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The Evolution of Everything: How New Ideas Emerge

Author(s):Ridley, Matt
Reviewer(s):Coelho, Philip R.P.

Published by EH.Net (October 2016)

Matt Ridley, The Evolution of Everything: How New Ideas Emerge. New York: HarperCollins, 2015. 360 pp. $29 (hardcover), ISBN: 978-0-06-229600-9.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Philip R.P. Coelho, Department of Economics, Ball State University.

This is a well-written and informative book; it consists of a prologue, sixteen chapters, an epilogue and an index. It is written with a point of view (libertarian right) that may grate on some readers, and its flaws may make it inadvisable to assign to lower-level undergraduates for outside reading.

Matt Ridley begins with a bow to the classical Roman author Lucretius’s extended poem, De Rerum Natura (On the Nature of Things). Each chapter starts with a quote from Lucretius pertinent to the chapter’s contents. Chapter topics are diverse; examples are: The Evolution of the Universe (Chapter 1), The Evolution of Religion (Chapter 14), The Evolution of the Internet (Chapter 16), and almost everything in between. Obviously the book’s ambitions are not modest, and, all-in-all it is a formidable introduction to the scientific and intellectual histories of a number of disciplines. As might be expected, some chapters are substantially superior to others.

The chapters on the physical sciences are excellent. These include the evolutions of the universe (Chapter 1), life (Chapter 3) genes (Chapter 4), technology (Chapter 7), and the mind (Chapter 8). These are substantive and informative. Still a major difficulty that I have with these chapters (and the book in general) is the conflation of the word “evolution” with development and/or history.  Change is not synonymous with the scientific or Darwinian meaning of evolution (which Ridley employs in parts of The Evolution of Everything), but, more than occasionally, he treats “evolution” as if it were synonymous with “history” or “development.” For example, when the author speaks of the evolution of societal attitudes toward same-sex marriage (p. 26) he is really talking about the climate of currently accepted opinion in much of the western world. My criticism of Ridley’s usage of “evolution” to describe changing attitudes towards same-sex unions as evolutionary is not normative; the toleration of same-sex unions could, or could not be, “evolutionary desirable,” where evolutionary desirable means leaving more descendants or out-competing rivals for resources.  It is possible that societies tolerant of same-sex unions may have (for whatever reasons) faster rates of growth than societies that are intolerant. The increase in resources may allow tolerant societies to dominate and surpass less tolerant societies. Using the term “evolution” to describe both evolution in a Darwinian context and as synonym for current trends or fashions may confuse readers.

Other faults with the book are that it is not well documented. An egregious example is in the chapter on the evolution (history) of money.  Ridley writes that: “Joseph Stiglitz, and Peter and Jonathan Orszag . . . concluded [in 2002] that the risk to the government from a potential default of Fannie [the Federal National Mortgage Association] or Freddie [the Federal Home Loan Mortgage Corporation] because of sub-prime lending was ‘effectively zero’ – ‘so small that it is difficult to detect.’” (p. 292). Despite the quotations within this passage there is no footnote to the source for the quotations, nor is the source for the quotation mentioned in the “Sources of Further Readings” (pp. 323-341). Because Stiglitz and the Orszag brothers played important roles in advising the Obama administration and the Congressional Democrats (i.e. the Dodd-Frank banking/financial legislation) I was more than mildly curious about the quote’s provenance. The usual data bases had no mention of the aforesaid quote and its source, so I turned to the undergraduate’s favorite tool and Googled the names and terms, and up popped the source. In short, Ridley’s summary was correct.  Similarly, in the chapter on religion Ridley has a direct quote saying: “In the way they rescued the theory from refutation; but they did so at the price of adopting a device which made it ambiguous” (p. 270). There is no citation and the antecedent is ambiguous. (Karl Popper, the author of the quote is mentioned in the paragraph but so are five other surnames, some of which precede the quote.) Once more Google came to the rescue and identified these as Popper’s words.  Readers should not have to depend on Google to verify quotations and sources.

