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The US Coal Industry in the Nineteenth Century

Sean Patrick Adams, University of Central Florida

Introduction

The coal industry was a major foundation for American industrialization in the nineteenth century. As a fuel source, coal provided a cheap and efficient source of power for steam engines, furnaces, and forges across the United States. As an economic pursuit, coal spurred technological innovations in mine technology, energy consumption, and transportation. When mine managers brought increasing sophistication to the organization of work in the mines, coal miners responded by organizing into industrial trade unions. The influence of coal was so pervasive in the United States that by the advent of the twentieth century, it became a necessity of everyday life. In an era where smokestacks equaled progress, the smoky air and sooty landscape of industrial America owed a great deal to the growth of the nation’s coal industry. By the close of the nineteenth century, many Americans across the nation read about the latest struggle between coal companies and miners by the light of a coal-gas lamp and in the warmth of a coal-fueled furnace, in a house stocked with goods brought to them by coal-fired locomotives. In many ways, this industry served as a major factor of American industrial growth throughout the nineteenth century.

The Antebellum American Coal Trade

Although coal had served as a major source of energy in Great Britain for centuries, British colonists had little use for North America’s massive reserves of coal prior to American independence. With abundant supplies of wood, water, and animal fuel, there was little need to use mineral fuel in seventeenth and eighteenth-century America. But as colonial cities along the eastern seaboard grew in population and in prestige, coal began to appear in American forges and furnaces. Most likely this coal was imported from Great Britain, but a small domestic trade developed in the bituminous fields outside of Richmond, Virginia and along the Monongahela River near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

The Richmond Basin

Following independence from Britain, imported coal became less common in American cities and the domestic trade became more important. Economic nationalists such as Tench Coxe, Albert Gallatin, and Alexander Hamilton all suggested that the nation’s coal trade — at that time centered in the Richmond coal basin of eastern Virginia — would serve as a strategic resource for the nation’s growth and independence. Although it labored under these weighty expectations, the coal trade of eastern Virginia was hampered by its existence on the margins of the Old Dominion’s plantation economy. Colliers of the Richmond Basin used slave labor effectively in their mines, but scrambled to fill out their labor force, especially during peak periods of agricultural activity. Transportation networks in the region also restricted the growth of coal mining. Turnpikes proved too expensive for the coal trade and the James River and Kanawha Canal failed to make necessary improvements in order to accommodate coal barge traffic and streamline the loading, conveyance, and distribution of coal at Richmond’s tidewater port. Although the Richmond Basin was nation’s first major coalfield, miners there found growth potential to be limited.

The Rise of Anthracite Coal

At the same time that the Richmond Basin’s coal trade declined in importance, a new type of mineral fuel entered urban markets of the American seaboard. Anthracite coal has higher carbon content and is much harder than bituminous coal, thus earning the nickname “stone coal” in its early years of use. In 1803, Philadelphians watched a load of anthracite coal actually squelch a fire during a trial run, and city officials used the load of “stone coal” as attractive gravel for sidewalks. Following the War of 1812, however, a series of events paved the way for anthracite coal’s acceptance in urban markets. Colliers like Jacob Cist saw the shortage of British and Virginia coal in urban communities as an opportunity to promote the use of “stone coal.” Philadelphia’s American Philosophical Society and Franklin Institute enlisted the aid of the area’s scientific community to disseminate information to consumers on the particular needs of anthracite. The opening of several links between Pennsylvania’s anthracite fields via the Lehigh Coal and Navigation Company (1820), the Schuylkill Navigation Company (1825), and the Delaware and Hudson (1829) insured that the flow of anthracite from mine to market would be cheap and fast. “Stone coal” became less a geological curiosity by the 1830s and instead emerged as a valuable domestic fuel for heating and cooking, as well as a powerful source of energy for urban blacksmiths, bakers, brewers, and manufacturers. As demonstrated in Figure 1, Pennsylvania anthracite dominated urban markets by the late 1830s. By 1840, annual production had topped one million tons, or about ten times the annual production of the Richmond bituminous field.

Figure One: Percentage of Seaboard Coal Consumption by Origin, 1822-1842

Sources:

Hunt’s Merchant’s Magazine and Commercial Review 8 (June 1843): 548;

Alfred Chandler, “Anthracite Coal and the Beginnings of the Industrial Revolution,” p. 154.

The Spread of Coalmining

The antebellum period also saw the expansion of coal mining into many more states than Pennsylvania and Virginia, as North America contains a variety of workable coalfields. Ohio’s bituminous fields employed 7,000 men and raised about 320,000 tons of coal in 1850 — only three years later the state’s miners had increased production to over 1,300,000 tons. In Maryland, the George’s Creek bituminous region began to ship coal to urban markets by the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad (1842) and the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal (1850). The growth of St. Louis provided a major boost to the coal industries of Illinois and Missouri, and by 1850 colliers in the two states raised about 350,000 tons of coal annually. By the advent of the Civil War, coal industries appeared in at least twenty states.

Organization of Antebellum Mines

Throughout the antebellum period, coal mining firms tended to be small and labor intensive. The seams that were first worked in the anthracite fields of eastern Pennsylvania or the bituminous fields in Virginia, western Pennsylvania, and Ohio tended to lie close to the surface. A skilled miner and a handful of laborers could easily raise several tons of coal a day through the use of a “drift” or “slope” mine that intersected a vein of coal along a hillside. In the bituminous fields outside of Pittsburgh, for example, coal seams were exposed along the banks of the Monongahela and colliers could simply extract the coal with a pickax or shovel and roll it down the riverbank via a handcart into a waiting barge. Once the coal left the mouth of the mine, however, the size of the business handling it varied. Proprietary colliers usually worked on land that was leased for five to fifteen years — often from a large landowner or corporation. The coal was often shipped to market via a large railroad or canal corporation such as the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, or the Delaware and Hudson Canal. Competition between mining firms and increases in production kept prices and profit margins relatively low, and many colliers slipped in and out of bankruptcy. These small mining firms were typical of the “easy entry, easy exit” nature of American business competition in the antebellum period.

Labor Relations

Since most antebellum coal mining operations were often limited to a few skilled miners aided by lesser skilled laborers, the labor relations in American coal mining regions saw little extended conflict. Early coal miners also worked close to the surface, often in horizontal drift mines, which meant that work was not as dangerous in the era before deep shaft mining. Most mining operations were far-flung enterprises away from urban centers, which frustrated attempts to organize miners into a “critical mass” of collective power — even in the nation’s most developed anthracite fields. These factors, coupled with the mine operator’s belief that individual enterprise in the anthracite regions insured a harmonious system of independent producers, had inhibited the development of strong labor organizations in Pennsylvania’s antebellum mining industry. In less developed regions, proprietors often worked in the mines themselves, so the lines between ownership, management, and labor were often blurred.

Early Unions

Most disputes, when they did occur, were temporary affairs that focused upon the low wages spurred by the intense competition among colliers. The first such action in the anthracite industry occurred in July of 1842 when workers from Minersville in Schuylkill County marched on Pottsville to protest low wages. This short-lived strike was broken up by the Orwigsburgh Blues, a local militia company. In 1848 John Bates enrolled 5,000 miners and struck for higher pay in the summer of 1849. But members of the “Bates Union” found themselves locked out of work and the movement quickly dissipated. In 1853, the Delaware and Hudson Canal Company’s miners struck for a 2½ cent per ton increase in their piece rate. This strike was successful, but failed to produce any lasting union presence in the D&H’s operations. Reports of disturbances in the bituminous fields of western Pennsylvania and Ohio follow the same pattern, as antebellum strikes tended to be localized and short-lived. Production levels thus remained high, and consumers of mineral fuel could count upon a steady supply reaching market.

Use of Anthracite in the Iron Industry

The most important technological development in the antebellum American coal industry was the successful adoption of anthracite coal to iron making techniques. Since the 1780s, bituminous coal or coke — which is bituminous coal with the impurities burned away — had been the preferred fuel for British iron makers. Once anthracite had nearly successfully entered American hearths, there seemed to be no reason why stone coal could not be used to make iron. As with its domestic use, however, the industrial potential of anthracite coal faced major technological barriers. In British and American iron furnaces of the early nineteenth century, the high heat needed to smelt iron ore required a blast of excess air to aid the combustion of the fuel, whether it was coal, wood, or charcoal. While British iron makers in the 1820s attempted to increase the efficiency of the process by using superheated air, known commonly as a “hot blast,” American iron makers still used a “cold blast” to stoke their furnaces. The density of anthracite coal resisted attempts to ignite it through the cold blast and therefore appeared to be an inappropriate fuel for most American iron furnaces.

Anthracite iron first appeared in Pennsylvania in 1840, when David Thomas brought Welsh hot blast technology into practice at the Lehigh Crane Iron Company. The firm had been chartered in 1839 under the general incorporation act. The Allentown firm’s innovation created a stir in iron making circles, and iron furnaces for smelting ore with anthracite began to appear across eastern and central Pennsylvania. In 1841, only a year after the Lehigh Crane Iron Company’s success, Walter Johnson found no less than eleven anthracite iron furnaces in operation. That same year, an American correspondent of London bankers cited savings on iron making of up to twenty-five percent after the conversion to anthracite and noted that “wherever the coal can be procured the proprietors are changing to the new plan; and it is generally believed that the quality of the iron is much improved where the entire process is affected with anthracite coal.” Pennsylvania’s investment in anthracite iron paid dividends for the industrial economy of the state and proved that coal could be adapted to a number of industrial pursuits. By 1854, forty-six percent of all American pig iron had been smelted with anthracite coal as a fuel, and by 1860 anthracite’s share of pig iron was more than fifty-six percent.

Rising Levels of Coal Output and Falling Prices

The antebellum decades saw the coal industry emerge as a critical component of America’s industrial revolution. Anthracite coal became a fixture in seaboard cities up and down the east coast of North America — as cities grew, so did the demand for coal. To the west, Pittsburgh and Ohio colliers shipped their coal as far as Louisville, Cincinnati, or New Orleans. As wood, animal, and waterpower became scarcer, mineral fuel usually took their place in domestic consumption and small-scale manufacturing. The structure of the industry, many small-scale firms working on short-term leases, meant that production levels remained high throughout the antebellum period, even in the face of falling prices. In 1840, American miners raised 2.5 million tons of coal to serve these growing markets and by 1850 increased annual production to 8.4 million tons. Although prices tended to fluctuate with the season, in the long run, they fell throughout the antebellum period. For example, in 1830 anthracite coal sold for about $11 per ton. Ten years later, the price had dropped to $7 per ton and by 1860 anthracite sold for about $5.50 a ton in New York City. Annual production in 1860 also passed twenty million tons for the first time in history. Increasing production, intense competition, low prices, and quiet labor relations all were characteristics of the antebellum coal trade in the United States, but developments during and after the Civil War would dramatically alter the structure and character of this critical industrial pursuit.

Coal and the Civil War

The most dramatic expansion of the American coal industry occurred in the late antebellum decades but the outbreak of the Civil War led to some major changes. The fuel needs of the federal army and navy, along with their military suppliers, promised a significant increase in the demand for coal. Mine operators planned for rising, or at least stable, coal prices for the duration of the war. Their expectations proved accurate. Even when prices are adjusted for wartime inflation, they increased substantially over the course of the conflict. Over the years 1860 to 1863, the real (i.e., inflation-adjusted) price of a ton of anthracite rose by over thirty percent, and in 1864 the real price had increased to forty-five percent above its 1860 level. In response, the production of coal increased to over twelve million tons of anthracite and over twenty-four million tons nationwide by 1865.

The demand for mineral fuel in the Confederacy led to changes in southern coalfields as well. In 1862, the Confederate Congress organized the Niter and Mining Bureau within the War Department to supervise the collection of niter (also known as saltpeter) for the manufacture of gunpowder and the mining of copper, lead, iron, coal, and zinc. In addition to aiding the Richmond Basin’s production, the Niter and Mining Bureau opened new coalfields in North Carolina and Alabama and coordinated the flow of mineral fuel to Confederate naval stations along the coast. Although the Confederacy was not awash in coal during the conflict, the work of the Niter and Mining Bureau established the groundwork for the expansion of mining in the postbellum South.

In addition to increases in production, the Civil War years accelerated some qualitative changes in the structure of the industry. In the late 1850s, new railroads stretched to new bituminous coalfields in states like Maryland, Ohio, and Illinois. In the established anthracite coal regions of Pennsylvania, railroad companies profited immensely from the increased traffic spurred by the war effort. For example, the Philadelphia & Reading Railroad’s margin of profit increased from $0.88 per ton of coal in 1861 to $1.72 per ton in 1865. Railroad companies emerged from the Civil War as the most important actors in the nation’s coal trade.

The American Coal Trade after the Civil War

Railroads and the Expansion of the Coal Trade

In the years immediately following the Civil War, the expansion of the coal trade accelerated as railroads assumed the burden of carrying coal to market and opening up previously inaccessible fields. They did this by purchasing coal tracts directly and leasing them to subsidiary firms or by opening their own mines. In 1878, the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad shipped three million tons of bituminous coal from mines in Maryland and from the northern coalfields of the new state of West Virginia. When the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad linked Huntington, West Virginia with Richmond, Virginia in 1873, the rich bituminous coal fields of southern West Virginia were open for development. The Norfolk and Western developed the coalfields of southwestern Virginia by completing their railroad from tidewater to remote Tazewell County in 1883. A network of smaller lines linking individual collieries to these large trunk lines facilitated the rapid development of Appalachian coal.

Railroads also helped open up the massive coal reserves west of the Mississippi. Small coal mines in Missouri and Illinois existed in the antebellum years, but were limited to the steamboat trade down the Mississippi River. As the nation’s web of railroad construction expanded across the Great Plains, coalfields in Colorado, New Mexico, and Wyoming witnessed significant development. Coal had truly become a national endeavor in the United States.

Technological Innovations

As the coal industry expanded, it also incorporated new mining methods. Early slope or drift mines intersected coal seams relatively close to the surface and needed only small capital investments to prepare. Most miners still used picks and shovels to extract the coal, but some miners used black powder to blast holes in the coal seams, then loaded the broken coal onto wagons by hand. But as miners sought to remove more coal, shafts were dug deeper below the water line. As a result, coal mining needed larger amounts of capital as new systems of pumping, ventilation, and extraction required the implementation of steam power in mines. By the 1890s, electric cutting machines replaced the blasting method of loosening the coal in some mines, and by 1900 a quarter of American coal was mined using these methods. As the century progressed, miners raised more and more coal by using new technology. Along with this productivity came the erosion of many traditional skills cherished by experienced miners.

The Coke Industry

Consumption patterns also changed. The late nineteenth century saw the emergence of coke — a form of processed bituminous coal in which impurities are “baked” out under high temperatures — as a powerful fuel in the iron and steel industry. The discovery of excellent coking coal in the Connellsville region of southwestern Pennsylvania spurred the aggressive growth of coke furnaces there. By 1880, the Connellsville region contained more than 4,200 coke ovens and the national production of coke in the United States stood at three million tons. Two decades later, the United States consumed over twenty million tons of coke fuel.

Competition and Profits

The successful incorporation of new mining methods and the emergence of coke as a major fuel source served as both a blessing and a curse to mining firms. With the new technology they raised more coal, but as more coalfields opened up and national production neared eighty million tons by 1880, coal prices remained relatively low. Cheap coal undoubtedly helped America’s rapidly industrializing economy, but it also created an industry structure characterized by boom and bust periods, low profit margins, and cutthroat competition among firms. But however it was raised, the United States became more and more dependent upon coal as the nineteenth century progressed, as demonstrated by Figure 2.

Figure 2: Coal as a Percentage of American Energy Consumption, 1850-1900

Source: Sam H. Schurr and Bruce C. Netschert, Energy in the American Economy, 1850-1975 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1960), 36-37.

The Rise of Labor Unions

As coal mines became more capital intensive over the course of the nineteenth century, the role of miners changed dramatically. Proprietary mines usually employed skilled miners as subcontractors in the years prior to the Civil War; by doing so they abdicated a great deal of control over the pace of mining. Corporate reorganization and the introduction of expensive machinery eroded the traditional authority of the skilled miner. By the 1870s, many mining firms employed managers to supervise the pace of work, but kept the old system of paying mine laborers per ton rather than an hourly wage. Falling piece rates quickly became a source of discontent in coal mining regions.

Miners responded to falling wages and the restructuring of mine labor by organizing into craft unions. The Workingmen’s Benevolent Association founded in Pennsylvania in 1868, united English, Irish, Scottish, and Welsh anthracite miners. The WBA won some concessions from coal companies until Franklin Gowen, acting president of the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad led a concerted effort to break the union in the winter of 1874-75. When sporadic violence plagued the anthracite fields, Gowen led the charge against the “Molly Maguires,” a clandestine organization supposedly led by Irish miners. After the breaking of the WBA, most coal mining unions served to organize skilled workers in specific regions. In 1890, a national mining union appeared when delegates from across the United States formed the United Mine Workers of America. The UMWA struggled to gain widespread acceptance until 1897, when widespread strikes pushed many workers into union membership. By 1903, the UMWA listed about a quarter of a million members, raised a treasury worth over one million dollars, and played a major role in industrial relations of the nation’s coal industry.

Coal at the Turn of the Century

By 1900, the American coal industry was truly a national endeavor that raised fifty-seven million tons of anthracite and 212 million tons of bituminous coal. (See Tables 1 and 2 for additional trends.) Some coal firms grew to immense proportions by nineteenth-century standards. The U.S. Coal and Oil Company, for example, was capitalized at six million dollars and owned the rights to 30,000 acres of coal-bearing land. But small mining concerns with one or two employees also persisted through the turn of the century. New developments in mine technology continued to revolutionize the trade as more and more coal fields across the United States became integrated into the national system of railroads. Industrial relations also assumed nationwide dimensions. John Mitchell, the leader of the UMWA, and L.M. Bowers of the Colorado Fuel and Iron Company, symbolized a new coal industry in which hard-line positions developed in both labor and capital’s respective camps. Since the bituminous coal industry alone employed over 300,000 workers by 1900, many Americans kept a close eye on labor relations in this critical trade. Although “King Coal” stood unchallenged as the nation’s leading supplier of domestic and industrial fuel, tension between managers and workers threatened the stability of the coal industry in the twentieth century.

 

Table 1: Coal Production in the United States, 1829-1899

Year Coal Production (thousands of tons) Percent Increase over Decade Tons per capita
Anthracite Bituminous
1829 138 102 0.02
1839 1008 552 550 0.09
1849 3995 2453 313 0.28
1859 9620 6013 142 0.50
1869 17,083 15,821 110 0.85
1879 30,208 37,898 107 1.36
1889 45,547 95,683 107 2.24
1899 60,418 193,323 80 3.34

Source: Fourteenth Census of the United States, Vol. XI, Mines and Quarries, 1922, Tables 8 and 9, pp. 258 and 260.

Table 2: Leading Coal Producing States, 1889

State Coal Production (thousands of tons)
Pennsylvania 81,719
Illinois 12,104
Ohio 9977
West Virginia 6232
Iowa 4095
Alabama 3573
Indiana 2845
Colorado 2544
Kentucky 2400
Kansas 2221
Tennessee 1926

Source: Thirteenth Census of the United States, Vol. XI, Mines and Quarries, 1913, Table 4, p. 187

Suggestions for Further Reading

Adams, Sean Patrick. “Different Charters, Different Paths: Corporations and Coal in Antebellum Pennsylvania and Virginia,” Business and Economic History 27 (Fall 1998): 78-90.

Binder, Frederick Moore. Coal Age Empire: Pennsylvania Coal and Its Utilization to 1860. Harrisburg: Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission, 1974.

Blatz, Perry. Democratic Miners: Work and Labor Relations in the Anthracite Coal Industry, 1875-1925. Albany: SUNY Press, 1994.

Broehl, Wayne G. The Molly Maguires. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1964.

Bruce, Kathleen. Virginia Iron Manufacture in the Slave Era. New York: The Century Company, 1931.

Chandler, Alfred. “Anthracite Coal and the Beginnings of the ‘Industrial Revolution’ in the United States,” Business History Review 46 (1972): 141-181.

DiCiccio, Carmen. Coal and Coke in Pennsylvania. Harrisburg: Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission, 1996

Eavenson, Howard. The First Century and a Quarter of the American Coal Industry. Pittsburgh: Privately Printed, 1942.

Eller, Ronald. Miners, Millhands, and Mountaineers: Industrialization of the Appalachian South, 1880-1930. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1982.

Harvey, Katherine. The Best Dressed Miners: Life and Labor in the Maryland Coal Region, 1835-1910. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1993.

Hoffman, John. “Anthracite in the Lehigh Valley of Pennsylvania, 1820-1845,” United States National Museum Bulletin 252 (1968): 91-141.

Laing, James T. “The Early Development of the Coal Industry in the Western Counties of Virginia,” West Virginia History 27 (January 1966): 144-155.

Laslett, John H.M. editor. The United Mine Workers: A Model of Industrial Solidarity? University Park: Penn State University Press, 1996.

Letwin, Daniel. The Challenge of Interracial Unionism: Alabama Coal Miners, 1878-1921 Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1998.

Lewis, Ronald. Coal, Iron, and Slaves. Industrial Slavery in Maryland and Virginia, 1715-1865. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1979.

Long, Priscilla. Where the Sun Never Shines: A History of America’s Bloody Coal Industry. New York: Paragon, 1989.

Nye, David E.. Consuming Power: A Social History of American Energies. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 1998.

Palladino, Grace. Another Civil War: Labor, Capital, and the State in the Anthracite Regions of Pennsylvania, 1840-1868. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1990.

Powell, H. Benjamin. Philadelphia’s First Fuel Crisis. Jacob Cist and the Developing Market for Pennsylvania Anthracite. University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1978.

Schurr, Sam H. and Bruce C. Netschert. Energy in the American Economy, 1850-1975: An Economic Study of Its History and Prospects. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1960.

Stapleton, Darwin. The Transfer of Early Industrial Technologies to America. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1987.

Stealey, John E.. The Antebellum Kanawha Salt Business and Western Markets. Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 1993.

Wallace, Anthony F.C. St. Clair. A Nineteenth-Century Coal Town’s Experience with a Disaster-Prone Industry. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1981.

Warren, Kenneth. Triumphant Capitalism: Henry Clay Frick and the Industrial Transformation of America. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1996.

Woodworth, J. B.. “The History and Conditions of Mining in the Richmond Coal-Basin, Virginia.” Transactions of the American Institute of Mining Engineers 31 (1902): 477-484.

Yearley, Clifton K.. Enterprise and Anthracite: Economics and Democracy in Schuylkill County, 1820-1875. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1961.

Slavery in the United States

Jenny Bourne, Carleton College

Slavery is fundamentally an economic phenomenon. Throughout history, slavery has existed where it has been economically worthwhile to those in power. The principal example in modern times is the U.S. South. Nearly 4 million slaves with a market value estimated to be between $3.1 and $3.6 billion lived in the U.S. just before the Civil War. Masters enjoyed rates of return on slaves comparable to those on other assets; cotton consumers, insurance companies, and industrial enterprises benefited from slavery as well. Such valuable property required rules to protect it, and the institutional practices surrounding slavery display a sophistication that rivals modern-day law and business.

THE SPREAD OF SLAVERY IN THE U.S.

Not long after Columbus set sail for the New World, the French and Spanish brought slaves with them on various expeditions. Slaves accompanied Ponce de Leon to Florida in 1513, for instance. But a far greater proportion of slaves arrived in chains in crowded, sweltering cargo holds. The first dark-skinned slaves in what was to become British North America arrived in Virginia — perhaps stopping first in Spanish lands — in 1619 aboard a Dutch vessel. From 1500 to 1900, approximately 12 million Africans were forced from their homes to go westward, with about 10 million of them completing the journey. Yet very few ended up in the British colonies and young American republic. By 1808, when the trans-Atlantic slave trade to the U.S. officially ended, only about 6 percent of African slaves landing in the New World had come to North America.

Slavery in the North

Colonial slavery had a slow start, particularly in the North. The proportion there never got much above 5 percent of the total population. Scholars have speculated as to why, without coming to a definite conclusion. Some surmise that indentured servants were fundamentally better suited to the Northern climate, crops, and tasks at hand; some claim that anti-slavery sentiment provided the explanation. At the time of the American Revolution, fewer than 10 percent of the half million slaves in the thirteen colonies resided in the North, working primarily in agriculture. New York had the greatest number, with just over 20,000. New Jersey had close to 12,000 slaves. Vermont was the first Northern region to abolish slavery when it became an independent republic in 1777. Most of the original Northern colonies implemented a process of gradual emancipation in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, requiring the children of slave mothers to remain in servitude for a set period, typically 28 years. Other regions above the Mason-Dixon line ended slavery upon statehood early in the nineteenth century — Ohio in 1803 and Indiana in 1816, for instance.

TABLE 1
Population of the Original Thirteen Colonies, selected years by type

1750 1750 1790 1790 1790 1810 1810 1810 1860 1860 1860

State

White Black White Free Slave White Free Slave White Free Slave
Nonwhite Nonwhite Nonwhite
108,270 3,010 232,236 2,771 2,648 255,179 6,453 310 451,504 8,643 - Connecticut
27,208 1,496 46,310 3,899 8,887 55,361 13,136 4,177 90,589 19,829 1,798 Delaware
4,200 1,000 52,886 398 29,264 145,414 1,801 105,218 591,550 3,538 462,198 Georgia
97,623 43,450 208,649 8,043 103,036 235,117 33,927 111,502 515,918 83,942 87,189 Maryland
183,925 4,075 373,187 5,369 - 465,303 6,737 - 1,221,432 9,634 - Massachusetts
26,955 550 141,112 630 157 182,690 970 - 325,579 494 - New Hampshire
66,039 5,354 169,954 2,762 11,423 226,868 7,843 10,851 646,699 25,318 - New Jersey
65,682 11,014 314,366 4,682 21,193 918,699 25,333 15,017 3,831,590 49,145 - New York
53,184 19,800 289,181 5,041 100,783 376,410 10,266 168,824 629,942 31,621 331,059 North Carolina
116,794 2,872 317,479 6,531 3,707 786,804 22,492 795 2,849,259 56,956 - Pennsylvania
29,879 3,347 64,670 3,484 958 73,214 3,609 108 170,649 3,971 - Rhode Island
25,000 39,000 140,178 1,801 107,094 214,196 4,554 196,365 291,300 10,002 402,406 South Carolina
129,581 101,452 442,117 12,866 292,627 551,534 30,570 392,518 1,047,299 58,154 490,865 Virginia
934,340 236,420 2,792,325 58,277 681,777 4,486,789 167,691 1,005,685 12,663,310 361,247 1,775,515 United States

Source: Historical Statistics of the U.S. (1970), Franklin (1988).

Slavery in the South

Throughout colonial and antebellum history, U.S. slaves lived primarily in the South. Slaves comprised less than a tenth of the total Southern population in 1680 but grew to a third by 1790. At that date, 293,000 slaves lived in Virginia alone, making up 42 percent of all slaves in the U.S. at the time. South Carolina, North Carolina, and Maryland each had over 100,000 slaves. After the American Revolution, the Southern slave population exploded, reaching about 1.1 million in 1810 and over 3.9 million in 1860.

TABLE 2
Population of the South 1790-1860 by type

Year White Free Nonwhite Slave
1790 1,240,454 32,523 654,121
1800 1,691,892 61,575 851,532
1810 2,118,144 97,284 1,103,700
1820 2,867,454 130,487 1,509,904
1830 3,614,600 175,074 1,983,860
1840 4,601,873 207,214 2,481,390
1850 6,184,477 235,821 3,200,364
1860 8,036,700 253,082 3,950,511

Source: Historical Statistics of the U.S. (1970).

Slave Ownership Patterns

Despite their numbers, slaves typically comprised a minority of the local population. Only in antebellum South Carolina and Mississippi did slaves outnumber free persons. Most Southerners owned no slaves and most slaves lived in small groups rather than on large plantations. Less than one-quarter of white Southerners held slaves, with half of these holding fewer than five and fewer than 1 percent owning more than one hundred. In 1860, the average number of slaves residing together was about ten.

TABLE 3
Slaves as a Percent of the Total Population
selected years, by Southern state

1750 1790 1810 1860
State Black/total Slave/total Slave/total Slave/total
population population population population
Alabama 45.12
Arkansas 25.52
Delaware 5.21 15.04 5.75 1.60
Florida 43.97
Georgia 19.23 35.45 41.68 43.72
Kentucky 16.87 19.82 19.51
Louisiana 46.85
Maryland 30.80 32.23 29.30 12.69
Mississippi 55.18
Missouri 9.72
North Carolina 27.13 25.51 30.39 33.35
South Carolina 60.94 43.00 47.30 57.18
Tennessee 17.02 24.84
Texas 30.22
Virginia 43.91 39.14 40.27 30.75
Overall 37.97 33.95 33.25 32.27

Sources: Historical Statistics of the United States (1970), Franklin (1988).

TABLE 4
Holdings of Southern Slaveowners
by states, 1860

State Total Held 1 Held 2 Held 3 Held 4 Held 5 Held 1-5 Held 100- Held 500+
slaveholders slave slaves Slaves slaves slaves slaves 499 slaves slaves
AL 33,730 5,607 3,663 2,805 2,329 1,986 16,390 344 -
AR 11,481 2,339 1,503 1,070 894 730 6,536 65 1
DE 587 237 114 74 51 34 510 - -
FL 5,152 863 568 437 365 285 2,518 47 -
GA 41,084 6,713 4,335 3,482 2,984 2,543 20,057 211 8
KY 38,645 9,306 5,430 4,009 3,281 2,694 24,720 7 -
LA 22,033 4,092 2,573 2,034 1,536 1,310 11,545 543 4
MD 13,783 4,119 1,952 1,279 1,023 815 9,188 16 -
MS 30,943 4,856 3,201 2,503 2,129 1,809 14,498 315 1
MO 24,320 6,893 3,754 2,773 2,243 1,686 17,349 4 -
NC 34,658 6,440 4,017 3,068 2,546 2,245 18,316 133 -
SC 26,701 3,763 2,533 1,990 1,731 1,541 11,558 441 8
TN 36,844 7,820 4,738 3,609 3,012 2,536 21,715 47 -
TX 21,878 4,593 2,874 2,093 1,782 1,439 12,781 54 -
VA 52,128 11,085 5,989 4,474 3,807 3,233 28,588 114 -
TOTAL 393,967 78,726 47,244 35,700 29,713 24,886 216,269 2,341 22

Source: Historical Statistics of the United States (1970).

Rapid Natural Increase in U.S. Slave Population

How did the U.S. slave population increase nearly fourfold between 1810 and 1860, given the demise of the trans-Atlantic trade? They enjoyed an exceptional rate of natural increase. Unlike elsewhere in the New World, the South did not require constant infusions of immigrant slaves to keep its slave population intact. In fact, by 1825, 36 percent of the slaves in the Western hemisphere lived in the U.S. This was partly due to higher birth rates, which were in turn due to a more equal ratio of female to male slaves in the U.S. relative to other parts of the Americas. Lower mortality rates also figured prominently. Climate was one cause; crops were another. U.S. slaves planted and harvested first tobacco and then, after Eli Whitney’s invention of the cotton gin in 1793, cotton. This work was relatively less grueling than the tasks on the sugar plantations of the West Indies and in the mines and fields of South America. Southern slaves worked in industry, did domestic work, and grew a variety of other food crops as well, mostly under less abusive conditions than their counterparts elsewhere. For example, the South grew half to three-quarters of the corn crop harvested between 1840 and 1860.

INSTITUTIONAL FRAMEWORK

Central to the success of slavery are political and legal institutions that validate the ownership of other persons. A Kentucky court acknowledged the dual character of slaves in Turner v. Johnson (1838): “[S]laves are property and must, under our present institutions, be treated as such. But they are human beings, with like passions, sympathies, and affections with ourselves.” To construct slave law, lawmakers borrowed from laws concerning personal property and animals, as well as from rules regarding servants, employees, and free persons. The outcome was a set of doctrines that supported the Southern way of life.

The English common law of property formed a foundation for U.S. slave law. The French and Spanish influence in Louisiana — and, to a lesser extent, Texas — meant that Roman (or civil) law offered building blocks there as well. Despite certain formal distinctions, slave law as practiced differed little from common-law to civil-law states. Southern state law governed roughly five areas: slave status, masters’ treatment of slaves, interactions between slaveowners and contractual partners, rights and duties of noncontractual parties toward others’ slaves, and slave crimes. Federal law and laws in various Northern states also dealt with matters of interstate commerce, travel, and fugitive slaves.

Interestingly enough, just as slave law combined elements of other sorts of law, so too did it yield principles that eventually applied elsewhere. Lawmakers had to consider the intelligence and volition of slaves as they crafted laws to preserve property rights. Slavery therefore created legal rules that could potentially apply to free persons as well as to those in bondage. Many legal principles we now consider standard in fact had their origins in slave law.

Legal Status Of Slaves And Blacks

By the end of the seventeenth century, the status of blacks — slave or free — tended to follow the status of their mothers. Generally, “white” persons were not slaves but Native and African Americans could be. One odd case was the offspring of a free white woman and a slave: the law often bound these people to servitude for thirty-one years. Conversion to Christianity could set a slave free in the early colonial period, but this practice quickly disappeared.

Skin Color and Status

Southern law largely identified skin color with status. Those who appeared African or of African descent were generally presumed to be slaves. Virginia was the only state to pass a statute that actually classified people by race: essentially, it considered those with one quarter or more black ancestry as black. Other states used informal tests in addition to visual inspection: one-quarter, one-eighth, or one-sixteenth black ancestry might categorize a person as black.

Even if blacks proved their freedom, they enjoyed little higher status than slaves except, to some extent, in Louisiana. Many Southern states forbade free persons of color from becoming preachers, selling certain goods, tending bar, staying out past a certain time of night, or owning dogs, among other things. Federal law denied black persons citizenship under the Dred Scott decision (1857). In this case, Chief Justice Roger Taney also determined that visiting a free state did not free a slave who returned to a slave state, nor did traveling to a free territory ensure emancipation.

Rights And Responsibilities Of Slave Masters

Southern masters enjoyed great freedom in their dealings with slaves. North Carolina Chief Justice Thomas Ruffin expressed the sentiments of many Southerners when he wrote in State v. Mann (1829): “The power of the master must be absolute, to render the submission of the slave perfect.” By the nineteenth century, household heads had far more physical power over their slaves than their employees. In part, the differences in allowable punishment had to do with the substitutability of other means of persuasion. Instead of physical coercion, antebellum employers could legally withhold all wages if a worker did not complete all agreed-upon services. No such alternate mechanism existed for slaves.

Despite the respect Southerners held for the power of masters, the law — particularly in the thirty years before the Civil War — limited owners somewhat. Southerners feared that unchecked slave abuse could lead to theft, public beatings, and insurrection. People also thought that hungry slaves would steal produce and livestock. But masters who treated slaves too well, or gave them freedom, caused consternation as well. The preamble to Delaware’s Act of 1767 conveys one prevalent view: “[I]t is found by experience, that freed [N]egroes and mulattoes are idle and slothful, and often prove burdensome to the neighborhood wherein they live, and are of evil examples to slaves.” Accordingly, masters sometimes fell afoul of the criminal law not only when they brutalized or neglected their slaves, but also when they indulged or manumitted slaves. Still, prosecuting masters was extremely difficult, because often the only witnesses were slaves or wives, neither of whom could testify against male heads of household.

Law of Manumission

One area that changed dramatically over time was the law of manumission. The South initially allowed masters to set their slaves free because this was an inherent right of property ownership. During the Revolutionary period, some Southern leaders also believed that manumission was consistent with the ideology of the new nation. Manumission occurred only rarely in colonial times, increased dramatically during the Revolution, then diminished after the early 1800s. By the 1830s, most Southern states had begun to limit manumission. Allowing masters to free their slaves at will created incentives to emancipate only unproductive slaves. Consequently, the community at large bore the costs of young, old, and disabled former slaves. The public might also run the risk of having rebellious former slaves in its midst.

Antebellum U.S. Southern states worried considerably about these problems and eventually enacted restrictions on the age at which slaves could be free, the number freed by any one master, and the number manumitted by last will. Some required former masters to file indemnifying bonds with state treasurers so governments would not have to support indigent former slaves. Some instead required former owners to contribute to ex-slaves’ upkeep. Many states limited manumissions to slaves of a certain age who were capable of earning a living. A few states made masters emancipate their slaves out of state or encouraged slaveowners to bequeath slaves to the Colonization Society, which would then send the freed slaves to Liberia. Former slaves sometimes paid fees on the way out of town to make up for lost property tax revenue; they often encountered hostility and residential fees on the other end as well. By 1860, most Southern states had banned in-state and post-mortem manumissions, and some had enacted procedures by which free blacks could voluntarily become slaves.

