time, encouraged by bank loan pushing and effectively negative real rates of interest, Mexico borrowed abroad. Consumption subsidies, while vital in the face of slowing import substitution, were also costly, and when supported by foreign borrowing, unsustainable, but foreign indebtedness doubled between 1976 and 1979, and even further thereafter.

Matters came to a head in 1982. By then, Mexico’s foreign indebtedness was estimated at over $80 billion dollars, an increase from less than $20 billion in 1975. Real interest rates had begun to rise in the United States in mid-1981, and with Mexican borrowing tied to international rates, debt service rapidly increased. Oil revenue, which had come to constitute the great bulk of foreign exchange, followed international crude prices downward, driven in large part by a recession that had begun in the United States in mid-1981. Within six months, Mexico, too, had fallen into recession. Real per capital output was to decline by 8 percent in 1982.  Forced to sharply devalue, the real exchange rate fell by 50 percent in 1982 and inflation approached 100 percent. By the late summer, Finance Minister Jesus Silva Herzog admitted that the country could not meet an upcoming payment obligation, and was forced to turn to the US Federal Reserve, to the IMF, and to a committee of bank creditors for assistance. In late August, in a remarkable display of intemperance, President López Portillo nationalized the banking system. By December 20, 1982, Mexico’s incoming President, Miguel de la Madrid (1982-88) appeared, beleaguered, on the cover of Time Magazine framed by the caption, “We are in an Emergency.”  It was, as the saying goes, a perfect storm, and with it, the Debt Crisis and the “Lost Decade” in Mexico had begun. It would be years before anything resembling stability, let alone prosperity, was restored. Even then, what growth there was a pale imitation of what had occurred during the decades of the “Miracle.”

 

The 1980s

The 1980s were a difficult decade.[58]  After 1981, annual real per capita growth would not reach 4 percent again until 1989, and in 1986, it fell by 6 percent. In 1987, inflation reached 159 percent. The nominal exchange rate fell by 139 percent in 1986-1987. By the standards of the years of stabilizing development, the record of the 1980s was disastrous. To complete the devastation, on September 19, 1985, the worst earthquake in Mexican history, 7.8 on the Richter Scale, devastated large parts of central Mexico City and killed 5 thousand (some estimates run as high as 25 thousand), many of whom were simply buried in mass graves. It was as if a plague of biblical proportions had struck the country.

Massive indebtedness produced a dramatic decline in the standard of living as structural adjustment occurred. Servicing the debt required the production of an export surplus in non-oil exports, which in turn, required a reduction in domestic consumption. In an effort to surmount the crisis, the government implemented an agreement between organized labor, the private sector, and agricultural producers called the Economic Solidarity Pact (PSE). The PSE combined an incomes policy with fiscal austerity, trade and financial liberalization, generally tight monetary policy, and debt renegotiation and reduction. The centerpiece of the “remaking” of the previously inward orientation of the domestic economy was the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA, 1993) linking Mexico, the United States, and Canada. While average tariff rates in Mexico had fallen from 34 percent in 1985 to 4 percent in 1992—even before NAFTA was signed—the agreement was generally seen as creating the institutional and legal framework whereby the reforms of Miguel de la Madrid and Carlos Salinas (1988-1994) would be preserved. Most economists thought its effects would be relatively larger in Mexico than in the United States, which generally appears to have been the case. Nevertheless, NAFTA has been predictably controversial, as trade agreements are wont to be. The political furor (and, in some places, euphoria) surrounding the agreement have faded, but never entirely disappeared. In the United States in particular, NAFTA is blamed for deindustrialization, although pressure on manufacturing, like trade liberalization itself, was underway long before NAFTA was negotiated. In Mexico, there has been much hand wringing over the fate of agriculture and small maize producers in particular. While none of this is likely to cease, it is nevertheless the case that there has been a large increase in the volume of trade between the NAFTA partners. To dismiss this is, quite plainly, misguided, even where sensitive and well organized political constituencies are concerned. But the legacy of NAFTA, like most everything in Mexican economic history, remains unsettled.

 

Post Crisis: No Miracles

Still, while some prosperity was restored to Mexico by the reforms of the 1980s and 1990s, the general macroeconomic results have been disappointing, not to say mediocre. The average real compensation per person in manufacturing in 2008 was virtually unchanged from 1993 according to the Instituto Nacional De Estadística  Geografía e Informática, and there is little reason to think the compensation has improved at all since then. It is generally conceded that per capita GDP growth has probably averaged not much more than 1 percent a year. Real GDP growth since NAFTA according to the OECD has rarely reached 5 percent and since 2010, it has been well below that.