Ridley’s economic discussions are uneven; he has excellent intuition, still his knowledge of economics has some serious deficiencies in the foundational literature of evolutionary economics. Armen Alchian and his seminal article (1950) on the evolutionary basis of economics are not mentioned. Milton Friedman is quoted for his comments on the internet (also undocumented by Ridley; Google was able to track down Friedman’s internet quote), but Friedman’s Essays in Positive Economics (1953), which competes with Alchian’s article as foundational to evolutionary economics, was not mentioned. Here we have Ridley talking about the evolution of various economics subjects, yet ignoring the intellectual foundations of evolutionary theory in economics; the result is intellectual dissonance.

Ridley is also somewhat haphazard in his command of more recent literature. The discussion on money (chapter 15) deals in depth with the recent financial meltdown, yet he appears to be unaware of the work by Calomiris and Haber (2014) that attributes the Great Recession to government policies that affected banking and the home mortgage industry.  Other examples of ignoring the recent literature are in Chapter 11 (population) where he criticizes the Malthusian’s theory on population and vilifies Malthus without considering the Malthusian intuition that associates increased population density with an increased disease burden (which increased both mortality and morbidity, and these reduced productivity). The Malthusian intuition is an offset to the virtuous cycle postulated by Adam Smith — that increasing population increases market size which increases specialization that in turn leads to increased productivity is limited by the [absolute] size of the market. Robert McGuire and I have written (2011) about this.

In spite of omissions, oversights and errors in Ridley’s economic discussions, he does enlighten and entertain, and provides insights into economic processes. I liken this book to a major university; over all it pursues excellence, still there are deficiencies in some disciplines and specialties that could be improved upon substantially. Ridley is an accomplished and talented author and scholar whom I greatly admire. I am glad I read the book and encourage others to read it, yet a more disciplined approach and an unyielding editor would have made a good book better.

References:

Alchian, Armen A. (1950) “Uncertainty, Evolution, and Economic Theory,” Journal of Political Economy 58 (3): 211–21.

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

Friedman, Milton, (1953) Essays in Positive Economics.  Chicago:  University of Chicago Press.

McGuire, Robert A. and Philip R. P. Coelho. (2011) Parasites, Pathogens, and Progress: Diseases and Economic Development. Cambridge, MA. MIT Press.

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

Subject(s):Economic Development, Growth, and Aggregate Productivity
Education and Human Resource Development
Financial Markets, Financial Institutions, and Monetary History
Historical Demography, including Migration
History of Technology, including Technological Change
Markets and Institutions
Time Period(s):General or Comparative

The Information Nexus: Global Capitalism from the Renaissance to the Present

Author(s):Marks, Steven G.
Reviewer(s):Dudley, Leonard

Published by EH.Net (September 2016)

Steven G. Marks, The Information Nexus: Global Capitalism from the Renaissance to the Present. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2016.  xiv + 250 pp. $28 (paperback), ISBN: 978-1-107-51963-3.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Leonard Dudley, Economics Department, Université de Montréal.

In this disruptive study, Clemson University historian Steven Marks redefines capitalism by breathing new life into concepts recycled from nineteenth-century German sociology. In 1877 a young German philosopher, Ferdinand Tönnies, published Community and Civil Society, a book based on his habilitation thesis. Tönnies contrasted two types of social structure, each of which he had come to know during the preceding years of dramatic and often violent change in German society.  The Gemeinschaft, or community, was an “organic” society like that of the small town in an agricultural region of northern Germany where he had grown up. Here relationships were “natural,” governed by the proximity of family, neighbors and friends. In contrast, the Gesellschaft, or civil society, was the “mechanical” industrial society like that of the cities he had come to know as a student living in different regions of Germany. Whereas relationships in the Gemeinschaft were governed by familiarity and custom, those in the capitalist Gesellschaft were determined by markets and prices.

In The Information Nexus, Steven Marks presents a very similar dichotomy between two types of society. In pre-capitalist societies of medieval Europe or China, he argues, while there were local markets and long-distance trade, the flow of information was limited either by technology or government policy. The first true capitalist economies appeared in the Dutch Republic and England/Great Britain in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, where unrestricted publication permitted the rapid circulation of information among a literate population. Although Marks criticizes the “reductionist” approach of the German sociologists (p. 53), Tönnies too distinguished capitalist from non-capitalist economies by the nature of their information technologies. Tönnies’s Gemeinschaft is bound together by oral communication — “the general use of a shared language” — whereas at the initial core of his Gesellschaft lie two of Gutenberg’s offspring, printed debt instruments and newspapers.