Other Restrictions

In addition to constraints on manumission, laws restricted other actions of masters and, by extension, slaves. Masters generally had to maintain a certain ratio of white to black residents upon plantations. Some laws barred slaves from owning musical instruments or bearing firearms. All states refused to allow slaves to make contracts or testify in court against whites. About half of Southern states prohibited masters from teaching slaves to read and write although some of these permitted slaves to learn rudimentary mathematics. Masters could use slaves for some tasks and responsibilities, but they typically could not order slaves to compel payment, beat white men, or sample cotton. Nor could slaves officially hire themselves out to others, although such prohibitions were often ignored by masters, slaves, hirers, and public officials. Owners faced fines and sometimes damages if their slaves stole from others or caused injuries.

Southern law did encourage benevolence, at least if it tended to supplement the lash and shackle. Court opinions in particular indicate the belief that good treatment of slaves could enhance labor productivity, increase plantation profits, and reinforce sentimental ties. Allowing slaves to control small amounts of property, even if statutes prohibited it, was an oft-sanctioned practice. Courts also permitted slaves small diversions, such as Christmas parties and quilting bees, despite statutes that barred slave assemblies.

Sale, Hire, And Transportation Of Slaves

Sales of Slaves

Slaves were freely bought and sold across the antebellum South. Southern law offered greater protection to slave buyers than to buyers of other goods, in part because slaves were complex commodities with characteristics not easily ascertained by inspection. Slave sellers were responsible for their representations, required to disclose known defects, and often liable for unknown defects, as well as bound by explicit contractual language. These rules stand in stark contrast to the caveat emptor doctrine applied in antebellum commodity sales cases. In fact, they more closely resemble certain provisions of the modern Uniform Commercial Code. Sales law in two states stands out. South Carolina was extremely pro-buyer, presuming that any slave sold at full price was sound. Louisiana buyers enjoyed extensive legal protection as well. A sold slave who later manifested an incurable disease or vice — such as a tendency to escape frequently — could generate a lawsuit that entitled the purchaser to nullify the sale.

Hiring Out Slaves

Slaves faced the possibility of being hired out by their masters as well as being sold. Although scholars disagree about the extent of hiring in agriculture, most concur that hired slaves frequently worked in manufacturing, construction, mining, and domestic service. Hired slaves and free persons often labored side by side. Bond and free workers both faced a legal burden to behave responsibly on the job. Yet the law of the workplace differed significantly for the two: generally speaking, employers were far more culpable in cases of injuries to slaves. The divergent law for slave and free workers does not necessarily imply that free workers suffered. Empirical evidence shows that nineteenth-century free laborers received at least partial compensation for the risks of jobs. Indeed, the tripartite nature of slave-hiring arrangements suggests why antebellum laws appeared as they did. Whereas free persons had direct work and contractual relations with their bosses, slaves worked under terms designed by others. Free workers arguably could have walked out or insisted on different conditions or wages. Slaves could not. The law therefore offered substitute protections. Still, the powerful interests of slaveowners also may mean that they simply were more successful at shaping the law. Postbellum developments in employment law — North and South — in fact paralleled earlier slave-hiring law, at times relying upon slave cases as legal precedents.

Public Transportation

Public transportation also figured into slave law: slaves suffered death and injury aboard common carriers as well as traveled as legitimate passengers and fugitives. As elsewhere, slave-common carrier law both borrowed from and established precedents for other areas of law. One key doctrine originating in slave cases was the “last-clear-chance rule.” Common-carrier defendants that had failed to offer slaves — even negligent slaves — a last clear chance to avoid accidents ended up paying damages to slaveowners. Slaveowner plaintiffs won several cases in the decade before the Civil War when engineers failed to warn slaves off railroad tracks. Postbellum courts used slave cases as precedents to entrench the last-clear-chance doctrine.

Slave Control: Patrollers And Overseers

Society at large shared in maintaining the machinery of slavery. In place of a standing police force, Southern states passed legislation to establish and regulate county-wide citizen patrols. Essentially, Southern citizens took upon themselves the protection of their neighbors’ interests as well as their own. County courts had local administrative authority; court officials appointed three to five men per patrol from a pool of white male citizens to serve for a specified period. Typical patrol duty ranged from one night per week for a year to twelve hours per month for three months. Not all white men had to serve: judges, magistrates, ministers, and sometimes millers and blacksmiths enjoyed exemptions. So did those in the higher ranks of the state militia. In many states, courts had to select from adult males under a certain age, usually 45, 50, or 60. Some states allowed only slaveowners or householders to join patrols. Patrollers typically earned fees for captured fugitive slaves and exemption from road or militia duty, as well as hourly wages. Keeping order among slaves was the patrollers’ primary duty. Statutes set guidelines for appropriate treatment of slaves and often imposed fines for unlawful beatings. In rare instances, patrollers had to compensate masters for injured slaves. For the most part, however, patrollers enjoyed quasi-judicial or quasi-executive powers in their dealings with slaves.

Overseers commanded considerable control as well. The Southern overseer was the linchpin of the large slave plantation. He ran daily operations and served as a first line of defense in safeguarding whites. The vigorous protests against drafting overseers into military service during the Civil War reveal their significance to the South. Yet slaves were too valuable to be left to the whims of frustrated, angry overseers. Injuries caused to slaves by overseers’ cruelty (or “immoral conduct”) usually entitled masters to recover civil damages. Overseers occasionally confronted criminal charges as well. Brutality by overseers naturally generated responses by their victims; at times, courts reduced murder charges to manslaughter when slaves killed abusive overseers.

Protecting The Master Against Loss: Slave Injury And Slave Stealing

Whether they liked it or not, many Southerners dealt daily with slaves. Southern law shaped these interactions among strangers, awarding damages more often for injuries to slaves than injuries to other property or persons, shielding slaves more than free persons from brutality, and generating convictions more frequently in slave-stealing cases than in other criminal cases. The law also recognized more offenses against slaveowners than against other property owners because slaves, unlike other property, succumbed to influence.

Just as assaults of slaves generated civil damages and criminal penalties, so did stealing a slave to sell him or help him escape to freedom. Many Southerners considered slave stealing worse than killing fellow citizens. In marked contrast, selling a free black person into slavery carried almost no penalty.

The counterpart to helping slaves escape — picking up fugitives — also created laws. Southern states offered rewards to defray the costs of capture or passed statutes requiring owners to pay fees to those who caught and returned slaves. Some Northern citizens worked hand-in-hand with their Southern counterparts, returning fugitive slaves to masters either with or without the prompting of law. But many Northerners vehemently opposed the peculiar institution. In an attempt to stitch together the young nation, the federal government passed the first fugitive slave act in 1793. To circumvent its application, several Northern states passed personal liberty laws in the 1840s. Stronger federal fugitive slave legislation then passed in 1850. Still, enough slaves fled to freedom — perhaps as many as 15,000 in the decade before the Civil War — with the help (or inaction) of Northerners that the profession of “slave-catching” evolved. This occupation was often highly risky — enough so that such men could not purchase life insurance coverage — and just as often highly lucrative.

Slave Crimes

Southern law governed slaves as well as slaveowners and their adversaries. What few due process protections slaves possessed stemmed from desires to grant rights to masters. Still, slaves faced harsh penalties for their crimes. When slaves stole, rioted, set fires, or killed free people, the law sometimes had to subvert the property rights of masters in order to preserve slavery as a social institution.

Slaves, like other antebellum Southern residents, committed a host of crimes ranging from arson to theft to homicide. Other slave crimes included violating curfew, attending religious meetings without a master’s consent, and running away. Indeed, a slave was not permitted off his master’s farm or business without his owner’s permission. In rural areas, a slave was required to carry a written pass to leave the master’s land.

Southern states erected numerous punishments for slave crimes, including prison terms, banishment, whipping, castration, and execution. In most states, the criminal law for slaves (and blacks generally) was noticeably harsher than for free whites; in others, slave law as practiced resembled that governing poorer white citizens. Particularly harsh punishments applied to slaves who had allegedly killed their masters or who had committed rebellious acts. Southerners considered these acts of treason and resorted to immolation, drawing and quartering, and hanging.

MARKETS AND PRICES

Market prices for slaves reflect their substantial economic value. Scholars have gathered slave prices from a variety of sources, including censuses, probate records, plantation and slave-trader accounts, and proceedings of slave auctions. These data sets reveal that prime field hands went for four to six hundred dollars in the U.S. in 1800, thirteen to fifteen hundred dollars in 1850, and up to three thousand dollars just before Fort Sumter fell. Even controlling for inflation, the prices of U.S. slaves rose significantly in the six decades before South Carolina seceded from the Union. By 1860, Southerners owned close to $4 billion worth of slaves. Slavery remained a thriving business on the eve of the Civil War: Fogel and Engerman (1974) projected that by 1890 slave prices would have increased on average more than 50 percent over their 1860 levels. No wonder the South rose in armed resistance to protect its enormous investment.

Slave markets existed across the antebellum U.S. South. Even today, one can find stone markers like the one next to the Antietam battlefield, which reads: “From 1800 to 1865 This Stone Was Used as a Slave Auction Block. It has been a famous landmark at this original location for over 150 years.” Private auctions, estate sales, and professional traders facilitated easy exchange. Established dealers like Franklin and Armfield in Virginia, Woolfolk, Saunders, and Overly in Maryland, and Nathan Bedford Forrest in Tennessee prospered alongside itinerant traders who operated in a few counties, buying slaves for cash from their owners, then moving them overland in coffles to the lower South. Over a million slaves were taken across state lines between 1790 and 1860 with many more moving within states. Some of these slaves went with their owners; many were sold to new owners. In his monumental study, Michael Tadman (1989) found that slaves who lived in the upper South faced a very real chance of being sold for profit. From 1820 to 1860, he estimated that an average of 200,000 slaves per decade moved from the upper to the lower South, most via sales. A contemporary newspaper, The Virginia Times, calculated that 40,000 slaves were sold in the year 1830.

Determinants of Slave Prices

The prices paid for slaves reflected two economic factors: the characteristics of the slave and the conditions of the market. Important individual features included age, sex, childbearing capacity (for females), physical condition, temperament, and skill level. In addition, the supply of slaves, demand for products produced by slaves, and seasonal factors helped determine market conditions and therefore prices.

Age and Price

Prices for both male and female slaves tended to follow similar life-cycle patterns. In the U.S. South, infant slaves sold for a positive price because masters expected them to live long enough to make the initial costs of raising them worthwhile. Prices rose through puberty as productivity and experience increased. In nineteenth-century New Orleans, for example, prices peaked at about age 22 for females and age 25 for males. Girls cost more than boys up to their mid-teens. The genders then switched places in terms of value. In the Old South, boys aged 14 sold for 71 percent of the price of 27-year-old men, whereas girls aged 14 sold for 65 percent of the price of 27-year-old men. After the peak age, prices declined slowly for a time, then fell off rapidly as the aging process caused productivity to fall. Compared to full-grown men, women were worth 80 to 90 percent as much. One characteristic in particular set some females apart: their ability to bear children. Fertile females commanded a premium. The mother-child link also proved important for pricing in a different way: people sometimes paid more for intact families.


Source: Fogel and Engerman (1974)

Other Characteristics and Price

Skills, physical traits, mental capabilities, and other qualities also helped determine a slave’s price. Skilled workers sold for premiums of 40-55 percent whereas crippled and chronically ill slaves sold for deep discounts. Slaves who proved troublesome — runaways, thieves, layabouts, drunks, slow learners, and the like — also sold for lower prices. Taller slaves cost more, perhaps because height acts as a proxy for healthiness. In New Orleans, light-skinned females (who were often used as concubines) sold for a 5 percent premium.

Fluctuations in Supply

Prices for slaves fluctuated with market conditions as well as with individual characteristics. U.S. slave prices fell around 1800 as the Haitian revolution sparked the movement of slaves into the Southern states. Less than a decade later, slave prices climbed when the international slave trade was banned, cutting off legal external supplies. Interestingly enough, among those who supported the closing of the trans-Atlantic slave trade were several Southern slaveowners. Why this apparent anomaly? Because the resulting reduction in supply drove up the prices of slaves already living in the U.S and, hence, their masters’ wealth. U.S. slaves had high enough fertility rates and low enough mortality rates to reproduce themselves, so Southern slaveowners did not worry about having too few slaves to go around.

Fluctuations in Demand

Demand helped determine prices as well. The demand for slaves derived in part from the demand for the commodities and services that slaves provided. Changes in slave occupations and variability in prices for slave-produced goods therefore created movements in slave prices. As slaves replaced increasingly expensive indentured servants in the New World, their prices went up. In the period 1748 to 1775, slave prices in British America rose nearly 30 percent. As cotton prices fell in the 1840s, Southern slave prices also fell. But, as the demand for cotton and tobacco grew after about 1850, the prices of slaves increased as well.

Interregional Price Differences

Differences in demand across regions led to transitional regional price differences, which in turn meant large movements of slaves. Yet because planters experienced greater stability among their workforce when entire plantations moved, 84 percent of slaves were taken to the lower South in this way rather than being sold piecemeal.

Time of Year and Price

Demand sometimes had to do with the time of year a sale took place. For example, slave prices in the New Orleans market were 10 to 20 percent higher in January than in September. Why? September was a busy time of year for plantation owners: the opportunity cost of their time was relatively high. Prices had to be relatively low for them to be willing to travel to New Orleans during harvest time.

Expectations and Prices

One additional demand factor loomed large in determining slave prices: the expectation of continued legal slavery. As the American Civil War progressed, prices dropped dramatically because people could not be sure that slavery would survive. In New Orleans, prime male slaves sold on average for $1381 in 1861 and for $1116 in 1862. Burgeoning inflation meant that real prices fell considerably more. By war’s end, slaves sold for a small fraction of their 1860 price.


Source: Data supplied by Stanley Engerman and reported in Walton and Rockoff (1994).

PROFITABILITY, EFFICIENCY, AND EXPLOITATION

That slavery was profitable seems almost obvious. Yet scholars have argued furiously about this matter. On one side stand antebellum writers such as Hinton Rowan Helper and Frederick Law Olmstead, many antebellum abolitionists, and contemporary scholars like Eugene Genovese (at least in his early writings), who speculated that American slavery was unprofitable, inefficient, and incompatible with urban life. On the other side are scholars who have marshaled masses of data to support their contention that Southern slavery was profitable and efficient relative to free labor and that slavery suited cities as well as farms. These researchers stress the similarity between slave markets and markets for other sorts of capital.

Consensus That Slavery Was Profitable

This battle has largely been won by those who claim that New World slavery was profitable. Much like other businessmen, New World slaveowners responded to market signals — adjusting crop mixes, reallocating slaves to more profitable tasks, hiring out idle slaves, and selling slaves for profit. One well-known instance shows that contemporaneous free labor thought that urban slavery may even have worked too well: employees of the Tredegar Iron Works in Richmond, Virginia, went out on their first strike in 1847 to protest the use of slave labor at the Works.

Fogel and Engerman’s Time on the Cross

Carrying the banner of the “slavery was profitable” camp is Nobel laureate Robert Fogel. Perhaps the most controversial book ever written about American slavery is Time on the Cross, published in 1974 by Fogel and co-author Stanley Engerman. These men were among the first to use modern statistical methods, computers, and large datasets to answer a series of empirical questions about the economics of slavery. To find profit levels and rates of return, they built upon the work of Alfred Conrad and John Meyer, who in 1958 had calculated similar measures from data on cotton prices, physical yield per slave, demographic characteristics of slaves (including expected lifespan), maintenance and supervisory costs, and (in the case of females) number of children. To estimate the relative efficiency of farms, Fogel and Engerman devised an index of “total factor productivity,” which measured the output per average unit of input on each type of farm. They included in this index controls for quality of livestock and land and for age and sex composition of the workforce, as well as amounts of output, labor, land, and capital

Time on the Cross generated praise — and considerable criticism. A major critique appeared in 1976 as a collection of articles entitled Reckoning with Slavery. Although some contributors took umbrage at the tone of the book and denied that it broke new ground, others focused on flawed and insufficient data and inappropriate inferences. Despite its shortcomings, Time on the Cross inarguably brought people’s attention to a new way of viewing slavery. The book also served as a catalyst for much subsequent research. Even Eugene Genovese, long an ardent proponent of the belief that Southern planters had held slaves for their prestige value, finally acknowledged that slavery was probably a profitable enterprise. Fogel himself refined and expanded his views in a 1989 book, Without Consent or Contract.

Efficiency Estimates

Fogel’s and Engerman’s research led them to conclude that investments in slaves generated high rates of return, masters held slaves for profit motives rather than for prestige, and slavery thrived in cities and rural areas alike. They also found that antebellum Southern farms were 35 percent more efficient overall than Northern ones and that slave farms in the New South were 53 percent more efficient than free farms in either North or South. This would mean that a slave farm that is otherwise identical to a free farm (in terms of the amount of land, livestock, machinery and labor used) would produce output worth 53 percent more than the free. On the eve of the Civil War, slavery flourished in the South and generated a rate of economic growth comparable to that of many European countries, according to Fogel and Engerman. They also discovered that, because slaves constituted a considerable portion of individual wealth, masters fed and treated their slaves reasonably well. Although some evidence indicates that infant and young slaves suffered much worse conditions than their freeborn counterparts, teenaged and adult slaves lived in conditions similar to — sometimes better than — those enjoyed by many free laborers of the same period.

Transition from Indentured Servitude to Slavery

One potent piece of evidence supporting the notion that slavery provides pecuniary benefits is this: slavery replaces other labor when it becomes relatively cheaper. In the early U.S. colonies, for example, indentured servitude was common. As the demand for skilled servants (and therefore their wages) rose in England, the cost of indentured servants went up in the colonies. At the same time, second-generation slaves became more productive than their forebears because they spoke English and did not have to adjust to life in a strange new world. Consequently, the balance of labor shifted away from indentured servitude and toward slavery.

Gang System

The value of slaves arose in part from the value of labor generally in the antebellum U.S. Scarce factors of production command economic rent, and labor was by far the scarcest available input in America. Moreover, a large proportion of the reward to owning and working slaves resulted from innovative labor practices. Certainly, the use of the “gang” system in agriculture contributed to profits in the antebellum period. In the gang system, groups of slaves perfomed synchronized tasks under the watchful overseer’s eye, much like parts of a single machine. Masters found that treating people like machinery paid off handsomely.

Antebellum slaveowners experimented with a variety of other methods to increase productivity. They developed an elaborate system of “hand ratings” in order to improve the match between the slave worker and the job. Hand ratings categorized slaves by age and sex and rated their productivity relative to that of a prime male field hand. Masters also capitalized on the native intelligence of slaves by using them as agents to receive goods, keep books, and the like.

Use of Positive Incentives

Masters offered positive incentives to make slaves work more efficiently. Slaves often had Sundays off. Slaves could sometimes earn bonuses in cash or in kind, or quit early if they finished tasks quickly. Some masters allowed slaves to keep part of the harvest or to work their own small plots. In places, slaves could even sell their own crops. To prevent stealing, however, many masters limited the products that slaves could raise and sell, confining them to corn or brown cotton, for example. In antebellum Louisiana, slaves even had under their control a sum of money called a peculium. This served as a sort of working capital, enabling slaves to establish thriving businesses that often benefited their masters as well. Yet these practices may have helped lead to the downfall of slavery, for they gave slaves a taste of freedom that left them longing for more.

Slave Families

Masters profited from reproduction as well as production. Southern planters encouraged slaves to have large families because U.S. slaves lived long enough — unlike those elsewhere in the New World — to generate more revenue than cost over their lifetimes. But researchers have found little evidence of slave breeding; instead, masters encouraged slaves to live in nuclear or extended families for stability. Lest one think sentimentality triumphed on the Southern plantation, one need only recall the willingness of most masters to sell if the bottom line was attractive enough.

Profitability and African Heritage

One element that contributed to the profitability of New World slavery was the African heritage of slaves. Africans, more than indigenous Americans, were accustomed to the discipline of agricultural practices and knew metalworking. Some scholars surmise that Africans, relative to Europeans, could better withstand tropical diseases and, unlike Native Americans, also had some exposure to the European disease pool.

Ease of Identifying Slaves

Perhaps the most distinctive feature of Africans, however, was their skin color. Because they looked different from their masters, their movements were easy to monitor. Denying slaves education, property ownership, contractual rights, and other things enjoyed by those in power was simple: one needed only to look at people to ascertain their likely status. Using color was a low-cost way of distinguishing slaves from free persons. For this reason, the colonial practices that freed slaves who converted to Christianity quickly faded away. Deciphering true religious beliefs is far more difficult than establishing skin color. Other slave societies have used distinguishing marks like brands or long hair to denote slaves, yet color is far more immutable and therefore better as a cheap way of keeping slaves separate. Skin color, of course, can also serve as a racist identifying mark even after slavery itself disappears.

Profit Estimates

Slavery never generated superprofits, because people always had the option of putting their money elsewhere. Nevertheless, investment in slaves offered a rate of return — about 10 percent — that was comparable to returns on other assets. Slaveowners were not the only ones to reap rewards, however. So too did cotton consumers who enjoyed low prices and Northern entrepreneurs who helped finance plantation operations.

Exploitation Estimates

So slavery was profitable; was it an efficient way of organizing the workforce? On this question, considerable controversy remains. Slavery might well have profited masters, but only because they exploited their chattel. What is more, slavery could have locked people into a method of production and way of life that might later have proven burdensome.

Fogel and Engerman (1974) claimed that slaves kept about ninety percent of what they produced. Because these scholars also found that agricultural slavery produced relatively more output for a given set of inputs, they argued that slaves may actually have shared in the overall material benefits resulting from the gang system. Other scholars contend that slaves in fact kept less than half of what they produced and that slavery, while profitable, certainly was not efficient. On the whole, current estimates suggest that the typical slave received only about fifty percent of the extra output that he or she produced.

Did Slavery Retard Southern Economic Development?

Gavin Wright (1978) called attention as well to the difference between the short run and the long run. He noted that slaves accounted for a very large proportion of most masters’ portfolios of assets. Although slavery might have seemed an efficient means of production at a point in time, it tied masters to a certain system of labor which might not have adapted quickly to changed economic circumstances. This argument has some merit. Although the South’s growth rate compared favorably with that of the North in the antebellum period, a considerable portion of wealth was held in the hands of planters. Consequently, commercial and service industries lagged in the South. The region also had far less rail transportation than the North. Yet many plantations used the most advanced technologies of the day, and certain innovative commercial and insurance practices appeared first in transactions involving slaves. What is more, although the South fell behind the North and Great Britain in its level of manufacturing, it compared favorably to other advanced countries of the time. In sum, no clear consensus emerges as to whether the antebellum South created a standard of living comparable to that of the North or, if it did, whether it could have sustained it.

Ultimately, the South’s system of law, politics, business, and social customs strengthened the shackles of slavery and reinforced racial stereotyping. As such, it was undeniably evil. Yet, because slaves constituted valuable property, their masters had ample incentives to take care of them. And, by protecting the property rights of masters, slave law necessarily sheltered the persons embodied within. In a sense, the apologists for slavery were right: slaves sometimes fared better than free persons because powerful people had a stake in their well-being.

Conclusion: Slavery Cannot Be Seen As Benign

But slavery cannot be thought of as benign. In terms of material conditions, diet, and treatment, Southern slaves may have fared as well in many ways as the poorest class of free citizens. Yet the root of slavery is coercion. By its very nature, slavery involves involuntary transactions. Slaves are property, whereas free laborers are persons who make choices (at times constrained, of course) about the sort of work they do and the number of hours they work.

The behavior of former slaves after abolition clearly reveals that they cared strongly about the manner of their work and valued their non-work time more highly than masters did. Even the most benevolent former masters in the U.S. South found it impossible to entice their former chattels back into gang work, even with large wage premiums. Nor could they persuade women back into the labor force: many female ex-slaves simply chose to stay at home. In the end, perhaps slavery is an economic phenomenon only because slave societies fail to account for the incalculable costs borne by the slaves themselves.

REFERENCES AND FURTHER READING

For studies pertaining to the economics of slavery, see particularly Aitken, Hugh, editor. Did Slavery Pay? Readings in the Economics of Black Slavery in the United States. Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1971.

Barzel, Yoram. “An Economic Analysis of Slavery.” Journal of Law and Economics 20 (1977): 87-110.

Conrad, Alfred H., and John R. Meyer. The Economics of Slavery and Other Studies. Chicago: Aldine, 1964.

David, Paul A., Herbert G. Gutman, Richard Sutch, Peter Temin, and Gavin Wright. Reckoning with Slavery: A Critical Study in the Quantitative History of American Negro Slavery. New York: Oxford University Press, 1976

Fogel , Robert W. Without Consent or Contract. New York: Norton, 1989.

Fogel, Robert W., and Stanley L. Engerman. Time on the Cross: The Economics of American Negro Slavery. New York: Little, Brown, 1974.

Galenson, David W. Traders, Planters, and Slaves: Market Behavior in Early English America. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1986

Kotlikoff, Laurence. “The Structure of Slave Prices in New Orleans, 1804-1862.” Economic Inquiry 17 (1979): 496-518.

Ransom, Roger L., and Richard Sutch. One Kind of Freedom: The Economic Consequences of Emancipation. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1977.

Ransom, Roger L., and Richard Sutch “Capitalists Without Capital” Agricultural History 62 (1988): 133-160.

Vedder, Richard K. “The Slave Exploitation (Expropriation) Rate.” Explorations in Economic History 12 (1975): 453-57.

Wright, Gavin. The Political Economy of the Cotton South: Households, Markets, and Wealth in the Nineteenth Century. New York: Norton, 1978.

Yasuba, Yasukichi. “The Profitability and Viability of Slavery in the U.S.” Economic Studies Quarterly 12 (1961): 60-67.

For accounts of slave trading and sales, see
Bancroft, Frederic. Slave Trading in the Old South. New York: Ungar, 1931. Tadman, Michael. Speculators and Slaves. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1989.

For discussion of the profession of slave catchers, see
Campbell, Stanley W. The Slave Catchers. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1968.

To read about slaves in industry and urban areas, see
Dew, Charles B. Slavery in the Antebellum Southern Industries. Bethesda: University Publications of America, 1991.

Goldin, Claudia D. Urban Slavery in the American South, 1820-1860: A Quantitative History. Chicago: University of Chicago Press,1976.

Starobin, Robert. Industrial Slavery in the Old South. New York: Oxford University Press, 1970.

For discussions of masters and overseers, see
Oakes, James. The Ruling Race: A History of American Slaveholders. New York: Knopf, 1982.

Roark, James L. Masters Without Slaves. New York: Norton, 1977.

Scarborough, William K. The Overseer: Plantation Management in the Old South. Baton Rouge, Louisiana State University Press, 1966.

On indentured servitude, see
Galenson, David. “Rise and Fall of Indentured Servitude in the Americas: An Economic Analysis.” Journal of Economic History 44 (1984): 1-26.

Galenson, David. White Servitude in Colonial America: An Economic Analysis. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1981.

Grubb, Farley. “Immigrant Servant Labor: Their Occupational and Geographic Distribution in the Late Eighteenth Century Mid-Atlantic Economy.” Social Science History 9 (1985): 249-75.

Menard, Russell R. “From Servants to Slaves: The Transformation of the Chesapeake Labor System.” Southern Studies 16 (1977): 355-90.

On slave law, see
Fede, Andrew. “Legal Protection for Slave Buyers in the U.S. South.” American Journal of Legal History 31 (1987). Finkelman, Paul. An Imperfect Union: Slavery, Federalism, and Comity. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 1981.

Finkelman, Paul. Slavery, Race, and the American Legal System, 1700-1872. New York: Garland, 1988.

Finkelman, Paul, ed. Slavery and the Law. Madison: Madison House, 1997.

Flanigan, Daniel J. The Criminal Law of Slavery and Freedom, 1800-68. New York: Garland, 1987.

Morris, Thomas D., Southern Slavery and the Law: 1619-1860. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996.

Schafer, Judith K. Slavery, The Civil Law, and the Supreme Court of Louisiana. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1994.

Tushnet, Mark V. The American Law of Slavery, 1810-60: Considerations of Humanity and Interest. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981.

Wahl, Jenny B. The Bondsman’s Burden: An Economic Analysis of the Common Law of Southern Slavery. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998.

Other useful sources include
Berlin, Ira, and Philip D. Morgan, eds. The Slave’s Economy: Independent Production by Slaves in the Americas. London: Frank Cass, 1991.

Berlin, Ira, and Philip D. Morgan, eds, Cultivation and Culture: Labor and the Shaping of Slave Life in the Americas. Charlottesville, University Press of Virginia, 1993.

Elkins, Stanley M. Slavery: A Problem in American Institutional and Intellectual Life. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1976.

Engerman, Stanley, and Eugene Genovese. Race and Slavery in the Western Hemisphere: Quantitative Studies. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975.

Fehrenbacher, Don. Slavery, Law, and Politics. New York: Oxford University Press, 1981.

Franklin, John H. From Slavery to Freedom. New York: Knopf, 1988.

Genovese, Eugene D. Roll, Jordan, Roll. New York: Pantheon, 1974.

Genovese, Eugene D. The Political Economy of Slavery: Studies in the Economy and Society of the Slave South . Middletown, CT: Wesleyan, 1989.

Hindus, Michael S. Prison and Plantation. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1980.

Margo, Robert, and Richard Steckel. “The Heights of American Slaves: New Evidence on Slave Nutrition and Health.” Social Science History 6 (1982): 516-538.

Phillips, Ulrich B. American Negro Slavery: A Survey of the Supply, Employment and Control of Negro Labor as Determined by the Plantation Regime. New York: Appleton, 1918.

Stampp, Kenneth M. The Peculiar Institution: Slavery in the Antebellum South. New York: Knopf, 1956.

Steckel, Richard. “Birth Weights and Infant Mortality Among American Slaves.” Explorations in Economic History 23 (1986): 173-98.

Walton, Gary, and Hugh Rockoff. History of the American Economy. Orlando: Harcourt Brace, 1994, chapter 13.

Whaples, Robert. “Where Is There Consensus among American Economic Historians?” Journal of Economic History 55 (1995): 139-154.

Data can be found at
U.S. Bureau of the Census, Historical Statistics of the United States, 1970, collected in ICPSR study number 0003, “Historical Demographic, Economic and Social Data: The United States, 1790-1970,” located at http://fisher.lib.virginia.edu/census/.

Citation: Bourne, Jenny. “Slavery in the United States”. EH.Net Encyclopedia, edited by Robert Whaples. March 26, 2008. URL http://eh.net/encyclopedia/slavery-in-the-united-states/

History of Workplace Safety in the United States, 1880-1970

Mark Aldrich, Smith College

The dangers of work are usually measured by the number of injuries or fatalities occurring to a group of workers, usually over a period of one year. 1 Over the past century such measures reveal a striking improvement in the safety of work in all the advanced countries. In part this has been the result of the gradual shift of jobs from relatively dangerous goods production such as farming, fishing, logging, mining, and manufacturing into such comparatively safe work as retail trade and services. But even the dangerous trades are now far safer than they were in 1900. To take but one example, mining today remains a comparatively risky activity. Its annual fatality rate is about nine for every one hundred thousand miners employed. A century ago in 1900 about three hundred out of every one hundred thousand miners were killed on the job each year. 2

The Nineteenth Century

Before the late nineteenth century we know little about the safety of American workplaces because contemporaries cared little about it. As a result, only fragmentary information exists prior to the 1880s. Pre-industrial laborers faced risks from animals and hand tools, ladders and stairs. Industrialization substituted steam engines for animals, machines for hand tools, and elevators for ladders. But whether these new technologies generally worsened the dangers of work is unclear. What is clear is that nowhere was the new work associated with the industrial revolution more dangerous than in America.

US Was Unusually Dangerous

Americans modified the path of industrialization that had been pioneered in Britain to fit the particular geographic and economic circumstances of the American continent. Reflecting the high wages and vast natural resources of a new continent, this American system encouraged use of labor saving machines and processes. These developments occurred within a legal and regulatory climate that diminished employer’s interest in safety. As a result, Americans developed production methods that were both highly productive and often very dangerous. 3

Accidents Were “Cheap”

While workers injured on the job or their heirs might sue employers for damages, winning proved difficult. Where employers could show that the worker had assumed the risk, or had been injured by the actions of a fellow employee, or had himself been partly at fault, courts would usually deny liability. A number or surveys taken about 1900 showed that only about half of all workers fatally injured recovered anything and their average compensation only amounted to about half a year’s pay. Because accidents were so cheap, American industrial methods developed with little reference to their safety. 4

Mining

Nowhere was the American system more dangerous than in early mining. In Britain, coal seams were deep and coal expensive. As a result, British mines used mining methods that recovered nearly all of the coal because they used waste rock to hold up the roof. British methods also concentrated the working, making supervision easy, and required little blasting. American coal deposits by contrast, were both vast and near the surface; they could be tapped cheaply using techniques known as “room and pillar” mining. Such methods used coal pillars and timber to hold up the roof, because timber and coal were cheap. Since miners worked in separate rooms, labor supervision was difficult and much blasting was required to bring down the coal. Miners themselves were by no means blameless; most were paid by the ton, and when safety interfered with production, safety often took a back seat. For such reasons, American methods yielded more coal per worker than did European techniques, but they were far more dangerous, and toward the end of the nineteenth century, the dangers worsened (see Table 1).5

Table 1
British and American Mine Safety, 1890 -1904
(Fatality rates per Thousand Workers per Year)

Years American Anthracite American Bituminous Great Britain
1890-1894 3.29 2.52 1.61
1900-1904 3.13 3.53 1.28

Source: British data from Great Britain, General Report. Other data from Aldrich, Safety First.

Railroads

Nineteenth century American railroads were also comparatively dangerous to their workers – and their passengers as well – and for similar reasons. Vast North American distances and low population density turned American carriers into predominantly freight haulers – and freight was far more dangerous to workers than passenger traffic, for men had to go in between moving cars for coupling and uncoupling and ride the cars to work brakes. The thin traffic and high wages also forced American carriers to economize on both capital and labor. Accordingly, American carriers were poorly built and used few signals, both of which resulted in many derailments and collisions. Such conditions made American railroad work far more dangerous than that in Britain (see Table 2).6

Table 2
Comparative Safety of British and American Railroad Workers, 1889 – 1901
(Fatality Rates per Thousand Workers per Year)

1889 1895 1901
British railroad workers
All causes
1.14 0.95 0.89
British trainmena
All causes
4.26 3.22 2.21
Coupling 0.94 0.83 0.74
American Railroad workers
All causes
2.67 2.31 2.50
American trainmen
All causes
8.52 6.45 7.35
Coupling 1.73c 1.20 0.78
Brakingb 3.25c 2.44 2.03

Source: Aldrich, Safety First, Table 1 and Great Britain Board of Trade, General Report.

1

Note: Death rates are per thousand employees.
a. Guards, brakemen, and shunters.
b. Deaths from falls from cars and striking overhead obstructions.