 

 

Source: http://www.worldbank.org/en/country/mexico (Accessed July 21, 2016). The vertical scale cuts the horizontal axis at 1982

 

For virtually everyone in Mexico, the question is why, and the answers proposed include virtually any plausible factor: the breakdown of the political system after the PRI’s historic loss of presidential power in 2000; the rise of China as a competitor to Mexico in international markets; the explosive spread of narcoviolence in recent years, albeit concentrated in the states of Sonora, Sinaloa, Tamaulipas, Nuevo León and Veracruz; the results of NAFTA itself; the failure of the political system to undertake further structural economic reforms and privatizations after the initial changes of the 1980s, especially regarding the national oil monopoly, Petroleos Mexicanos (PEMEX); the failure of the border industrialization program (maquiladoras) to develop substantive backward linkages to the rest of the economy. This is by no means an exhaustive list of the candidates for poor economic performance. The choice of a cause tends to reflect the ideology of the critic.[59]

Yet it seems that, at the end of the day, the reason why post-NAFTA Mexico has failed to grow comes down to something much more fundamental: a fear of growing, embedded in the belief that the collapse of the 1980s and early 1990s (including the devastating “Tequila Crisis” of 1994-1995, which resulted in a another enormous devaluation of the peso after an initial attempt to contain the crisis was bungled)  was so traumatic and costly as to render event modest efforts to promote growth, let alone the dirigisme of times past, as essentially unwarranted. The central bank, the Banco de México (Banxico) rules out the promotion of economic growth as part of its remit—even as a theoretical proposition, let alone as a goal of macroeconomic policy– and concerns itself only with price stability. The language of its formulation is striking. “During the 1970s, there was a debate as to whether it was possible to stimulate economic growth via monetary policy.  As a result, some governments and central banks tried to reduce unemployment through expansive monetary policy.  Both economic theory and the experience of economies that tried this prescription demonstrated that it lacked validity. Thus, it became clear that monetary policy could not actively and directly stimulate economic activity and employment. For that reason, modern central banks have as their primary goal the promotion of price stability” (translation mine). Banxico is not the Fed: there is no dual mandate in Mexico.[60]

The Mexican banking system has scarcely made things easier. Private credit stands at only about a third of GDP. In recent years, the increase in private sector savings has been largely channeled to government bonds, but until quite recently, public sector deficits were very small, which is to say, fiscal policy has not been expansionary. If monetary and fiscal policy are both relatively tight, if private credit is not easy to come by, and if growth is typically presumed to be an inevitable concomitant to economic stability for which no actor (other than the private sector) is deemed responsible, it should come as no surprise that economic growth over the past two decades has been lackluster.  In the long run, aggregate supply determines real GDP, but in the short run, nominal demand matters: there is no point in creating productive capacity to satisfy demand that does not exist. And, unlike during the period of the Miracle and Stabilizing Development, attention to demand since 1982 has been limited, not to say off the table completely. It may be understandable, but Mexico’s fiscal and monetary authorities seem to suffer from what could be termed, “Fear of Growth.” For better or worse, the results are now on display. After its current (2016) return to a relatively austere budget, it remains to be seen how the economic and political system in contemporary Mexico handles slow economic growth. For that would now seem to be, in a basic sense, its largest challenge for the future.

[1] I am grateful to Ivan Escamilla and Robert Whaples for their careful readings and thoughtful criticisms.

[2] The standard reference work is Sandra Kuntz Ficker, (ed), Historia económica general de México. De la Colonia a nuestros días (México, DF: El Colegio de Mexico, 2010).

[3] Oscar Martinez, Troublesome Border (rev. ed., University of Arizona Press: Tucson, AZ, 2006) is the most helpful general account in English.

[4] There are literally dozens of general accounts of the pre-conquest world. A good starting point is Richard E.W. Adams, Prehistoric Mesoamerica (3d ed., University of Oklahoma Press: Norman, OK, 2005). More advanced is Richard E.W. Adams and Murdo J. Macleod, The Cambridge History of the Mesoamerican Peoples: Mesoamerica. (2 parts, New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000).

[5] Nora C. England and Roberto Zavala Maldonado, “Mesoamerican Languages” Oxford Bibliographies http://www.oxfordbibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780199772810/obo-9780199772810-0080.xml

(Accessed July 10, 2016)

[6] For an introduction to the nearly endless controversy over the pre- and post-contact population of the Americas, see William M. Denevan (ed.), The Native Population of the Americas in 1492 (2d rev ed., Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1992).

[7] Sherburne F Cook and Woodrow Borah, Essays in Population History: Mexico and California (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1979), p. 159.

[8]Gene C. Wilken, Good Farmers Traditional Agricultural Resource Management in Mexico and Central America (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), p. 24.

[9] Bernard Ortiz de Montellano, Aztec Medicine Health and Nutrition (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1990).

[10] Bernardo García Martínez, “Encomenderos españoles y British residents: El sistema de dominio indirecto desde la perspectiva novohispana”, in Historia Mexicana, LX: 4 [140] (abr-jun 2011), pp. 1915-1978.