The Information Nexus is divided into two sections, each of which is composed of three self-standing essays. In the Part I, Marks presents a review and critique of previous studies of capitalism. Chapter 1 describes the origin of the word capitalism itself. Writing in 1850, French socialist Louis Blanc defined it as the appropriation of capital by the few, whereas in 1911 for German social scientist Werner Sombart, capitalism was control by the Jews. In Chapter 2, Marks proceeds to a description of changes in the meaning of the term capitalism in the United States over the twentieth century. From 1917 onward, capitalism came to represent the American political and economic system in contrast to the communism of Russia or the Soviet Union. In Chapter 3, the author then criticizes previous studies, arguing that features often identified with capitalism — the protection of property, the presence of a monetized commercial economy and production based on the division of labor — are all to be found in many pre-capitalist societies.

In the Part II, Marks offers his own definition of the concept of capitalism. The reader learns in Chapter 4 that the essence of capitalism in the early-modern period was the “free flow of information about capital markets and business opportunities” (p. 100).  Although there were precedents in the Renaissance Italian city states, as mentioned, the crucial development came in seventeenth-century United Provinces and England. In Chapter 5, the story then jumps to the Second Industrial Revolution in the United States. After 1850, in rapid succession, Marks explains, the railroad, the telegraph, the telephone, the typewriter, the large-circulation newspaper and radio made possible the mass market in what became world’s largest economy. Finally, in Chapter 6, Marx turns to current trends in the global economy. He recognizes that automation and globalization present challenges for the rich world. However, the digital revolution holds great promise for emerging economies — provided that their governments permit the “clear signaling of rules and prices.” China, he asserts, despite its rapid economic growth, is having difficulty in switching from imitation to innovation, in part because “government intrusion … raises transaction costs and hampers the flow of information” (p. 227).  Marks concludes that capitalism is essentially “informationism” — an “intensification of information gathering” (p. 234).  Its presence in Europe and its offshoots along with its absence elsewhere account for the “great divergence” between the West and the rest over the past 400 years.

The Information Nexus is a remarkable study, not only for the power of its message, but also for the clarity of its prose and for the vast field of research compressed into its 250 pages. However, I suggest three additions that would help to complete Marks’s story of the rise of capitalism. A first point is the role of language. It is hard to imagine the efficient functioning of financial markets without the standardization of the vernacular — first written and then spoken — as described by Milroy (1994) for the case of England.

A second point concerns cooperation. Although Marks emphasizes price competition, it required a high willingness to cooperate in order for capitalist markets to function efficiently. Paradoxically, it was the intense military tournament between emerging nation states in Europe described by Philip T. Hoffman (2015) that seems to have provided the incentive for the citizens of each state to work together to improve their nation’s position. David Hounshell (1984), for example, has described how the collaboration between the French and American governments and their private entrepreneurs led to the development of interchangeable parts during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.

A final issue is innovation. Ultimately it was the unprecedented divergence in innovation rates between capitalist and non-capitalist societies that led to dominance of the West. Marks mentions the Industrial Revolution only briefly, and fails to discuss the unprecedented burst of technological creativity between 1700 and 1850 described by Mokyr (1990).

As the late William McNeill (1963, p. 567) observed, “the career of Western civilization since 1500 appears a vast explosion, far greater than any comparable phenomenon in the past both in geographic range and in social depth.” Steven Marks’s study of the role of information flows in the creation of this capitalist Gesellschaft definitely merits a place on history bookshelves, whether real or virtual.

References:

Philip T. Hoffman, Why Did Europe Conquer the World? Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015.

David Hounshell, From the American System to Mass Production, 1800-1932: The Development of Manufacturing Technology in the United States. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985.

William McNeill, The Rise of the West: A History of the Human Community. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963.