Manufacturing

American manufacturing also developed in a distinctively American fashion that substituted power and machinery for labor and manufactured products with interchangeable arts for ease in mass production. Whether American methods were less safe than those in Europe is unclear but by 1900 they were extraordinarily risky by modern standards, for machines and power sources were largely unguarded. And while competition encouraged factory managers to strive for ever-increased output, they showed little interest in improving safety.7

Worker and Employer Responses

Workers and firms responded to these dangers in a number of ways. Some workers simply left jobs they felt were too dangerous, and risky jobs may have had to offer higher pay to attract workers. After the Civil War life and accident insurance companies expanded, and some workers purchased insurance or set aside savings to offset the income risks from death or injury. Some unions and fraternal organizations also offered their members insurance. Railroads and some mines also developed hospital and insurance plans to care for injured workers while many carriers provided jobs for all their injured men. 8

Improving safety, 1910-1939

Public efforts to improve safety date from the very beginnings of industrialization. States established railroad regulatory commissions as early as the 1840s. But while most of the commissions were intended to improve safety, they had few powers and were rarely able to exert much influence on working conditions. Similarly, the first state mining commission began in Pennsylvania in 1869, and other states soon followed. Yet most of the early commissions were ineffectual and as noted safety actually deteriorated after the Civil War. Factory commissions also dated from but most were understaffed and they too had little power.9

Railroads

The most successful effort to improve work safety during the nineteenth century began on the railroads in the 1880s as a small band of railroad regulators, workers, and managers began to campaign for the development of better brakes and couplers for freight cars. In response George Westinghouse modified his passenger train air brake in about 1887 so it would work on long freights, while at roughly the same time Ely Janney developed an automatic car coupler. For the railroads such equipment meant not only better safety, but also higher productivity and after 1888 they began to deploy it. The process was given a boost in 1889-1890 when the newly-formed Interstate Commerce Commission (ICC) published its first accident statistics. They demonstrated conclusively the extraordinary risks to trainmen from coupling and riding freight (Table 2). In 1893 Congress responded, passing the Safety Appliance Act, which mandated use of such equipment. It was the first federal law intended primarily to improve work safety, and by 1900 when the new equipment was widely diffused, risks to trainmen had fallen dramatically.10

Federal Safety Regulation

In the years between 1900 and World War I, a rather strange band of Progressive reformers, muckraking journalists, businessmen, and labor unions pressed for changes in many areas of American life. These years saw the founding of the Federal Food and Drug Administration, the Federal Reserve System and much else. Work safety also became of increased public concern and the first important developments came once again on the railroads. Unions representing trainmen had been impressed by the safety appliance act of 1893 and after 1900 they campaigned for more of the same. In response Congress passed a host of regulations governing the safety of locomotives and freight cars. While most of these specific regulations were probably modestly beneficial, collectively their impact was small because unlike the rules governing automatic couplers and air brakes they addressed rather minor risks.11

In 1910 Congress also established the Bureau of Mines in response to a series of disastrous and increasingly frequent explosions. The Bureau was to be a scientific, not a regulatory body and it was intended to discover and disseminate new knowledge on ways to improve mine safety.12

Workers’ Compensation Laws Enacted

Far more important were new laws that raised the cost of accidents to employers. In 1908 Congress passed a federal employers’ liability law that applied to railroad workers in interstate commerce and sharply limited defenses an employee could claim. Worker fatalities that had once cost the railroads perhaps $200 now cost $2,000. Two years later in 1910, New York became the first state to pass a workmen’s compensation law. This was a European idea. Instead of requiring injured workers to sue for damages in court and prove the employer was negligent, the new law automatically compensated all injuries at a fixed rate. Compensation appealed to businesses because it made costs more predictable and reduced labor strife. To reformers and unions it promised greater and more certain benefits. Samuel Gompers, leader of the American Federation of Labor had studied the effects of compensation in Germany. He was impressed with how it stimulated business interest in safety, he said. Between 1911 and 1921 forty-four states passed compensation laws.13

Employers Become Interested in Safety

The sharp rise in accident costs that resulted from compensation laws and tighter employers’ liability initiated the modern concern with work safety and initiated the long-term decline in work accidents and injuries. Large firms in railroading, mining, manufacturing and elsewhere suddenly became interested in safety. Companies began to guard machines and power sources while machinery makers developed safer designs. Managers began to look for hidden dangers at work, and to require that workers wear hard hats and safety glasses. They also set up safety departments run by engineers and safety committees that included both workers and managers. In 1913 companies founded the National Safety Council to pool information. Government agencies such as the Bureau of Mines and National Bureau of Standards provided scientific support while universities also researched safety problems for firms and industries14

Accident Rates Begin to Fall Steadily

During the years between World War I and World War II the combination of higher accident costs along with the institutionalization of safety concerns in large firms began to show results. Railroad employee fatality rates declined steadily after 1910 and at some large companies such as DuPont and whole industries such as steel making (see Table 3) safety also improved dramatically. Largely independent changes in technology and labor markets also contributed to safety as well. The decline in labor turnover meant fewer new employees who were relatively likely to get hurt, while the spread of factory electrification not only improved lighting but reduced the dangers from power transmission as well. In coal mining the shift from underground work to strip mining also improved safety. Collectively these long-term forces reduced manufacturing injury rates about 38 percent between 1926 and 1939 (see Table 4).15

Table 3
Steel Industry fatality and Injury rates, 1910-1939
(Rates are per million manhours)

Period Fatality rate Injury Rate
1910-1913 0.40 44.1
1937-1939 0.13 11.7

Pattern of Improvement Was Uneven

Yet the pattern of improvement was uneven, both over time and among firms and industries. Safety still deteriorated in times of economic boon when factories mines and railroads were worked to the limit and labor turnover rose. Nor were small companies as successful in reducing risks, for they paid essentially the same compensation insurance premium irrespective of their accident rate, and so the new laws had little effect there. Underground coal mining accidents also showed only modest improvement. Safety was also expensive in coal and many firms were small and saw little payoff from a lower accident rate. The one source of danger that did decline was mine explosions, which diminished in response to technologies developed by the Bureau of Mines. Ironically, however, in 1940 six disastrous blasts that killed 276 men finally led to federal mine inspection in 1941.16

Table 4
Work Injury Rates, Manufacturing and Coal Mining, 1926-1970
(Per Million Manhours)

.

Year Manufacturing Coal Mining
1926 24.2
1931 18.9 89.9
1939 14.9 69.5
1945 18.6 60.7
1950 14.7 53.3
1960 12.0 43.4
1970 15.2 42.6

Source: U.S. Department of Commerce Bureau of the Census, Historical Statistics of the United States, Colonial Times to 1970 (Washington, 1975), Series D-1029 and D-1031.

Postwar Trends, 1945-1970

The economic boon and associated labor turnover during World War II worsened work safety in nearly all areas of the economy, but after 1945 accidents again declined as long-term forces reasserted themselves (Table 4). In addition, after World War II newly powerful labor unions played an increasingly important role in work safety. In the 1960s however economic expansion again led to rising injury rates and the resulting political pressures led Congress to establish the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) and the Mine Safety and Health Administration in 1970. The continuing problem of mine explosions also led to the foundation of the Mine Safety and Health Administration (MSHA) that same year. The work of these agencies had been controversial but on balance they have contributed to the continuing reductions in work injuries after 1970.17

References and Further Reading

Aldrich, Mark. Safety First: Technology, Labor and Business in the Building of Work Safety, 1870-1939. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1997.

Aldrich, Mark. “Preventing ‘The Needless Peril of the Coal Mine': the Bureau of Mines and the Campaign Against Coal Mine Explosions, 1910-1940.” Technology and Culture 36, no. 3 (1995): 483-518.

Aldrich, Mark. “The Peril of the Broken Rail: the Carriers, the Steel Companies, and Rail Technology, 1900-1945.” Technology and Culture 40, no. 2 (1999): 263-291

Aldrich, Mark. “Train Wrecks to Typhoid Fever: The Development of Railroad Medicine Organizations, 1850 -World War I.” Bulletin of the History of Medicine, 75, no. 2 (Summer 2001): 254-89.

Derickson Alan. “Participative Regulation of Hazardous Working Conditions: Safety Committees of the United Mine Workers of America,” Labor Studies Journal 18, no. 2 (1993): 25-38.

Dix, Keith. Work Relations in the Coal Industry: The Hand Loading Era. Morgantown: University of West Virginia Press, 1977. The best discussion of coalmine work for this period.

Dix, Keith. What’s a Coal Miner to Do? Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1988. The best discussion of coal mine labor during the era of mechanization.

Fairris, David. “From Exit to Voice in Shopfloor Governance: The Case of Company Unions.” Business History Review 69, no. 4 (1995): 494-529.

Fairris, David. “Institutional Change in Shopfloor Governance and the Trajectory of Postwar Injury Rates in U.S. Manufacturing, 1946-1970.” Industrial and Labor Relations Review 51, no. 2 (1998): 187-203.

Fishback, Price. Soft Coal Hard Choices: The Economic Welfare of Bituminous Coal Miners, 1890-1930. New York: Oxford University Press, 1992. The best economic analysis of the labor market for coalmine workers.

Fishback, Price and Shawn Kantor. A Prelude to the Welfare State: The Origins of Workers’ Compensation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000. The best discussions of how employers’ liability rules worked.

Graebner, William. Coal Mining Safety in the Progressive Period. Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 1976.

Great Britain Board of Trade. General Report upon the Accidents that Have Occurred on Railways of the United Kingdom during the Year 1901. London, HMSO, 1902.

Great Britain Home Office Chief Inspector of Mines. General Report with Statistics for 1914, Part I. London: HMSO, 1915.

Hounshell, David. From the American System to Mass Production, 1800-1932: The Development of Manufacturing Technology in the United States. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1984.

Humphrey, H. B. “Historical Summary of Coal-Mine Explosions in the United States — 1810-1958.” United States Bureau of Mines Bulletin 586 (1960).

Kirkland, Edward. Men, Cities, and Transportation. 2 vols. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1948, Discusses railroad regulation and safety in New England.

Lankton, Larry. Cradle to Grave: Life, Work, and Death in Michigan Copper Mines. New York: Oxford University Press, 1991.

Licht, Walter. Working for the Railroad. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983.

Long, Priscilla. Where the Sun Never Shines. New York: Paragon, 1989. Covers coal mine safety at the end of the nineteenth century.

Mendeloff, John. Regulating Safety: An Economic and Political Analysis of Occupational Safety and Health Policy. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1979. An accessible modern discussion of safety under OSHA.

National Academy of Sciences. Toward Safer Underground Coal Mines. Washington, DC: NAS, 1982.

Rogers, Donald. “From Common Law to Factory Laws: The Transformation of Workplace Safety Law in Wisconsin before Progressivism.” American Journal of Legal History (1995): 177-213.

Root, Norman and Daley, Judy. “Are Women Safer Workers? A New Look at the Data.” Monthly Labor Review 103, no. 9 (1980): 3-10.

Rosenberg, Nathan. Technology and American Economic Growth. New York: Harper and Row, 1972. Analyzes the forces shaping American technology.

Rosner, David and Gerald Markowity, editors. Dying for Work. Blomington: Indiana University Press, 1987.

Shaw, Robert. Down Brakes: A History of Railroad Accidents, Safety Precautions, and Operating Practices in the United States of America. London: P. R. Macmillan. 1961.

Trachenberg, Alexander. The History of Legislation for the Protection of Coal Miners in Pennsylvania, 1824 – 1915. New York: International Publishers. 1942.

U.S. Department of Commerce, Bureau of the Census. Historical Statistics of the United States, Colonial Times to 1970. Washington, DC, 1975.

Usselman, Steven. “Air Brakes for Freight Trains: Technological Innovation in the American Railroad Industry, 1869-1900.” Business History Review 58 (1984): 30-50.

Viscusi, W. Kip. Risk By Choice: Regulating Health and Safety in the Workplace. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983. The most readable treatment of modern safety issues by a leading scholar.

Wallace, Anthony. Saint Clair. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1987. Provides a superb discussion of early anthracite mining and safety.

Whaples, Robert and David Buffum. “Fraternalism, Paternalism, the Family and the Market: Insurance a Century Ago.” Social Science History 15 (1991): 97-122.

White, John. The American Railroad Freight Car. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993. The definitive history of freight car technology.

Whiteside, James. Regulating Danger: The Struggle for Mine Safety in the Rocky Mountain Coal Industry. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1990.

Wokutch, Richard. Worker Protection Japanese Style: Occupational Safety and Health in the Auto Industry. Ithaca, NY: ILR, 1992

Worrall, John, editor. Safety and the Work Force: Incentives and Disincentives in Workers’ Compensation. Ithaca, NY: ILR Press, 1983.

1 Injuries or fatalities are expressed as rates. For example, if ten workers are injured out of 450 workers during a year, the rate would be .006666. For readability it might be expressed as 6.67 per thousand or 666.7 per hundred thousand workers. Rates may also be expressed per million workhours. Thus if the average work year is 2000 hours, ten injuries in 450 workers results in [10/450×2000]x1,000,000 = 11.1 injuries per million hours worked.

2 For statistics on work injuries from 1922-1970 see U.S. Department of Commerce, Historical Statistics, Series 1029-1036. For earlier data are in Aldrich, Safety First, Appendix 1-3.

3 Hounshell, American System. Rosenberg, Technology,. Aldrich, Safety First.

4 On the workings of the employers’ liability system see Fishback and Kantor, A Prelude, chapter 2

5 Dix, Work Relations, and his What’s a Coal Miner to Do? Wallace, Saint Clair, is a superb discussion of early anthracite mining and safety. Long, Where the Sun, Fishback, Soft Coal, chapters 1, 2, and 7. Humphrey, “Historical Summary.” Aldrich, Safety First, chapter 2.

6 Aldrich, Safety First chapter 1.

7 Aldrich, Safety First chapter 3

8 Fishback and Kantor, A Prelude, chapter 3, discusses higher pay for risky jobs as well as worker savings and accident insurance See also Whaples and Buffum, “Fraternalism, Paternalism.” Aldrich, ” Train Wrecks to Typhoid Fever.”

9Kirkland, Men, Cities. Trachenberg, The History of Legislation Whiteside, Regulating Danger. An early discussion of factory legislation is in Susan Kingsbury, ed.,xxxxx. Rogers,” From Common Law.”

10 On the evolution of freight car technology see White, American Railroad Freight Car, Usselman “Air Brakes for Freight trains,” and Aldrich, Safety First, chapter 1. Shaw, Down Brakes, discusses causes of train accidents.

11 Details of these regulations may be found in Aldrich, Safety First, chapter 5.

12 Graebner, Coal-Mining Safety, Aldrich, “‘The Needless Peril.”

13 On the origins of these laws see Fishback and Kantor, A Prelude, and the sources cited therein.

14 For assessments of the impact of early compensation laws see Aldrich, Safety First, chapter 5 and Fishback and Kantor, A Prelude, chapter 3. Compensation in the modern economy is discussed in Worrall, Safety and the Work Force. Government and other scientific work that promoted safety on railroads and in coal mining are discussed in Aldrich, “‘The Needless Peril’,” and “The Broken Rail.”

15 Farris, “From Exit to Voice.”

16 Aldrich, “‘Needless Peril,” and Humphrey

17 Derickson, “Participative Regulation” and Fairris, “Institutional Change,” also emphasize the role of union and shop floor issues in shaping safety during these years. Much of the modern literature on safety is highly quantitative. For readable discussions see Mendeloff, Regulating Safety (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1979), and

Citation: Aldrich, Mark. “History of Workplace Safety in the United States, 1880-1970″. EH.Net Encyclopedia, edited by Robert Whaples. August 14, 2001. URL http://eh.net/encyclopedia/history-of-workplace-safety-in-the-united-states-1880-1970/

The Protestant Ethic Thesis

Donald Frey, Wake Forest University

German sociologist Max Weber (1864 -1920) developed the Protestant-ethic thesis in two journal articles published in 1904-05. The English translation appeared in book form as The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism in 1930. Weber argued that Reformed (i.e., Calvinist) Protestantism was the seedbed of character traits and values that under-girded modern capitalism. This article summarizes Weber’s formulation, considers criticisms of Weber’s thesis, and reviews evidence of linkages between cultural values and economic growth.

Outline of Weber’s Thesis

Weber emphasized that money making as a calling had been “contrary to the ethical feelings of whole epochs…” (Weber 1930, p.73; further Weber references by page number alone). Lacking moral support in pre-Protestant societies, business had been strictly limited to “the traditional manner of life, the traditional rate of profit, the traditional amount of work…” (67). Yet, this pattern “was suddenly destroyed, and often entirely without any essential change in the form of organization…” Calvinism, Weber argued, changed the spirit of capitalism, transforming it into a rational and unashamed pursuit of profit for its own sake.

In an era when religion dominated all of life, Martin Luther’s (1483-1546) insistence that salvation was by God’s grace through faith had placed all vocations on the same plane. Contrary to medieval belief, religious vocations were no longer considered superior to economic vocations for only personal faith mattered with God. Nevertheless, Luther did not push this potential revolution further because he clung to a traditional, static view of economic life. John Calvin (1509-1564), or more accurately Calvinism, changed that.

Calvinism accomplished this transformation, not so much by its direct teachings, but (according to Weber) by the interaction of its core theology with human psychology. Calvin had pushed the doctrine of God’s grace to the limits of the definition: grace is a free gift, something that the Giver, by definition, must be free to bestow or withhold. Under this definition, sacraments, good deeds, contrition, virtue, assent to doctrines, etc. could not influence God (104); for, if they could, that would turn grace into God’s side of a transaction instead its being a pure gift. Such absolute divine freedom, from mortal man’s perspective, however, seemed unfathomable and arbitrary (103). Thus, whether one was among those saved (the elect) became the urgent question for the average Reformed churchman according to Weber.

Uncertainty about salvation, according to Weber, had the psychological effect of producing a single-minded search for certainty. Although one could never influence God’s decision to extend or withhold election, one might still attempt to ascertain his or her status. A life that “… served to increase the glory of God” presumably flowed naturally from a state of election (114). If one glorified God and conformed to what was known of God’s requirements for this life then that might provide some evidence of election. Thus upright living, which could not earn salvation, returned as evidence of salvation.

The upshot was that the Calvinist’s living was “thoroughly rationalized in this world and dominated by the aim to add to the glory of God in earth…” (118). Such a life became a systematic living out of God’s revealed will. This singleness of purpose left no room for diversion and created what Weber called an ascetic character. “Not leisure and enjoyment, but only activity serves to increase the glory of God, according to the definite manifestations of His will” (157). Only in a calling does this focus find full expression. “A man without a calling thus lacks the systematic, methodical character which is… demanded by worldly asceticism” (161). A calling represented God’s will for that person in the economy and society.

Such emphasis on a calling was but a small step from a full-fledged capitalistic spirit. In practice, according to Weber, that small step was taken, for “the most important criterion [of a calling] is … profitableness. For if God … shows one of His elect a chance of profit, he must do it with a purpose…” (162). This “providential interpretation of profit-making justified the activities of the business man,” and led to “the highest ethical appreciation of the sober, middle-class, self-made man” (163).

A sense of calling and an ascetic ethic applied to laborers as well as to entrepreneurs and businessmen. Nascent capitalism required reliable, honest, and punctual labor (23-24), which in traditional societies had not existed (59-62). That free labor would voluntarily submit to the systematic discipline of work under capitalism required an internalized value system unlike any seen before (63). Calvinism provided this value system (178-79).

Weber’s “ascetic Protestantism” was an all-encompassing value system that shaped one’s whole life, not merely ethics on the job. Life was to be controlled the better to serve God. Impulse and those activities that encouraged impulse, such as sport or dance, were to be shunned. External finery and ornaments turned attention away from inner character and purpose; so the simpler life was better. Excess consumption and idleness were resources wasted that could otherwise glorify God. In short, the Protestant ethic ordered life according to its own logic, but also according to the needs of modern capitalism as understood by Weber.

An adequate summary requires several additional points. First, Weber virtually ignored the issue of usury or interest. This contrasts with some writers who take a church’s doctrine on usury to be the major indicator of its sympathy to capitalism. Second, Weber magnified the extent of his Protestant ethic by claiming to find Calvinist economic traits in later, otherwise non-Calvinist Protestant movements. He recalled the Methodist John Wesley’s (1703-1791) “Earn all you can, save all you can, give all you can,” and ascetic practices by followers of the eighteenth-century Moravian leader Nicholas Von Zinzendorf (1700-1760). Third, Weber thought that once established the spirit of modern capitalism could perpetuate its values without religion, citing Benjamin Franklin whose ethic already rested on utilitarian foundations. Fourth, Weber’s book showed little sympathy for either Calvinism, which he thought encouraged a “spiritual aristocracy of the predestined saints” (121), or capitalism , which he thought irrational for valuing profit for its own sake. Finally, although Weber’s thesis could be viewed as a rejoinder to Karl Marx (1818-1883), Weber claimed it was not his goal to replace Marx’s one-sided materialism with “an equally one-sided spiritualistic causal interpretation…” of capitalism (183).

Critiques of Weber

Critiques of Weber can be put into three categories. First, Weber might have been wrong about the facts: modern capitalism might have arisen before Reformed Protestantism or in places where the Reformed influence was much smaller than Weber believed. Second, Weber might have misinterpreted Calvinism or, more narrowly, Puritanism; if Reformed teachings were not what Weber supposed, then logically they might not have supported capitalism. Third, Weber might have overstated capitalism’s need for the ascetic practices produced by Reformed teachings.

On the first count, Weber has been criticized by many. During the early twentieth century, historians studied the timing of the emergence of capitalism and Calvinism in Europe. E. Fischoff (1944, 113) reviewed the literature and concluded that the “timing will show that Calvinism emerged later than capitalism where the latter became decisively powerful,” suggesting no cause-and-effect relationship. Roland Bainton also suggests that the Reformed contributed to the development of capitalism only as a “matter of circumstance” (Bainton 1952, 254). The Netherlands “had long been the mart of Christendom, before ever the Calvinists entered the land.” Finally, Kurt Samuelsson (1957) concedes that “the Protestant countries, and especially those adhering to the Reformed church, were particularly vigorous economically” (Samuelsson, 102). However, he finds much reason to discredit a cause-and-effect relationship. Sometimes capitalism preceded Calvinism (Netherlands), and sometimes lagged by too long a period to suggest causality (Switzerland). Sometimes Catholic countries (Belgium) developed about the same time as the Protestant countries. Even in America, capitalist New England was cancelled out by the South, which Samuelsson claims also shared a Puritan outlook.

Weber himself, perhaps seeking to circumvent such evidence, created a distinction between traditional capitalism and modern capitalism. The view that traditional capitalism could have existed first, but that Calvinism in some meaningful sense created modern capitalism, depends on too fine a distinction according to critics such as Samuelsson. Nevertheless, because of the impossibility of controlled experiments to firmly resolve the question, the issue will never be completely closed.

The second type of critique is that Weber misinterpreted Calvinism or Puritanism. British scholar R. H. Tawney in Religion and the Rise of Capitalism (1926) noted that Weber treated multi-faceted Reformed Christianity as though it were equivalent to late-era English Puritanism, the period from which Weber’s most telling quotes were drawn. Tawney observed that the “iron collectivism” of Calvin’s Geneva had evolved before Calvinism became harmonious with capitalism. “[Calvinism] had begun by being the very soul of authoritarian regimentation. It ended by being the vehicle of an almost Utilitarian individualism” (Tawney 1962, 226-7). Nevertheless, Tawney affirmed Weber’s point that Puritanism “braced [capitalism’s] energies and fortified its already vigorous temper.”

Roland Bainton in his own history of the Reformation disputed Weber’s psychological claims. Despite the psychological uncertainty Weber imputed to Puritans, their activism could be “not psychological and self-centered but theological and God-centered” (Bainton 1952, 252-53). That is, God ordered all of life and society, and Puritans felt obliged to act on His will. And if some Puritans scrutinized themselves for evidence of election, “the test was emphatically not economic activity as such but upright character…” He concludes that Calvinists had no particular affinity for capitalism but that they brought “vitality and drive into every area … whether they were subduing a continent, overthrowing a monarchy, or managing a business, or reforming the evils of the very order which they helped to create” (255).

Samuelsson, in a long section (27-48), argued that Puritan leaders did not truly endorse capitalistic behavior. Rather, they were ambivalent. Given that Puritan congregations were composed of businessmen and their families (who allied with Puritan churches because both wished for less royal control of society), the preachers could hardly condemn capitalism. Instead, they clarified “the moral conditions under which a prosperous, even wealthy, businessman may, despite success and wealth, become a good Christian” (38). But this, Samuelsson makes clear, was hardly a ringing endorsement of capitalism.

Criticisms that what Weber described as Puritanism was not true Puritanism, much less Calvinism, may be correct but beside the point. Puritan leaders indeed condemned exclusive devotion to one’s business because it excluded God and the common good. Thus, the Protestant ethic as described by Weber apparently would have been a deviation from pure doctrine. However, the pastors’ very attacks suggest that such a (mistaken) spirit did exist within their flocks. But such mistaken doctrine, if widespread enough, could still have contributed to the formation of the capitalist spirit.

Furthermore, any misinterpretation of Puritan orthodoxy was not entirely the fault of Puritan laypersons. Puritan theologians and preachers could place heavier emphasis on economic success and virtuous labor than critics such as Samuelsson would admit. The American preacher John Cotton (1582-1652) made clear that God “would have his best gifts improved to the best advantage.” The respected theologian William Ames (1576-1633) spoke of “taking and using rightly opportunity.” And, speaking of the idle, Cotton Mather said, “find employment for them, set them to work, and keep them at work…” A lesser standard would hardly apply to his hearers. Although these exhortations were usually balanced with admonitions to use wealth for the common good, and not to be motivated by greed, they are nevertheless clear endorsements of vigorous economic behavior. Puritan leaders may have placed boundaries around economic activism, but they still preached activism.

Frey (1998) has argued that orthodox Puritanism exhibited an inherent tension between approval of economic activity and emphasis upon the moral boundaries that define acceptable economic activity. A calling was never meant for the service of self alone but for the service of God and the common good. That is, Puritan thinkers always viewed economic activity against the backdrop of social and moral obligation. Perhaps what orthodox Puritanism contributed to capitalism was a sense of economic calling bounded by moral responsibility. In an age when Puritan theologians were widely read, Williams Ames defined the essence of the business contract as “upright dealing, by which one does sincerely intend to oblige himself…” If nothing else, business would be enhanced and made more efficient by an environment of honesty and trust.

Finally, whether Weber misinterpreted Puritanism is one issue. Whether he misinterpreted capitalism by exaggerating the importance of asceticism is another. Weber’s favorite exemplar of capitalism, Benjamin Franklin, did advocate unremitting personal thrift and discipline. No doubt, certain sectors of capitalism advanced by personal thrift, sometimes carried to the point of deprivation. Samuelsson (83-87) raises serious questions, however, that thrift could have contributed even in a minor way to the creation of the large fortunes of capitalists. Perhaps more important than personal fortunes is the finance of business. The retained earnings of successful enterprises, rather than personal savings, probably have provided a major source of funding for business ventures from the earliest days of capitalism. And successful capitalists, even in Puritan New England, have been willing to enjoy at least some of the fruits of their labors. Perhaps the spirit of capitalism was not the spirit of asceticism.

Evidence of Links between Values and Capitalism

Despite the critics, some have taken the Protestant ethic to be a contributing cause of capitalism, perhaps a necessary cause. Sociologist C. T. Jonassen (1947) understood the Protestant ethic this way. By examining a case of capitalism’s emergence in the nineteenth century, rather than in the Reformation or Puritan eras, he sought to resolve some of the uncertainties of studying earlier eras. Jonassen argued that capitalism emerged in nineteenth-century Norway only after an indigenous, Calvinist-like movement challenged the Lutheranism and Catholicism that had dominated the country. Capitalism had not “developed in Norway under centuries of Catholic and Lutheran influence,” although it appeared only “two generations after the introduction of a type of religion that produced the same behavior as Calvinism” (Jonassen, 684). Jonassen’s argument also discounted other often-cited causes of capitalism, such as the early discoveries of science, the Renaissance, or developments in post-Reformation Catholicism; these factors had existed for centuries by the nineteenth century and still had left Norway as a non-capitalist society. Only in the nineteenth century, after a Calvinist-like faith emerged, did capitalism develop.

Engerman’s (2000) review of economic historians shows that they have given little explicit attention to Weber in recent years. However, they show an interest in the impact of cultural values broadly understood on economic growth. A modified version of the Weber thesis has also found some support in empirical economic research. Granato, Inglehart and Leblang (1996, 610) incorporated cultural values in cross-country growth models on the grounds that Weber’s thesis fits the historical evidence in Europe and America. They did not focus on Protestant values, but accepted “Weber’s more general concept, that certain cultural factors influence economic growth…” Specifically they incorporated a measure of “achievement motivation” in their regressions and concluded that such motivation “is highly relevant to economic growth rates” (625). Conversely, they found that “post-materialist” (i.e., environmentalist) values are correlated with slower economic growth. Barro’s (1997, 27) modified Solow growth models also find that a “rule of law index” is associated with more rapid economic growth. This index is a proxy for such things as “effectiveness of law enforcement, sanctity of contracts and … the security of property rights.” Recalling Puritan theologian William Ames’ definition of a contract, one might conclude that a religion such as Puritanism could create precisely the cultural values that Barro finds associated with economic growth.

Conclusion

Max Weber’s thesis has attracted the attention of scholars and researchers for most of a century. Some (including Weber) deny that the Protestant ethic should be understood to be a cause of capitalism — that it merely points to a congruency between and culture’s religion and its economic system. Yet Weber, despite his own protests, wrote as though he believed that traditional capitalism would never have turned into modern capitalism except for the Protestant ethic– implying causality of sorts. Historical evidence from the Reformation era (sixteenth century) does not provide much support for a strong (causal) interpretation of the Protestant ethic. However, the emergence of a vigorous capitalism in Puritan England and its American colonies (and the case of Norway) at least keeps the case open. More recent quantitative evidence supports the hypothesis that cultural values count in economic development. The cultural values examined in recent studies are not religious values, as such. Rather, such presumably secular values as the need to achieve, intolerance for corruption, respect for property rights, are all correlated with economic growth. However, in its own time Puritanism produced a social and economic ethic known for precisely these sorts of values.

References

Bainton, Roland. The Reformation of the Sixteenth Century. Boston: Beacon Press, 1952.

Barro, Robert. Determinants of Economic Growth: A Cross-country Empirical Study. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1997.

Engerman, Stanley. “Capitalism, Protestantism, and Economic Development.” EH.NET, 2000. http://www.eh.net/bookreviews/library/engerman.shtml

Fischoff, Ephraim. “The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism: The History of a Controversy.” Social Research (1944). Reprinted in R. W. Green (ed.), Protestantism and Capitalism: The Weber Thesis and Its Critics. Boston: D.C. Heath, 1958.

Frey, Donald E. “Individualist Economic Values and Self-Interest: The Problem in the Protestant Ethic.” Journal of Business Ethics (Oct. 1998).

Granato, Jim, R. Inglehart and D. Leblang. “The Effect of Cultural Values on Economic Development: Theory, Hypotheses and Some Empirical Tests.” American Journal of Political Science (Aug. 1996).

Green, Robert W. (ed.), Protestantism and Capitalism: The Weber Thesis and Its Critics. Boston: D.C. Heath, 1959.

Jonassen, Christen. “The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism in Norway.” American Sociological Review (Dec. 1947).

Samuelsson, Kurt. Religion and Economic Action. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1993 [orig. 1957].

Tawney, R. H. Religion and the Rise of Capitalism. Gloucester, MA: Peter Smith, 1962 [orig., 1926].

Weber, Max, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1958 [orig. 1930].

Citation: Frey, Donald. “Protestant Ethic Thesis”. EH.Net Encyclopedia, edited by Robert Whaples. August 14, 2001. URL http://eh.net/encyclopedia/the-protestant-ethic-thesis/

The Economic History of Indonesia

Jeroen Touwen, Leiden University, Netherlands

Introduction

In recent decades, Indonesia has been viewed as one of Southeast Asia’s successful highly performing and newly industrializing economies, following the trail of the Asian tigers (Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea, and Taiwan) (see Table 1). Although Indonesia’s economy grew with impressive speed during the 1980s and 1990s, it experienced considerable trouble after the financial crisis of 1997, which led to significant political reforms. Today Indonesia’s economy is recovering but it is difficult to say when all its problems will be solved. Even though Indonesia can still be considered part of the developing world, it has a rich and versatile past, in the economic as well as the cultural and political sense.

Basic Facts

Indonesia is situated in Southeastern Asia and consists of a large archipelago between the Indian Ocean and the Pacific Ocean, with more than 13.000 islands. The largest islands are Java, Kalimantan (the southern part of the island Borneo), Sumatra, Sulawesi, and Papua (formerly Irian Jaya, which is the western part of New Guinea). Indonesia’s total land area measures 1.9 million square kilometers (750,000 square miles). This is three times the area of Texas, almost eight times the area of the United Kingdom and roughly fifty times the area of the Netherlands. Indonesia has a tropical climate, but since there are large stretches of lowland and numerous mountainous areas, the climate varies from hot and humid to more moderate in the highlands. Apart from fertile land suitable for agriculture, Indonesia is rich in a range of natural resources, varying from petroleum, natural gas, and coal, to metals such as tin, bauxite, nickel, copper, gold, and silver. The size of Indonesia’s population is about 230 million (2002), of which the largest share (roughly 60%) live in Java.

Table 1

Indonesia’s Gross Domestic Product per Capita

Compared with Several Other Asian Countries (in 1990 dollars)

Indonesia Philippines Thailand Japan
1900 745 1 033 812 1 180
1913 904 1 066 835 1 385
1950 840 1 070 817 1 926
1973 1 504 1 959 1 874 11 439
1990 2 516 2 199 4 645 18 789
2000 3 041 2 385 6 335 20 084

Source: Angus Maddison, The World Economy: A Millennial Perspective, Paris: OECD Development Centre Studies 2001, 206, 214-215. For year 2000: University of Groningen and the Conference Board, GGDC Total Economy Database, 2003, http://www.eco.rug.nl/ggdc.

Important Aspects of Indonesian Economic History

“Missed Opportunities”

Anne Booth has characterized the economic history of Indonesia with the somewhat melancholy phrase “a history of missed opportunities” (Booth 1998). One may compare this with J. Pluvier’s history of Southeast Asia in the twentieth century, which is entitled A Century of Unfulfilled Expectations (Breda 1999). The missed opportunities refer to the fact that despite its rich natural resources and great variety of cultural traditions, the Indonesian economy has been underperforming for large periods of its history. A more cyclical view would lead one to speak of several ‘reversals of fortune.’ Several times the Indonesian economy seemed to promise a continuation of favorable economic development and ongoing modernization (for example, Java in the late nineteenth century, Indonesia in the late 1930s or in the early 1990s). But for various reasons Indonesia time and again suffered from severe incidents that prohibited further expansion. These incidents often originated in the internal institutional or political spheres (either after independence or in colonial times), although external influences such as the 1930s Depression also had their ill-fated impact on the vulnerable export-economy.

“Unity in Diversity”

In addition, one often reads about “unity in diversity.” This is not only a political slogan repeated at various times by the Indonesian government itself, but it also can be applied to the heterogeneity in the national features of this very large and diverse country. Logically, the political problems that arise from such a heterogeneous nation state have had their (negative) effects on the development of the national economy. The most striking difference is between densely populated Java, which has a long tradition of politically and economically dominating the sparsely populated Outer Islands. But also within Java and within the various Outer Islands, one encounters a rich cultural diversity. Economic differences between the islands persist. Nevertheless, for centuries, the flourishing and enterprising interregional trade has benefited regional integration within the archipelago.

Economic Development and State Formation

State formation can be viewed as a condition for an emerging national economy. This process essentially started in Indonesia in the nineteenth century, when the Dutch colonized an area largely similar to present-day Indonesia. Colonial Indonesia was called ‘the Netherlands Indies.’ The term ‘(Dutch) East Indies’ was mainly used in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and included trading posts outside the Indonesian archipelago.

Although Indonesian national historiography sometimes refers to a presumed 350 years of colonial domination, it is exaggerated to interpret the arrival of the Dutch in Bantam in 1596 as the starting point of Dutch colonization. It is more reasonable to say that colonization started in 1830, when the Java War (1825-1830) was ended and the Dutch initiated a bureaucratic, centralizing polity in Java without further restraint. From the mid-nineteenth century onward, Dutch colonization did shape the borders of the Indonesian nation state, even though it also incorporated weaknesses in the state: ethnic segmentation of economic roles, unequal spatial distribution of power, and a political system that was largely based on oppression and violence. This, among other things, repeatedly led to political trouble, before and after independence. Indonesia ceased being a colony on 17 August 1945 when Sukarno and Hatta proclaimed independence, although full independence was acknowledged by the Netherlands only after four years of violent conflict, on 27 December 1949.

The Evolution of Methodological Approaches to Indonesian Economic History

The economic history of Indonesia analyzes a range of topics, varying from the characteristics of the dynamic exports of raw materials, the dualist economy in which both Western and Indonesian entrepreneurs participated, and the strong measure of regional variation in the economy. While in the past Dutch historians traditionally focused on the colonial era (inspired by the rich colonial archives), from the 1960s and 1970s onward an increasing number of scholars (among which also many Indonesians, but also Australian and American scholars) started to study post-war Indonesian events in connection with the colonial past. In the course of the 1990s attention gradually shifted from the identification and exploration of new research themes towards synthesis and attempts to link economic development with broader historical issues. In 1998 the excellent first book-length survey of Indonesia’s modern economic history was published (Booth 1998). The stress on synthesis and lessons is also present in a new textbook on the modern economic history of Indonesia (Dick et al 2002). This highly recommended textbook aims at a juxtaposition of three themes: globalization, economic integration and state formation. Globalization affected the Indonesian archipelago even before the arrival of the Dutch. The period of the centralized, military-bureaucratic state of Soeharto’s New Order (1966-1998) was only the most recent wave of globalization. A national economy emerged gradually from the 1930s as the Outer Islands (a collective name which refers to all islands outside Java and Madura) reoriented towards industrializing Java.

Two research traditions have become especially important in the study of Indonesian economic history during the past decade. One is a highly quantitative approach, culminating in reconstructions of Indonesia’s national income and national accounts over a long period of time, from the late nineteenth century up to today (Van der Eng 1992, 2001). The other research tradition highlights the institutional framework of economic development in Indonesia, both as a colonial legacy and as it has evolved since independence. There is a growing appreciation among scholars that these two approaches complement each other.