[11] These epidemics are extensively and exceedingly well documented. One of the most recent examinations is Rodofo Acuna-Soto, David W. Stahle, Matthew D. Therrell , Richard D. Griffin,  and Malcolm K. Cleaveland, “When Half of the Population Died: The Epidemic of Hemorrhagic Fevers of 1576 in Mexico,” FEMS Microbiology Letters 240 (2004) 1–5. (http:// femsle.oxfordjournals.org/content/femsle/240/1/1.full.pdf, accessed July 10, 2016.) See in particular the exceptional map and table on pp. 2-3.

[12] See in particular, Bernardo García Martínez. Los pueblos de la Sierrael poder y el espacio entre los indios del norte de Puebla hasta 1700 (Mexico, DF: El Colegio de México, 1987) and Elinor G.K. Melville, A Plague of Sheep: Environmental Consequences of the Conquest of Mexico (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997).

[13] J. H. Elliott, “A Europe of Composite Monarchies,” Past & Present 137 (The Cultural and Political Construction of Europe): 48–71; Guadalupe Jiménez Codinach, “De Alta Lealtad: Ignacio Allende y los sucesos de 1808-1811,” in Marta Terán and José Antonio Serrano Ortega, eds., Las guerras de independencia en la América Española (La Piedad, Michoacán, MX: El Colegio de Michoacán, 2002), p. 68.

[14] Richard Salvucci, “Capitalism and Dependency in Latin America,” in Larry Neal and Jeffrey G. Williamson, eds., The Cambridge History of Capitalism (2 vols.), New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 1: pp. 403-408.

[15] Source: TePaske Page, http://www.insidemydesk.com/hdd.html (Accessed July 19, 2016)

[16]  Edith Boorstein Couturier, The Silver King: The Remarkable Life of the Count of Regla in Colonial Mexico (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 2003).  Dana Velasco Murillo, Urban Indians in a Silver City: Zacatecas, Mexico, 1546-1810 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2015), p. 43. The standard work on the subject is David Brading, Miners and Merchants in Bourbon Mexico, 1763-1810 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1971) But also see Robert Haskett, “Our Suffering with the Taxco Tribute: Involuntary Mine Labor and Indigenous Society in Central New Spain,” Hispanic American Historical Review, 71:3 (1991), pp. 447-475. For silver in China see http://afe.easia.columbia.edu/chinawh/web/s5/s5_4.html (accessed July 13, 2016). For the rents of empire question, see Michael Costeloe, Response to Revolution: Imperial Spain and the Spanish American Revolutions, 1810-1840 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1986).

[17] This is an estimate. David Ringrose concluded that in the 1780s, the colonies accounted for 45 percent of Crown income, and one would suppose that Mexico would account for at least about half of that. See David R. Ringrose, Spain, Europe and the ‘Spanish Miracle’, 1700-1900 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. 93; Mauricio Drelichman, “The Curse of Moctezuma: American Silver and the Dutch Disease,” Explorations in Economic History 42:3 (2005), pp. 349-380.

[18] José Antonio Escudero, El supuesto memorial del Conde de Aranda sobre la Independencia de América) México, DF: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, 2014) (http://bibliohistorico.juridicas.unam.mx/libros/libro.htm?l=3637, accessed July 13, 2016)

[19] Allan J. Kuethe and Kenneth J. Andrien, The Spanish Atlantic World in the Eighteenth Century. War and the Bourbon Reforms, 1713-1796 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014) is the most recent account of this period.

[20] Richard J. Salvucci, “Economic Growth and Change in Bourbon Mexico: A Review Essay,” The Americas, 51:2 (1994), pp. 219-231; William B Taylor, Magistrates of the Sacred: Priests and Parishioners in Eighteenth Century Mexico (Palo Alto: Stanford University Press, 1996), p. 24; Luis Jáuregui, La Real Hacienda de Nueva España. Su Administración en la Época de los Intendentes, 1786-1821 (México, DF: UNAM, 1999), p. 157.

[21] Jeremy Baskes, Staying AfloatRisk and Uncertainty in Spanish Atlantic World Trade, 1760-1820 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2013); Xabier Lamikiz, Trade and Trust in the Eighteenth-century Atlantic World: Spanish Merchants and their Overseas Networks (Suffolk, UK: The Boydell Press., 2013). The starting point of all these studies is Clarence Haring, Trade and Navigation between Spain and the Indies in the Time of the Hapsburgs (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1918).

[22] The best, and indeed, virtually unique starting point for considering these changes in their broadest dimensions   are the joint works of Stanley and Barbara Stein: Silver, Trade, and War (2003); Apogee of Empire (2004), and Edge of Crisis (2010), All were published by Johns Hopkins University Press and do for the Spanish Empire what Laurence Henry Gipson did for the First British Empire.

[23] The key work is María Eugenia Romero Sotelo, Minería y Guerra. La economía de Nueva España, 1810-1821 (México, DF: UNAM, 1997)

[24] Calculated from José María Luis Mora, Crédito Público ([1837] México, DF: Miguel Angel Porrúa, 1986), pp. 413-460. Also see Richard J. Salvucci, Politics, Markets, and Mexico’s “London Debt,” 1823-1887 (NY: Cambridge University Press, 2009).