James Milroy, “The Notion of ‘Standard Language’ and its Applicability to the Study of Early Modern English Pronunciation,” in Dieter Stein and Ingrid Tieken-Boon van Ostade, eds., Towards a Standard English, 1600-1800. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 1994, 19-30.

Joel Mokyr, The Lever of Riches: Technological Creativity and Economic Progress. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990.

Ferdinand Tönnies, Community and Civil Society. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001 (original 1887).

Leonard Dudley, Honorary Professor and Lecturer, Economics Department, Université de Montréal, leonard.dudley@umontreal.ca, is the author of Mothers of Innovation: How Expanding Social Networks Gave Birth to the Industrial Revolution (Cambridge Scholars, 2012) and “Language Standardization and the Industrial Revolution,” Oxford Economic Papers (forthcoming).

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

Subject(s):Economywide Country Studies and Comparative History
History of Technology, including Technological Change
Markets and Institutions
Geographic Area(s):General, International, or Comparative
Time Period(s):16th Century
17th Century
18th Century
19th Century
20th Century: Pre WWII
20th Century: WWII and post-WWII

Remaking the Rust Belt: The Postindustrial Transformation of North America

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

Published by EH.Net (September 2016)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Economic History of Mexico

The Economic History of Mexico

Richard Salvucci, Trinity University

 

Preface[1]

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

 

Where (and What) is Mexico?

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

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

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

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

 

Trade and Tribute before the Europeans

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

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

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

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

 

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

image1

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

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

image2

 

 

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

 

“New Spain” or Colonial Mexico: The First Phase

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

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

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

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

 

Colonialism and Economic Adjustment to Population Decline

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Why the Settlers Resisted the Implications of Scarce Labor

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

 

Silver Mining

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

page16

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

The War for Independence, the Insurgency, and Their Legacy

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

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

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

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

 

Agricultural Recovery and War

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

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

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

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

 

Juárez, Díaz and the Porfiriato: authoritarian development.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Porfirian Mexico

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

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

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

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

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

 

Railroads and Infrastructure

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

From Revolution to “Miracle”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

From Miracle to Meltdown: 1950-1982  

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

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

page39

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

Slowing of the Miracle and Echeverría

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

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

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

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

 

Meltdown: The Debt Crisis, the Lost Decade and After

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

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

 

The 1980s

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

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

 

Post Crisis: No Miracles

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

 

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Accessed July 10, 2016)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

Handbook of Cliometrics

Editor(s):Diebolt, Claude
Haupert, Michael
Reviewer(s):Mitch, David

Published by EH.Net (July 2016)

Claude Diebolt and Michael Haupert, editors, Handbook of Cliometrics. Berlin and Heidelberg: Springer, 2016. xxii + 590 pp.  $149 (hardcover), ISBN: 978-3-642-40405-4.

Reviewed for EH.Net by David Mitch, Department of Economics, University of Maryland – Baltimore County.

There is by now a long tradition of handbooks in economics. And they have varied over the decades in their intended audience and aims. J.M. Keynes in his 1922 introduction to the Cambridge Economic Handbook series described it as “intended to convey to the ordinary reader and to the uninitiated student some conception of the general principles of thought which economists apply to economic problems.”  Kenneth Arrow and Michael Intrilligator in their introduction to the North-Holland Handbooks in Economics series describe them as “a definitive source, reference and teaching supplement for use by professional researchers and advanced graduate students. Each Handbook contains self-contained surveys of the current state of a branch of economics in the form of chapters prepared by leading specialists on various aspects of this branch of economics.”

Claude Diebolt (University of Strasbourg) and Michael Haupert (University of Wisconsin-La Crosse), the editors of Springer’s Handbook of Cliometrics have not clearly identified the audience at which the volume is aimed. They do indicate in their introduction (p. xi) that the contributions “stress the usefulness of cliometrics for economists, historians, and social scientists in general.” Their preface and introduction describe the handbook as one that “contains digested knowledge in an easily accessible format,” (p. xv) while also asserting the aim “to foster world-class research” (p. xv).  They have followed the lead of North-Holland’s handbook series of choosing leading specialists in various branches of cliometrics to write its chapters but appear to have given them quite free reign regarding intended audience, scope, and methodology employed.   Indeed one message the volume as a whole conveys is the diversity of formats that can be associated with cliometric history ranging from exercises in applied econometrics to purely verbal narrative expositions.