A Chronological Survey of Indonesian Economic History

The precolonial economy

There were several influential kingdoms in the Indonesian archipelago during the pre-colonial era (e.g. Srivijaya, Mataram, Majapahit) (see further Reid 1988,1993; Ricklefs 1993). Much debate centers on whether this heyday of indigenous Asian trade was effectively disrupted by the arrival of western traders in the late fifteenth century

Sixteenth and seventeenth century

Present-day research by scholars in pre-colonial economic history focuses on the dynamics of early-modern trade and pays specific attention to the role of different ethnic groups such as the Arabs, the Chinese and the various indigenous groups of traders and entrepreneurs. During the sixteenth to the nineteenth century the western colonizers only had little grip on a limited number of spots in the Indonesian archipelago. As a consequence much of the economic history of these islands escapes the attention of the economic historian. Most data on economic matters is handed down by western observers with their limited view. A large part of the area remained engaged in its own economic activities, including subsistence agriculture (of which the results were not necessarily very meager) and local and regional trade.

An older research literature has extensively covered the role of the Dutch in the Indonesian archipelago, which began in 1596 when the first expedition of Dutch sailing ships arrived in Bantam. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the Dutch overseas trade in the Far East, which focused on high-value goods, was in the hands of the powerful Dutch East India Company (in full: the United East Indies Trading Company, or Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie [VOC], 1602-1795). However, the region was still fragmented and Dutch presence was only concentrated in a limited number of trading posts.

During the eighteenth century, coffee and sugar became the most important products and Java became the most important area. The VOC gradually took over power from the Javanese rulers and held a firm grip on the productive parts of Java. The VOC was also actively engaged in the intra-Asian trade. For example, cotton from Bengal was sold in the pepper growing areas. The VOC was a successful enterprise and made large dividend payments to its shareholders. Corruption, lack of investment capital, and increasing competition from England led to its demise and in 1799 the VOC came to an end (Gaastra 2002, Jacobs 2000).

The nineteenth century

In the nineteenth century a process of more intensive colonization started, predominantly in Java, where the Cultivation System (1830-1870) was based (Elson 1994; Fasseur 1975).

During the Napoleonic era the VOC trading posts in the archipelago had been under British rule, but in 1814 they came under Dutch authority again. During the Java War (1825-1830), Dutch rule on Java was challenged by an uprising led by Javanese prince Diponegoro. To repress this revolt and establish firm rule in Java, colonial expenses increased, which in turn led to a stronger emphasis on economic exploitation of the colony. The Cultivation System, initiated by Johannes van den Bosch, was a state-governed system for the production of agricultural products such as sugar and coffee. In return for a fixed compensation (planting wage), the Javanese were forced to cultivate export crops. Supervisors, such as civil servants and Javanese district heads, were paid generous ‘cultivation percentages’ in order to stimulate production. The exports of the products were consigned to a Dutch state-owned trading firm (the Nederlandsche Handel-Maatschappij, NHM, established in 1824) and sold profitably abroad.

Although the profits (‘batig slot’) for the Dutch state of the period 1830-1870 were considerable, various reasons can be mentioned for the change to a liberal system: (a) the emergence of new liberal political ideology; (b) the gradual demise of the Cultivation System during the 1840s and 1850s because internal reforms were necessary; and (c) growth of private (European) entrepreneurship with know-how and interest in the exploitation of natural resources, which took away the need for government management (Van Zanden and Van Riel 2000: 226).

Table 2

Financial Results of Government Cultivation, 1840-1849 (‘Cultivation System’) (in thousands of guilders in current values)

1840-1844 1845-1849
Coffee 40 278 24 549
Sugar 8 218 4 136
Indigo, 7 836 7 726
Pepper, Tea 647 1 725
Total net profits 39 341 35 057

Source: Fasseur 1975: 20.

Table 3

Estimates of Total Profits (‘batig slot’) during the Cultivation System,

1831/40 – 1861/70 (in millions of guilders)

1831/40 1841/50 1851/60 1861/70
Gross revenues of sale of colonial products 227.0 473.9 652.7 641.8
Costs of transport etc (NHM) 88.0 165.4 138.7 114.7
Sum of expenses 59.2 175.1 275.3 276.6
Total net profits* 150.6 215.6 289.4 276.7

Source: Van Zanden and Van Riel 2000: 223.

* Recalculated by Van Zanden and Van Riel to include subsidies for the NHM and other costs that in fact benefited the Dutch economy.

The heyday of the colonial export economy (1900-1942)

After 1870, private enterprise was promoted but the exports of raw materials gained decisive momentum after 1900. Sugar, coffee, pepper and tobacco, the old export products, were increasingly supplemented with highly profitable exports of petroleum, rubber, copra, palm oil and fibers. The Outer Islands supplied an increasing share in these foreign exports, which were accompanied by an intensifying internal trade within the archipelago and generated an increasing flow of foreign imports. Agricultural exports were cultivated both in large-scale European agricultural plantations (usually called agricultural estates) and by indigenous smallholders. When the exploitation of oil became profitable in the late nineteenth century, petroleum earned a respectable position in the total export package. In the early twentieth century, the production of oil was increasingly concentrated in the hands of the Koninklijke/Shell Group.


Figure 1

Foreign Exports from the Netherlands-Indies, 1870-1940

(in millions of guilders, current values)

Source: Trade statistics

The momentum of profitable exports led to a broad expansion of economic activity in the Indonesian archipelago. Integration with the world market also led to internal economic integration when the road system, railroad system (in Java and Sumatra) and port system were improved. In shipping lines, an important contribution was made by the KPM (Koninklijke Paketvaart-Maatschappij, Royal Packet boat Company) that served economic integration as well as imperialist expansion. Subsidized shipping lines into remote corners of the vast archipelago carried off export goods (forest products), supplied import goods and transported civil servants and military.

The Depression of the 1930s hit the export economy severely. The sugar industry in Java collapsed and could not really recover from the crisis. In some products, such as rubber and copra, production was stepped up to compensate for lower prices. In the rubber exports indigenous producers for this reason evaded the international restriction agreements. The Depression precipitated the introduction of protectionist measures, which ended the liberal period that had started in 1870. Various import restrictions were launched, making the economy more self-sufficient, as for example in the production of rice, and stimulating domestic integration. Due to the strong Dutch guilder (the Netherlands adhered to the gold standard until 1936), it took relatively long before economic recovery took place. The outbreak of World War II disrupted international trade, and the Japanese occupation (1942-1945) seriously disturbed and dislocated the economic order.

Table 4

Annual Average Growth in Economic Key Aggregates 1830-1990

GDP per capita Export volume Export

Prices

Government Expenditure
Cultivation System 1830-1840 n.a. 13.5 5.0 8.5
Cultivation System 1840-1848 n.a. 1.5 - 4.5 [very low]
Cultivation System 1849-1873 n.a. 1.5 1.5 2.6
Liberal Period 1874-1900 [very low] 3.1 - 1.9 2.3
Ethical Period 1901-1928 1.7 5.8 17.4 4.1
Great Depression 1929-1934 -3.4 -3.9 -19.7 0.4
Prewar Recovery 1934-1940 2.5 2.2 7.8 3.4
Old Order 1950-1965 1.0 0.8 - 2.1 1.8
New Order 1966-1990 4.4 5.4 11.6 10.6

Source: Booth 1998: 18.

Note: These average annual growth percentages were calculated by Booth by fitting an exponential curve to the data for the years indicated. Up to 1873 data refer only to Java.

The post-1945 period

After independence, the Indonesian economy had to recover from the hardships of the Japanese occupation and the war for independence (1945-1949), on top of the slow recovery from the 1930s Depression. During the period 1949-1965, there was little economic growth, predominantly in the years from 1950 to 1957. In 1958-1965, growth rates dwindled, largely due to political instability and inappropriate economic policy measures. The hesitant start of democracy was characterized by a power struggle between the president, the army, the communist party and other political groups. Exchange rate problems and absence of foreign capital were detrimental to economic development, after the government had eliminated all foreign economic control in the private sector in 1957/58. Sukarno aimed at self-sufficiency and import substitution and estranged the suppliers of western capital even more when he developed communist sympathies.

After 1966, the second president, general Soeharto, restored the inflow of western capital, brought back political stability with a strong role for the army, and led Indonesia into a period of economic expansion under his authoritarian New Order (Orde Baru) regime which lasted until 1997 (see below for the three phases in New Order). In this period industrial output quickly increased, including steel, aluminum, and cement but also products such as food, textiles and cigarettes. From the 1970s onward the increased oil price on the world market provided Indonesia with a massive income from oil and gas exports. Wood exports shifted from logs to plywood, pulp, and paper, at the price of large stretches of environmentally valuable rainforest.

Soeharto managed to apply part of these revenues to the development of technologically advanced manufacturing industry. Referring to this period of stable economic growth, the World Bank Report of 1993 speaks of an ‘East Asian Miracle’ emphasizing the macroeconomic stability and the investments in human capital (World Bank 1993: vi).

The financial crisis in 1997 revealed a number of hidden weaknesses in the economy such as a feeble financial system (with a lack of transparency), unprofitable investments in real estate, and shortcomings in the legal system. The burgeoning corruption at all levels of the government bureaucracy became widely known as KKN (korupsi, kolusi, nepotisme). These practices characterize the coming-of-age of the 32-year old, strongly centralized, autocratic Soeharto regime.

From 1998 until present

Today, the Indonesian economy still suffers from severe economic development problems following the financial crisis of 1997 and the subsequent political reforms after Soeharto stepped down in 1998. Secessionist movements and the low level of security in the provincial regions, as well as relatively unstable political policies, form some of its present-day problems. Additional problems include the lack of reliable legal recourse in contract disputes, corruption, weaknesses in the banking system, and strained relations with the International Monetary Fund. The confidence of investors remains low, and in order to achieve future growth, internal reform will be essential to build up confidence of international donors and investors.

An important issue on the reform agenda is regional autonomy, bringing a larger share of export profits to the areas of production instead of to metropolitan Java. However, decentralization policies do not necessarily improve national coherence or increase efficiency in governance.

A strong comeback in the global economy may be at hand, but has not as yet fully taken place by the summer of 2003 when this was written.

Additional Themes in the Indonesian Historiography

Indonesia is such a large and multi-faceted country that many different aspects have been the focus of research (for example, ethnic groups, trade networks, shipping, colonialism and imperialism). One can focus on smaller regions (provinces, islands), as well as on larger regions (the western archipelago, the eastern archipelago, the Outer Islands as a whole, or Indonesia within Southeast Asia). Without trying to be exhaustive, eleven themes which have been subject of debate in Indonesian economic history are examined here (on other debates see also Houben 2002: 53-55; Lindblad 2002b: 145-152; Dick 2002: 191-193; Thee 2002: 242-243).

The indigenous economy and the dualist economy

Although western entrepreneurs had an advantage in technological know-how and supply of investment capital during the late-colonial period, there has been a traditionally strong and dynamic class of entrepreneurs (traders and peasants) in many regions of Indonesia. Resilient in times of economic malaise, cunning in symbiosis with traders of other Asian nationalities (particularly Chinese), the Indonesian entrepreneur has been rehabilitated after the relatively disparaging manner in which he was often pictured in the pre-1945 literature. One of these early writers, J.H. Boeke, initiated a school of thought centering on the idea of ‘economic dualism’ (referring to a modern western and a stagnant eastern sector). As a consequence, the term ‘dualism’ was often used to indicate western superiority. From the 1960s onward such ideas have been replaced by a more objective analysis of the dualist economy that is not so judgmental about the characteristics of economic development in the Asian sector. Some focused on technological dualism (such as B. Higgins) others on ethnic specialization in different branches of production (see also Lindblad 2002b: 148, Touwen 2001: 316-317).

The characteristics of Dutch imperialism

Another vigorous debate concerns the character of and the motives for Dutch colonial expansion. Dutch imperialism can be viewed as having a rather complex mix of political, economic and military motives which influenced decisions about colonial borders, establishing political control in order to exploit oil and other natural resources, and preventing local uprisings. Three imperialist phases can be distinguished (Lindblad 2002a: 95-99). The first phase of imperialist expansion was from 1825-1870. During this phase interference with economic matters outside Java increased slowly but military intervention was occasional. The second phase started with the outbreak of the Aceh War in 1873 and lasted until 1896. During this phase initiatives in trade and foreign investment taken by the colonial government and by private businessmen were accompanied by extension of colonial (military) control in the regions concerned. The third and final phase was characterized by full-scale aggressive imperialism (often known as ‘pacification’) and lasted from 1896 until 1907.

The impact of the cultivation system on the indigenous economy

The thesis of ‘agricultural involution’ was advocated by Clifford Geertz (1963) and states that a process of stagnation characterized the rural economy of Java in the nineteenth century. After extensive research, this view has generally been discarded. Colonial economic growth was stimulated first by the Cultivation System, later by the promotion of private enterprise. Non-farm employment and purchasing power increased in the indigenous economy, although there was much regional inequality (Lindblad 2002a: 80; 2002b:149-150).

Regional diversity in export-led economic expansion

The contrast between densely populated Java, which had been dominant in economic and political regard for a long time, and the Outer Islands, which were a large, sparsely populated area, is obvious. Among the Outer Islands we can distinguish between areas which were propelled forward by export trade, either from Indonesian or European origin (examples are Palembang, East Sumatra, Southeast Kalimantan) and areas which stayed behind and only slowly picked the fruits of the modernization that took place elsewhere (as for example Benkulu, Timor, Maluku) (Touwen 2001).

The development of the colonial state and the role of Ethical Policy

Well into the second half of the nineteenth century, the official Dutch policy was to abstain from interference with local affairs. The scarce resources of the Dutch colonial administrators should be reserved for Java. When the Aceh War initiated a period of imperialist expansion and consolidation of colonial power, a call for more concern with indigenous affairs was heard in Dutch politics, which resulted in the official Ethical Policy which was launched in 1901 and had the threefold aim of improving indigenous welfare, expanding the educational system, and allowing for some indigenous participation in the government (resulting in the People’s Council (Volksraad) that was installed in 1918 but only had an advisory role). The results of the Ethical Policy, as for example measured in improvements in agricultural technology, education, or welfare services, are still subject to debate (Lindblad 2002b: 149).

Living conditions of coolies at the agricultural estates

The plantation economy, which developed in the sparsely populated Outer Islands (predominantly in Sumatra) between 1870 and 1942, was in bad need of labor. The labor shortage was solved by recruiting contract laborers (coolies) in China, and later in Java. The Coolie Ordinance was a government regulation that included the penal clause (which allowed for punishment by plantation owners). In response to reported abuse, the colonial government established the Labor Inspectorate (1908), which aimed at preventing abuse of coolies on the estates. The living circumstances and treatment of the coolies has been subject of debate, particularly regarding the question whether the government put enough effort in protecting the interests of the workers or allowed abuse to persist (Lindblad 2002b: 150).

Colonial drain

How large of a proportion of economic profits was drained away from the colony to the mother country? The detrimental effects of the drain of capital, in return for which European entrepreneurial initiatives were received, have been debated, as well as the exact methods of its measurement. There was also a second drain to the home countries of other immigrant ethnic groups, mainly to China (Van der Eng 1998; Lindblad 2002b: 151).

The position of the Chinese in the Indonesian economy

In the colonial economy, the Chinese intermediary trader or middleman played a vital role in supplying credit and stimulating the cultivation of export crops such as rattan, rubber and copra. The colonial legal system made an explicit distinction between Europeans, Chinese and Indonesians. This formed the roots of later ethnic problems, since the Chinese minority population in Indonesia has gained an important (and sometimes envied) position as capital owners and entrepreneurs. When threatened by political and social turmoil, Chinese business networks may have sometimes channel capital funds to overseas deposits.

Economic chaos during the ‘Old Order’

The ‘Old Order’-period, 1945-1965, was characterized by economic (and political) chaos although some economic growth undeniably did take place during these years. However, macroeconomic instability, lack of foreign investment and structural rigidity formed economic problems that were closely connected with the political power struggle. Sukarno, the first president of the Indonesian republic, had an outspoken dislike of colonialism. His efforts to eliminate foreign economic control were not always supportive of the struggling economy of the new sovereign state. The ‘Old Order’ has for long been a ‘lost area’ in Indonesian economic history, but the establishment of the unitary state and the settlement of major political issues, including some degree of territorial consolidation (as well as the consolidation of the role of the army) were essential for the development of a national economy (Dick 2002: 190; Mackie 1967).

Development policy and economic planning during the ‘New Order’ period

The ‘New Order’ (Orde Baru) of Soeharto rejected political mobilization and socialist ideology, and established a tightly controlled regime that discouraged intellectual enquiry, but did put Indonesia’s economy back on the rails. New flows of foreign investment and foreign aid programs were attracted, the unbridled population growth was reduced due to family planning programs, and a transformation took place from a predominantly agricultural economy to an industrializing economy. Thee Kian Wie distinguishes three phases within this period, each of which deserve further study:

(a) 1966-1973: stabilization, rehabilitation, partial liberalization and economic recovery;

(b) 1974-1982: oil booms, rapid economic growth, and increasing government intervention;

(c) 1983-1996: post-oil boom, deregulation, renewed liberalization (in reaction to falling oil-prices), and rapid export-led growth. During this last phase, commentators (including academic economists) were increasingly concerned about the thriving corruption at all levels of the government bureaucracy: KKN (korupsi, kolusi, nepotisme) practices, as they later became known (Thee 2002: 203-215).

Financial, economic and political crisis: KRISMON, KRISTAL

The financial crisis of 1997 started with a crisis of confidence following the depreciation of the Thai baht in July 1997. Core factors causing the ensuing economic crisis in Indonesia were the quasi-fixed exchange rate of the rupiah, quickly rising short-term foreign debt and the weak financial system. Its severity had to be attributed to political factors as well: the monetary crisis (KRISMON) led to a total crisis (KRISTAL) because of the failing policy response of the Soeharto regime. Soeharto had been in power for 32 years and his government had become heavily centralized and corrupt and was not able to cope with the crisis in a credible manner. The origins, economic consequences, and socio-economic impact of the crisis are still under discussion. (Thee 2003: 231-237; Arndt and Hill 1999).

(Note: I want to thank Dr. F. Colombijn and Dr. J.Th Lindblad at Leiden University for their useful comments on the draft version of this article.)

Selected Bibliography

In addition to the works cited in the text above, a small selection of recent books is mentioned here, which will allow the reader to quickly grasp the most recent insights and find useful further references.

General textbooks or periodicals on Indonesia’s (economic) history:

Booth, Anne. The Indonesian Economy in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries: A History of Missed Opportunities. London: Macmillan, 1998.

Bulletin of Indonesian Economic Studies.

Dick, H.W., V.J.H. Houben, J.Th. Lindblad and Thee Kian Wie. The Emergence of a National Economy in Indonesia, 1800-2000. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2002.

Itinerario “Economic Growth and Institutional Change in Indonesia in the 19th and 20th centuries” [special issue] 26 no. 3-4 (2002).

Reid, Anthony. Southeast Asia in the Age of Commerce, 1450-1680, Vol. I: The Lands below the Winds. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988.

Reid, Anthony. Southeast Asia in the Age of Commerce, 1450-1680, Vol. II: Expansion and Crisis. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993.

Ricklefs, M.C. A History of Modern Indonesia since ca. 1300. Basingstoke/Londen: Macmillan, 1993.

On the VOC:

Gaastra, F.S. De Geschiedenis van de VOC. Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 1991 (1st edition), 2002 (4th edition).

Jacobs, Els M. Koopman in Azië: de Handel van de Verenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie tijdens de 18de Eeuw. Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 2000.

Nagtegaal, Lucas. Riding the Dutch Tiger: The Dutch East Indies Company and the Northeast Coast of Java 1680-1743. Leiden: KITLV Press, 1996.

On the Cultivation System:

Elson, R.E. Village Java under the Cultivation System, 1830-1870. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 1994.

Fasseur, C. Kultuurstelsel en Koloniale Baten. De Nederlandse Exploitatie van Java, 1840-1860. Leiden, Universitaire Pers, 1975. (Translated as: The Politics of Colonial Exploitation: Java, the Dutch and the Cultivation System. Ithaca, NY: Southeast Asia Program, Cornell University Press 1992.)

Geertz, Clifford. Agricultural Involution: The Processes of Ecological Change in Indonesia. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1963.

Houben, V.J.H. “Java in the Nineteenth Century: Consolidation of a Territorial State.” In The Emergence of a National Economy in Indonesia, 1800-2000, edited by H.W. Dick, V.J.H. Houben, J.Th. Lindblad and Thee Kian Wie, 56-81. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2002.

On the Late-Colonial Period:

Dick, H.W. “Formation of the Nation-state, 1930s-1966.” In The Emergence of a National Economy in Indonesia, 1800-2000, edited by H.W. Dick, V.J.H. Houben, J.Th. Lindblad and Thee Kian Wie, 153-193. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2002.

Lembaran Sejarah, “Crisis and Continuity: Indonesian Economy in the Twentieth Century” [special issue] 3 no. 1 (2000).

Lindblad, J.Th., editor. New Challenges in the Modern Economic History of Indonesia. Leiden: PRIS, 1993. Translated as: Sejarah Ekonomi Modern Indonesia. Berbagai Tantangan Baru. Jakarta: LP3ES, 2002.

Lindblad, J.Th., editor. The Historical Foundations of a National Economy in Indonesia, 1890s-1990s. Amsterdam: North-Holland, 1996.

Lindblad, J.Th. “The Outer Islands in the Nineteenthh Century: Contest for the Periphery.” In The Emergence of a National Economy in Indonesia, 1800-2000, edited by H.W. Dick, V.J.H. Houben, J.Th. Lindblad and Thee Kian Wie, 82-110. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2002a.

Lindblad, J.Th. “The Late Colonial State and Economic Expansion, 1900-1930s.” In The Emergence of a National Economy in Indonesia, 1800-2000, edited by H.W. Dick, V.J.H. Houben, J.Th. Lindblad and Thee Kian Wie, 111-152. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2002b.

Touwen, L.J. Extremes in the Archipelago: Trade and Economic Development in the Outer Islands of Indonesia, 1900‑1942. Leiden: KITLV Press, 2001.

Van der Eng, Pierre. “Exploring Exploitation: The Netherlands and Colonial Indonesia, 1870-1940.” Revista de Historia Económica 16 (1998): 291-321.

Zanden, J.L. van, and A. van Riel. Nederland, 1780-1914: Staat, instituties en economische ontwikkeling. Amsterdam: Balans, 2000. (On the Netherlands in the nineteenth century.)

Independent Indonesia:

Arndt, H.W. and Hal Hill, editors. Southeast Asia’s Economic Crisis: Origins, Lessons and the Way forward. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1999.

Cribb, R. and C. Brown. Modern Indonesia: A History since 1945. Londen/New York: Longman, 1995.

Feith, H. The Decline of Constitutional Democracy in Indonesia. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1962.

Hill, Hal. The Indonesian Economy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. (This is the extended second edition of Hill, H., The Indonesian Economy since 1966. Southeast Asia’s Emerging Giant. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996.)

Hill, Hal, editor. Unity and Diversity: Regional Economic Development in Indonesia since 1970. Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1989.

Mackie, J.A.C. “The Indonesian Economy, 1950-1960.” In The Economy of Indonesia: Selected Readings, edited by B. Glassburner, 16-69. Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press 1967.

Robison, Richard. Indonesia: The Rise of Capital. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 1986.

Thee Kian Wie. “The Soeharto Era and After: Stability, Development and Crisis, 1966-2000.” In The Emergence of a National Economy in Indonesia, 1800-2000, edited by H.W. Dick, V.J.H. Houben, J.Th. Lindblad and Thee Kian Wie, 194-243. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2002.

World Bank. The East Asian Miracle: Economic Growth and Public Policy. Oxford: World Bank /Oxford University Press, 1993.

On economic growth:

Booth, Anne. The Indonesian Economy in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries. A History of Missed Opportunities. London: Macmillan, 1998.

Van der Eng, Pierre. “The Real Domestic Product of Indonesia, 1880-1989.” Explorations in Economic History 39 (1992): 343-373.

Van der Eng, Pierre. “Indonesia’s Growth Performance in the Twentieth Century.” In The Asian Economies in the Twentieth Century, edited by Angus Maddison, D.S. Prasada Rao and W. Shepherd, 143-179. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar, 2002.

Van der Eng, Pierre. “Indonesia’s Economy and Standard of Living in the Twentieth Century.” In Indonesia Today: Challenges of History, edited by G. Lloyd and S. Smith, 181-199. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2001.

Citation: Touwen, Jeroen. “The Economic History of Indonesia”. EH.Net Encyclopedia, edited by Robert Whaples. March 16, 2008. URL http://eh.net/encyclopedia/the-economic-history-of-indonesia/

A History of Futures Trading in the United States

Joseph Santos, South Dakota State University

Many contemporary [nineteenth century] critics were suspicious of a form of business in which one man sold what he did not own to another who did not want it… Morton Rothstein (1966)

Anatomy of a Futures Market

The Futures Contract

A futures contract is a standardized agreement between a buyer and a seller to exchange an amount and grade of an item at a specific price and future date. The item or underlying asset may be an agricultural commodity, a metal, mineral or energy commodity, a financial instrument or a foreign currency. Because futures contracts are derived from these underlying assets, they belong to a family of financial instruments called derivatives.

Traders buy and sell futures contracts on an exchange – a marketplace that is operated by a voluntary association of members. The exchange provides buyers and sellers the infrastructure (trading pits or their electronic equivalent), legal framework (trading rules, arbitration mechanisms), contract specifications (grades, standards, time and method of delivery, terms of payment) and clearing mechanisms (see section titled The Clearinghouse) necessary to facilitate futures trading. Only exchange members are allowed to trade on the exchange. Nonmembers trade through commission merchants – exchange members who service nonmember trades and accounts for a fee.

The September 2004 light sweet crude oil contract is an example of a petroleum (mineral) future. It trades on the New York Mercantile exchange (NYM). The contract is standardized – every one is an agreement to trade 1,000 barrels of grade light sweet crude in September, on a day of the seller’s choosing. As of May 25, 2004 the contract sold for $40,120=$40.12x1000 and debits Member S’s margin account the same amount.

The Clearinghouse

The clearinghouse is the counterparty to every trade – its members buy every contract that traders sell on the exchange and sell every contract that traders buy on the exchange. Absent a clearinghouse, traders would interact directly, and this would introduce two problems. First, traders. concerns about their counterparty’s credibility would impede trading. For example, Trader A might refuse to sell to Trader B, who is supposedly untrustworthy.

Second, traders would lose track of their counterparties. This would occur because traders typically settle their contractual obligations by offset – traders buy/sell the contracts that they sold/bought earlier. For example, Trader A sells a contract to Trader B, who sells a contract to Trader C to offset her position, and so on.

The clearinghouse eliminates both of these problems. First, it is a guarantor of all trades. If a trader defaults on a futures contract, the clearinghouse absorbs the loss. Second, clearinghouse members, and not outside traders, reconcile offsets at the end of trading each day. Margin accounts and a process called marking-to-market all but assure the clearinghouse’s solvency.

A margin account is a balance that a trader maintains with a commission merchant in order to offset the trader’s daily unrealized loses in the futures markets. Commission merchants also maintain margins with clearinghouse members, who maintain them with the clearinghouse. The margin account begins as an initial lump sum deposit, or original margin.

To understand the mechanics and merits of marking-to-market, consider that the values of the long and short positions of an existing futures contract change daily, even though futures trading is a zero-sum game – a buyer’s gain/loss equals a seller’s loss/gain. So, the clearinghouse breaks even on every trade, while its individual members. positions change in value daily.

With this in mind, suppose Trader B buys a 5,000 bushel soybean contract for $9.70 from Trader S. Technically, Trader B buys the contract from Clearinghouse Member S and Trader S sells the contract to Clearinghouse Member B. Now, suppose that at the end of the day the contract is priced at $9.71. That evening the clearinghouse marks-to-market each member’s account. That is to say, the clearinghouse credits Member B’s margin account $50 and debits Member S’s margin account the same amount.

Member B is now in a position to draw on the clearinghouse $50, while Member S must pay the clearinghouse a $50 variation margin – incremental margin equal to the difference between a contract’s price and its current market value. In turn, clearinghouse members debit and credit accordingly the margin accounts of their commission merchants, who do the same to the margin accounts of their clients (i.e., traders). This iterative process all but assures the clearinghouse a sound financial footing. In the unlikely event that a trader defaults, the clearinghouse closes out the position and loses, at most, the trader’s one day loss.

Active Futures Markets

Futures exchanges create futures contracts. And, because futures exchanges compete for traders, they must create contracts that appeal to the financial community. For example, the New York Mercantile Exchange created its light sweet crude oil contract in order to fill an unexploited niche in the financial marketplace.

Not all contracts are successful and those that are may, at times, be inactive – the contract exists, but traders are not trading it. For example, of all contracts introduced by U.S. exchanges between 1960 and 1977, only 32% traded in 1980 (Stein 1986, 7). Consequently, entire exchanges can become active – e.g., the New York Futures Exchange opened in 1980 – or inactive – e.g., the New Orleans Exchange closed in 1983 (Leuthold 1989, 18). Government price supports or other such regulation can also render trading inactive (see Carlton 1984, 245).

Futures contracts succeed or fail for many reasons, but successful contracts do share certain basic characteristics (see for example, Baer and Saxon 1949, 110-25; Hieronymus 1977, 19-22). To wit, the underlying asset is homogeneous, reasonably durable, and standardized (easily describable); its supply and demand is ample, its price is unfettered, and all relevant information is available to all traders. For example, futures contracts have never derived from, say, artwork (heterogeneous and not standardized) or rent-controlled housing rights (supply, and hence price is fettered by regulation).

Purposes and Functions

Futures markets have three fundamental purposes. The first is to enable hedgers to shift price risk – asset price volatility – to speculators in return for basis risk – changes in the difference between a futures price and the cash, or current spot price of the underlying asset. Because basis risk is typically less than asset price risk, the financial community views hedging as a form of risk management and speculating as a form of risk taking.

Generally speaking, to hedge is to take opposing positions in the futures and cash markets. Hedgers include (but are not restricted to) farmers, feedlot operators, grain elevator operators, merchants, millers, utilities, export and import firms, refiners, lenders, and hedge fund managers (see Peck 1985, 13-21). Meanwhile, to speculate is to take a position in the futures market with no counter-position in the cash market. Speculators may not be affiliated with the underlying cash markets.

To demonstrate how a hedge works, assume Hedger A buys, or longs, 5,000 bushels of corn, which is currently worth $2.40 per bushel, or $12,000=$2.40×5000; the date is May 1st and Hedger A wishes to preserve the value of his corn inventory until he sells it on June 1st. To do so, he takes a position in the futures market that is exactly opposite his position in the spot – current cash – market. For example, Hedger A sells, or shorts, a July futures contract for 5,000 bushels of corn at a price of $2.50 per bushel; put differently, Hedger A commits to sell in July 5,000 bushels of corn for $12,500=$2.50×5000. Recall that to sell (buy) a futures contract means to commit to sell (buy) an amount and grade of an item at a specific price and future date.

Absent basis risk, Hedger A’s spot and futures markets positions will preserve the value of the 5,000 bushels of corn that he owns, because a fall in the spot price of corn will be matched penny for penny by a fall in the futures price of corn. For example, suppose that by June 1st the spot price of corn has fallen five cents to $2.35 per bushel. Absent basis risk, the July futures price of corn has also fallen five cents to $2.45 per bushel.

So, on June 1st, Hedger A sells his 5,000 bushels of corn and loses $250=($2.35-$2.40)x5000 in the spot market. At the same time, he buys a July futures contract for 5,000 bushels of corn and gains $250=($2.50-$2.45)x5000 in the futures market. Notice, because Hedger A has both sold and bought a July futures contract for 5,000 bushels of corn, he has offset his commitment in the futures market.

This example of a textbook hedge – one that eliminates price risk entirely – is instructive but it is also a bit misleading because: basis risk exists; hedgers may choose to hedge more or less than 100% of their cash positions; and hedgers may cross hedge – trade futures contracts whose underlying assets are not the same as the assets that the hedger owns. So, in reality hedgers cannot immunize entirely their cash positions from market fluctuations and in some cases they may not wish to do so. Again, the purpose of a hedge is not to avoid risk, but rather to manage or even profit from it.

The second fundamental purpose of a futures market is to facilitate firms’ acquisitions of operating capital – short term loans that finance firms’ purchases of intermediate goods such as inventories of grain or petroleum. For example, lenders are relatively more likely to finance, at or near prime lending rates, hedged (versus non-hedged) inventories. The futures contact is an efficient form of collateral because it costs only a fraction of the inventory’s value, or the margin on a short position in the futures market.

Speculators make the hedge possible because they absorb the inventory’s price risk; for example, the ultimate counterparty to the inventory dealer’s short position is a speculator. In the absence of futures markets, hedgers could only engage in forward contracts – unique agreements between private parties, who operate independently of an exchange or clearinghouse. Hence, the collateral value of a forward contract is less than that of a futures contract.3

The third fundamental purpose of a futures market is to provide information to decision makers regarding the market’s expectations of future economic events. So long as a futures market is efficient – the market forms expectations by taking into proper consideration all available information – its forecasts of future economic events are relatively more reliable than an individual’s. Forecast errors are expensive, and well informed, highly competitive, profit-seeking traders have a relatively greater incentive to minimize them.

The Evolution of Futures Trading in the U.S.

Early Nineteenth Century Grain Production and Marketing

Into the early nineteenth century, the vast majority of American grains – wheat, corn, barley, rye and oats – were produced throughout the hinterlands of the United States by producers who acted primarily as subsistence farmers – agricultural producers whose primary objective was to feed themselves and their families. Although many of these farmers sold their surplus production on the market, most lacked access to large markets, as well as the incentive, affordable labor supply, and myriad technologies necessary to practice commercial agriculture – the large scale production and marketing of surplus agricultural commodities.

At this time, the principal trade route to the Atlantic seaboard was by river through New Orleans4; though the South was also home to terminal markets – markets of final destination – for corn, provisions and flour. Smaller local grain markets existed along the tributaries of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers and east-west overland routes. The latter were used primarily to transport manufactured (high valued and nonperishable) goods west.

Most farmers, and particularly those in the East North Central States – the region consisting today of Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ohio and Wisconsin – could not ship bulk grains to market profitably (Clark 1966, 4, 15).5 Instead, most converted grains into relatively high value flour, livestock, provisions and whiskies or malt liquors and shipped them south or, in the case of livestock, drove them east (14).6 Oats traded locally, if at all; their low value-to-weight ratios made their shipment, in bulk or otherwise, prohibitive (15n).

The Great Lakes provided a natural water route east to Buffalo but, in order to ship grain this way, producers in the interior East North Central region needed local ports to receive their production. Although the Erie Canal connected Lake Erie to the port of New York by 1825, water routes that connected local interior ports throughout northern Ohio to the Canal were not operational prior to the mid-1830s. Indeed, initially the Erie aided the development of the Old Northwest, not because it facilitated eastward grain shipments, but rather because it allowed immigrants and manufactured goods easy access to the West (Clark 1966, 53).

By 1835 the mouths of rivers and streams throughout the East North Central States had become the hubs, or port cities, from which farmers shipped grain east via the Erie. By this time, shippers could also opt to go south on the Ohio River and then upriver to Pittsburgh and ultimately to Philadelphia, or north on the Ohio Canal to Cleveland, Buffalo and ultimately, via the Welland Canal, to Lake Ontario and Montreal (19).

By 1836 shippers carried more grain north on the Great Lakes and through Buffalo, than south on the Mississippi through New Orleans (Odle 1964, 441). Though, as late as 1840 Ohio was the only state/region who participated significantly in the Great Lakes trade. Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, and the region of modern day Wisconsin either produced for their respective local markets or relied upon Southern demand. As of 1837 only 4,107 residents populated the “village” of Chicago, which became an official city in that year (Hieronymus 1977, 72).7

Antebellum Grain Trade Finance in the Old Northwest

Before the mid-1860s, a network of banks, grain dealers, merchants, millers and commission houses – buying and selling agents located in the central commodity markets – employed an acceptance system to finance the U.S. grain trade (see Clark 1966, 119; Odle 1964, 442). For example, a miller who required grain would instruct an agent in, say, New York to establish, on the miller’s behalf, a line of credit with a merchant there. The merchant extended this line of credit in the form of sight drafts, which the merchant made payable, in sixty or ninety days, up to the amount of the line of credit.