[25] Jesús Hernández Jaimes, La Formación de la Hacienda Pública Mexicana y las Tensiones Centro -Periferia, 1821-1835  (México, DF: El Colegio de México, 2013). Javier Torres Medina, Centralismo y Reorganización. La Hacienda Pública Durante la Primera República Central de México, 1835-1842 (México, DF: Instituto Mora, 2013). The only treatment in English is Michael P. Costeloe, The Central Republic in Mexico, 1835-1846 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993).

[26] An agricultural worker who worked full time, 6 days a week, for the entire year (a strong assumption), in Central Mexico could have expected cash income of perhaps 24 pesos. If food, such as beans and tortilla were added, the whole pay might reach 30. The figure of 40 pesos comes from considerably richer agricultural lands around the city of Querétaro, and includes as an average income from nonagricultural employment as well, which was higher.  Measuring Worth would put the relative historic standard of living value in 2010 prices at $1.040, with the caveat that this is relative to a bundle of goods purchased in the United States. (https://www.measuringworth.com/uscompare/relativevalue.php).

[27]The phrase comes from Guido di Tella and Manuel Zymelman. See Colin Lewis, “Explaining Economic Decline: A review of recent debates in the economic and social history literature on the Argentine,” European Review of Latin American and Caribbean Studies, 64 (1998), pp. 49-68.

[28] Francisco Téllez Guerrero, De reales y granos. Las finanzas y el abasto de la Puebla de los Angeles, 1820-1840 (Puebla, MX: CIHS, 1986). Pp. 47-79.

[29]This is based on an analysis of government lending contracts. See Rosa María Meyer and Richard Salvucci, “The Panic of 1837 in Mexico: Evidence from Government Contracts” (in progress).

[30] There is an interesting summary of this data in U.S Govt., 57th Cong., 1 st sess., House, Monthly Summary of Commerce and Finance of the United States (September 1901) (Washington, DC: GPO, 1901), pp. 984-986.

[31] Salvucci, Politics and Markets, pp. 201-221.

[32] Miguel Galindo y Galindo, La Gran Década Nacional o Relación Histórica de la Guerra de Reforma, Intervención Extranjera, y gobierno del archiduque Maximiliano, 1857-1867 ([1902], 3 vols., México, DF: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1987).

[33] Carmen Vázquez Mantecón, Santa Anna y la encrucijada del Estado. La dictadura, 1853-1855 (México, DF: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1986).

[34] Moramay López-Alonso, Measuring Up: A History of Living Standards in Mexico, 1850-1950 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2012);  Amilcar Challú and Auroro Gómez Galvarriato, “Mexico’s Real Wages in the Age of the Great Divergence, 1730-1930,” Revista de Historia Económica 33:1 (2015), pp. 123-152; Amílcar E. Challú, “The Great Decline: Biological Well-Being and Living Standards in Mexico, 1730-1840,” in Ricardo Salvatore, John H. Coatsworth, and Amilcar E. Challú, Living Standards in Latin American History: Height, Welfare, and Development, 1750-2000 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2010), pp. 23-67.

[35]See Challú and Gómez Galvarriato, “Real Wages,” Figure 5, p. 101.

[36] Luis González et al, La economía mexicana durante la época de Juárez (México, DF: 1976).

[37] Teresa Rojas Rabiela and Ignacio Gutiérrez Ruvalcaba, Cien ventanas a los países de antaño: fotografías del campo mexicano de hace un siglo) (México, DF: CONACYT, 2013), pp. 18-65.

[38] Alma Parra, “La Plata en la Estructura Económica Mexicana al Inicio del Siglo XX,” El Mercado de Valores 49:11 (1999), p. 14.

[39] Sandra Kuntz Ficker, Empresa Extranjera y Mercado Interno: El Ferrocarril Central Mexicano (1880-1907) (México, DF: El Colegio de México, 1995).

[40] Priscilla Connolly, El Contratista de Don Porfirio. Obras públicas, deuda y desarrollo desigual (México, DF: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1997).

[41] Most notably John Tutino, From Insurrection to Revolution in Mexico: Social Bases of Agrarian Violence, 1750-1940 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986). p. 229. My growth figures are based on the INEGI, Estadísticas Historicas de México, 2014) (http://dgcnesyp.inegi.org.mx/cgi-win/ehm2014.exe/CI080010, Accessed July 15, 2016).

[42] Stephen H. Haber, Industry and Underdevelopment: The Industrialization of Mexico, 1890-1940 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1989); Aurora Gómez-Galvarriato, Industry and Revolution: Social and Economic Change in the Orizaba Valley (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013).

[43] There are literally dozens of accounts of the Revolution. The usual starting point, in English, is Alan Knight, The Mexican Revolution (reprint ed., 2 vols., Lincoln, NE: 1990).