The volume comes in at just under 600 pages. It is divided into 22 chapters subsumed under some 7 headings.  This implies an average allotment of 27 pages per chapter with the actual chapters varying from 15 to 35 pages in length.  By way of comparison, the North-Holland Handbook of Economic Growth, Vols. 1A and 1B (to choose just one immediately available volume from the many in the series) runs to a total  of 1800 pages in some 28 chapters for an average length of 64 pages per chapter.  The considerable relative restriction in length for the Springer Handbook implies tradeoffs between the scope and level of the audience for a given contribution.  Some contributions in this volume provide an overview of the forest, taking up general concepts such as labor markets or human capital or landmark episodes such as the Great Depression and accomplish this by aiming at primarily an undergraduate audience albeit with elegance and incisiveness.  Other contributions focus on specific trees, considering a few key issues, key studies or key methodologies which they cover in a depth more suitable for advanced graduate students and researchers.

What choice of topics and organization is appropriate for a handbook of cliometrics?  Insofar as cliometrics is a method rather than substantive economic history, organization according to chronological or geographical coverage would not seem in order. If cliometrics is defined as the application of economic theory and quantitative methods to the study of history, then what is to be covered in such a handbook over and above the theoretical and quantitative tools to be applied? Are there either general principles or specific techniques that can be articulated for the application of economic theory and methods to the study of history? Forums on the future of economic history (such as that from the 2015 Economic History Association annual meeting published in the December, 2015 Journal of Economic History) suggest no shortage of methodological advances to consider including Geographical Information Systems, big data and computational power, and use of quasi-experimental methods — to name just some.

The editors acknowledge the difficulty of deciding what to include and that some important and historically significant topics were excluded (p. xi) and point to the goals of achieving “variety over time, topic, and geography” and “a sampling of topics cliometrics has helped to transform over the past half-century” as principles of selection.

The seven section headings chosen for the volume seem more Fogelian than Northian in conception.  Four of the categories, Human Capital, Finance, Innovation, and Government have clear parallels with headings in The Reinterpretation of American Economic History, the important 1972 compilation by Fogel and Engerman of cliometric work. The three other categories that round off the work include a section on the history of cliometrics, a section on growth, and a section on statistics and cycles.  While Douglass North and new institutional approaches certainly get mention throughout this handbook, none of the chapters give extended coverage to institutions or a Northian framework, an understandable decision given space constraints.

The opening section on history contains both Michael Haupert’s history of cliometrics and Peter Temin’s effort to link economic history and economic development via his own illustrious career experiences.  Almost half of Haupert’s history of cliometrics is actually devoted to the history of pre-cliometric economic history; which limits the detail he provides to either old or new economic history.  Such important episodes as the controversy over the cliometrics of slavery are notably missing from his account, though it does provide a quite useful entrée to the topic. Peter Temin’s contribution fills in this gap with his insightful romp through selected cliometrics highlights over the past fifty years pointing to parallels and synergies between the study of economic history and economic development.  He offers the perspective of a pioneering practitioner of cliometrics on work by more recent generations of cliometricians. His is one of the few contributions in the volume to give explicit consideration to the quasi-experimental methods that have become widespread in the work of younger cliometricians. He also considers tensions and opportunities in publication strategies aiming at alternatively economic history or mainstream economics journals as outlets.