With this credit line established, commission agents in the hinterland would arrange with grain dealers to acquire the necessary grain. The commission agent would obtain warehouse receipts – dealer certified negotiable titles to specific lots and quantities of grain in store – from dealers, attach these to drafts that he drew on the merchant’s line of credit, and discount these drafts at his local bank in return for banknotes; the local bank would forward these drafts on to the New York merchant’s bank for redemption. The commission agents would use these banknotes to advance – lend – grain dealers roughly three quarters of the current market value of the grain. The commission agent would pay dealers the remainder (minus finance and commission fees) when the grain was finally sold in the East. That is, commission agents and grain dealers entered into consignment contracts.

Unfortunately, this approach linked banks, grain dealers, merchants, millers and commission agents such that the “entire procedure was attended by considerable risk and speculation, which was assumed by both the consignee and consignor” (Clark 1966, 120). The system was reasonably adequate if grain prices went unchanged between the time the miller procured the credit and the time the grain (bulk or converted) was sold in the East, but this was rarely the case. The fundamental problem with this system of finance was that commission agents were effectively asking banks to lend them money to purchase as yet unsold grain. To be sure, this inadequacy was most apparent during financial panics, when many banks refused to discount these drafts (Odle 1964, 447).

Grain Trade Finance in Transition: Forward Contracts and Commodity Exchanges

In 1848 the Illinois-Michigan Canal connected the Illinois River to Lake Michigan. The canal enabled farmers in the hinterlands along the Illinois River to ship their produce to merchants located along the river. These merchants accumulated, stored and then shipped grain to Chicago, Milwaukee and Racine. At first, shippers tagged deliverables according to producer and region, while purchasers inspected and chose these tagged bundles upon delivery. Commercial activity at the three grain ports grew throughout the 1850s. Chicago emerged as a dominant grain (primarily corn) hub later that decade (Pierce 1957, 66).8

Amidst this growth of Lake Michigan commerce, a confluence of innovations transformed the grain trade and its method of finance. By the 1840s, grain elevators and railroads facilitated high volume grain storage and shipment, respectively. Consequently, country merchants and their Chicago counterparts required greater financing in order to store and ship this higher volume of grain.9 And, high volume grain storage and shipment required that inventoried grains be fungible – of such a nature that one part or quantity could be replaced by another equal part or quantity in the satisfaction of an obligation. For example, because a bushel of grade No. 2 Spring Wheat was fungible, its price did not depend on whether it came from Farmer A, Farmer B, Grain Elevator C, or Train Car D.

Merchants could secure these larger loans more easily and at relatively lower rates if they obtained firm price and quantity commitments from their buyers. So, merchants began to engage in forward (not futures) contracts. According to Hieronymus (1977), the first such “time contract” on record was made on March 13, 1851. It specified that 3,000 bushels of corn were to be delivered to Chicago in June at a price of one cent below the March 13th cash market price (74).10

Meanwhile, commodity exchanges serviced the trade’s need for fungible grain. In the 1840s and 1850s these exchanges emerged as associations for dealing with local issues such as harbor infrastructure and commercial arbitration (e.g., Detroit in 1847, Buffalo, Cleveland and Chicago in 1848 and Milwaukee in 1849) (see Odle 1964). By the 1850s they established a system of staple grades, standards and inspections, all of which rendered inventory grain fungible (Baer and Saxon 1949, 10; Chandler 1977, 211). As collection points for grain, cotton, and provisions, they weighed, inspected and classified commodity shipments that passed from west to east. They also facilitated organized trading in spot and forward markets (Chandler 1977, 211; Odle 1964, 439).11

The largest and most prominent of these exchanges was the Board of Trade of the City of Chicago, a grain and provisions exchange established in 1848 by a State of Illinois corporate charter (Boyle 1920, 38; Lurie 1979, 27); the exchange is known today as the Chicago Board of Trade (CBT). For at least its first decade, the CBT functioned as a meeting place for merchants to resolve contract disputes and discuss commercial matters of mutual concern. Participation was part-time at best. The Board’s first directorate of 25 members included “a druggist, a bookseller, a tanner, a grocer, a coal dealer, a hardware merchant, and a banker” and attendance was often encouraged by free lunches (Lurie 1979, 25).

However, in 1859 the CBT became a state- (of Illinois) chartered private association. As such, the exchange requested and received from the Illinois legislature sanction to establish rules “for the management of their business and the mode in which it shall be transacted, as they may think proper;” to arbitrate over and settle disputes with the authority as “if it were a judgment rendered in the Circuit Court;” and to inspect, weigh and certify grain and grain trades such that these certifications would be binding upon all CBT members (Lurie 1979, 27).

Nineteenth Century Futures Trading

By the 1850s traders sold and resold forward contracts prior to actual delivery (Hieronymus 1977, 75). A trader could not offset, in the futures market sense of the term, a forward contact. Nonetheless, the existence of a secondary market – market for extant, as opposed to newly issued securities – in forward contracts suggests, if nothing else, speculators were active in these early time contracts.

On March 27, 1863, the Chicago Board of Trade adopted its first rules and procedures for trade in forwards on the exchange (Hieronymus 1977, 76). The rules addressed contract settlement, which was (and still is) the fundamental challenge associated with a forward contract – finding a trader who was willing to take a position in a forward contract was relatively easy to do; finding that trader at the time of contract settlement was not.

The CBT began to transform actively traded and reasonably homogeneous forward contracts into futures contracts in May, 1865. At this time, the CBT: restricted trade in time contracts to exchange members; standardized contract specifications; required traders to deposit margins; and specified formally contract settlement, including payments and deliveries, and grievance procedures (Hieronymus 1977, 76).

The inception of organized futures trading is difficult to date. This is due, in part, to semantic ambiguities – e.g., was a “to arrive” contract a forward contract or a futures contract or neither? However, most grain trade historians agree that storage (grain elevators), shipment (railroad), and communication (telegraph) technologies, a system of staple grades and standards, and the impetus to speculation provided by the Crimean and U.S. Civil Wars enabled futures trading to ripen by about 1874, at which time the CBT was the U.S.’s premier organized commodities (grain and provisions) futures exchange (Baer and Saxon 1949, 87; Chandler 1977, 212; CBT 1936, 18; Clark 1966, 120; Dies 1925, 15; Hoffman 1932, 29; Irwin 1954, 77, 82; Rothstein 1966, 67).

Nonetheless, futures exchanges in the mid-1870s lacked modern clearinghouses, with which most exchanges began to experiment only in the mid-1880s. For example, the CBT’s clearinghouse got its start in 1884, and a complete and mandatory clearing system was in place at the CBT by 1925 (Hoffman 1932, 199; Williams 1982, 306). The earliest formal clearing and offset procedures were established by the Minneapolis Grain Exchange in 1891 (Peck 1985, 6).

Even so, rudiments of a clearing system – one that freed traders from dealing directly with one another – were in place by the 1870s (Hoffman 1920, 189). That is to say, brokers assumed the counter-position to every trade, much as clearinghouse members would do decades later. Brokers settled offsets between one another, though in the absence of a formal clearing procedure these settlements were difficult to accomplish.

Direct settlements were simple enough. Here, two brokers would settle in cash their offsetting positions between one another only. Nonetheless, direct settlements were relatively uncommon because offsetting purchases and sales between brokers rarely balanced with respect to quantity. For example, B1 might buy a 5,000 bushel corn future from B2, who then might buy a 6,000 bushel corn future from B1; in this example, 1,000 bushels of corn remain unsettled between B1 and B2. Of course, the two brokers could offset the remaining 1,000 bushel contract if B2 sold a 1,000 bushel corn future to B1. But what if B2 had already sold a 1,000 bushel corn future to B3, who had sold a 1,000 bushel corn future to B1? In this case, each broker’s net futures market position is offset, but all three must meet in order to settle their respective positions. Brokers referred to such a meeting as a ring settlement. Finally, if, in this example, B1 and B3 did not have positions with each other, B2 could settle her position if she transferred her commitment (which she has with B1) to B3. Brokers referred to this method as a transfer settlement. In either ring or transfer settlements, brokers had to find other brokers who held and wished to settle open counter-positions. Often brokers used runners to search literally the offices and corridors for the requisite counter-parties (see Hoffman 1932, 185-200).

Finally, the transformation in Chicago grain markets from forward to futures trading occurred almost simultaneously in New York cotton markets. Forward contracts for cotton traded in New York (and Liverpool, England) by the 1850s. And, like Chicago, organized trading in cotton futures began on the New York Cotton Exchange in about 1870; rules and procedures formalized the practice in 1872. Futures trading on the New Orleans Cotton Exchange began around 1882 (Hieronymus 1977, 77).

Other successful nineteenth century futures exchanges include the New York Produce Exchange, the Milwaukee Chamber of Commerce, the Merchant’s Exchange of St. Louis, the Chicago Open Board of Trade, the Duluth Board of Trade, and the Kansas City Board of Trade (Hoffman 1920, 33; see Peck 1985, 9).

Early Futures Market Performance

Volume

Data on grain futures volume prior to the 1880s are not available (Hoffman 1932, 30). Though in the 1870s “[CBT] officials openly admitted that there was no actual delivery of grain in more than ninety percent of contracts” (Lurie 1979, 59). Indeed, Chart 1 demonstrates that trading was relatively voluminous in the nineteenth century.

An annual average of 23,600 million bushels of grain futures traded between 1884 and 1888, or eight times the annual average amount of crops produced during that period. By comparison, an annual average of 25,803 million bushels of grain futures traded between 1966 and 1970, or four times the annual average amount of crops produced during that period. In 2002, futures volume outnumbered crop production by a factor of eleven.

The comparable data for cotton futures are presented in Chart 2. Again here, trading in the nineteenth century was significant. To wit, by 1879 futures volume had outnumbered production by a factor of five, and by 1896 this factor had reached eight.

Price of Storage

Nineteenth century observers of early U.S. futures markets either credited them for stabilizing food prices, or discredited them for wagering on, and intensifying, the economic hardships of Americans (Baer and Saxon 1949, 12-20, 56; Chandler 1977, 212; Ferris 1988, 88; Hoffman 1932, 5; Lurie 1979, 53, 115). To be sure, the performance of early futures markets remains relatively unexplored. The extant research on the subject has generally examined this performance in the context of two perspectives on the theory of efficiency: the price of storage and futures price efficiency more generally.

Holbrook Working pioneered research into the price of storage – the relationship, at a point in time, between prices (of storable agricultural commodities) applicable to different future dates (Working 1949, 1254).12 For example, what is the relationship between the current spot price of wheat and the current September 2004 futures price of wheat? Or, what is the relationship between the current September 2004 futures price of wheat and the current May 2005 futures price of wheat?

Working reasoned that these prices could not differ because of events that were expected to occur between these dates. For example, if the May 2004 wheat futures price is less than the September 2004 price, this cannot be due to, say, the expectation of a small harvest between May 2004 and September 2004. On the contrary, traders should factor such an expectation into both May and September prices. And, assuming that they do, then this difference can only reflect the cost of carrying – storing – these commodities over time.13 Though this strict interpretation has since been modified somewhat (see Peck 1985, 44).

So, for example, the September 2004 price equals the May 2004 price plus the cost of storing wheat between May 2004 and September 2004. If the difference between these prices is greater or less than the cost of storage, and the market is efficient, arbitrage will bring the difference back to the cost of storage – e.g., if the difference in prices exceeds the cost of storage, then traders can profit if they buy the May 2004 contract, sell the September 2004 contract, take delivery in May and store the wheat until September. Working (1953) demonstrated empirically that the theory of the price of storage could explain quite satisfactorily these inter-temporal differences in wheat futures prices at the CBT as early as the late 1880s (Working 1953, 556).

Futures Price Efficiency

Many contemporary economists tend to focus on futures price efficiency more generally (for example, Beck 1994; Kahl and Tomek 1986; Kofi 1973; McKenzie, et al. 2002; Tomek and Gray, 1970). That is to say, do futures prices shadow consistently (but not necessarily equal) traders’ rational expectations of future spot prices? Here, the research focuses on the relationship between, say, the cash price of wheat in September 2004 and the September 2004 futures price of wheat quoted two months earlier in July 2004.

Figure 1illustrates the behavior of corn futures prices and their corresponding spot prices between 1877 and 1890. The data consist of the average month t futures price in the last full week of month t-2 and the average cash price in the first full week of month t.

The futures price and its corresponding spot price need not be equal; futures price efficiency does not mean that the futures market is clairvoyant. But, a difference between the two series should exist only because of an unpredictable forecast error and a risk premium – futures prices may be, say, consistently below the expected future spot price if long speculators require an inducement, or premium, to enter the futures market. Recent work finds strong evidence that these early corn (and corresponding wheat) futures prices are, in the long run, efficient estimates of their underlying spot prices (Santos 2002, 35). Although these results and Working’s empirical studies on the price of storage support, to some extent, the notion that early U.S. futures markets were efficient, this question remains largely unexplored by economic historians.

The Struggle for Legitimacy

Nineteenth century America was both fascinated and appalled by futures trading. This is apparent from the litigation and many public debates surrounding its legitimacy (Baer and Saxon 1949, 55; Buck 1913, 131, 271; Hoffman 1932, 29, 351; Irwin 1954, 80; Lurie 1979, 53, 106). Many agricultural producers, the lay community and, at times, legislatures and the courts, believed trading in futures was tantamount to gambling. The difference between the latter and speculating, which required the purchase or sale of a futures contract but not the shipment or delivery of the commodity, was ostensibly lost on most Americans (Baer and Saxon 1949, 56; Ferris 1988, 88; Hoffman 1932, 5; Lurie 1979, 53, 115).

Many Americans believed that futures traders frequently manipulated prices. From the end of the Civil War until 1879 alone, corners – control of enough of the available supply of a commodity to manipulate its price – allegedly occurred with varying degrees of success in wheat (1868, 1871, 1878/9), corn (1868), oats (1868, 1871, 1874), rye (1868) and pork (1868) (Boyle 1920, 64-65). This manipulation continued throughout the century and culminated in the Three Big Corners – the Hutchinson (1888), the Leiter (1898), and the Patten (1909). The Patten corner was later debunked (Boyle 1920, 67-74), while the Leiter corner was the inspiration for Frank Norris’s classic The Pit: A Story of Chicago (Norris 1903; Rothstein 1982, 60).14 In any case, reports of market corners on America’s early futures exchanges were likely exaggerated (Boyle 1920, 62-74; Hieronymus 1977, 84), as were their long term effects on prices and hence consumer welfare (Rothstein 1982, 60).

By 1892 thousands of petitions to Congress called for the prohibition of “speculative gambling in grain” (Lurie, 1979, 109). And, attacks from state legislatures were seemingly unrelenting: in 1812 a New York act made short sales illegal (the act was repealed in 1858); in 1841 a Pennsylvania law made short sales, where the position was not covered in five days, a misdemeanor (the law was repealed in 1862); in 1882 an Ohio law and a similar one in Illinois tried unsuccessfully to restrict cash settlement of futures contracts; in 1867 the Illinois constitution forbade dealing in futures contracts (this was repealed by 1869); in 1879 California’s constitution invalidated futures contracts (this was effectively repealed in 1908); and, in 1882, 1883 and 1885, Mississippi, Arkansas, and Texas, respectively, passed laws that equated futures trading with gambling, thus making the former a misdemeanor (Peterson 1933, 68-69).

Two nineteenth century challenges to futures trading are particularly noteworthy. The first was the so-called Anti-Option movement. According to Lurie (1979), the movement was fueled by agrarians and their sympathizers in Congress who wanted to end what they perceived as wanton speculative abuses in futures trading (109). Although options were (are) not futures contracts, and were nonetheless already outlawed on most exchanges by the 1890s, the legislation did not distinguish between the two instruments and effectively sought to outlaw both (Lurie 1979, 109).

In 1890 the Butterworth Anti-Option Bill was introduced in Congress but never came to a vote. However, in 1892 the Hatch (and Washburn) Anti-Option bills passed both houses of Congress, and failed only on technicalities during reconciliation between the two houses. Had either bill become law, it would have effectively ended options and futures trading in the United States (Lurie 1979, 110).

A second notable challenge was the bucket shop controversy, which challenged the legitimacy of the CBT in particular. A bucket shop was essentially an association of gamblers who met outside the CBT and wagered on the direction of futures prices. These associations had legitimate-sounding names such as the Christie Grain and Stock Company and the Public Grain Exchange. To most Americans, these “exchanges” were no less legitimate than the CBT. That some CBT members were guilty of “bucket shopping” only made matters worse!

The bucket shop controversy was protracted and colorful (see Lurie 1979, 138-167). Between 1884 and 1887 Illinois, Iowa, Missouri and Ohio passed anti-bucket shop laws (Lurie 1979, 95). The CBT believed these laws entitled them to restrict bucket shops access to CBT price quotes, without which the bucket shops could not exist. Bucket shops argued that they were competing exchanges, and hence immune to extant anti-bucket shop laws. As such, they sued the CBT for access to these price quotes.15

The two sides and the telegraph companies fought in the courts for decades over access to these price quotes; the CBT’s very survival hung in the balance. After roughly twenty years of litigation, the Supreme Court of the U.S. effectively ruled in favor of the Chicago Board of Trade and against bucket shops (Board of Trade of the City of Chicago v. Christie Grain & Stock Co., 198 U.S. 236, 25 Sup. Ct. (1905)). Bucket shops disappeared completely by 1915 (Hieronymus 1977, 90).

Regulation

The anti-option movement, the bucket shop controversy and the American public’s discontent with speculation masks an ironic reality of futures trading: it escaped government regulation until after the First World War; though early exchanges did practice self-regulation or administrative law.16 The absence of any formal governmental oversight was due in large part to two factors. First, prior to 1895, the opposition tried unsuccessfully to outlaw rather than regulate futures trading. Second, strong agricultural commodity prices between 1895 and 1920 weakened the opposition, who blamed futures markets for low agricultural commodity prices (Hieronymus 1977, 313).

Grain prices fell significantly by the end of the First World War, and opposition to futures trading grew once again (Hieronymus 1977, 313). In 1922 the U.S. Congress enacted the Grain Futures Act, which required exchanges to be licensed, limited market manipulation and publicized trading information (Leuthold 1989, 369).17 However, regulators could rarely enforce the act because it enabled them to discipline exchanges, rather than individual traders. To discipline an exchange was essentially to suspend it, a punishment unfit (too harsh) for most exchange-related infractions.

The Commodity Exchange Act of 1936 enabled the government to deal directly with traders rather than exchanges. It established the Commodity Exchange Authority (CEA), a bureau of the U.S. Department of Agriculture, to monitor and investigate trading activities and prosecute price manipulation as a criminal offense. The act also: limited speculators’ trading activities and the sizes of their positions; regulated futures commission merchants; banned options trading on domestic agricultural commodities; and restricted futures trading – designated which commodities were to be traded on which licensed exchanges (see Hieronymus 1977; Leuthold, et al. 1989).

Although Congress amended the Commodity Exchange Act in 1968 in order to increase the regulatory powers of the Commodity Exchange Authority, the latter was ill-equipped to handle the explosive growth in futures trading in the 1960s and 1970s. So, in 1974 Congress passed the Commodity Futures Trading Act, which created far-reaching federal oversight of U.S. futures trading and established the Commodity Futures Trading Commission (CFTC).

Like the futures legislation before it, the Commodity Futures Trading Act seeks “to ensure proper execution of customer orders and to prevent unlawful manipulation, price distortion, fraud, cheating, fictitious trades, and misuse of customer funds” (Leuthold, et al. 1989, 34). Unlike the CEA, the CFTC was given broad regulator powers over all futures trading and related exchange activities throughout the U.S. The CFTC oversees and approves modifications to extant contracts and the creation and introduction of new contracts. The CFTC consists of five presidential appointees who are confirmed by the U.S. Senate.

The Futures Trading Act of 1982 amended the Commodity Futures Trading Act of 1974. The 1982 act legalized options trading on agricultural commodities and identified more clearly the jurisdictions of the CFTC and Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). The regulatory overlap between the two organizations arose because of the explosive popularity during the 1970s of financial futures contracts. Today, the CFTC regulates all futures contracts and options on futures contracts traded on U.S. futures exchanges; the SEC regulates all financial instrument cash markets as well as all other options markets.

Finally, in 2000 Congress passed the Commodity Futures Modernization Act, which reauthorized the Commodity Futures Trading Commission for five years and repealed an 18-year old ban on trading single stock futures. The bill also sought to increase competition and “reduce systematic risk in markets for futures and over-the-counter derivatives” (H.R. 5660, 106th Congress 2nd Session).

Modern Futures Markets

The growth in futures trading has been explosive in recent years (Chart 3).

Futures trading extended beyond physical commodities in the 1970s and 1980s – currency futures in 1972; interest rate futures in 1975; and stock index futures in 1982 (Silber 1985, 83). The enormous growth of financial futures at this time was likely because of the breakdown of the Bretton Woods exchange rate regime, which essentially fixed the relative values of industrial economies’ exchange rates to the American dollar (see Bordo and Eichengreen 1993), and relatively high inflation from the late 1960s to the early 1980s. Flexible exchange rates and inflation introduced, respectively, exchange and interest rate risks, which hedgers sought to mitigate through the use of financial futures. Finally, although futures contracts on agricultural commodities remain popular, financial futures and options dominate trading today. Trading volume in metals, minerals and energy remains relatively small.

Trading volume in agricultural futures contracts first dropped below 50% in 1982. By 1985 this volume had dropped to less than one fourth all trading. In the same year the volume of futures trading in the U.S. Treasury bond contract alone exceeded trading volume in all agricultural commodities combined (Leuthold et al. 1989, 2). Today exchanges in the U.S. actively trade contracts on several underlying assets (Table 1). These range from the traditional – e.g., agriculture and metals – to the truly innovative – e.g. the weather. The latter’s payoff varies with the number of degree-days by which the temperature in a particular region deviates from 65 degrees Fahrenheit.

Table 1: Select Futures Contracts Traded as of 2002

Agriculture Currencies Equity Indexes Interest Rates Metals & Energy
Corn British pound S&P 500 index Eurodollars Copper
Oats Canadian dollar Dow Jones Industrials Euroyen Aluminum
Soybeans Japanese yen S&P Midcap 400 Euro-denominated bond Gold
Soybean meal Euro Nasdaq 100 Euroswiss Platinum
Soybean oil Swiss franc NYSE index Sterling Palladium
Wheat Australian dollar Russell 2000 index British gov. bond (gilt) Silver
Barley Mexican peso Nikkei 225 German gov. bond Crude oil
Flaxseed Brazilian real FTSE index Italian gov. bond Heating oil
Canola CAC-40 Canadian gov. bond Gas oil
Rye DAX-30 Treasury bonds Natural gas
Cattle All ordinary Treasury notes Gasoline
Hogs Toronto 35 Treasury bills Propane
Pork bellies Dow Jones Euro STOXX 50 LIBOR CRB index
Cocoa EURIBOR Electricity
Coffee Municipal bond index Weather
Cotton Federal funds rate
Milk Bankers’ acceptance
Orange juice
Sugar
Lumber
Rice

Source: Bodie, Kane and Marcus (2005), p. 796.

Table 2 provides a list of today’s major futures exchanges.

Table 2: Select Futures Exchanges as of 2002

Exchange Exchange
Chicago Board of Trade CBT Montreal Exchange ME
Chicago Mercantile Exchange CME Minneapolis Grain Exchange MPLS
Coffee, Sugar & Cocoa Exchange, New York CSCE Unit of Euronext.liffe NQLX
COMEX, a division of the NYME CMX New York Cotton Exchange NYCE
European Exchange EUREX New York Futures Exchange NYFE
Financial Exchange, a division of the NYCE FINEX New York Mercantile Exchange NYME
International Petroleum Exchange IPE OneChicago ONE
Kansas City Board of Trade KC Sydney Futures Exchange SFE
London International Financial Futures Exchange LIFFE Singapore Exchange Ltd. SGX
Marche a Terme International de France MATIF

Source: Wall Street Journal, 5/12/2004, C16.

Modern trading differs from its nineteenth century counterpart in other respects as well. First, the popularity of open outcry trading is waning. For example, today the CBT executes roughly half of all trades electronically. And, electronic trading is the rule, rather than the exception throughout Europe. Second, today roughly 99% of all futures contracts are settled prior to maturity. Third, in 1982 the Commodity Futures Trading Commission approved cash settlement – delivery that takes the form of a cash balance – on financial index and Eurodollar futures, whose underlying assets are not deliverable, as well as on several non-financial contracts including lean hog, feeder cattle and weather (Carlton 1984, 253). And finally, on Dec. 6, 2002, the Chicago Mercantile Exchange became the first publicly traded financial exchange in the U.S.

References and Further Reading

Baer, Julius B. and Olin. G. Saxon. Commodity Exchanges and Futures Trading. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1949.

Bodie, Zvi, Alex Kane and Alan J. Marcus. Investments. New York: McGraw-Hill/Irwin, 2005.

Bordo, Michael D. and Barry Eichengreen, editors. A Retrospective on the Bretton Woods System: Lessons for International Monetary Reform. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993.

Boyle, James. E. Speculation and the Chicago Board of Trade. New York: MacMillan Company, 1920.

Buck, Solon. J. The Granger Movement: A Study of Agricultural Organization and Its Political,

Carlton, Dennis W. “Futures Markets: Their Purpose, Their History, Their Growth, Their Successes and Failures.” Journal of Futures Markets 4, no. 3 (1984): 237-271.

Chicago Board of Trade Bulletin. The Development of the Chicago Board of Trade. Chicago: Chicago Board of Trade, 1936.

Chandler, Alfred. D. The Visible Hand: The Managerial Revolution in American Business. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1977.

Clark, John. G. The Grain Trade in the Old Northwest. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1966.

Commodity Futures Trading Commission. Annual Report. Washington, D.C. 2003.

Dies, Edward. J. The Wheat Pit. Chicago: The Argyle Press, 1925.

Ferris, William. G. The Grain Traders: The Story of the Chicago Board of Trade. East Lansing, MI: Michigan State University Press, 1988.

Hieronymus, Thomas A. Economics of Futures Trading for Commercial and Personal Profit. New York: Commodity Research Bureau, Inc., 1977.

Hoffman, George W. Futures Trading upon Organized Commodity Markets in the United States. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1932.

Irwin, Harold. S. Evolution of Futures Trading. Madison, WI: Mimir Publishers, Inc., 1954

Leuthold, Raymond M., Joan C. Junkus and Jean E. Cordier. The Theory and Practice of Futures Markets. Champaign, IL: Stipes Publishing L.L.C., 1989.

Lurie, Jonathan. The Chicago Board of Trade 1859-1905. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1979.

National Agricultural Statistics Service. “Historical Track Records.” Agricultural Statistics Board, U.S. Department of Agriculture, Washington, D.C. April 2004.

Norris, Frank. The Pit: A Story of Chicago. New York, NY: Penguin Group, 1903.

Odle, Thomas. “Entrepreneurial Cooperation on the Great Lakes: The Origin of the Methods of American Grain Marketing.” Business History Review 38, (1964): 439-55.

Peck, Anne E., editor. Futures Markets: Their Economic Role. Washington D.C.: American Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research, 1985.

Peterson, Arthur G. “Futures Trading with Particular Reference to Agricultural Commodities.” Agricultural History 8, (1933): 68-80.

Pierce, Bessie L. A History of Chicago: Volume III, the Rise of a Modern City. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1957.

Rothstein, Morton. “The International Market for Agricultural Commodities, 1850-1873.” In Economic Change in the Civil War Era, edited by David. T. Gilchrist and W. David Lewis, 62-71. Greenville DE: Eleutherian Mills-Hagley Foundation, 1966.

Rothstein, Morton. “Frank Norris and Popular Perceptions of the Market.” Agricultural History 56, (1982): 50-66.

Santos, Joseph. “Did Futures Markets Stabilize U.S. Grain Prices?” Journal of Agricultural Economics 53, no. 1 (2002): 25-36.

Silber, William L. “The Economic Role of Financial Futures.” In Futures Markets: Their Economic Role, edited by Anne E. Peck, 83-114. Washington D.C.: American Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research, 1985.

Stein, Jerome L. The Economics of Futures Markets. Oxford: Basil Blackwell Ltd, 1986.

Taylor, Charles. H. History of the Board of Trade of the City of Chicago. Chicago: R. O. Law, 1917.

Werner, Walter and Steven T. Smith. Wall Street. New York: Columbia University Press, 1991.

Williams, Jeffrey C. “The Origin of Futures Markets.” Agricultural History 56, (1982): 306-16.

Working, Holbrook. “The Theory of the Price of Storage.” American Economic Review 39, (1949): 1254-62.

Working, Holbrook. “Hedging Reconsidered.” Journal of Farm Economics 35, (1953): 544-61.

1 The clearinghouse is typically a corporation owned by a subset of exchange members. For details regarding the clearing arrangements of a specific exchange, go to www.cftc.gov and click on “Clearing Organizations.”

2 The vast majority of contracts are offset. Outright delivery occurs when the buyer receives from, or the seller “delivers” to the exchange a title of ownership, and not the actual commodity or financial security – the urban legend of the trader who neglected to settle his long position and consequently “woke up one morning to find several car loads of a commodity dumped on his front yard” is indeed apocryphal (Hieronymus 1977, 37)!

3 Nevertheless, forward contracts remain popular today (see Peck 1985, 9-12).

4 The importance of New Orleans as a point of departure for U.S. grain and provisions prior to the Civil War is unquestionable. According to Clark (1966), “New Orleans was the leading export center in the nation in terms of dollar volume of domestic exports, except for 1847 and a few years during the 1850s, when New York’s domestic exports exceeded those of the Crescent City” (36).

5 This area was responsible for roughly half of U.S. wheat production and a third of U.S. corn production just prior to 1860. Southern planters dominated corn output during the early to mid- 1800s.

6 Millers milled wheat into flour; pork producers fed corn to pigs, which producers slaughtered for provisions; distillers and brewers converted rye and barley into whiskey and malt liquors, respectively; and ranchers fed grains and grasses to cattle, which were then driven to eastern markets.

7 Significant advances in transportation made the grain trade’s eastward expansion possible, but the strong and growing demand for grain in the East made the trade profitable. The growth in domestic grain demand during the early to mid-nineteenth century reflected the strong growth in eastern urban populations. Between 1820 and 1860, the populations of Baltimore, Boston, New York and Philadelphia increased by over 500% (Clark 1966, 54). Moreover, as the 1840’s approached, foreign demand for U.S. grain grew. Between 1845 and 1847, U.S. exports of wheat and flour rose from 6.3 million bushels to 26.3 million bushels and corn exports grew from 840,000 bushels to 16.3 million bushels (Clark 1966, 55).

8 Wheat production was shifting to the trans-Mississippi West, which produced 65% of the nation’s wheat by 1899 and 90% by 1909, and railroads based in the Lake Michigan port cities intercepted the Mississippi River trade that would otherwise have headed to St. Louis (Clark 1966, 95). Lake Michigan port cities also benefited from a growing concentration of corn production in the West North Central region – Iowa, Kansas, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, North Dakota and South Dakota, which by 1899 produced 40% percent of the country’s corn (Clark 1966, 4).

9 Corn had to be dried immediately after it was harvested and could only be shipped profitably by water to Chicago, but only after rivers and lakes had thawed; so, country merchants stored large quantities of corn. On the other hand, wheat was more valuable relative to its weight, and it could be shipped to Chicago by rail or road immediately after it was harvested; so, Chicago merchants stored large quantities of wheat.

10 This is consistent with Odle (1964), who adds that “the creators of the new system of marketing [forward contracts] were the grain merchants of the Great Lakes” (439). However, Williams (1982) presents evidence of such contracts between Buffalo and New York City as early as 1847 (309). To be sure, Williams proffers an intriguing case that forward and, in effect, future trading was active and quite sophisticated throughout New York by the late 1840s. Moreover, he argues that this trading grew not out of activity in Chicago, whose trading activities were quite primitive at this early date, but rather trading in London and ultimately Amsterdam. Indeed, “time bargains” were common in London and New York securities markets in the mid- and late 1700s, respectively. A time bargain was essentially a cash-settled financial forward contract that was unenforceable by law, and as such “each party was forced to rely on the integrity and credit of the other” (Werner and Smith 1991, 31). According to Werner and Smith, “time bargains prevailed on Wall Street until 1840, and were gradually replaced by margin trading by 1860” (68). They add that, “margin trading … had an advantage over time bargains, in which there was little protection against default beyond the word of another broker. Time bargains also technically violated the law as wagering contracts; margin trading did not” (135). Between 1818 and 1840 these contracts comprised anywhere from 0.7% (49-day average in 1830) to 34.6% (78-day average in 1819) of daily exchange volume on the New York Stock & Exchange Board (Werner and Smith 1991, 174).

11 Of course, forward markets could and indeed did exist in the absence of both grading standards and formal exchanges, though to what extent they existed is unclear (see Williams 1982).

12 In the parlance of modern financial futures, the term cost of carry is used instead of the term storage. For example, the cost of carrying a bond is comprised of the cost of acquiring and holding (or storing) it until delivery minus the return earned during the carry period.

13 More specifically, the price of storage is comprised of three components: (1) physical costs such as warehouse and insurance; (2) financial costs such as borrowing rates of interest; and (3) the convenience yield – the return that the merchant, who stores the commodity, derives from maintaining an inventory in the commodity. The marginal costs of (1) and (2) are increasing functions of the amount stored; the more the merchant stores, the greater the marginal costs of warehouse use, insurance and financing. Whereas the marginal benefit of (3) is a decreasing function of the amount stored; put differently, the smaller the merchant’s inventory, the more valuable each additional unit of inventory becomes. Working used this convenience yield to explain a negative price of storage – the nearby contract is priced higher than the faraway contract; an event that is likely to occur when supplies are exceptionally low. In this instance, there is little for inventory dealers to store. Hence, dealers face extremely low physical and financial storage costs, but extremely high convenience yields. The price of storage turns negative; essentially, inventory dealers are willing to pay to store the commodity.

14 Norris’ protagonist, Curtis Jadwin, is a wheat speculator emotionally consumed and ultimately destroyed, while the welfare of producers and consumers hang in the balance, when a nineteenth century CBT wheat futures corner backfires on him.

15 One particularly colorful incident in the controversy came when the Supreme Court of Illinois ruled that the CBT had to either make price quotes public or restrict access to everyone. When the Board opted for the latter, it found it needed to “prevent its members from running (often literally) between the [CBT and a bucket shop next door], but with minimal success. Board officials at first tried to lock the doors to the exchange…However, after one member literally battered down the door to the east side of the building, the directors abandoned this policy as impracticable if not destructive” (Lurie 1979, 140).

16 Administrative law is “a body of rules and doctrines which deals with the powers and actions of administrative agencies” that are organizations other than the judiciary or legislature. These organizations affect the rights of private parties “through either adjudication, rulemaking, investigating, prosecuting, negotiating, settling, or informally acting” (Lurie 1979, 9).

17 In 1921 Congress passed The Futures Trading Act, which was declared unconstitutional.

Citation: Santos, Joseph. “A History of Futures Trading in the United States”. EH.Net Encyclopedia, edited by Robert Whaples. March 16, 2008. URL http://eh.net/encyclopedia/a-history-of-futures-trading-in-the-united-states/

The Economic History of the Fur Trade: 1670 to 1870

Ann M. Carlos, University of Colorado
Frank D. Lewis, Queen’s University

Introduction

A commercial fur trade in North America grew out of the early contact between Indians and European fisherman who were netting cod on the Grand Banks off Newfoundland and on the Bay of Gaspé near Quebec. Indians would trade the pelts of small animals, such as mink, for knives and other iron-based products, or for textiles. Exchange at first was haphazard and it was only in the late sixteenth century, when the wearing of beaver hats became fashionable, that firms were established who dealt exclusively in furs. High quality pelts are available only where winters are severe, so the trade took place predominantly in the regions we now know as Canada, although some activity took place further south along the Mississippi River and in the Rocky Mountains. There was also a market in deer skins that predominated in the Appalachians.

The first firms to participate in the fur trade were French, and under French rule the trade spread along the St. Lawrence and Ottawa Rivers, and down the Mississippi. In the seventeenth century, following the Dutch, the English developed a trade through Albany. Then in 1670, a charter was granted by the British crown to the Hudson’s Bay Company, which began operating from posts along the coast of Hudson Bay (see Figure 1). For roughly the next hundred years, this northern region saw competition of varying intensity between the French and the English. With the conquest of New France in 1763, the French trade shifted to Scottish merchants operating out of Montreal. After the negotiation of Jay’s Treaty (1794), the northern border was defined and trade along the Mississippi passed to the American Fur Company under John Jacob Astor. In 1821, the northern participants merged under the name of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and for many decades this merged company continued to trade in furs. Finally, in the 1990s, under pressure from animal rights groups, the Hudson’s Bay Company, which in the twentieth century had become a large Canadian retailer, ended the fur component of its operation.