[44] This argument has been made most insistently in Armando Razo and Stephen Haber, “The Rate of Growth of Productivity in Mexico, 1850-1933: Evidence from the Cotton Textile Industry,” Journal of Latin American Studies 30:3 (1998), pp. 481-517.

[45]Robert McCaa, “Missing Millions: The Demographic Cost of the Mexican revolution,” Mexican Studies/Estudios Mexicanos 19:2 (Summer 2003): 367-400; Virgilio Partida-Bush, “Demographic Transition, Demographic Bonus, and Ageing in Mexico, “ Proceedings of the United Nations Expert Group Meeting on Social and Economic Implications of Changing Population Age Structures. (http://www.un.org/esa/population/meetings/Proceedings_EGM_Mex_2005/partida.pdf) (Accessed July 15, 2016), pp. 287-290.

[46] An implication of the studies of Alan Knight, and of Clark Reynolds, The Mexican Economy: Twentieth Century Structure and Growth (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1971).

[47] An interesting summary of revisionist thinking on the nature and history of the ejido appears in Emilio Kuri, “La invención del ejido, Nexos, January 2015.

[48]Alan Knight, “Cardenismo: Juggernaut or Jalopy?” Journal of Latin American Studies, 26:1 (1994), pp. 73-107.

[49] Stephen Haber, “The Political Economy of Industrialization,” in Victor Bulmer-Thomas, John Coatsworth, and Roberto Cortes-Conde, eds., The Cambridge Economic History of Latin America (2 vols., New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 2:  537-584.

[50]Again, there are dozens of studies of the Mexican economy in this period. Ros’ figures come from “Mexico’s Trade and Industrialization Experience Since 1960: A Reconsideration of Past Policies and Assessment of Current Reforms,” Kellogg Institute (Working Paper 186, January 1993). For a more general study, see Juan Carlos Moreno-Brid and Jaime Ros, Development and Growth in the Me3xican Economy. A Historical Perspective (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009). A recent Spanish language treatment is Enrique Cárdenas Sánchez, El largo curso de la economía mexicana. De 1780 a nuestros días (México, DF: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 2015). A view from a different perspective is Carlos Tello, Estado y desarrollo económico. México 1920-2006 (México, DF, UNAM, 2007).

[51]André A. Hoffman, Long Run Economic Development in Latin America in a Comparative Perspective: Proximate and Ultimate Causes (Santiago, Chile: CEPAL, 2001), p. 19.

[52]Tello, Estado y desarrollo, pp. 501-505.

[53] Mario Vargas Llosa, “Mexico: The Perfect Dictatorship,” New Perspectives Quarterly 8 (1991), pp. 23-24.

[54] Rafael Izquierdo, Política Hacendario del Desarrollo Estabilizador, 1958-1970 (México, DF: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1995. The term stabilizing development was itself termed by Izquierdo as a government minister.

[55]See Foreign Relations of the United States, 1964-1968. Mexico and Central America http://2001-2009.state.gov/r/pa/ho/frus/johnsonlb/xxxi/36313.htm (Accessed July 15, 2016).

[56] José Aguilar Retureta, “The GDP Per Capita of the Mexican Regions (1895:1930): New Estimates, Revista de Historia Económica, 33: 3 (2015), pp. 387-423.

[57] For a contemporary account with a sense of the immediacy of the end of the Echeverría regime, see “Así se devaluó el peso,” Proceso, November 13, 1976.

[58] The standard account is Stephen Haber, Herbert Klein, Noel Maurer, and Kevin Middlebrook, Mexico since 1980 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008). A particularly astute economic account is Nora Lustig, Mexico: The Remaking of an Economy (2d ed., Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution, 1998).  But also Louise E. Walker, Waking from the Dream. Mexico’s Middle Classes After 1968 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2013).

[59] See, for example, Jaime Ros Bosch, Algunas tesis equivocadas sobre el estancamiento económico de México (México, DF: El Colegio de México, 2013).

[60] La Banca Central y la Importancia de la Estabilidad Económica  June 16, 2008.  (http://www.banxico.org.mx/politica-monetaria-e-inflacion/material-de-referencia/intermedio/politica-monetaria/%7B3C1A08B1-FD93-0931-44F8-96F5950FC926%7D.pdf, Accessed July 15, 2016.). Also see Brian Winter, “This Man is Brilliant: So Why Doesn’t Mexico’s Economy Grow Faster?” Americas Quarterly (http://americasquarterly.org/content/man-brilliant-so-why-doesnt-mexicos-economy-grow-faster) (Accessed July 21, 2016)

 

 

Investment: A History

Author(s):Reamer, Norton
Downing, Jesse
Reviewer(s):Smith, Roy C.

Published by EH.Net (March 2016)

Norton Reamer and Jesse Downing, Investment: A History. New York: Columbia Business School Publishing, 2016. x + 436 pp. $35 (cloth), ISBN: 978-0-231-16952-3.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Roy C. Smith, Stern School of Business, New York University.