The second section on human capital has five contributions which differ widely in scope and detail.  Claudia Goldin and Robert Margo provide quite general, albeit cogent, overviews of respectively cliometric work on human capital and labor markets. Given their own scholarly work they both not surprisingly focus on the U.S. case, though Goldin sets this in the global context of unified growth theory with Malthusian, transition, and human capital phases.  Her treatment of education and schooling centers on her landmark 2008 book with Lawrence Katz rather than a detailed overview of recent research. She also treats health as a form of human capital in considering long run trends in mortality and life expectancy.  She does not provide any assessment or even mention of recent age-heaping approaches to estimating human capital historically.  Robert Margo’s treatment of labor markets centers around estimates of long term trends in some basic magnitudes including that of the labor force as a whole, occupational structure, wage structure, and racial differences.  He provides concise but insightful interpretations of these trends utilizing a simple demand and supply framework. Margo does refer to work exploring underlying sources and data limitations but given his space limitations does not do so in any depth.  A major and innovative area of cliometric research since the late 1970s has been in examining the relationship between nutrition, heights, and biological living standards, and disease environments as evidenced in trends in human heights, the field of anthropometrics.  Lee Craig overviews this research and his particular emphasis on nineteenth century U.S. developments allows him some focus in depth, though he does draw extensively on more global evidence.  He considers in more depth than the Goldin chapter the role of improvements in nutrition and in public health measures in improving the biological standard of living.  Franziska Tollen and Joerg Baten’s contribution provides an in-depth survey of the use of age-heaping indicators to estimate human capital.  They go in detail into the methodology of how age-heaping indicators are constructed and survey a wide range of findings stemming from use of the age-heaping approach.  Unlike other contributions in this section the level of detail is more suited to advanced researchers.  Jacob Weisdorf surveys the use of parish registers by cliometricians and economic and demographic historians more generally. He provides a useful description of the registries themselves. And he makes note of their use not only for the English and other Western European cases but also for Africa and potentially for other regions as well. Weisdorf embeds his survey in a discussion of the Malthusian population framework and the unified growth approach of Oded Galor and collaborators through the evidence parish registers can provide on trends in births, deaths, and marriages. He connects with the human capital theme by taking up the important information registries can provide on occupational trends.  He gives coverage to historically integrated occupational coding schemes that have been developed to categorize the occupations sometimes recorded on parish registries as in the work of Marco van Leeuwen, Andrew Miles and others (2004, 2005), but only passing mention to the major Cambridge Group project of using occupational information on parish registers to extend back in time knowledge about trends in English occupational structure (Shaw-Taylor and Wrigley 2014).

Section Three on Economic Growth contains a further five chapters that are quite varied in character and coverage.  Claude Diebolt and Faustine Perrin nominally give coverage to a range of growth theories, although they use the unified growth approach of Oded Galor and David Weil to provide a narrative of growth over the past millennium while offering an extension by incorporating implications of female economic and social empowerment into their discussion.   Gregory Clark offers a cliometric perspective on the British Industrial Revolution centering on the sources of productivity advance and identifying it as driven by an “upturn in the rate of technological innovation” (p. 207).  Although he does not provide an in-depth survey of cliometric work on the Industrial Revolution, Clark does consider some of the leading underlying explanations that have been offered including institutional and intellectual approaches and those grounded in human capital; he argues that none can provide convincing explanations. He thus concludes that the “Industrial Revolution remains one of history’s great mysteries” (p. 232). James Foreman-Peck takes up economic-demographic interactions by using a simple linear specification of the Malthusian model as his starting point and quite effectively uses it as a unifying framework for his review both of empirical evidence and causal estimation strategies. While I would have been interested in seeing further discussion of the implications of relaxing the assumptions of linearity, Foreman-Peck’s contribution should prove an effective teaching tool in showing how some simple micro-specifications can have far-reaching applications.  Emanuele Felice provides a quite detailed discussion of issues involved in constructing GDP estimates that are comparable across countries and over time and even for sub-national regions, as well as turning to the evidence and approaches in using such estimates to examine tendencies to growth convergence and factors influencing these tendencies.  Markus Lampe and Paul Sharp take up the topic of trade, turning first to the importance of trade, then to how to measure the extent of trade and market integration, then to the role of institutions, technology, and policy in determining trade and finally to the measurement and determinants of trade policy. Their coverage is very well informed, but with only a sentence or two to devote to each study they consider, the emphasis is on breadth rather than depth.