Figure 1
Hudson’s Bay Company Hinterlands
 Hudson's Bay Company Hinterlands (map)

Source: Ray (1987, plate 60)

The fur trade was based on pelts destined either for the luxury clothing market or for the felting industries, of which hatting was the most important. This was a transatlantic trade. The animals were trapped and exchanged for goods in North America, and the pelts were transported to Europe for processing and final sale. As a result, forces operating on the demand side of the market in Europe and on the supply side in North America determined prices and volumes; while intermediaries, who linked the two geographically separated areas, determined how the trade was conducted.

The Demand for Fur: Hats, Pelts and Prices

However much hats may be considered an accessory today, they were for centuries a mandatory part of everyday dress, for both men and women. Of course styles changed, and, in response to the vagaries of fashion and politics, hats took on various forms and shapes, from the high-crowned, broad-brimmed hat of the first two Stuarts to the conically-shaped, plainer hat of the Puritans. The Restoration of Charles II of England in 1660 and the Glorious Revolution in 1689 brought their own changes in style (Clarke, 1982, chapter 1). What remained a constant was the material from which hats were made – wool felt. The wool came from various animals, but towards the end of the fifteenth century beaver wool began to be predominate. Over time, beaver hats became increasingly popular eventually dominating the market. Only in the nineteenth century did silk replace beaver in high-fashion men’s hats.

Wool Felt

Furs have long been classified as either fancy or staple. Fancy furs are those demanded for the beauty and luster of their pelt. These furs – mink, fox, otter – are fashioned by furriers into garments or robes. Staple furs are sought for their wool. All staple furs have a double coating of hair with long, stiff, smooth hairs called guard hairs which protect the shorter, softer hair, called wool, that grows next to the animal skin. Only the wool can be felted. Each of the shorter hairs is barbed and once the barbs at the ends of the hair are open, the wool can be compressed into a solid piece of material called felt. The prime staple fur has been beaver, although muskrat and rabbit have also been used.

Wool felt was used for over two centuries to make high-fashion hats. Felt is stronger than a woven material. It will not tear or unravel in a straight line; it is more resistant to water, and it will hold its shape even if it gets wet. These characteristics made felt the prime material for hatters especially when fashion called for hats with large brims. The highest quality hats would be made fully from beaver wool, whereas lower quality hats included inferior wool, such as rabbit.

Felt Making

The transformation of beaver skins into felt and then hats was a highly skilled activity. The process required first that the beaver wool be separated from the guard hairs and the skin, and that some of the wool have open barbs, since felt required some open-barbed wool in the mixture. Felt dates back to the nomads of Central Asia, who are said to have invented the process of felting and made their tents from this light but durable material. Although the art of felting disappeared from much of western Europe during the first millennium, felt-making survived in Russia, Sweden, and Asia Minor. As a result of the Medieval Crusades, felting was reintroduced through the Mediterranean into France (Crean, 1962).

In Russia, the felting industry was based on the European beaver (castor fiber). Given their long tradition of working with beaver pelts, the Russians had perfected the art of combing out the short barbed hairs from among the longer guard hairs, a technology that they safeguarded. As a consequence, the early felting trades in England and France had to rely on beaver wool imported from Russia, although they also used domestic supplies of wool from other animals, such rabbit, sheep and goat. But by the end of the seventeenth century, Russian supplies were drying up, reflecting the serious depletion of the European beaver population.

Coincident with the decline in European beaver stocks was the emergence of a North American trade. North American beaver (castor canadensis) was imported through agents in the English, French and Dutch colonies. Although many of the pelts were shipped to Russia for initial processing, the growth of the beaver market in England and France led to the development of local technologies, and more knowledge of the art of combing. Separating the beaver wool from the felt was only the first step in the felting process. It was also necessary that some of the barbs on the short hairs be raised or open. On the animal these hairs were naturally covered with keratin to prevent the barbs from opening, thus to make felt, the keratin had to be stripped from at least some of the hairs. The process was difficult to refine and entailed considerable experimentation by felt-makers. For instance, one felt maker “bundled [the skins] in a sack of linen and boiled [them] for twelve hours in water containing several fatty substances and nitric acid” (Crean, 1962, p. 381). Although such processes removed the keratin, they did so at the price of a lower quality wool.

The opening of the North American trade not only increased the supply of skins for the felting industry, it also provided a subset of skins whose guard hairs had already been removed and the keratin broken down. Beaver pelts imported from North America were classified as either parchment beaver (castor sec – dry beaver), or coat beaver (castor gras – greasy beaver). Parchment beaver were from freshly caught animals, whose skins were simply dried before being presented for trade. Coat beaver were skins that had been worn by the Indians for a year or more. With wear, the guard hairs fell out and the pelt became oily and more pliable. In addition, the keratin covering the shorter hairs broke down. By the middle of the seventeenth century, hatters and felt-makers came to learn that parchment and coat beaver could be combined to produce a strong, smooth, pliable, top-quality waterproof material.

Until the 1720s, beaver felt was produced with relatively fixed proportions of coat and parchment skins, which led to periodic shortages of one or the other type of pelt. The constraint was relaxed when carotting was developed, a chemical process by which parchment skins were transformed into a type of coat beaver. The original carrotting formula consisted of salts of mercury diluted in nitric acid, which was brushed on the pelts. The use of mercury was a big advance, but it also had serious health consequences for hatters and felters, who were forced to breathe the mercury vapor for extended periods. The expression “mad as a hatter” dates from this period, as the vapor attacked the nervous systems of these workers.

The Prices of Parchment and Coat Beaver

Drawn from the accounts of the Hudson’s Bay Company, Table 1 presents some eighteenth century prices of parchment and coat beaver pelts. From 1713 to 1726, before the carotting process had become established, coat beaver generally fetched a higher price than parchment beaver, averaging 6.6 shillings per pelt as compared to 5.5 shillings. Once carotting was widely used, however, the prices were reversed, and from 1730 to 1770 parchment exceeded coat in almost every year. The same general pattern is seen in the Paris data, although there the reversal was delayed, suggesting slower diffusion in France of the carotting technology. As Crean (1962, p. 382) notes, Nollet’s L’Art de faire des chapeaux included the exact formula, but it was not published until 1765.

A weighted average of parchment and coat prices in London reveals three episodes. From 1713 to 1722 prices were quite stable, fluctuating within the narrow band of 5.0 and 5.5 shillings per pelt. During the period, 1723 to 1745, prices moved sharply higher and remained in the range of 7 to 9 shillings. The years 1746 to 1763 saw another big increase to over 12 shillings per pelt. There are far fewer prices available for Paris, but we do know that in the period 1739 to 1753 the trend was also sharply higher with prices more than doubling.

Table 1
Price of Beaver Pelts in Britain: 1713-1763
(shillings per skin)

Year Parchment Coat Averagea Year Parchment Coat Averagea
1713 5.21 4.62 5.03 1739 8.51 7.11 8.05
1714 5.24 7.86 5.66 1740 8.44 6.66 7.88
1715 4.88 5.49 1741 8.30 6.83 7.84
1716 4.68 8.81 5.16 1742 7.72 6.41 7.36
1717 5.29 8.37 5.65 1743 8.98 6.74 8.27
1718 4.77 7.81 5.22 1744 9.18 6.61 8.52
1719 5.30 6.86 5.51 1745 9.76 6.08 8.76
1720 5.31 6.05 5.38 1746 12.73 7.18 10.88
1721 5.27 5.79 5.29 1747 10.68 6.99 9.50
1722 4.55 4.97 4.55 1748 9.27 6.22 8.44
1723 8.54 5.56 7.84 1749 11.27 6.49 9.77
1724 7.47 5.97 7.17 1750 17.11 8.42 14.00
1725 5.82 6.62 5.88 1751 14.31 10.42 12.90
1726 5.41 7.49 5.83 1752 12.94 10.18 11.84
1727 7.22 1753 10.71 11.97 10.87
1728 8.13 1754 12.19 12.68 12.08
1729 9.56 1755 12.05 12.04 11.99
1730 8.71 1756 13.46 12.02 12.84
1731 6.27 1757 12.59 11.60 12.17
1732 7.12 1758 13.07 11.32 12.49
1733 8.07 1759 15.99 14.68
1734 7.39 1760 13.37 13.06 13.22
1735 8.33 1761 10.94 13.03 11.36
1736 8.72 7.07 8.38 1762 13.17 16.33 13.83
1737 7.94 6.46 7.50 1763 16.33 17.56 16.34
1738 8.95 6.47 8.32

a A weighted average of the prices of parchment, coat and half parchment beaver pelts. Weights are based on the trade in these types of furs at Fort Albany. Prices of the individual types of pelts are not available for the years, 1727 to 1735.

Source: Carlos and Lewis, 1999.

The Demand for Beaver Hats

The main cause of the rising beaver pelt prices in England and France was the increasing demand for beaver hats, which included hats made exclusively with beaver wool and referred to as “beaver hats,” and those hats containing a combination of beaver and a lower cost wool, such as rabbit. These were called “felt hats.” Unfortunately, aggregate consumption series for the eighteenth century Europe are not available. We do, however, have Gregory King’s contemporary work for England which provides a good starting point. In a table entitled “Annual Consumption of Apparell, anno 1688,” King calculated that consumption of all types of hats was about 3.3 million, or nearly one hat per person. King also included a second category, caps of all sorts, for which he estimated consumption at 1.6 million (Harte, 1991, p. 293). This means that as early as 1700, the potential market for hats in England alone was nearly 5 million per year. Over the next century, the rising demand for beaver pelts was a result of a number factors including population growth, a greater export market, a shift toward beaver hats from hats made of other materials, and a shift from caps to hats.

The British export data indicate that demand for beaver hats was growing not just in England, but in Europe as well. In 1700 a modest 69,500 beaver hats were exported from England and almost the same number of felt hats; but by 1760, slightly over 500,000 beaver hats and 370,000 felt halts were shipped from English ports (Lawson, 1943, app. I). In total, over the seventy years to 1770, 21 million beaver and felt hats were exported from England. In addition to the final product, England exported the raw material, beaver pelts. In 1760, £15,000 in beaver pelts were exported along with a range of other furs. The hats and the pelts tended to go to different parts of Europe. Raw pelts were shipped mainly to northern Europe, including Germany, Flanders, Holland and Russia; whereas hats went to the southern European markets of Spain and Portugal. In 1750, Germany imported 16,500 beaver hats, while Spain imported 110,000 and Portugal 175,000 (Lawson, 1943, appendices F & G). Over the first six decades of the eighteenth century, these markets grew dramatically, such that the value of beaver hat sales to Portugal alone was £89,000 in 1756-1760, representing about 300,000 hats or two-thirds of the entire export trade.

European Intermediaries in the Fur Trade

By the eighteenth century, the demand for furs in Europe was being met mainly by exports from North America with intermediaries playing an essential role. The American trade, which moved along the main water systems, was organized largely through chartered companies. At the far north, operating out of Hudson Bay, was the Hudson’s Bay Company, chartered in 1670. The Compagnie d’Occident, founded in 1718, was the most successful of a series of monopoly French companies. It operated through the St. Lawrence River and in the region of the eastern Great Lakes. There was also an English trade through Albany and New York, and a French trade down the Mississippi.

The Hudson’s Bay Company and the Compagnie d’Occident, although similar in title, had very different internal structures. The English trade was organized along hierarchical lines with salaried managers, whereas the French monopoly issued licenses (congés) or leased out the use of its posts. The structure of the English company allowed for more control from the London head office, but required systems that could monitor the managers of the trading posts (Carlos and Nicholas, 1990). The leasing and licensing arrangements of the French made monitoring unnecessary, but led to a system where the center had little influence over the conduct of the trade.

The French and English were distinguished as well by how they interacted with the Natives. The Hudson’s Bay Company established posts around the Bay and waited for the Indians, often middlemen, to come to them. The French, by contrast, moved into the interior, directly trading with the Indians who harvested the furs. The French arrangement was more conducive to expansion, and by the end of the seventeenth century, they had moved beyond the St. Lawrence and Ottawa rivers into the western Great Lakes region (see Figure 1). Later they established posts in the heart of the Hudson Bay hinterland. In addition, the French explored the river systems to the south, setting up a post at the mouth of the Mississippi. As noted earlier, after Jay’s Treaty was signed, the French were replaced in the Mississippi region by U.S. interests which later formed the American Fur Company (Haeger, 1991).

The English takeover of New France at the end of the French and Indian Wars in 1763 did not, at first, fundamentally change the structure of the trade. Rather, French management was replaced by Scottish and English merchants operating in Montreal. But, within a decade, the Montreal trade was reorganized into partnerships between merchants in Montreal and traders who wintered in the interior. The most important of these arrangements led to the formation of the Northwest Company, which for the first two decades of the nineteenth century, competed with the Hudson’s Bay Company (Carlos and Hoffman, 1986). By the early decades of the nineteenth century, the Hudson’s Bay Company, the Northwest Company, and the American Fur Company had, combined, a system of trading posts across North America, including posts in Oregon and British Columbia and on the Mackenzie River. In 1821, the Northwest Company and the Hudson’s Bay Company merged under the name of the Hudson’s Bay Company. The Hudson’s Bay Company then ran the trade as a monopsony until the late 1840s when it began facing serious competition from trappers to the south. The Company’s role in the northwest changed again with the Canadian Confederation in 1867. Over the next decades treaties were signed with many of the northern tribes forever changing the old fur trade order in Canada.

The Supply of Furs: The Harvesting of Beaver and Depletion

During the eighteenth century, the changing technology of felt production and the growing demand for felt hats were met by attempts to increase the supply of furs, especially the supply of beaver pelts. Any permanent increase, however, was ultimately dependent on the animal resource base. How that base changed over time must be a matter of speculation since no animal counts exist from that period; nevertheless, the evidence we do have points to a scenario in which over-harvesting, at least in some years, gave rise to serious depletion of the beaver and possibly other animals such as marten that were also being traded. Why the beaver were over-harvested was closely related to the prices Natives were receiving, but important as well was the nature of Native property rights to the resource.

Harvests in the Fort Albany and York Factory Regions

That beaver populations along the Eastern seaboard regions of North America were depleted as the fur trade advanced is widely accepted. In fact the search for new sources of supply further west, including the region of Hudson Bay, has been attributed in part to dwindling beaver stocks in areas where the fur trade had been long established. Although there has been little discussion of the impact that the Hudson’s Bay Company and the French, who traded in the region of Hudson Bay, were having on the beaver stock, the remarkably complete records of the Hudson’s Bay Company provide the basis for reasonable inferences about depletion. From 1700 there is an uninterrupted annual series of fur returns at Fort Albany; the fur returns from York Factory begin in 1716 (see Figure 1).

The beaver returns at Fort Albany and York Factory for the period 1700 to 1770 are described in Figure 2. At Fort Albany the number of beaver skins over the period 1700 to 1720 averaged roughly 19,000, with wide year-to-year fluctuations; the range was about 15,000 to 30,000. After 1720 and until the late 1740s average returns declined by about 5,000 skins, and remained within the somewhat narrower range of roughly 10,000 to 20,000 skins. The period of relative stability was broken in the final years of the 1740s. In 1748 and 1749, returns increased to an average of nearly 23,000. Following these unusually strong years, the trade fell precipitously so that in 1756 fewer than 6,000 beaver pelts were received. There was a brief recovery in the early 1760s but by the end decade trade had fallen below even the mid-1750s levels. In 1770, Fort Albany took in just 3,600 beaver pelts. This pattern – unusually large returns in the late 1740s and low returns thereafter – indicates that the beaver in the Fort Albany region were being seriously depleted.

Figure 2
Beaver Traded at Fort Albany and York Factory 1700 – 1770

Source: Carlos and Lewis, 1993.

The beaver returns at York Factory from 1716 to 1770, also described in Figure 2, have some of the key features of the Fort Albany data. After some low returns early on (from 1716 to 1720), the number of beaver pelts increased to an average of 35,000. There were extraordinary returns in 1730 and 1731, when the average was 55,600 skins, but beaver receipts then stabilized at about 31,000 over the remainder of the decade. The first break in the pattern came in the early 1740s shortly after the French established several trading posts in the area. Surprisingly perhaps, given the increased competition, trade in beaver pelts at the Hudson’s Bay Company post increased to an average of 34,300, this over the period 1740 to 1743. Indeed, the 1742 return of 38,791 skins was the largest since the French had established any posts in the region. The returns in 1745 were also strong, but after that year the trade in beaver pelts began a decline that continued through to 1770. Average returns over the rest of the decade were 25,000; the average during the 1750s was 18,000, and just 15,500 in the 1760s. The pattern of beaver returns at York Factory – high returns in the early 1740s followed by a large decline – strongly suggests that, as in the Fort Albany hinterland, the beaver population had been greatly reduced.

The overall carrying capacity of any region, or the size of the animal stock, depends on the nature of the terrain and the underlying biological determinants such as birth and death rates. A standard relationship between the annual harvest and the animal population is the Lotka-Volterra logistic, commonly used in natural resource models to relate the natural growth of a population to the size of that population:
F(X) = aX – bX2, a, b > 0 (1)

where X is the population, F(X) is the natural growth in the population, a is the maximum proportional growth rate of the population, and b = a/X, where X is the upper limit to population size. The population dynamics of the species exploited depends on the harvest each period:

DX = aX – bX2- H (2)

where DX is the annual change in the population and H is the harvest. The choice of parameter a and maximum population X is central to the population estimates and have been based largely on estimates from the beaver ecology literature and Ontario provincial field reports of beaver densities (Carlos and Lewis, 1993).

Simulations based on equation 2 suggest that, until the 1730s, beaver populations remained at levels roughly consistent with maximum sustained yield management, sometimes referred to as the biological optimum. But after the 1730s there was a decline in beaver stocks to about half the maximum sustained yield levels. The cause of the depletion was closely related to what was happening in Europe. There, buoyant demand for felt hats and dwindling local fur supplies resulted in much higher prices for beaver pelts. These higher prices, in conjunction with the resulting competition from the French in the Hudson Bay region, led the Hudson’s Bay Company to offer much better terms to Natives who came to their trading posts (Carlos and Lewis, 1999).

Figure 3 reports a price index for furs at Fort Albany and at York Factory. The index represents a measure of what Natives received in European goods for their furs. At Fort Albany, fur prices were close to 70 from 1713 to 1731, but in 1732, in response to higher European fur prices and the entry of la Vérendrye, an important French trader, the price jumped to 81. After that year, prices continued to rise. The pattern at York Factory was similar. Although prices were high in the early years when the post was being established, beginning in 1724 the price settled down to about 70. At York Factory, the jump in price came in 1738, which was the year la Vérendrye set up a trading post in the York Factory hinterland. Prices then continued to increase. It was these higher fur prices that led to over-harvesting and, ultimately, a decline in beaver stocks.

Figure 3
Price Index for Furs: Fort Albany and York Factory, 1713 – 1770

Source: Carlos and Lewis, 2001.

Property Rights Regimes

An increase in price paid to Native hunters did not have to lead to a decline in the animal stocks, because Indians could have chosen to limit their harvesting. Why they did not was closely related their system of property rights. One can classify property rights along a spectrum with, at one end, open access, where anyone can hunt or fish, and at the other, complete private property, where a sole owner has full control over the resource. Between, there are a range of property rights regimes with access controlled by a community or a government, and where individual members of the group do not necessarily have private property rights. Open access creates a situation where there is less incentive to conserve, because animals not harvested by a particular hunter will be available to other hunters in the future. Thus the closer is a system to open access the more likely it is that the resource will be depleted.

Across aboriginal societies in North America, one finds a range of property rights regimes. Native Americans did have a concept of trespass and of property, but individual and family rights to resources were not absolute. Sometimes referred to as the Good Samaritan principle (McManus, 1972), outsiders were not permitted to harvest furs on another’s territory for trade, but they were allowed to hunt game and even beaver for food. Combined with this limitation to private property was an Ethic of Generosity that included liberal gift-giving where any visitor to one’s encampment was to be supplied with food and shelter.

Why a social norm such as gift-giving or the related Good Samaritan principle emerged was due to the nature of the aboriginal environment. The primary objective of aboriginal societies was survival. Hunting was risky, and so rules were put in place that would reduce the risk of starvation. As Berkes et al.(1989, p. 153) notes, for such societies: “all resources are subject to the overriding principle that no one can prevent a person from obtaining what he needs for his family’s survival.” Such actions were reciprocal and especially in the sub-arctic world were an insurance mechanism. These norms, however, also reduced the incentive to conserve the beaver and other animals that were part of the fur trade. The combination of these norms and the increasing price paid to Native traders led to the large harvests in the 1740s and ultimately depletion of the animal stock.

The Trade in European Goods

Indians were the primary agents in the North American commercial fur trade. It was they who hunted the animals, and transported and traded the pelts or skins to European intermediaries. The exchange was a voluntary. In return for their furs, Indians obtained both access to an iron technology to improve production and access to a wide range of new consumer goods. It is important to recognize, however, that although the European goods were new to aboriginals, the concept of exchange was not. The archaeological evidence indicates an extensive trade between Native tribes in the north and south of North America prior to European contact.

The extraordinary records of the Hudson’s Bay Company allow us to form a clear picture of what Indians were buying. Table 2 lists the goods received by Natives at York Factory, which was by far the largest of the Hudson’s Bay Company trading posts. As is evident from the table, the commercial trade was more than in beads and baubles or even guns and alcohol; rather Native traders were receiving a wide range of products that improved their ability to meet their subsistence requirements and allowed them to raise their living standards. The items have been grouped by use. The producer goods category was dominated by firearms, including guns, shot and powder, but also includes knives, awls and twine. The Natives traded for guns of different lengths. The 3-foot gun was used mainly for waterfowl and in heavily forested areas where game could be shot at close range. The 4-foot gun was more accurate and suitable for open spaces. In addition, the 4-foot gun could play a role in warfare. Maintaining guns in the harsh sub-arctic environment was a serious problem, and ultimately, the Hudson’s Bay Company was forced to send gunsmiths to its trading posts to assess quality and help with repairs. Kettles and blankets were the main items in the “household goods” category. These goods probably became necessities to the Natives who adopted them. Then there were the luxury goods, which have been divided into two broad categories: “tobacco and alcohol,” and “other luxuries,” dominated by cloth of various kinds (Carlos and Lewis, 2001; 2002).

Table 2
Value of Goods Received at York Factory in 1740 (made beaver)

We have much less information about the French trade. The French are reported to have exchanged similar items, although given their higher transport costs, both the furs received and the goods traded tended to be higher in value relative to weight. The Europeans, it might be noted, supplied no food to the trade in the eighteenth century. In fact, Indians helped provision the posts with fish and fowl. This role of food purveyor grew in the nineteenth century as groups known as the “home guard Cree” came to live around the posts; as well, pemmican, supplied by Natives, became an important source of nourishment for Europeans involved in the buffalo hunts.

The value of the goods listed in Table 2 is expressed in terms of the unit of account, the made beaver, which the Hudson’s Bay Company used to record its transactions and determine the rate of exchange between furs and European goods. The price of a prime beaver pelt was 1 made beaver, and every other type of fur and good was assigned a price based on that unit. For example, a marten (a type of mink) was a made beaver, a blanket was 7 made beaver, a gallon of brandy, 4 made beaver, and a yard of cloth, 3? made beaver. These were the official prices at York Factory. Thus Indians, who traded at these prices, received, for example, a gallon of brandy for four prime beaver pelts, two yards of cloth for seven beaver pelts, and a blanket for 21 marten pelts. This was barter trade in that no currency was used; and although the official prices implied certain rates of exchange between furs and goods, Hudson’s Bay Company factors were encouraged to trade at rates more favorable to the Company. The actual rates, however, depended on market conditions in Europe and, most importantly, the extent of French competition in Canada. Figure 3 illustrates the rise in the price of furs at York Factory and Fort Albany in response to higher beaver prices in London and Paris, as well as to a greater French presence in the region (Carlos and Lewis, 1999). The increase in price also reflects the bargaining ability of Native traders during periods of direct competition between the English and French and later the Hudson’s Bay Company and the Northwest Company. At such times, the Native traders would play both parties off against each other (Ray and Freeman, 1978).

The records of the Hudson’s Bay Company provide us with a unique window to the trading process, including the bargaining ability of Native traders, which is evident in the range of commodities received. Natives only bought goods they wanted. Clear from the Company records is that it was the Natives who largely determined the nature and quality of those goods. As well the records tell us how income from the trade was being allocated. The breakdown differed by post and varied over time; but, for example, in 1740 at York Factory, the distribution was: producer goods – 44 percent; household goods – 9 percent; alcohol and tobacco – 24 percent; and other luxuries – 23 percent. An important implication of the trade data is that, like many Europeans and most American colonists, Native Americans were taking part in the consumer revolution of the eighteenth century (de Vries, 1993; Shammas, 1993). In addition to necessities, they were consuming a remarkable variety of luxury products. Cloth, including baize, duffel, flannel, and gartering, was by far the largest class, but they also purchased beads, combs, looking glasses, rings, shirts, and vermillion among a much longer list. Because these items were heterogeneous in nature, the Hudson’s Bay Company’s head office went to great lengths to satisfy the specific tastes of Native consumers. Attempts were also made, not always successfully, to introduce new products (Carlos and Lewis, 2002).

Perhaps surprising, given the emphasis that has been placed on it in the historical literature, was the comparatively small role of alcohol in the trade. At York Factory, Native traders received in 1740 a total of 494 gallons of brandy and “strong water,” which had a value of 1,976 made beaver. More than twice this amount was spent on tobacco in that year, nearly five times was spent on firearms, twice was spent on cloth, and more was spent on blankets and kettles than on alcohol. Thus, brandy, although a significant item of trade, was by no means a dominant one. In addition, alcohol could hardly have created serious social problems during this period. The amount received would have allowed for no more than ten two-ounce drinks per year for the adult Native population living in the region.

The Labor Supply of Natives

Another important question can be addressed using the trade data. Were Natives “lazy and improvident” as they have been described by some contemporaries, or were they “industrious” like the American colonists and many Europeans? Central to answering this question is how Native groups responded to the price of furs, which began rising in the 1730s. Much of the literature argues that Indian trappers reduced their effort in response to higher fur prices; that is, they had backward-bending supply curves of labor. The view is that Natives had a fixed demand for European goods that, at higher fur prices, could be met with fewer furs, and hence less effort. Although widely cited, this argument does not stand up. Not only were higher fur prices accompanied by larger total harvests of furs in the region, but the pattern of Native expenditure also points to a scenario of greater effort. From the late 1730s to the 1760s, as the price of furs rose, the share of expenditure on luxury goods increased dramatically (see Figure 4). Thus Natives were not content simply to accept their good fortune by working less; rather they seized the opportunity provided to them by the strong fur market by increasing their effort in the commercial sector, thereby dramatically augmenting the purchases of those goods, namely the luxuries, that could raise their living standards.

Figure 4
Native Expenditure Shares at York Factory 1716 – 1770

Source: Carlos and Lewis, 2001.

A Note on the Non-commercial Sector

As important as the fur trade was to Native Americans in the sub-arctic regions of Canada, commerce with the Europeans comprised just one, relatively small, part of their overall economy. Exact figures are not available, but the traditional sectors; hunting, gathering, food preparation and, to some extent, agriculture must have accounted for at least 75 to 80 percent of Native labor during these decades. Nevertheless, despite the limited time spent in commercial activity, the fur trade had a profound effect on the nature of the Native economy and Native society. The introduction of European producer goods, such as guns, and household goods, mainly kettles and blankets, changed the way Native Americans achieved subsistence; and the European luxury goods expanded the range of products that allowed them to move beyond subsistence. Most importantly, the fur trade connected Natives to Europeans in ways that affected how and how much they chose to work, where they chose to live, and how they exploited the resources on which the trade and their survival was based.

References

Berkes, Fikret, David Feeny, Bonnie J. McCay, and James M. Acheson. “The Benefits of the Commons.” Nature 340 (July 13, 1989): 91-93.

Braund, Kathryn E. Holland.Deerskins and Duffels: The Creek Indian Trade with Anglo-America, 1685-1815. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1993.

Carlos, Ann M., and Elizabeth Hoffman. “The North American Fur Trade: Bargaining to a Joint Profit Maximum under Incomplete Information, 1804-1821.” Journal of Economic History 46, no. 4 (1986): 967-86.

Carlos, Ann M., and Frank D. Lewis. “Indians, the Beaver and the Bay: The Economics of Depletion in the Lands of the Hudson’s Bay Company, 1700-1763.” Journal of Economic History 53, no. 3 (1993): 465-94.

Carlos, Ann M., and Frank D. Lewis. “Property Rights, Competition and Depletion in the Eighteenth-Century Canadian Fur Trade: The Role of the European Market.” Canadian Journal of Economics 32, no. 3 (1999): 705-28.

Carlos, Ann M., and Frank D. Lewis. “Property Rights and Competition in the Depletion of the Beaver: Native Americans and the Hudson’s Bay Company.” In The Other Side of the Frontier: Economic Explorations in Native American History, edited by Linda Barrington, 131-149. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1999.

Carlos, Ann M., and Frank D. Lewis. “Trade, Consumption, and the Native Economy: Lessons from York Factory, Hudson Bay.” Journal of Economic History61, no. 4 (2001): 465-94.

Carlos, Ann M., and Frank D. Lewis. “Marketing in the Land of Hudson Bay: Indian Consumers and the Hudson’s Bay Company, 1670-1770.” Enterprise and Society 2 (2002): 285-317.

Carlos, Ann and Nicholas, Stephen. “Agency Problems in Early Chartered Companies: The Case of the Hudson’s Bay Company.” Journal of Economic History 50, no. 4 (1990): 853-75.

Clarke, Fiona. Hats. London: Batsford, 1982.

Crean, J. F. “Hats and the Fur Trade.” Canadian Journal of Economics and Political Science 28, no. 3 (1962): 373-386.

Corner, David. “The Tyranny of Fashion: The Case of the Felt-Hatting Trade in the Late Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries.” Textile History 22, no.2 (1991): 153-178.

de Vries, Jan. “Between Purchasing Power and the World of Goods: Understanding the Household Economy in Early Modern Europe.” In Consumption and the World of Goods, edited by John Brewer and Roy Porter, 85-132. London: Routledge, 1993.

Ginsburg Madeleine. The Hat: Trends and Traditions. London: Studio Editions, 1990.

Haeger, John D. John Jacob Astor: Business and Finance in the Early Republic. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1991.

Harte, N.B. “The Economics of Clothing in the Late Seventeenth Century.” Textile History 22, no. 2 (1991): 277-296.

Heidenreich, Conrad E., and Arthur J. Ray. The Early Fur Trade: A Study in Cultural Interaction. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1976.

Helm, Jane, ed. Handbook of North American Indians 6, Subarctic. Washington: Smithsonian, 1981.

Innis, Harold. The Fur Trade in Canada (revised edition). Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1956.

Krech III, Shepard. The Ecological Indian: Myth and History. New York: Norton, 1999.

Lawson, Murray G. Fur: A Study in English Mercantilism. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1943.

McManus, John. “An Economic Analysis of Indian Behavior in the North American Fur Trade.” Journal of Economic History 32, no.1 (1972): 36-53.

Ray, Arthur J. Indians in the Fur Trade: Their Role as Hunters, Trappers and Middlemen in the Lands Southwest of Hudson Bay, 1660-1870. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1974.

Ray, Arthur J. and Donald Freeman. “Give Us Good Measure”: An Economic Analysis of Relations between the Indians and the Hudson’s Bay Company before 1763. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1978.

Ray, Arthur J. “Bayside Trade, 1720-1780.” In Historical Atlas of Canada 1, edited by R. Cole Harris, plate 60. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1987.

Rich, E. E. Hudson’s Bay Company, 1670 – 1870. 2 vols. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1960.

Rich, E.E. “Trade Habits and Economic Motivation among the Indians of North America.” Canadian Journal of Economics and Political Science 26, no. 1 (1960): 35-53.

Shammas, Carole. “Changes in English and Anglo-American Consumption from 1550-1800.” In Consumption and the World of Goods, edited by John Brewer and Roy Porter, 177-205. London: Routledge, 1993.

Wien, Thomas. “Selling Beaver Skins in North America and Europe, 1720-1760: The Uses of Fur-Trade Imperialism.” Journal of the Canadian Historical Association, New Series 1 (1990): 293-317.

Citation: Carlos, Ann and Frank Lewis. “Fur Trade (1670-1870)”. EH.Net Encyclopedia, edited by Robert Whaples. March 16, 2008. URL http://eh.net/encyclopedia/the-economic-history-of-the-fur-trade-1670-to-1870/

The Freedmen’s Bureau

William Troost, University of British Columbia

The Bureau of Refugees, Freedmen, and Abandoned Lands, more commonly know as the Freedmen’s Bureau, was a federal agency established to help Southern blacks transition from their lives as slaves to free individuals. The challenges of this transformation were enormous as the Civil War devastated the region – leaving farmland dilapidated and massive amounts of capital destroyed. Additionally, the entire social order of the region was disturbed as slave owners and former slaves were forced to interact with one another in completely new ways. The Freedmen’s Bureau was an unprecedented foray by the federal government into the sphere of social welfare during a critical period of American history. This article briefly describes this unique agency, its colorful history, and many functions that the bureau performed during its brief existence.

The Beginning of the Bureau

In March 1863, the American Freedmen’s Inquiry Commission was set up to investigate “the measures which may best contribute to the protection and improvement of the recently emancipated freedmen of the United States, and to their self-defense and self-support.”1 The commission debated various methods and activities to alleviate the current condition of freedmen and aid their transition to free individuals. Basic aid activities to alleviate physical suffering and provide legal justice, education, and land redistribution were commonly mentioned in these meetings and hearings. This inquiry commission examined many issues and came up with some ideas that would eventually become the foundation for the eventual Freedmen’s Bureau Law. In 1864, the commission issued their final report which laid out the basic philosophy that would guide the actions of the Freedmen’s Bureau.

“The sum of our recommendations is this: Offer the freedmen temporary aid and counsel until they become a little accustomed to their new sphere of life; secure to them, by law, their just rights of person and property; relieve them, by a fair and equal administration of justice, from the depressing influence of disgraceful prejudice; above all, guard them against the virtual restoration of slavery in any form, and let them take care of themselves. If we do this, the future of the African race in this country will be conducive to its prosperity and associated with its well-being. There will be nothing connected with it to excite regret to inspire apprehension.”2

When the Congress finally got down to the business of writing a bill to aid the transition of the freedmen they tried to integrate many of the American Freedmen’s Inquiry Commission’s recommendations. Originally the agency set up to aid in this transition was to be named the Bureau of Emancipation. However, when the bill came up for a vote on March 1, 1864 the name was changed to the Bureau of Refugees, Freedmen, and Abandoned Lands. This change was due in large part to objections that the bill was exclusionary and aimed solely towards the aid of blacks. This name changed was aimed at enlarging support for the bill.

The House and the Senate argued about the powers and place that the bureau should reside within the government. Those in the House wanted the agency placed within the War Department, concluding that the power used to free the slaves would be best to aid them in their transition. Oppositely, in the Senate Charles Sumner’s Committee on Slavery and Freedom wanted the bureau placed within the Department of the Treasury – as it had the power to tax and had possession of confiscated lands. Sumner felt that they “should not be separated from their best source of livelihood.”3 After a year of debate, finally a compromise was agreed to that entrusted the Freedmen’s Bureau with the administration of confiscated lands while placing the bureau within the Department of War. Thus, On March 3, 1865, with the stroke of a pen, Abraham Lincoln signed into existence the Bureau of Refugees, Freedmen, and Abandoned Lands. Selected to head of the new bureau was General Otis Oliver Howard – commonly known as the Christian General. Howard had strong ties with the philanthropic community and forged strong ties with freedmen’s aid organizations.

The Freedmen’s Bureau was active in a variety of aid functions. Eric Foner writes it was “an experiment in social policy that did not belong to the America of its day”.4 The bureau did important work in many key areas and had many functions that even today are not considered the responsibility of the national government.

Relief Services

A key function of the bureau, especially in the beginning, was to provide temporary relief for the suffering of destitute freedmen. The bureau provided rations for those most in need due to the abandonment of plantations, poor crop yields, and unemployment. This aid was taken advantage of by a staggering number of both freedmen and refugees. A ration was defined as enough corn meal, flour, and sugar sufficient to feed a person for one week. In “the first 15 months following the war, the Bureau issued over 13 million rations, two thirds to blacks.”5 The size of this aid was staggering and while it was deemed a great necessity, it also fostered tremendous anxiety for both General Howard and the general population – mainly that it would cause idleness. Because of these worries, General Howard ordered that this form of relief be discontinued in the fall of 1866.

Health Care

In a similar vein the bureau also provided medical care to the recently freed slaves. The health situation of freedmen at the conclusion of the Civil War was atrocious. Frequent pandemics of cholera, poor sanitation, and outbreaks of smallpox killed scores of freedmen. Because the freed population lacked the financial assets to purchase private healthcare and were denied care in many other cases, the bureau played a valuable role.