If a time traveler from a hundred years ago were to appear in today’s global financial world, he or she would be stunned by the shear magnitude of it.  A recent McKinsey study reported that the market capitalization of all stocks, bonds and tradable bank loans in the world in 2012 was $225 trillion, approximately three times world GDP. Most of this vast trove of wealth, the traveler would soon learn, was owned by savings, insurance, pension and mutual funds, in which hundreds of millions of ordinary people around the world participated. The money was entrusted to, and managed by, a variety of financial institutions that paid it out to their beneficiaries as they aged or became ill, thereby eliminating much of the scourge of old-age poverty that had been an inescapable part of life for thousands of years.

Norton Reamer, a seasoned investment manager for forty years, and Jess Downing, a relatively new one, have focused their history of investment on the “democratization” of wealth that the industry has enabled.  In the U.S., retirement assets and mutual funds have expanded from trivial beginnings in the 1920s to become investment colossi today, with $37 trillion under management. Their book is a 30,000 feet flyover of the history, institutional development, and current state of the investment management industry. It is thorough, readable, and up-to-date and should be a good place for people interested in careers in the industry to begin their inquiries.

The first four chapters deal with the origins, formation, expansion, and democratization of the industry through the funding of retirement incomes. Chapter five addresses the age-old issue of fraud, market manipulation and insider trading. Chapter six examines the ever-increasing market intervention by central banks trying to balance out market cycles; Chapter seven is a complete and very useful review of the development of the mathematical theories of markets and how they work — topics that  every career aspirant should try to understand. The last two chapters are about new investment products, including passively managed index funds, “exchange traded funds,” and the increasing importance of “alternative investments,” mainly hedge and private equity funds.

The book concludes with a thoughtful analysis of conditions for investing in the twenty-first century, in which the authors note that, though things change with time, technology and demographics, the basic purpose and principles of investing will be much the same. They emphasize four such principles: real ownership (i.e., investing in companies or other entities capable of providing an inflation-adjusted return), understanding fundamental value, the role of financial leverage, and the methodology of asset allocation.

Though the book is self-described as a history, it is much more than that. In fact, the historical portions may be the least useful. What it does well is explain how the growing demand for retirement income generated a variety of new ways to achieve it and to make it available to a much broader base of ordinary individuals. This required the development of new institutions to provide portfolio management skills and custodial functions, and other institutions to regulate and service them in a competitive marketplace. All of this, in turn, required improved understanding of the math and economics of investing, new legal and accounting frameworks, continuous product innovation, and the creation of vast distribution systems.  The great achievement of the investment management industry, which began in the United States but has since been embraced all over the world, is how large it has become in such a relatively short time of sixty years so.

It may be, however, that the altitude of the flyover was too high to pick up important details shaping the investment management industry today. The chapter on fraud, for example, fails to discuss the late trading scandals in the mutual fund industry in the 1990s, the high-speed trading scandals in dark pools in the 2010s, the conflicts of interest between large banks acting simultaneously as investment bankers, traders and investment managers, the increased efforts by managers to gather assets at the expense of managing these assets well enough to justify the fees paid. Similarly, there may also be evidence sufficient now to suggest that hedge and private equity firms have become too big to be able to deliver the abnormal returns expected of them.

There also questions, too, about the future of the industry that Reamer and Downing haven’t addressed – the influence of technology on market efficiency (with high-speed trading a contemporary issue), the effects of massive volumes of passive robo-investing without understanding what effects they have on market volatility and liquidity, and the seemingly immutable, high fee structures that characterize the mutual fund and alternative asset sectors despite lackluster performance over the past five years or so.

There is also a question of whether the retirement industry can generate adequate returns in an economic environment in which normal GDP growth rates are in the 2% to 2.5% range, or less. Numerous public pension funds are virtually bankrupt today, mainly due to underfunding but the underfunding is largely the result of lower than expected returns.

Perhaps such issues don’t matter much in a broad historical picture, but it is arguable that the investment management industry, after so many years of rapid and profitable growth has reached a point where some sort of disruptive technology or institutional shake up may be around the corner, waiting to change things in significant ways.

Roy C. Smith is the Kenneth Langone Professor of Finance and Entrepreneurship at the NYU Stern School of Business, which he joined in 1988. Before that he was a General Partner of Goldman, Sachs & Company.

Copyright (c) 2016 by EH.Net. All rights reserved. This work may be copied for non-profit educational uses if proper credit is given to the author and the list. For other permission, please contact the EH.Net Administrator (administrator@eh.net). Published by EH.Net (March 2016). All EH.Net reviews are archived at http://eh.net/book-reviews/

Subject(s):Financial Markets, Financial Institutions, and Monetary History
Geographic Area(s):General, International, or Comparative
North America
Time Period(s):General or Comparative

Jacob Myron Price

Jacob Myron Price passed away, after a long illness, on Wednesday, May 6th, at Glacier Hills retirement and nursing facility in Ann Arbor, Michigan.         

Born November 8th, 1925, the son of Oscar and Agnes (Pike) Price in Worcester, Massachusetts, Jack, as he was known to family and friends, became a distinguished historian of the early modern Atlantic economy.  His father’s employer, the Kelvinator Corporation, moved the family to Boston, Baltimore, and Pittsburgh where Jack attended public schools.  He entered Harvard College in 1942 just before his 17th birthday, and was drafted into the Army after completing his sophomore year.  He served in the U.S. Army Air Force as a cryptographic technician, mostly in India servicing the famous “Hump” flights over the Himalaya Mountains to supply Chinese forces fighting the Japanese invasion.  He rose from the rank of Private to Staff Sergeant before his honorable discharge in 1946.  He completed his Harvard bachelor’s degree in 1947, with High Honors and as a member of Phi Beta Kappa; earned a master’s degree in 1948; and completed his Ph.D. in 1954.

He taught at Harvard and Smith College, in 1956 joining the History Department at the University of Michigan, where he spent the rest of his career, retiring in 1991.  He won numerous honors and awards, among them Fulbright scholarships for graduate study in England, and Guggenheim Fellowships (twice).  He was a Fellow of the Royal Historical Society and of the British Academy, served as president of the Economic History Association 1987-88, and was a Visiting Fellow at All Soul’s College, Oxford.

His research began with a study of the Anglo-American development of the market for tobacco in Russia, 1676-1722.  His work throughout his career was characterized by a fusion of microscopic analysis of individual merchants and their firms with a broad contextual sweep, encompassing social, political, and diplomatic history.  His study of  the global tobacco trade culminated in 1973 with the magisterial two-volume France and the Chesapeake, in which he used his micro-macro approach to focus on the effects of the French royal monopoly of tobacco purchases and sales on American producers and British distributors, ending with the destruction of the monopoly by the French Revolution.

Jack Price had a remarkable command of the archival sources for economic history, and an equally remarkable ability to find and follow the many threads of the complex story of early modern entrepreneurship.  Along the way, he published numerous articles and reviews that illuminate aspects of the 18th century far beyond his early studies of the tobacco trade.  Most of the best of this work has been collected and published in three volumes of his essays 1995-6.  It is worth noting that Jack Price himself was not a user of tobacco.

Beyond his own research, Jack took time to support younger scholars, through his active involvement with the Institute for Historical Research of London University, and his generous support of the Price Fellowships for young researchers working in the Clements Library at the University of Michigan.  Michigan undergraduates who experienced his lectures in British history found them to be models of both clarity and seriousness.  Twice (1971-72 and 1979-84) he chaired the Michigan History Department.

Personally, Jack might impress those who did not know him well as dour, even brusque.  Basically he was a shy person without family who was wedded to his work.  He depended on a small circle of close friends in Ann Arbor, and a wider circle in the American and English academic world.  These friends knew that he was a passionate, deeply knowledgeable lover of classical music, especially opera, and that he could be exceptionally kind and generous to any of them who needed his help.  They also saw the evident pleasure he took in being with their families, and especially watching the children grow.

Those who would sample the mature best of his scholarship may turn to his short book, Capital and Credit in British Overseas Trade (1980), which touches in important ways on the controversial issue of the origin of the Industrial Revolution, and the even shorter Perry of London (1992), in which he traces the all-too human rise and fall of an important trading family and its firm, both books published by Harvard University Press.

Before age and illness overtook and slowly incapacitated him, Jack had begun work on the origins of modern British banking.  He never married.  His parents and a younger brother, Malcolm, predeceased him.  His only survivors are his devoted friends.

Financial Crises, 1929 to the Present

Author(s):Hsu, Sara
Reviewer(s):Wheelock, David C.

Published by EH.Net (November 2014)

Sara Hsu, Financial Crises, 1929 to the Present. Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar, 2013. v + 178 pp. $100 (cloth), ISBN: 978-0-85793-342-3.

Reviewed for EH.Net by David C. Wheelock, Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis.

In Financial Crises, 1929 to the Present, Sara Hsu of the State University of New York, New Paltz, offers a concise history of several of the world’s major financial crises — from the Great Depression to the subprime mortgage crisis of 2007-08 and European debt crisis of 2009-10.

Financial crises are not easy to define precisely, except perhaps in the context of a stylized model, and different authors have used a variety of quantitative measures to identify and measure the severity of crises. In the first chapter of the book, Hsu explains how different authors define financial crises, focusing especially on the ideas of Hyman Minsky and Charles Kindleberger. Hsu provides neither a precise theoretical nor a quantitative definition of a financial crisis, but aligns herself with Minsky in concluding that unregulated financial systems of capitalist economies are inherently prone to instability and crises with potentially severe macroeconomic repercussions: “Hyman Minsky was right in the sense that given free rein, capitalism has created instability and unanticipated crises” (p. 146).