“Since hospitals and doctors could not be relied on to provide adequate health care for freedmen, individual bureau agents on occasion responded innovatively to black distress. During epidemics, Pine Bluff and Little Rock agents relocated freedpersons to less contagion-ridden places. When blacks could not be moved, agents imposed quarantines to prevent the spread of disease. General Order Number 8…prohibited new residents from congregating in towns. The order also mandated weekly inspections of freedmen’s homes to check for filth and overcrowding.”6

In addition to preventing and containing outbreaks, the bureau also engaged more directly in health care. Being placed in the War Department, the bureau was also able to assume operations of hospitals established by the Army during the war. After the war it expanded the system to areas previously not under military control. Observing that freedmen were not receiving an adequate quality of health services, the bureau established dispensaries providing basic medical care and drugs free of charge, or at a nominal cost. The Bureau “managed in the early years of Reconstruction to treat an estimated half million suffering freedmen, as well as a smaller but significant number of whites.”7

Land Redistribution

Perhaps the most well-known function of the bureau was one that never came to fruition. During the course of the Civil War, the U.S. Army took control of a good deal of land that had been confiscated or abandoned by the Confederacy. From the time of emancipation there were rumors that confiscated lands would be provided to the recently freed slaves. This land would enable the blacks to be economically self-sufficient and provide protection from their former owners. In January 1865, General Sherman issued Special Field Orders, No. 15, which set aside the Sea Islands and lands from South Carolina to Florida for blacks to settle. According to his order, each family would receive forty acres of land and the loan of horses and mules from the Army. Similar to General Sherman’s order, the promise of land was incorporated into the bureau bill. Quickly the bureau helped blacks settle some of the abandoned lands and “by June 1865, roughly 10,000 families of freed people, with the assistance of the Freedmen’s Bureau, had taken up more than 400,000 acres.”8

While the promise of “forty acres and a mule” excited the freedmen, the widespread implementation of this policy was quickly thwarted. In the summer of 1865, President Andrew Johnson issued special pardons restoring the property of many Confederates – throwing into question the status of abandoned lands. In response, General Howard, the Commissioner of the Freedmen’s Bureau, issued Circular 13 which told agents to conserve forty-acre tracts of land for the freedmen – as he claimed presidential pardons conflicted with the laws establishing the bureau. However, Johnson quickly instructed Howard to rescind his circular and send out a new circular ordering the restoration to pardoned owners of all land except those tracts already sold. These actions by the President were devastating, as freedmen were evicted from lands that they had long occupied and improved. Johnson’s actions took away what many felt was the freedmen’s best chance at economic protection and self-sufficiency.

Judicial Functions

While the land distribution of the new agency was thwarted, the bureau was able to perform many duties. Bureau agents had judicial authority in the South attempting to secure equal justice from the state and local governments for both blacks and white Unionists. Local agents individually adjudicated a wide variety of disputes. In some circumstances the bureau established courts where freedmen could bring forth their complaints. After the local courts regained their jurisdiction, bureau agents kept an eye on local courts retaining the authority to overturn decisions that were discriminatory towards blacks. In May 1865, the Commissioner of the bureau issued a circular “authorizing assistant commissioners to exercise jurisdiction in cases where blacks were not allowed to testify.”9

In addition to these judicial functions, the bureau also helped provide legal services in the domestic sphere. Agents helped legitimize slave marriages and presided over freedmen marriage ceremonies in areas where black marriages were obstructed. Beginning in 1866, the bureau became responsible for filing the claims of black soldiers for back pay, pensions, and bounties. The claims division remained in operation until the end of the bureau’s existence. During a time when many of the states tried to strip rights away from blacks, the bureau was essential in providing freedmen redress and access to more equitable judicial decisions and services.

Labor Relations

Another important function of the bureau was to help draw up work contracts to help facilitate the hiring of freedmen. The abolition of slavery created economic confusion and stagnation as many planters had a difficult time finding labor to work their fields. Additionally, many blacks were anxious and unsure about working for former slave owners. “Into this chaos stepped the Freedmen’s Bureau as an intermediary.”10 The bureau helped planters and freedmen draft contracts on mutually agreeable terms – negotiating several hundred thousand contracts. Once agreed upon, the agency tried to make sure both planter and worker lived up to their part of the agreement. In essence, the bureau “would undertake the role of umpire.”11

Of the bureau’s many activities this was one of its most controversial. Both planters and freedmen complained about the insistence on labor contracts. Planters complained that labor contracts forbade the use of corporal punishment used in the past. They resented the limits on their activities and felt the restrictions of the contracts limited the productivity of their workers. On the other hand, freedmen complained that the contract structures were too restrictive and didn’t allow them to move freely. In essence, the bureau had an impossible task – trying to get the freedmen to return to work for former slave owners while preserving their rights and limiting abuse. The Freedmen’s Bureau’s judicial functions were of great help in enforcing these contracts in a fair manner making both parties live up to their end of the bargain. While historians have split over whether the bureau favored planters or the freedmen, Ralph Shlomowitz in his detailed analysis of bureau-assisted labor contracts found that contracts were determined by the free interplay of market forces.12 First, he finds contracts brokered by the bureau were extremely detailed to an extent that would not make sense in the absence of compliance. Second, contrary to popular belief he finds the share of crops received by labor was highly variable. In areas of higher quality land the share awarded to labor was less than in areas with lower land quality.

Educational Efforts

Prior to the Civil War it had been policy in the sixteen slave states to fine, whip, or imprison those who gave instruction to blacks or mulattos. In many states the punishments for teaching a person of color were quite severe. These laws severely restricted the educational opportunity of blacks – especially access to formal schooling. As a result, when given their freedom, many former slaves lacked the literacy skills necessary to protect themselves from discrimination and exploitation, and pursue many personal activities. This lack of literacy created great problems for blacks in a free labor system. Freedmen were repeatedly taken advantage of as they were often unable to read or draft contracts. Additionally, individuals lacked the ability to read newspapers and trade manuals, or worship by reading the Bible. Thus, when emancipated there was a great demand for freedmen schools.

General Howard quickly realized that education was perhaps the most important endeavor that the bureau could undertake. However, the financial resources and the few functions that the bureau was authorized to undertake limited the extent to which it was able to assist. Much of the early work in schooling was done by a number of benevolent and religious Northern societies. While initially the direct aid of the bureau was limited, it provided an essential role in organizing and coordinating these organizations in their efforts. The agency also allowed the use of many buildings in the Army’s possession and the bureau helped transport a trove of teachers from the North – commonly referred to as yankee school marms.

While the limits of the original Freedmen’s Bureau bill hamstrung the efforts of agents, subsequent bills changed the situation as the purse strings and functions of the bureau in the area of education were rapidly expanded. This shift in attention followed the lead of General Howard whose “stated goal was to close one after another of the original bureau divisions while the educational work was increased with all possible energy.”13 Among the provisions of the second bureau bill were: the appropriation of salaries for State Superintendents of Education, the repair and rental of school buildings, the ability to use military taxes to pay teachers’ salaries, and the establishment of the education division as a separate entity in the bureau.

These new resources were used to great success as enrollments at bureau-financed schools grew quickly, new schools were constructed in a variety of areas, and the quality and curriculum of the schools was significantly improved. The Freedmen’s Bureau was very successful in establishing a vast network of schools to help educate the freedmen. In retrospect this was a Herculean task for the federal government to accomplish. In a region where it was illegal to teach blacks how to read or write just a few years prior, the bureau was able to help establish nearly 1,600 day schools educating over 100,000 blacks at a time. The number of bureau-aided day and night schools in operation grew to a maximum of 1,737 in March 1870, employing 2,799 teachers, and instructing 103,396 pupils. In addition, 1,034 Sabbath schools were aided by the bureau that employed 4,988 teachers and instructed 85,557 pupils.

Matching the Integrated Public Use Sample of the 1870 Census and a constructed data set on bureau school location, one can examine the reach and prevalence of bureau-aided schools.14 Table 1 presents the summary statistics of various school concentration measures and educational outcomes for individual blacks 10-15 years old.

The variable “Freedmen’s Bureau School” equals one if there was at least one bureau-aided school in the individual’s county. The data reveals that 63.6 percent of blacks lived in counties with at least one bureau school. This shows the bureau was quite effective in reaching a large segment of the black population – as nearly two thirds of blacks living in the states of the ex-Confederacy had at least some minimal exposure to these schools. While the schools were widespread, it appears their concentration was somewhat low. For individuals living in a county with at least one bureau-aided school, the concentration of bureau-aided schools was 0.3165 per 30 square miles, or 0.4630 bureau aided-schools per 1,000 blacks.

Although the concentration of schools was somewhat low it appears they had a large impact on the educational outcomes of southern blacks. Ten to fifteen year olds living in a county with at least one bureau-aided school had literacy rates that were 6.1 percentage points higher. This appears to have been driven by the bureau increasing access to formal education for black children in these counties as school attendance rates were 7.5 percentage points higher than in counties without such schools.

Andrew Johnson and the Freedmen’s Bureau

Only eleven days after signing the bureau into existence, Abraham Lincoln was struck down by John Wilkes Booth. Taking his place in office was Andrew Johnson, a former Democratic Senator from Tennessee. Despite Johnson’s Southern roots, hopes were high that Congress and the new President could work closer together than the previous administration. President Lincoln and Congress had championed vastly different policies for Reconstruction. Lincoln preferred the term “Restoration” instead of “Reconstruction,” as he felt it was constitutionally impossible for a state to succeed.15 Lincoln championed the quick integration of the South into the Union and believed it could best be accomplished under the direction of the executive branch. Oppositely, Republicans in Congress led by Charles Sumner and Thaddeus Stevens felt the Confederate states had actually seceded and relinquished their constitutional rights. The Republicans in Congress advocated strict conditions for re-entry into the Union and programs aimed at reshaping society.

The ascension of Johnson to the presidency gave hope to Congress that they would have an ally in the White House in terms of Reconstruction philosophy. According to Howard Nash, the “Radicals were delighted….to have Vice President Andrew Johnson, who they had good reason to suppose was one of their number, elevated to the presidency.”16 In the months before and immediately after taking office, Johnson repeatedly talked about the need to punish rebels in the South. After Lincoln’s death Johnson became more impassioned in his speeches. In late April 1865 Johnson told an Indiana delegation “Treason must be made odious…traitors must be punished and impoverished…their social power must be destroyed.”17 If anything, many feared that Johnson may stray too far from the Presidential Reconstruction offered by Lincoln and be overly harsh in his treatment of the South.

Immediately after taking office Johnson honored Lincoln’s choice to head the bureau by appointing General Oliver Otis Howard as commissioner of the bureau. While this action raised hopes in Congress they would be able to work with the new administration, Johnson quickly switched course. After his selection of Howard, President Johnson and the “Radical” Republicans would scarcely agree on anything during the remainder of his term. On May 29, 1865, Johnson issued a proclamation that conferred amnesty, pardon, and the restoration of property rights for almost all Confederate soldiers who took an oath pledging loyalty to the Union. Johnson later came out in support of the black codes of the South, which tried to bring blacks back to a position of near slavery and argued that the Confederate states should be accepted back into the Union without the condition of ratifying and adopting the Fourteenth Amendment in their state constitutions.

The original bill signed by Lincoln established the bureau during and for a period of one year after the Civil War. The language of the bill was somewhat ambiguous, and with the surrender of Confederate forces military conflict had ceased. This led people to debate when the bureau would be discontinued. Consensus seemed to imply that if another bill wasn’t brought forth that the bureau would be discontinued in early 1866. In response Congress quickly got to work on a new Freedmen’s Bureau bill.

While Congress started work on a new bill, President Johnson tried to gain support for the view that the need for the bureau had come to an end. Ulysses S. Grant was called upon by the President to make a whirlwind tour of the South, and report on the present situation. The route set up was exceptionally brief and skewed to those areas best under control. Accordingly, his report said that the Freedmen’s Bureau had done good work and it appeared as though the freedmen were now able to fend for themselves without the help of the federal government.

In contrast, Carl Schurz made a long tour of the South only a few months after Grant and found the freedmen in a much different situation. In many areas the bureau was viewed as the only restraint to the most insidious of treatment of blacks. As Q.A. Gilmore stated in the report,

“For reasons already suggested I believe that the restoration of civil power that would take the control of this question out of the hands of the United States authorities (whether exercised through the military authorities or through the Freedmen’s Bureau) would, instead of removing existing evils, be almost certain to augment them.”18

While the first bill was adequate in many ways, it was rather weak in a few areas. In particular, the bill didn’t have any appropriations for officers of the bureau or direct funds earmarked for the establishment of schools. General Howard and many of his officers reported on the great need for the bureau and pushed for its existence indefinitely or at least until the freedmen were in a less vulnerable position. After listening to the reports and the recommendations of General Howard, a new bill was crafted by Senator Lyman Trumbull, a moderate Republican. The new bill proposed the bureau should remain in existence until abolished by law, provide more explicit aid to education and land to the freedmen, and protect the civil rights of blacks. The bill passed in both the Senate and House and was sent to Andrew Johnson, who promptly vetoed the measure. In his response to the Senate, Johnson wrote “there can be no necessity for the enlargement of the powers of the bureau for which provision is made in the bill.”19

While the President’s message was definitive, the veto came as a shock to many in Congress. President Johnson had been consulted prior to its passage and assured General Howard and Senator Trumbull that he would support the bill. In response to the President’s opposition, the Senate and House passed a bill that addressed some of the complaints that Johnson had with the bill, including limiting the length of the bill to two more years. Even after this watering down of the bill, it was once again vetoed. However, the new bill garnered enough support to override President Johnson’s veto. The veto of the bill and the subsequent override officially established a policy of open hostility between the legislative and executive branch. Prior to the Johnson administration, overriding a veto was extremely rare – as it had only occurred six times up until this time.20 However, after the passage of this bill it became mere commonplace for the remainder of Johnson’s term, as Congress would overturn fifteen vetoes during the less than four years Johnson was in office.

End of the Bureau

While work in the educational division picked up after the passage of the second bill, many of the other activities of the bureau were winding down. On July 25, 1868 a bill was signed into law requiring the withdrawal of most bureau officers from the states, and to stop the functions of the bureau except those that were related to education and claims. Although the educational activities of the bureau were to continue for an indefinite period of time, most state superintendent of education offices had closed by the middle of 1870. On November 30, 1870 Rev. Alvord resigned his post as General Superintendent of Education.21 While some small activities of the bureau continued after his resignation, these activities were scaled back greatly and largely consisted of correspondence. Finally due to lack of appropriations the activities of the bureau ceased in March 1871.

The expiration of the bureau was somewhat anti-climatic. A number of representatives wanted to establish a permanent bureau or organization for blacks, so that they could regulate their relations with the national and state governments.22 However, this concept was too radical to get passed by enough of a margin to override a veto. There was also talk of moving many of its functions into other parts of the government. However, over time the appropriations began to dwindle and the urgency to work out a proposal for transfer withered away in a manner similar to the bureau.

References

Alston, Lee J. and Joseph P. Ferrie. “Paternalism in Agricultural Labor Contracts in the U.S. South: Implications for the Growth of the Welfare State.” American Economic Review 83, no. 4 (1993): 852-76.

American Freedmen’s Inquiry Commission. Records of the American Freedmen’s Inquiry Commission, Final Report, Senate Executive Document 53, 38th Congress, 1st Session, Serial 1176, 1864.

Cimbala, Paul and Randall Miller. The Freedmen’s Bureau and Reconstruction: Reconsiderations. New York: Fordham University Press, 1999.

Congressional Research Service, http://clerk.house.gov/art_history/house_history/vetoes.html

Finley, Randy. From Slavery to Uncertain Freedom: The Freedmen’s Bureau in Arkansas, 1865-1869. Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press, 1996.

Johnson, Andrew. “Message of the President: Returning Bill (S.60),” Pg. 3, 39th Congress, 1st Session, Executive Document No. 25, February 19, 1866.

McFeely, William S. Yankee Stepfather: General O.O. Howard and the Freedmen. New York: W.W. Norton, 1994.

Milton, George Fort. The Age of Hate: Andrew Johnson and the Radicals. New York: Coward-McCann, 1930.

Nash, Howard P. Andrew Johnson: Congress and Reconstruction. Rutherford, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 1972.

Parker, Marjorie H. “Some Educational Activities of the Freedmen’s Bureau.” Journal of Negro Education 23, no. 1 (1954): 9-21.

Q.A. Gillmore to Carl Schurz, July 27, 1865, Documents Accompanying the Report of Major General Carl Schurz, Hilton Head, SC.

Ruggles, Steven, Matthew Sobek, Trent Alexander, Catherine A. Fitch, Ronald Goeken, Patricia Kelly Hall, Miriam King, and Chad Ronnander. Integrated Public Use Microdata Series: Version 3.0 [Machine-readable database]. Minneapolis, MN: Minnesota Population Center [producer and distributor], 2004.

Shlomowitz, Ralph. “The Transition from Slave to Freedman Labor Arrangements in Southern Agriculture, 1865-1870.” Journal of Economic History 39, no. 1 (1979): 333-36.

Shlomowitz, Ralph, “The Origins of Southern Sharecropping,” Agricultural History 53, no. 3 (1979): 557-75.

Simpson, Brooks D. “Ulysses S. Grant and the Freedmen’s Bureau.” In The Freedmen’s Bureau and Reconstruction: Reconsiderations, edited by Paul A. Cimbala and Randall M. Miller. New York: Fordham University Press, 1999.

Citation: Troost, William. “Freedmen’s Bureau”. EH.Net Encyclopedia, edited by Robert Whaples. June 5, 2008. URL http://eh.net/encyclopedia/the-freedmens-bureau/

Fraternal Sickness Insurance

Herb Emery, University of Calgary

Introduction

During the nineteenth and early-twentieth century, lost income due to illness was one of the greatest risks to a wage earner’s household’s standard of living (Horrell and Oxley 2000, Hoffman 2001). Prior to the introduction of state health insurance in England in 1911, similar “patchworks of protection” — that included fraternal organizations, trade unions and workplace-based mutual benefit associations, commercial insurance contracts and discretionary charity — were available to workers in England and North America. Within the patchwork the largest source of illness-related income protection was through Friendly Societies; voluntary organizations such as fraternal orders and trade unions that provided stipulated amounts of “relief” for members who were sick and unable to work. Conditions have changed since the 1920s. Health care for family members, not loss of the family head’s income, has become the chief cost of sickness. Government social programs and commercial group plans have become the principal sources of disability insurance and health insurance. Friendly societies have largely discontinued their sick benefits. Most of them, moreover, have had declining memberships in growing populations.

Overview

This article

  • Explains the types of fraternal orders that existed in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and the types of insurance they offered.
  • Provides estimates of the share of the adult male population that participated in fraternal self-help organizations – over 40 percent in the UK and almost as high in the US – and describes the characteristics of these society’s members.
  • Explains how friendly societies worked to provide sickness insurance as a reasonable price by overcoming the adverse selection and moral hazard problems, while facing problems of risk diversification.
  • Discusses the decline of fraternal sickness insurance after the turn of the twentieth century.
    • Concludes that fraternal lodges were financially sound despite claims that they were weakened by unsoundly pricing sickness insurance.
    • Examines the impact of competition from other insurers – including group insurance, government programs, labor unions, and company-sponsored sick-benefits societies.
    • Examines the impact of broader social and economic changes.
    • Concludes that fraternal sickness insurance was in greatest demand among young men and that its decline is tied mainly to the ageing of fraternal membership.
  • Closes by examining historians’ assessments of the importance and adequacy of fraternal sickness insurance.
  • Includes a lengthy bibliography of sources on fraternal sickness insurance.

Some Details and Definitions Pertaining to Fraternal Sickness Insurance

Fraternal orders were affiliated societies, or societies with branches. The branches were known by various names such as lodges, courts, tents, and hives. Fraternal orders emphasized benefits to their members rather than service to the community. They used secret passwords, rituals, and benefits to attract, bond, and hold members and distinguish themselves from members of rival orders.

Fraternal orders fell into three groups from an insurance perspective. The Masonic order and the Elks comprised the no-benefit group. Lodges in these orders often aided their members on a discretionary basis; that is where members were determined to be in “need” of assistance. They did not provide stipulated stated) insurance benefits (or relief).

econd group, the friendly societies, provided stipulated sick and funeral benefits to their members. The Independent Order of Odd Fellows, the Knights of Pythias, the Improved Order of Red Men, the Loyal Order of Moose, the Fraternal Order of Eagles, the Ancient Order of Foresters and the Foresters of America were the largest orders in this group.

A third group, the life-insurance orders, provided stipulated life-insurance, endowment, and annuity benefits to their members. The Maccabees, the Royal Arcanum, the Independent Order of Foresters, the Woodmen of the World, the Modern Woodmen of America, the Ancient Order of United Workmen, and the Catholic Order of Foresters were major orders in this group. In historical usage, the term “fraternal insurance” meant life insurance, but not sickness and funeral (burial) insurance.

The boundaries between the categories blur on close examination. Certain friendly societies, such as the Knights of Pythias and the Improved Order of Red Men, offered optional life-insurance at extra cost through their centrally-administered endowment branches. Certain insurance orders, such as the Independent Order of Foresters, offered optional sick and funeral benefits at extra cost through centrally-administered separate sickness and funeral funds. In other cases, the members of a society had privileged access to third-party insurance. The Canadian Odd Fellows Relief Association, for example, was entirely separate from the IOOF, but sold life policies exclusively to Odd Fellows.

Friendly Societies and Sickness Insurance

From the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, friendly societies were often local lodges with no affiliations to other lodges. Over time, larger national and sometimes international orders that consisted of local lodges affiliated under jurisdictional grand lodges and national or international supreme bodies displaced the purely local lodge.1 The Ancient Order of Foresters was one of England’s larger affiliated Orders and it had subordinate Courts and jurisdictions in North America. The first Independent Order of Odd Fellows (IOOF) subordinate lodge in North America opened in Baltimore in 1819 under the jurisdiction of the British IOOF Manchester Unity. In the 1840s, the North American Odd Fellows seceded from the IOOFMU and founded the IOOF Sovereign Grand Lodge (SGL) that had jurisdiction over state and province level Grand Lodge jurisdictions in North America.

Membership Estimates

For the United Kingdom near the peak of the self-help movement in the 1890s, estimates of participation in friendly societies and trade unions for insurance against the costs of sickness and/or burial range from as many as 20 percent of the population (Horrell and Oxley 2000), to 41.2 percent of adult males (Johnson 1985) to one-half or more of adult males and as many as two-thirds of workingmen (Riley 1997). Estimates for participation in self-help organizations in North America are somewhat lower but they suggest a similar importance of friendly societies for insuring households against the costs of sickness and burial. Beito (1999) argues that a conservative estimate of participation in fraternal self-help organizations in the United States would have one of three adult males as a member in 1920, “including a large segment of the working class.” Millis (1937) reports that 30 per cent of Illinois wage-earners had market insurance for the disability risk in 1919 where fraternal organizations were the principal source of market insurance.

Characteristics of Friendly Society Members

Studies of British friendly societies suggest that friendly society membership was the “badge of the skilled worker” and made no appeal whatever to the “grey, faceless, lower third” of the working class (Johnson 1985, Hopkins 1995, Riley 1997). The major friendly societies in North America found their market for insurance among white, protestant males who came from upper-working-class and lower-middle-class backgrounds. Not surprisingly, the composition of local lodge memberships bore a resemblance to that of the local working population. Most Odd Fellows in Canada and the United States, however, were higher-paid workers, shop keepers, clerks, and farmers (Emery and Emery 1999). As Theodore Ross, the SGL’s grand secretary, noted in 1890, American Odd Fellows came from “the great middle, industrial classes almost exclusively.” Similarly, studies for Lynn, Massachusetts and Missouri found a heavy working-class representation among IOOF lodge memberships (Cumbler, 1979, p.46; Thelen, 1986, p. 165). In Missouri the social-class composition of Odd Fellows was similar to those for the Knights of Pythias and three life-insurance orders (the Ancient Order of United Workmen, the Maccabees, and the Modern Woodmen of the World). Beito’s (2000) work suggests that while the poor, non-whites and immigrants were not usually members of the larger fraternal orders’ memberships, they had their own mutual aid organizations.

Friendly Insurance: Modest Benefits at Low Cost

Friendly society sick benefits exemplified classic features of working-class insurance: a low cost and a small, fixed benefit amount equal to part of the wages of a worker with average wages. By contrast, commercial policies for middle-class clients offered insurance in variable amounts up to full-income replacement, at a cost beyond the reach of most workers. The affiliated orders established Constitutions which standardized rules and arrangements for sick benefit provision. For most of the friendly societies, local lodges or courts paid the sick claims of its members. Subject to requirements of higher bodies, the local lodge set the amounts of its weekly benefit, joining fees, and membership dues. The affiliation of lodges across locations also resulted in members having portable sickness insurance. If a member moved from one location to another, he could transfer his membership from one lodge to another within the organization.

Claiming Benefits

To claim benefits in the IOOF, a member had to provide his lodge with notice of sickness or disability within a week of its commencement. On receiving notice of a brother’s illness, the member of the visiting committee was to visit the brother within twenty-four hours to render him aid and confirm his sickness. Subsequently, the lodge visitors reported weekly on the brother’s condition until he recovered.

Strengths of Friendly Society’s Insurance: Low Overhead, Effective Monitoring

The local lodge or court system of the affiliated friendly societies like the IOOF and the Ancient Order of Foresters had important strengths for the sickness-insurance market. First, it had low overhead costs. Lodge members, not paid agents, recruited clients. Nominally-paid or unpaid lodge officers did the administrative work. Second, the intrusive methods of monitoring within the lodge system helped friendly societies to respond effectively to two classic problems in sickness insurance: adverse selection and moral hazard.

Overcoming the Adverse Selection Problem

An adverse selection of customers for sickness insurers refers to the fact that when the insurance is priced to reflect the average risk of a specified population, unhealthy persons (above average risk of sickness) have more incentive than healthy persons to purchase sickness insurance. Adverse selection in fraternal memberships was potentially a large problem as many orders had membership dues that were not scaled according to age despite the reality that the risk of sickness increased with age. To keep claims and costs manageable, an insurer needs ways to screen out poor risks. To this end, many organizations scaled initiation fees by the age of an initiate to discourage applications from older males, who had above-average sickness risk. In other cases, fraternal lodges or courts scaled the membership dues by the age at which the member was initiated. In addition, lodge-approved physicians often examined the physical conditions and health histories of applicants for membership. Lodge committees investigated the “moral character” of applicants.

Overcoming the Moral Hazard Problem

Sickness insurers also faced the problem of moral hazard (malingering) — an insured person has an incentive to claim to be disabled when he is not and an incentive to not take due care in avoiding injury or illness. The moral hazard problem was small for accident insurance as disability from accident is definite as to time and cause, and external symptoms are usually self-evident (Osborn, 1958). Disability from sickness, by contrast, is subjective and variable in definition. Friendly societies defined sickness, or disability, as the inability to work at one’s usual occupation. Relatively minor complaints disabled some individuals, while serious complaints failed to incapacitate others. The very possession of sickness insurance may have increased a worker’s willingness to consider himself disabled. The friendly society benefit contract dealt with this problem in several ways. First, by having one to two week waiting periods, and much less than full earnings replacement, self-help benefits required the disabled member to co-insure the loss which reduces the incentive to make a claim. In many fraternal orders, members receiving benefits could not drink or gamble and in some cases were not allowed to be away from their residence after dark. The activities of the lodge visiting committee helped to ward off false claims. In addition, fraternal ideology emphasized a member’s moral responsibility for not making a false claim and for reporting on brothers who were falsely claiming benefits.

Problem with Lack of Risk Diversification

On the negative side, the fraternal-lodge system made little provision for risk diversification. In the IOOF, the Knights of Pythias and the Ancient Order of Foresters, each subordinate lodge (or Court) was responsible for the sick claims of its members. Thus in principle, a high local rate of sick claims in a given year could shock a lodge’s financial condition. Certain commercial practices might have reduced the problem. For example, a grand lodge could have pooled the risks from all lodges in a central fund. Alternatively, it could have initiated a scheme of reinsurance, whereby each lodge assumed a portion of the claims in other lodges. Yet any centralization stood to weaken a friendly society’s management of adverse selection and the moral hazard. The behaviour of lodge members was observed to be a function of the structure of the benefit system. In 1908, for example, when the IOOF, Manchester Unity, in New South Wales, Australia established central funds for sick and funeral benefits, the effect was to turn the lodges into “mere collection agencies.” Participation in lodge affairs fell off, and members developed a more selfish attitude to claims. “When the lodges administered sick pay,” Green and Cromwell observed, “the members knew who was paying — it was the members themselves. But once ‘head office’ took over, the illusion that someone else was paying made its entry” (Green and Cromwell, 1984, pp. 59-60).

Commercial Insurers Couldn’t Match Friendly Societies in the Working-Class Sickness Insurance Market

On balance friendly societies provided an efficient delivery of working-class sickness insurance that commercial insurers could not match. Without the intrusive screening methods and low overhead of the decentralized lodge system, commercial insurers could not as easily solve the problems of moral hazard and adverse selection. “The assurance of a stipulated sum during sickness,” the president of the Prudential Insurance Company conceded in 1909, “can only safely be transacted ? by fraternal organizations having a perfect knowledge of and complete supervision over the individual members.”2

The Decline of Fraternal Sickness Insurance

By the 1890s, friendly societies in North America were withdrawing from the sickness insurance field. The IOOF imposed limits on the length of time that full sick benefits had to be paid, and one or two week waiting periods before the payment of claims began. In 1894, the Knights of Pythias eliminated their constitutional requirement that all subordinate lodges be required to pay stated sick benefits. By the 1920s, the IOOF followed the Knights of Pythias and eliminated its compulsory requirement for the payment of stipulated sick benefits. In England, where friendly societies opposed government pension and insurance schemes in the 1890s, they did not stand in the way of the introduction of Old Age Pensions in 1908 and compulsory state health insurance in 1911. Thus, the decline of fraternal sickness insurance pre-dates the Depression of the 1930s and for many organizations dates from at least the 1890s.

Unsound Pricing Practices?

Why did sickness insurance provided by friendly societies decline? Perhaps friendly society sickness insurance was a casualty of unsound pricing practices in the presence of ageing memberships. To illustrate this argument, consider the IOOF benefit contract. On the one hand, the incidence and duration of sickness claims increased with a member’s age. On the other hand, most IOOF lodges set quarterly dues at a flat rate, rather than by the member’s age, or the member’s age at joining. As the IOOF lodge benefit arrangement was essentially insurance benefits provided on a pay-as-you-go basis (current revenues are used to meet current expenditures), this posed little problem during a lodge’s early years when its members were young and had low sick-claim rates. Over time, however, the members aged and their claim rates showed a rising trend. When revenues from level dues became insufficient to cover claims, the argument goes, the lodge’s insurance provision collapsed. Thus fraternal-insurance provision was essentially a failed, experimental phase in the development of sickness and health insurance.

Lodges Were Financially Sound Despite Non-Actuarial Pricing

By contrast with the above scenario, evidence for British Columbia showed that the IOOF lodges were financially sound, despite their non-actuarial pricing practices (Emery 1996). Typically a lodge accumulated assets during its first years of operation, when its members were young and had below-average sickness risk. In later years, as its membership aged and the cost of claims exceeded income from members’ dues and fees, income from investments made up the difference. Consequently none of British Columbia’s twenty lodge closures before 1929 resulted from the bankruptcy of lodge assets. Similarly none of the British Columbia lodges had a significant probability of ruin from high claims in a particular year.

Non-payment of dues also helped lodge finances. A member became ineligible for benefits if he fell behind in his dues. If he fell far enough behind on his dues, his lodge could suspend him from membership or declare him “ceased” (dropped from membership). A member’s unpaid dues continued to accumulate after suspension. Thus a suspended member had to pay the full, accumulated amount (or a maximum sum, if his grand lodge set one), to get reinstated. Lodges did not pay sick claims to members who were in arrears.

Turnover of Membership Explains How They Remained Financially Sound

When members did not pay their dues owing to be reinstated, their exit from membership relieved lodge financial pressures. Most men joined fraternal lodges when they were under age 35 and for the members who quit, they typically did so before age 40.3 Thus, a substantial proportion of initiates into fraternal memberships did not remain in the membership long enough for their rising risk of illness after age 40 to pose a problem for lodge finances. On average, they belonged when they were most likely net payers and quit before they were net recipients. These features of the substantial turnover in fraternal memberships helps to explain how fraternal lodges were actually going concerns when official actuarial valuations of lodge finances and reserves inevitably showed that the lodges had actuarial deficits at the prevailing levels of dues. These valuations assessed the adequacy of accumulated reserves and dues revenues expected over the remaining lifetimes of the membership at the time of the valuation for meeting the expected benefits of the membership over the remainder of the members’ lifetimes. The assumption that all current members would remain in the membership until death always resulted in valuations that showed the sick benefits were inadequately, if not hazardously, priced. The fact that many members were not lifetime members meant that the pricing was not so hazardous.

Competition from Other Insurers

If poor finances cannot explain the decline of friendly society sickness benefits, then perhaps increasing competition from government and commercial insurance arrangements can explain the decline. Trends for competition do not provide strong support for this explanation for the decline of friendly society sickness-insurance. Competition for friendly societies came from commercial-group plans, government workmen’s compensation programs, trade unions and industrial unions, company-sponsored mutual benefit societies, and other fraternal orders that provided life insurance, or non-stipulated (discretionary) relief.

Group Insurance

Group insurance used the employer’s mass-purchasing power to provide low-cost insurance without a medical examination (Ilse, 1953, chapter 1). Often the employer paid the premium. Otherwise employees paid part of the cost through payroll deductions, a practice that kept the insurer’s overhead costs low. The insurance company made the group-plan contract with the employer, who then issued certificates to individuals in the plan. Group plans compared favourably with IOOF benefits in terms of cost and the amount of the benefit. They also gave a viable commercial solution to the problems of adverse selection and moral hazard.

During the 1920s, however, group plans were available to few workers. In the United States, they missed men who were self-employed or employed in firms with less than fifty workers. The employee’s coverage ceased if he left the company. It also stopped if either the insurer or the employer did not renew the contract at the end of its standard one-year term. When coverage ceased, the employee might find himself too old or unhealthy to obtain insurance elsewhere. More importantly, the challenge of commercial-group insurance was just beginning during the 1920s. By 1929 Americans and Canadians in group plans were less numerous than the number of Odd Fellows alone.

Government Programs

Government programs such as compulsory sickness insurance dated from 1883 in Germany and 1911 in Britain. Between 1914 and 1920, eight state commissions, two national conferences, and several state legislatures attended to the issue in the United States (see Armstrong, 1932, Beito 2000, Hoffman 2001). Despite these initiatives, no American or Canadian government — national, state, or provincial — adopted compulsory sickness insurance until the 1940s (Osborn, 1958, chapter 4; Ilse, 1953, chapter 8).

Workmen’s compensation was another matter. During the years 1911-25, forty-two of the forty-eight American states and six of Canada’s nine provinces passed workmen’s compensation laws (Weis, 1935; Leacy, 1983). Nevertheless, half of all state laws in 1917, and a fifth of them in 1932, applied only to persons in hazardous occupations. None of the various state laws covered employees of interstate railways. In twenty-four states, the law exempted small businesses; in five it exempted public employees. In some states the law was so hedged with restrictions that the scale of benefits was uncertain. Although comprehensive by American standards, Ontario’s law omitted persons in farming, wholesale and retail establishments, and domestic service (Guest, 1980).

Overall, government programs provided negligible competition for friendly society sick benefits during the 1920s. No state or province provided for compulsory sickness insurance. Workmen’s compensation laws were commonplace, but missed important parts of the workforce. More importantly, industrial accidents accounted for just ten percent of all disability (Armstrong, 1932, pp. 284ff; Osborn, 1958, chapter 1).

Labor Unions

Labor unions traditionally used benefits to attract members and hold the loyalty of existing members. During the 1890s miners’ unions in the American west and British Columbia reportedly devoted more time to mutual aid than to collective bargaining (Derickson, 1988, chapter 3). By 1907 nineteen unions, accounting for 25 per cent of organized labor in the United States, offered sick benefits (Rubinow, 1913, chapter 18). During the 1920s, however, the friendly society competition from unions followed a declining trend. After years of steady growth, for example, the membership of American trade unions dropped by 32 per cent between 1920 and 1929.4 Similarly, the membership of Canadian trade unions fell by 23 per cent between 1919 and 1926. In an unprecedented development in 1926, the street railway workers’ union in Newburgh, New York, obtained commercial group-sickness coverage through a collective bargaining agreement with the employer (Ilse, 1953, ch. 13). Although rare during the 1920s, this marked the start of collective bargaining for sick benefits rather than direct union provision.