After a brief summary of how the global financial system has evolved since the 1930s, subsequent chapters review the histories of individual crises, beginning with the Great Depression. Hsu follows John Kenneth Galbraith in tracing the origins of the Great Depression to Wall Street speculation and attributes the eventual market crash to heightened uncertainty and a global credit crunch associated with French claims on British gold and the introduction of the Young Plan in 1929. Although she acknowledges the decline in the money stock and deflation that took hold after the crash, Hsu rejects the view of Friedman and Schwartz (1963) that banking panics and a contracting money supply caused the Great Depression, favoring instead Ben Bernanke’s (1983) emphasis on the nonmonetary effects that financial crises had on the economy.

The Great Depression led to major changes in the regulation of U.S. banks and financial markets, as well as disintegration of the international gold standard and the imposition of capital and exchange controls around the world. Controls became universal during World War II and remained in place for several years after the war under the post-war Bretton Woods system of fixed exchange rates. Hsu nicely summarizes key features of the Bretton Woods System and its breakdown in the 1970s in the book’s third chapter.
The remaining chapters summarize major financial crises, beginning with the debt crises of emerging market economies in the 1980s. Hsu explains how many emerging market economies had borrowed heavily to support economic growth when commodity prices were rising in the 1970s, only to experience difficulty servicing their debts and obtaining new loans when commodity prices fell after the Federal Reserve tightened monetary policy and the U.S. economy went into recession in the early 1980s. This chapter has an especially good summary of how the debt crisis unfolded in different countries and how lenders, governments, and the IMF responded.

Hsu next discusses several crises that occurred in the 1990s, including the Western European exchange rate crisis, Nordic banking crises, Japanese real estate collapse and subsequent “lost decade,” Mexican debt crisis, and Asian financial crisis. A subsequent chapter describes the Russian and Brazilian financial crises of 1998 and the Argentinian crisis of 2000. Like many others, Hsu is highly critical of the “conditionality” requirements imposed by the IMF on nations in crisis. For example, she argues that “The IMF program for Korea went beyond measures needed to resolve the crisis … and, destructively, called for even wider opening(!) of Korea’s capital and current accounts” (p. 91).

The penultimate chapter of the book focuses on the subprime mortgage crisis and recession of 2007-08, which originated in the United States but was felt around the world, and the European debt crisis that emerged in 2009-10. For Hsu, “the crisis showed that all financial markets are unstable and require constant supervision and regulation” (p. 129). She blames “excessive overleveraging” of subprime assets in the form of opaque financial instruments created by a largely unregulated and unsupervised banking system and the trading of those securities “over the counter” rather than through organized and regulated exchanges. She argues that much of the government’s response to the crisis, such as the Troubled Asset Relief Program, was flawed and failed to halt the crisis.

The final chapter considers alternative policies for preventing future crises and for containing and resolving any crises that might occur. Hsu is generally supportive of capital controls, macro-prudential bank regulations, and countercyclical fiscal and monetary policy, as well as greater coordination of policies across countries. Indeed, she argues that “The preeminence of country sovereignty and competitiveness over global financial stability ensures that fault lines will exist and expand, and that crises will continue to occur. Should country priorities shift en masse from economic growth to economic and financial stability, there is a much greater probability that future financial crises might be prevented” (p. 146).

The book could serve as a supplement for undergraduate courses in economic history, international finance, and macroeconomics or as a reference for anyone wishing summaries of the key events and issues surrounding particular crises. However, the book might hold less appeal for courses in U.S. economic history because it does not cover several noteworthy episodes of financial instability in the United States, such as the savings and loan crisis of the 1980s. Further, readers interested in more theoretical explanations of the causes and effects of financial crises or those interested in the interplay of political and economic forces that shape the financial regulatory environment and can promote instability and crises even in highly regulated financial systems, as discussed recently by Charles Calomiris and Stephen Haber (2014), will want to look elsewhere.

References:

Bernanke, Ben S. “Nonmonetary Effects of the Financial Crisis in the Propagation of the Great Depression,” American Economic Review 73(3), June 1983, pp. 257-76.

Calomiris, Charles W. and Stephen H. Haber. Fragile by Design: The Political Origins of Banking Crises and Scarce Credit. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014.

Friedman, Milton and Anna J. Schwartz. A Monetary History of the United States, 1867-1960. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963.

David C. Wheelock researches U.S. financial and monetary history. His recent publications include (with Michael D. Bordo), “The Promise and Performance of the Federal Reserve as Lender of Last Resort,” in M.D. Bordo and W. Roberds, editors, The Origins, History, and Future of the Federal Reserve: A Return to Jekyll Island. Cambridge University Press, 2013.

Copyright (c) 2014 by EH.Net. All rights reserved. This work may be copied for non-profit educational uses if proper credit is given to the author and the list. For other permission, please contact the EH.Net Administrator (administrator@eh.net). Published by EH.Net (November 2014). All EH.Net reviews are archived at http://www.eh.net/BookReview

Subject(s):Financial Markets, Financial Institutions, and Monetary History
Geographic Area(s):General, International, or Comparative
Time Period(s):20th Century: Pre WWII
20th Century: WWII and post-WWII