Company-sponsored Sick-Benefit Societies

Company-sponsored sick-benefit societies, often known as Mutual Benefit Associations, originated in a tradition of corporate paternalism during the 1870s (Brandes, 1976; Brody, 1980; Zahavi, 1988; McCallum, 1990). The United States had more than 500 such societies by 1908. Typically these societies obtained most or all of their funds from employee dues, not company funds, ostensibly to encourage the workers to be self-reliant.

Participation was voluntary in 85 per cent of 461 American societies surveyed on the eve of the First World War. Eligibility for membership commonly required a waiting period (a minimum period of permanent employment). A major disadvantage, compared to fraternal order sickness benefits, was that coverage ceased when the employee left the firm. In the amount and cost of the benefit (benefits of $5 to 6 per week for up to thirteen weeks for annual dues of $2.50 to $6 per year) the societies were similar to fraternal lodges.

The institutions were part of a larger program of corporate welfarism that had developed during the First World War in conditions of labor scarcity, labor unrest, rising union membership, and government management of capital-labor relations. At the war’s end, however, the economy slumped, the supply of labor became abundant, unions became cooperative and were losing members, and wartime government-economic management ended. In the new circumstances, the pressure on businessmen to promote welfare programs abated, and the membership of company-sponsored sick-benefit societies entered a flat trend.5 By 1929 the societies were still a minority phenomenon. They existed in 30 percent of large firms (250 or more employees), but in just 4.5 percent of small firms, which accounted for half the industrial work force (Jacoby, 1985, ch.6).

Competition from Insurance Orders

Friendly societies (orders with sick and funeral benefits) also competed with the insurance orders (orders with life and/or annuity benefits in small amounts) that offered an optional sick benefit. The Maccabees, Woodmen of the World, Independent Order of Foresters, and the Royal Arcanum were some main rivals in the insurance-order group for the friendly societies.

The insurance-order sick benefit had several features of commercial insurance and compared poorly with the friendly-society benefit. In many cases, these orders paid sick claims from a centrally-administered “sick and funeral fund,” not local lodge funds. They financed sick claims by requiring monthly premiums, paid in advance, not quarterly dues. Their central authority could cancel the member’s sickness insurance by giving him notice; in the IOOF, by contrast, the member retained his coverage as long as his dues were paid up. A member could draw benefits for a maximum of twenty-six weeks in the Maccabees and a maximum of twelve weeks in the IOF. During the 1920s, competition from fraternal life insurance orders showed a flat or declining trend. In terms of membership size, the largest friendly society, the IOOF, gained ground on all competitors in the insurance-order group.

Broader Economic and Social Trends in the 1920s

Another popular explanation for the decline of friendly society sick benefits is one of “changing times” where friendly societies provided an outdated social arrangement. Here fraternal orders were multiple-function organizations that offered their members a variety of social and indirect economic benefits, as well as insurance. Thus in principle, the declining trend for IOOF sickness insurance could have been a by-product of social changes during the 1920s that were undermining the popularity of fraternal lodges (Dumenil, 1984; Brody, 1980; Carnes, 1989; Charles, 1993; Clawson, 1989; Rotundo, 1989; Burley, 1994; Tucker, 1990). For example, the fraternal-lodge meeting faced competition from new forms of entertainment (radio, cinema, automobile travel). The development of installment buying and consumerism undermined fraternal culture and working-class institutional life. Trends in sex relations sapped the appeal of all-male social activities and fraternal ritual of lodge meetings. The rising popularity of luncheon-club organizations (Kiwanis, Lions, Kinsmen) expressed a popular shift to a community-service orientation, as opposed to the fraternal tradition of services to members. The luncheon clubs also exemplified a popular shift to class-specific organizations, at the expense of fraternal orders, which had a cross-class appeal. Finally, with the waning popularity of lodge meetings, lodge nights became less useful occasions for making business contacts.

Rising Health-Care Costs

The decade also gave rise to two important insurance-related developments. The one, described above, was the diffusion of commercial-group plans for income-replacement insurance. The other was the emergence of health-care services as the principal cost of sickness (Starr, 1982). In 1914 lost wages had been between two and four times the medical costs of a worker’s sickness, or about equal if one included the worker’s family. During the 1920’s, however, the medical costs soared, by 20 per cent for families with less than $1,200 income and 85 per cent for families with incomes between $1,200 and $2,500. The medical costs were highly variable as well as rising. Effectively, a serious hospitalized illness could consume a third to a half of a family’s annual income.

External Changes and Competition Don’t Explain the Decline of Fraternal Sickness Insurance Well

Changes during the 1920s, however, provide a poor explanation for the declining trend for the friendly-society sick benefit in North America. First, the timing was wrong. On the one hand, the declining trend dated from the 1890s, not the 1920s. On the other hand, key developments during the decade were at an early stage. By 1929 commercial-group insurance was established, but not widespread. Similarly, health insurance scarcely existed, despite the rising trend for the health-care costs. As Starr explains, health insurance presented an extreme problem of moral hazard that insurers did not solve until the 1930s.6 Second, we lack a theory to explain why the waning of interest in lodge meetings would have caused a declining trend for the sick benefit. Finally, the “changing times” explanation, on its own, incorrectly portrays the sick benefit as a static product that became less relevant in an exogenously changing society and economy.

Young Men Value Sickness Insurance

If external pressure did not cause the decline of the friendly society sick benefits, then why did friendly society sickness insurance decline? Emery and Emery (1999) argue that the sick benefit was primarily in demand amongst men who lacked alternatives to market insurance. For example, at the start of their working lives, male breadwinners had no older children to earn secondary incomes (family insurance). They also lacked savings to cover the disability risk (self-insurance). Thus men joined the Odd Fellows when they were “young”. They then quit after a few years as family and self-insurance alternatives to market insurance opened up to them. Further, as the friendly society sick benefit was a form of precautionary saving, demand for it would have declined as a household accumulated wealth.

Aging Membership and the Declining Demand for Sickness Insurance

Over time, fraternal memberships were ageing as rates of initiation slowed and suspensions from membership continued on at steady rates. Initiates and suspended members were disproportionately from the lower age groups in the memberships thus slower membership growth in the friendly societies represented ageing memberships. In this context of the demand for the sick benefit over the life-cycle, ageing fraternal memberships became less attached to the sick benefit. Thus, as the memberships aged, their collective preferences changed. Older members had priorities and objectives other than sickness insurance.

Friendly Societies and Compulsory State Insurance

Despite the similarity of organizations and the high rates of participation in them in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the role of voluntary self-help organizations like the friendly societies, diverged on either side of the Atlantic. In England, the “administrative machinery” of friendly societies was the vehicle for introducing and delivering compulsory government sickness/health insurance under the Approved Societies system that prevailed from 1911 to 1944 at which time the government centralized the provision of health insurance (Gosden 1973). In North America the friendly society sickness insurance arrangement declined from at least the 1890s despite growing memberships in the organizations up to the 1920s. While the friendly society sickness insurance declined, government showed little activity in the health/sickness insurance field. Only through the 1930s did commercial and non-profit group health and hospital insurance plans and government social programs rise to primacy in the sickness and health insurance field.7

Critics of Friendly Societies’ Voluntary Self-Help

Critics of voluntary self-help arrangements for insuring the costs of sickness argue that voluntary self-help was a failed system and its obvious short-comings and financial difficulties were the impetus for government involvement in social insurance arrangements. (Smiles 1876, Moffrey 1910, Peebles 1936, Gosden 1961, Gilbert 1965, Hopkins 1995, Horrell and Oxley 2000, Hoffman 2001). Horrell and Oxley (2000) argue that friendly society benefits were too paltry to offer true relief. Hopkins (1995) argues that for those workers who could afford it, self-help through friendly society membership worked well but too much of the working population remained outside the safety net due to low incomes. At best, the critics applaud the intent of individuals taking the initiative to protect themselves and for friendly societies in pioneering the preparation of actuarial data on morbidity and sickness duration that aided commercial insurers in insuring the sickness risk in a financially sound way.

Positive Assessments of Friendly Societies’ Roles

In contrast, Beito (2000) presents a positive assessment of fraternal mutual aid in the United States, and hence working-class self-help, for dealing with the economic consequences of poor health. Beito argues that fraternal societies in America extended social welfare service, such as insurance, to the poor (notably immigrants and blacks) and working class Americans who otherwise would not have had access to such coverage. Far from being an inadequate form of safety net, fraternal mutual aid sustained needy Americans from cradle to grave and over time, extended the range of benefits provided to include hospitals and homes for the aged as the needs in society arose. Beito suggests that changing cultural attitudes and the expanding scale and scope of a paternalistic welfare state undermined an efficient and viable fraternal social insurance arrangement.

Government’s Role in “Crowding Out” Self-Help

Similarly, Green and Cromwell (1984) argue that state paternalism crowded out efficient fraternal methods of social insurance in Australia. Hopkins (1995) suggests that while friendly societies were effective for aiding a sizable portion of the working class, working class self-help “had been weighed in the balance and found wanting” since it failed to provide income protection for the working classes as a whole. Hopkins concludes that compulsory state aid inevitably had to replace voluntary self-help to “spread the net over the abyss” to protect the poorest of the working class. Similar to Beito’s view, Hopkins suggests that equity considerations were the reason for undermining otherwise efficient voluntary self-help arrangements. Beveridge (1948) expresses dismay over the crowding out of friendly societies as social insurers in England following the centralization of compulsory government health insurance arrangements in 1944.

References:

Applebaum, L. “The Development of Voluntary Health Insurance in the United States.” Journal of Insurance 28 (1961): 25-33.

Armstrong, Barbara N. Insuring the Essentials. New York: MacMillan, 1932.

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Berkowitz, Edward. “How to Think About the Welfare State” Labor History 32 (1991): 489-502

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Footnotes

1 See Gosden (1961), Hopkins (1995) and Riley (1997) for excellent discussions of the evolution of friendly societies in England.

2 Cited in Starr (1982, p. 242). British industrial-life companies did not offer sickness insurance until 1911, when government allowed them qualify as approved societies under the National Health Act. In acting as approved societies, their motive was not to write sickness insurance, but rather to protect their interest in burial insurance. See Beveridge, 1948, p. 81; Gilbert, 1966, p. 323.

3 Emery and Emery (1999). Riley (1997) shows that British men in their twenties were the majority of initiates and members who exited did so within “a few years of joining”.

4 Data for unions are from Wolman, 1936, pp. 16, 239 and Leacy, 1983, series E175. By 1931 just 10 per cent of non-agricultural workers in the United States were unionized, down from 19 per cent in 1919 (Bernstein, 1960, chapter 2). Unions affiliated with the American Federation of Labor accounted for approximately 80 per cent of the total membership of American labor unions (Wolman, p.7). The reported AFL membership statistics are high. Unions paid per capita tax on more than their actual paid-up memberships for prestige and to maintain their voting strength at AFL meetings. In 1929, the United Mine Workers, an extreme case, reported 400,000 members, but probably had just 262,000 members, including 169,000 paid-up members and 93,000 “exonerated” members (kept on the books because they were unemployed or on strike).

5 Brandes (1976, chapter 10) places their membership at 749,000 in 1916 and 825,000 in 1931.

6 The probable costs of health-care claims were hard to predict (Starr, 1982, pp. 290-1). As with income-replacement insurance, sickness was not a well-defined condition. In addition, the treatment costs were within the insured’s control. They also were within the control of the physician and hospital, both of which could profit from additional services and raise prices as the patient’s ability to pay increased.

7 Employer-purchased/provided group plans came to be the most common source of the health insurance coverage in the United States (Applebaum, 1961; Follmann, 1965; Davis, 1989). In Canada, provincial government health insurance plans, with universal coverage, replaced the work-place based arrangements in the 1960s.

Citation: Emery, Herb. “Fraternal Sickness Insurance”. EH.Net Encyclopedia, edited by Robert Whaples. March 26, 2008. URL http://eh.net/encyclopedia/fraternal-sickness-insurance/

The Dust Bowl

Geoff Cunfer, Southwest Minnesota State University

What Was “The Dust Bowl”?

The phrase “Dust Bowl” holds a powerful place in the American imagination. It connotes a confusing mixture of concepts. Is the Dust Bowl a place? Was it an event? An era? American popular culture employs the term in all three ways. Ask most people about the Dust Bowl and they can place it in the Middle West, though in the imagination it wanders widely, from the Rocky Mountains, through the Great Plains, to Illinois and Indiana. Many people can situate the event in the 1930s. Ask what happened then, and a variety of stories emerge. A combination of severe drought and economic depression created destitution among farmers. Millions of desperate people took to the roads, seeking relief in California where they became exploited itinerant farm laborers. Farmers plowed up a pristine wilderness for profit, and suffered ecological collapse because of their recklessness. Dust Bowl stories, like its definitions, are legion, and now approach the mythological.

The words also evoke powerful graphic images taken from art and literature. Consider these lines from the opening chapter of John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath (1939):

“Now the wind grew strong and hard and it worked at the rain crust in the corn fields. Little by little the sky was darkened by the mixing dust, and carried away. The wind grew stronger. The rain crust broke and the dust lifted up out of the fields and drove gray plumes into the air like sluggish smoke. The corn threshed the wind and made a dry, rushing sound. The finest dust did not settle back to earth now, but disappeared into the darkening sky. … The people came out of their houses and smelled the hot stinging air and covered their noses from it. And the children came out of the houses, but they did not run or shout as they would have done after a rain. Men stood by their fences and looked at the ruined corn, drying fast now, only a little green showing through the film of dust. The men were silent and they did not move often. And the women came out of the houses to stand beside their men – to feel whether this time the men would break.”

When Americans hear the words “Dust Bowl,” grainy black and white photographs of devastated landscapes and destitute people leap to mind. Dorothea Lange and Arthur Rothstein classics bring the Dust Bowl vividly to life in our imaginations (Figures [1] [2] [3] [4]). For the musically inclined, Woody Guthrie’s Dust Bowl ballads define the event with evocative lyrics such as those in “The Great Dust Storm” (Figure 5). Some of America’s most memorable art – literature, photography, music – emerged from the Dust Bowl and that art helped to define the event and build the myth in American popular culture.

The Dust Bowl was an event defined by artists and by government bureaucrats. It has become part of American mythology, an episode in the nation’s progression from the Pilgrims to Lexington and Concord, through Civil War and frontier settlement, to industrial modernization, Depression, and Dust Bowl. Many of the great themes of American history are tied up in the Dust Bowl story: agricultural settlement and frontier struggle; industrial mechanization with the arrival of tractors; the migration from farm to city, the transformation from rural to urban. Add the Great Depression and the rise of a powerful federal government, and we have covered many of the themes of a standard U.S. history survey course.

Despite the multiple uses of the phrase “Dust Bowl” it was an event which occurred in a specific place and time. The Dust Bowl was a coincidence of drought, severe wind erosion, and economic depression that occurred on the Southern and Central Great Plains during the 1930s. The drought – the longest and deepest in over a century of systematic meteorological observation – began in 1933 and continued through 1940. In 1941 rain poured down on the region, dust storms ceased, crops thrived, economic prosperity returned, and the Dust Bowl was over. But for those eight years crops failed, sandy soils blew and drifted over failed croplands, and rural people, unable to meet cash obligations, suffered through tax delinquency, farm foreclosure, business failure, and out-migration. The Dust Bowl was defined by a combination of:

  • extended severe drought and unusually high temperatures
  • episodic regional dust storms and routine localized wind erosion
  • agricultural failure, including both cropland and livestock operations
  • the collapse of the rural economy, affecting farmers, rural businesses, and local governments
  • an aggressive reform movement by the federal government
  • migration from rural to urban areas and out of the region

The Dust Bowl on the Great Plains coincided with the Great Depression. Though few plainsmen suffered directly from the 1929 stock market crash, they were too intimately connected to national and world markets to be immune from economic repercussions. The farm recession had begun in the 1920s; after the 1919 Armistice transformed Europe from an importer to an exporter of agricultural products, American farmers again faced their constant nemesis: production so high that prices were pushed downward. Farmers grew more cotton, wheat, and corn, than the market could consume, and prices fell, fell more, and then hit rock bottom by the early 1930s. Cotton, one of the staple crops of the southern plains, for example, sold for 36 cents per pound in 1919, dropped to 18 cents in 1928, then collapsed to a dismal 6 cents per pound in 1931. One irony of the Dust Bowl is that the world could not really buy all of the crops Great Plains farmers produced. Even the severe drought and crop failures of the 1930s had little impact on the flood of farm commodities inundating the world market.

Routine Dust Storms on the Southern and Central Plains

The location of the drought and the dust storms shifted from place to place between 1934 and 1940 (Figure 6 [large]). The core of the Dust Bowl was in the Texas and Oklahoma panhandles, southwestern Kansas and southeastern Colorado. The drought began on the Great Plains, from the Dakotas through Texas and New Mexico, in 1931. The following year was wetter, but 1933 and 1934 set low rainfall records across the plains. In some places is did not rain at all. Others quickly accumulated a deep deficit. Figure 7 [large] shows percent difference from average rainfall over five-year periods, with the location of the shifting Dust Bowl over top. Only a handful of counties (mapped in blue) had more rain than average between 1932 and 1940. And few counties fall into the 0 to -10 percent range. Most counties were 10 percent drier than average, or more, and more than eighty counties were at least 20 percent drier. Scientists now believe that the 1930s drought coincided with a severe La Nina event in the Pacific Ocean. Cool sea surface temperatures reduced the amount of moisture entering the jet stream and directed it south of the continental U.S. The drought was deep, extensive, and persisted for more than a decade.

Whenever there is drought on the southern and central plains dust blows. The flat topography and continental climate mean that winds are routinely high. When soil moisture declines, plant cover, whether native plants or crops, diminishes in tandem. Normally dry conditions mean that native plants typically cover less than 60 percent of the ground surface, leaving the other 40+ percent in bare, exposed soils. During the driest conditions native prairie vegetation sometimes covers less than 20 percent of the ground surface, exposing 80 percent or more of the soil to strong prairie winds. Failed crop fields are completely bare of vegetation. In these circumstances soil blows. Local wind erosion can drift soil from one field into ridges and ripples in a neighboring field (Figure 8). Stronger regional dust storms can move dirt many miles before it drifts down along fence lines and around buildings (Figure 9). In rare instances very large dust storms carry soils high into the air where they can travel for many hundreds of miles. These “black blizzards” are the most spectacular and memorable of dust storms, but happen only infrequently (Figure 10).

When wind erosion and dust storms began in the 1930s experienced plains residents hardly welcomed the development, but neither did it surprise them. Dust storms were an occasional spring occurrence from Texas and New Mexico through Kansas and Colorado. They did not happen every year, but often enough to be treated casually. This series of excerpts from the Salina, Kansas Journal and Herald in 1879 indicates that dust storms were a routine part of plains life in dry years:

“For the past few days the gentle winds have enveloped the city with dust decorations. And some of this time it has been intensely hot. Imagine the pleasantness of the situation.”

“During the past few days we have had several exhibitions of what dust can do when propelled by a gale. We had the disagreeable March winds, and saw with ample disgust the evolutions and gyrations of the dust. We have had enough of it, but will undoubtedly get much more of the same kind during this very disagreeable month.”

“Real estate moved considerably this week.”

“Another ‘hardest’ blow ever seen in Kansas … Salina was tantalized with a small sprinkle of rain Thursday afternoon. The wind and dust soon resumed full sway.”

“People have just got through digging from the pores of the skin the dirt driven there by the furious dust storms which for several days since our last issue have been lifting this county ‘clean off its toes.’ Even sinners have stood some chance of being translated with such favoring gales.”

“The wind which held high carnival in this section last Thursday, filled the air with such clouds of dust that darkness of the ‘consistency of twilight’ prevailed. Buildings across the street could not be distinguished. The title of all land about for a while was not worth a cotton hat – it was so ‘unsettled.’ It was of the nature of personal property, because it was not a ‘fixture’ and very moveable. The air was so filled with dust as to be stifling even within houses.”

The Salina newspapers reported dust storms many springs through the late nineteenth century. An item in the Journal in 1885 epitomizes the local attitude: “When the March winds commenced raising dust Monday, the average citizen calmly smiled and whispered ‘so natural!'”

What Made the 1930s Different?

Dust storms were not new to the region in the 1930s, but a number of demographic and cultural factors were new. First there were a lot more people living in the region in the 1930s than there had been in the 1880s. The population of the Great Plains – 450 counties stretching from Texas and New Mexico to the Dakotas and Montana – stood at only 800,000 in 1880; it was seven times that, at 5.6 million in 1930. The dust storms affected many more people than they had ever done before. And many of those people were relative newcomers, having only arrived in recent years. They had no personal or family memory of life in the plains, and many interpreted the arrival of episodic dust storms as an entirely new phenomenon. An example is the reminiscence by Minnie Zeller Doehring, written in 1981. Having moved with her family to western Kansas in 1906, at age 7, she reported “I remember the first Dirt storm in Western Kansas. I think it was about 1911. And a drouth that year followed by a severe winter.” Neither she nor her family had experienced any of the nineteenth century dust storms reported in local newspapers, so when one arrived during a dry spring five years after they arrived, it seemed like a brand new development.

Second, this drought and sequence of dust storms coincided with an international economic depression, the worst in two centuries of American history. The financial stresses and personal misery of the Depression blended seamlessly into the environmental disasters of drought, crop failure, farm loss, and dust. It was difficult to assign blame. Were farmers failing because of the economic crisis? Bank failures? Landlords squeezing tenants? Drought? Dust storms? In the midst of these concurrent crises emerged an activist and newly powerful federal government. Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal roared into Washington in 1933 with a landslide mandate from voters to fix all of the ills plaguing the nation: depression, bank failures, unemployment, agricultural overproduction, underconsumption, the list went on and on. And several items quickly added to that list of ills to be fixed were rural poverty, agricultural land use, soil erosion, and dust storms.

The drought and dust storms were certainly hard on farmers. Crop failure was widespread and repeated. In 1935 46.6 million acres of crops failed on the Great Plains, with over 130 counties losing more than half their planted acreage. Many farmers lived on the edge of financial failure. In debt for land, tractor, automobile, and even for last year’s seed, one or two years with reduced income often meant bankruptcy. Tax delinquency became a serious problem throughout the plains. As land owners fell behind on their local property tax payments, county governments grew desperate. Many counties had delinquency rates over 40 percent for several consecutive years, and were faced with laying off teachers, police, and other employees. A few counties considered closing county government altogether and merging with neighboring counties. Their only alternative was to foreclose on now nearly worthless farms which they could neither rent nor sell. Many families behind on mortgage payments and taxes simply packed up and left without notice. The crisis was not restricted to farmers, bankers, and county employees. Throughout the plains sales of tractors, automobiles, and fertilizer declined in the early 1930s, affecting small town merchants across the board.

Consider the example of William and Sallie DeLoach, typical southern plains farmers who moved from farm to farm through the early twentieth century, repeatedly trying to buy land and repeatedly losing it to the bank in the face of drought or low crop prices. After an earlier failed attempt to buy land, the family invested in a 177 acre cotton farm in Lamb County, Texas in 1924, paying 30 dollars per acre. A month later they passed up a chance to sell it for 35 dollars an acre. Within three months of the purchase late summer rains failed to arrive, the cotton crop bloomed late, and the first freeze of winter killed it. Unable to make the upcoming mortgage payment, the DeLoaches forfeited their land and the 200 dollars they had already paid toward it. One bad season meant default. Through the rest of the 1920s the DeLoaches rented from Sallie’s father and farmed cotton in Lamb County. In September, 1929, just weeks before the stock market crashed, William thought the time auspicious to invest in land again, and bought 90 acres. He farmed it, then rented part of it to another farmer. Rain was plentiful in 1931, and by the end of that year DeLoach had repaid back rent to his father-in-law, paid off all outstanding debts except his land mortgage, and started 1932 in good shape. But the 1930s were hard on the southern plains, with the extended drought, dust storms, and widespread poverty. The one bright spot for farmers was the farm subsidies instituted by Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal. In 1933 DeLoach plowed up 55 acres of already growing cotton in exchange for a check from the federal government. Lamb County led the state in the cotton reduction program, bringing nearly 1.4 million dollars into the county in 1933. Drought lingered over the Texas panhandle through 1934 and 1935, and by early 1936 DeLoach was beleaguered again. When the Supreme Court declared the Agricultural Adjustment Act (AAA) unconstitutional it appeared that federal farm subsidies would disappear. A few weeks after that decision DeLoach had a visit from his real estate agent:

Mr. Gholson came by this A.M. and wanted to know what I was going to do about my land notes. I told him I could do nothing, only let them have the land back. … I told him I had payed the school tax for 1934. Owed the state and county for 1935, also the state for 1934. All tole [sic] about $37.50. He said he would pay that and we (wife & I) could deed the land back to the Nugent people. I hate to lose the land and what I have payed on it, but I can’t do any thing else. ‘Big fish eat the little ones.’ The law is take from the poor devil that wants a home, give to the rich. I have lost about $1000.00 on the land.

A week later:

Mr. Gholson came by. Told me about the deed he had drawn in Dallas. … He said if I would pay for the deed and stamps, which would be $5.00, the deal would be closed. I asked him if that meant just as the land stood now. He said yes. He said they would pay the balance of taxes. Well, they ought to. I have payed $800.00 or better on the land, but got behind and could not do any thing else. Any way my mind is at ease. I do not think Gholson or any of the cold blooded land grafters would lose any sleep on account of taking a home away from any poor devil.

For the third time in his career DeLoach defaulted and turned over his farm. Later that month Congress rewrote the AAA legislation to meet Constitutional requirements, and the farm programs have continued ever since. With federal program income again assured, DeLoach purchased yet another 68 acre farm in September, 1936, moved the family onto it, and tried again. Other families were not as persistent, and when crop failure led to bankruptcy they packed up and left the region. The term popularly assigned to such emigrants, “Dust Bowl refugees,” assigned a single cause – dust storms – to what was in fact a complex and multi-causal event (Figure 11).

Like dust storms and agricultural setbacks, high out-migration was not new to the plains. Throughout the settlement period, from about 1870 to 1920, there was very high turnover in population. Many people moved into the region, but many moved out also. James Malin found that 10 year population turnover on the western Kansas frontier ranged from 41 to 67 percent between 1895 and 1930. Many people were half farmers, half land speculators, buying frontier land cheap (or homesteading it for free), then selling a few years later on a rising market. People moved from farm to farm, always looking for a better opportunity, often following a succession of frontiers over a lifetime, from Ohio to Illinois to Kansas to Colorado. Outmigration from the Great Plains in the 1930s was not considerably higher than it had been over the previous 50 years. What changed in the 1930s was that new immigrants stopped moving in to replace those leaving. Many rural areas of the grassland began a slow population decline that had not yet bottomed out in 2000.

The New Deal Response to Drought and Dust Storms

Emigrants from the Great Plains were not new in the 1930s. Neither was drought, agricultural crisis, or dust storms. This drought and these dust storms were certainly more severe than those that wracked the plains in 1879-1880, in the mid 1890s, and again in 1911. And more people were adversely affected because total population was higher. But what was most different about the 1930s was the response of the federal government. In past crises, when farmers went bankrupt, when grassland counties lost 20 percent of their population, when dust storms descended, the federal government stood aloof. It felt no responsibility for the problems, no popular mandate to solve them. Just the opposite was the case in the 1930s. The New Deal set out to solve the nation’s problems, and in the process contributed to the creation of the Dust Bowl as an historic event of mythological proportions.

The economic and agricultural disaster of the 1930s provided an opening for experimentation with federal land use management. The idea had begun among economists in agricultural colleges in the 1920s who proposed removing “submarginal” land from crop production. “Submarginal” referred to land low in productivity, unsuited for the production of farm crops, or incapable of profitable cultivation. A “land utilization” movement emerged in the 1920s to classify farm land as good, poor, marginal, or submarginal, and to forcibly retire the latter from production. Such rational planning aimed to reduce farm poverty, contract chronic overproduction of farm crops, and protect land vulnerable to damage. M.L. Wilson, of Montana State Agricultural College, focused the academic movement while Lewis C. Gray, at the Bureau of Agricultural Economics (BAE), led the effort within the U.S. Department of Agriculture. The land utilization movement began well before the 1930s, but the drought and dust storms of that decade provided a fortuitous justification for a land use policy already on the table, and newly created agencies like the Soil Conservation Service (SCS), the Resettlement Administration (RA), and the Farm Security Administration (FSA) were the loudest to publicize and deplore the Dust Bowl wracking America’s heartland.

Whereas the land use adjustment movement had begun as an attempt to solve chronic rural poverty, the arrival of dust storms in 1934 provided a second justification for aggressive federal action to change land use practices. Federal bureaucrats created the central narrative of the Dust Bowl, in part because it emphasized the need for these new reform agencies. The FSA launched a sophisticated public relations campaign to publicize the disaster unfolding in the Great Plains. It hired world class photographers to document the suffering of plains people, giving them specific instructions from Washington to photograph the most eroded landscapes and the most destitute people. Dorothea Lange’s photographs of emigrants on the road to California still stand as some of the most evocative images in American history (Figures 12-13). The Resettlement Administration also hired filmmaker Pare Lorentz the make a series of movies, including “The Plow that Broke the Plains.”

The narrative behind this publicity campaign was this: in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries farmers had come to the dry western plains, encouraged by a misguided Homestead Act, where they plowed up land unsuited for farming. The grassland should have been left in native grass for grazing, but small farmers, hoping to make profits growing cash crops like wheat had plowed the land, exposing soils to relentless winds. When serious drought struck in the 1930s the wounded landscape succumbed to dust storms that devastated farms, farmers, and local economies. The result was a mass exodus of desperately poor people, a social failure caused by misuse of land. The profit motive and private land ownership were behind this failure, and only a scientifically grounded federal bureaucracy could manage land use wisely in the interests of all Americans, rather than for the profit of a few individuals. Federal agents would retire land from cultivation, return it to grassland, and teach remaining farmers how to use their land more carefully to prevent erosion. This effort would, of course, require large budgets and thousands of employees, but it was vital to resolving a rural disaster.

The New Deal government, with Congressional support and appropriations, began to put reform plan into place. A host of new agencies vied to manage the program, including the FSA, the SCS, the RA, and the Agricultural Adjustment Administration (AAA). Each implemented a variety of reforms. The RA began purchasing “submarginal” land from farmers, eventually acquiring some 10 million acres for former farmland in the Great Plains. (These lands are now mostly managed by the U.S. Forest Service as National Grasslands leased to nearby private ranchers for grazing.) The RA and the FSA worked to relocate destitute farmers on better lands, or move them out of farming altogether. The SCS established demonstration projects in counties across the nation, where local cooperator farmers implemented recommended soils conservation techniques on their farms, such as fallowing, strip cropping, contour plowing, terracing, growing cover crops, and a variety of cultivation techniques. There were efforts in each county to establish Land Use Planning Committees made of local farmers and federal agents who would have authority over land use practices on private farms. These committees functioned for several years in the late 1930s, but ended in most places by the early 1940s. The most important and expensive measure was the AAA’s development of a comprehensive system of farm subsidies, which paid farmers cash for reducing their acreage of commodity crops. The subsidies, created as an emergency Depression measure, have become routine and persist 70 years later. They brought millions of dollars into nearly every farming county in the U.S. and permanently transformed the economics of agriculture. In a multitude of innovative ways the federal government set out to remake American farming. The Dust Bowl narrative served exceedingly well to justify these massive and revolutionary changes in farming, America’s most common occupation for most of its history.

Conclusion

The Dust Bowl finally ended in 1941 with the arrival of drenching rains on the southern and central plains and with the advent of World War II. The rains restored crops and settled the dust. The war diverted public and government attention from the plains. In a telling move, the FSA photography corps was reconstituted as the Office of War Information, the propaganda wing of the government’s war effort. The narrative of World War II replaced the Dust Bowl narrative in the public’s attention. Congress diverted funding away from the Great Plains and toward mobilization. The Land Utilization Program stopped buying submarginal land and the county Land Use Planning Committees ceased. Some of the New Deal reforms became permanent. The AAA subsidy system continued through the present and the Soil Conservation Service (now the Natural Resources Conservation Service) created a stable niche promoting wise agricultural land management and soil mapping.

Ironically, overall land use on the Great Plains had changed little during the decade. About the same amount of land was devoted to crops in the second half of the twentieth century as in the first half. Farmers grew the same crops in the same mixtures. Many implemented the milder reforms promoted by New Dealers – contour plowing, terracing – but little cropland was converted back to pasture. The “submarginal” regions have continued to grow wheat, sorghum, and other crops in roughly the same quantities. Despite these facts the public has generally adopted the Dust Bowl narrative. If asked, most will identify the Dust Bowl as caused by misuse of land. The descendants of the federal agencies created in the 1930s still claim to have played a leading role in solving the crisis. Periodic droughts and dust storms have returned to the region since 1941, notably in the early 1950s and again in the 1970s. Towns in the core dust storm region still have dust storms in dry years. Lubbock, Texas, for example, experienced 35 dust storms in 1973-74. Rural depopulation continues in the Great Plains (although cities in the region have grown even faster than rural places have declined). None of these droughts, dust storms, or periods of depopulation have received the concentrated public attention that those of the 1930s did. Nonetheless, environmentalists and critics of modern agricultural systems continue to warn that unless we reform modern farming the Dust Bowl may return.

References and Additional Reading

Bonnifield, Mathew P. The Dust Bowl: Men, Dirt, and Depression. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1979.

Cronon, William. “A Place for Stories: Nature, History, and Narrative.” Journal of American History 78 (March 1992): 1347-1376.

Cunfer, Geoff. “Causes of the Dust Bowl.” In Past Time, Past Place: GIS for History, edited by Anne Kelly Knowles, 93-104. Redlands, CA: ESRI Press, 2002.

Cunfer, Geoff. “The New Deal’s Land Utilization Program in the Great Plains.” Great Plains Quarterly 21 (Summer 2001): 193-210.

Cunfer, Geoff. On the Great Plains: Agriculture and Environment. Texas A&M University Press, 2005.

The Future of the Great Plains: Report of the Great Plains Committee. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1936.

Ganzel, Bill. Dust Bowl Descent. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1984.

Great Plains Quarterly 6 (Spring 1986), special issue on the Dust Bowl.

Gregory, James N. American Exodus: The Dust Bowl Migration and Okie Culture in California. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989.

Guthrie, Woody. Dust Bowl Ballads. New York: Folkway Records, 1964.

Gutmann, Myron P. and Geoff Cunfer. “A New Look at the Causes of the Dust Bowl.” Charles L. Wood Agricultural History Lecture Series, no. 99-1. Lubbock: International Center for Arid and Semiarid Land Studies, Texas Tech University, 1999.

Hansen, Zeynep K. and Gary D. Libecap. “Small Farms, Externalities, and the Dust Bowl of the 1930s.” Journal of Political Economy 112 (2004): 665-694.

Hurt, R. Douglas. The Dust Bowl: An Agricultural and Social History. Chicago: Nelson-Hall, 1981.

Lookingbill, Brad. Dust Bowl USA: Depression America and the Ecological Imagination, 1929-1941. Athens: Ohio University Press, 2001.

Lorentz, Pare. The Plow that Broke the Plains. Washington: Resettlement Administration, 1936.

Malin, James C. “Dust Storms, 1850-1900.” Kansas Historical Quarterly 14 (May, August, and November 1946): 129-144, 265-296; 391-413.

Malin, James C. Essays on Historiography. Ann Arbor, Michigan: Edwards Brothers, 1946.

Malin, James C. The Grassland of North America: Prolegomena to Its History. Lawrence, Kansas, privately printed, 1961.

Riney-Kehrberg, Pamela. Rooted in Dust: Surviving Drought and Depression in Southwestern Kansas. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1994.

Riney-Kehrberg, Pamela, editor. Waiting on the Bounty: The Dust Bowl Diary of Mary Knackstedt Dyck. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1999.

Svobida, Lawrence. Farming the Dust Bowl: A Firsthand Account from Kansas. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1986.

Wooten, H.H. The Land Utilization Program, 1934 to 1964: Origin, Development, and Present Status. U.S.D.A. Economic Research Service Agricultural Economic Report no. 85. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1965.

Worster, Donald. Dust Bowl: The Southern Plains in the 1930s. New York: Oxford University Press, 1979.

Wunder, John R., Frances W. Kaye, and Vernon Carstensen. Americans View Their Dust Bowl Experience. Niwot: University Press of Colorado, 1999.

Citation: Cunfer, Geoff. “The Dust Bowl”. EH.Net Encyclopedia, edited by Robert Whaples. August 18, 2004. URL http://eh.net/encyclopedia/the-dust-bowl/