Section Four on Finance, has more unity and coherence between its four chapters than other sections of this volume.  Larry Neal’s opening contribution on the cliometrics of finance focuses specifically on surveying the market for sovereign debt from early modern times through the early twentieth century and the market for short-term commercial credit with particular emphasis on exchange rates, including extensive comments for both topics on available data sources. Neal concludes, however, with extended general reflections on both the accomplishments and limitations of the now quite extensive body of cliometric work on finance.  For his contribution, the late John James defines “Payment Systems” as “the complex of financial instruments and relationships that transfer value between buyers and sellers to complete their transactions” (pp. 353-54).  James provides a wide ranging narrative account — suitable for non-specialists that can be viewed as informed by a cliometric framework or spirit rather than directly cliometric — of the evolution of payment systems so defined from the demonetization accompanying the collapse of the Roman Empire through the early twenty-first century U.S.  In contrast to Neal and James, Matthew Jaremski organizes his survey of cliometric work on financial crises methodologically.  He first considers studies that employ survival and hazard models to examine determinants of banking crises, then turns to the use of data envelopment analysis for a production function/efficiency perspective on deposit insurance and then in the last part of the survey considers approaches to deal with simultaneity in the interaction between financial crises and more general economic activity; these include vector auto-regression, instrumental variables approaches and difference-in-difference models.  Jaremski’s exposition is lucid despite the amount of technical detail presented, though it seems aimed at specialists and researchers in the field.  Caroline Fohlin concludes the Finance section with a wide-ranging international comparative perspective on financial systems.  She starts with some basic typologies on financial systems, distinguishing first between functional and institutional perspectives and then to standard distinctions between a) bank-based versus market-based systems, b) universal versus specialized systems and c) relationship versus arms-length systems.  She then turns to the extent to which the actual historical evolution of financial systems adds complexity to these distinctions. She proceeds to consider determinants of choices between the various types of systems she distinguishes and to evidence on the nexus between finance and economic growth.  Throughout her detailed survey of a large number of studies and countries, Fohlin warns against rigid classification by over-arching categories or mono-causal explanations, leaving her with the final conclusion (p. 427) that “history matters.”

The remaining three sections of the volume each contain pairs of contribution.  The two essays in the fifth section on Innovation provides a quite interesting contrast.  Stanley Engerman and the late Nathan Rosenberg comment on “innovation in historical perspective” by arguing that uncertainty associated with the innovation process implies that the richness of historical accounts of the innovation process can capture important aspects that would be missed in an ahistorical theoretical framework. Engerman and Rosenberg were both early contributors to cliometrics; their chapter, as with that of John James described above, can perhaps be seen as more informed by a cliometric framework than involving direct application of either the theoretical or empirical methods associated with Cliometrics.  In contrast, Jochen Streb directly embraces “the Cliometric Study of Innovations,” surveying both theoretical and empirical cliometric studies of the history of innovation with a particular, though not exclusive, focus on patents as measures of innovation.

The sixth section is on “Statistics and Cycles.”  The contribution by Thomas Rahlf in this section on “Statistical Inference” is actually a history of thought of statistical inference during the twentieth century.  He attempts to link this with cliometrics in the last part of his essay by suggesting that Alfred Conrad, John Meyer and others formulating cliometric methodology were informed by a Bayesian approach and that the history of Bayesian statistics is thus relevant for understanding the methodology of cliometrics.  He also suggests that cliometric inference could benefit from further attention to the criticisms of econometric methodology offered by Rudolf Kalman of Kalman filter fame. However, neither of these suggestions is articulated in any detail. The other contribution is by Terence Mills on “Trends, Cycles, and Structural Breaks in Cliometrics,” which offers a helpful primer on developments over the past quarter century in time-series statistics and econometrics pertinent to this topic and provides a number of illustrations based on cliometric work.

In the final section on government Price Fishback contributes an essay focused on a particular historical episode in which the role of government loomed large and on which he has considerable expertise, that of the 1930s Great Depression in the United States. And Jari Eloranta brings his specialist knowledge to surveying a recurring situation in which governments have been prominent, that of war.  Given the large literatures they each consider, Fishback and Eloranta make the quite sensible choice of providing non-technical narrative overviews suitable for undergraduates and general readers.

Given the varying audiences at which the contributions appear to aim, as well as the range of formats and styles of the contributions, it may be more apt to label this volume a companion to cliometrics or a cliometric sampler than a handbook with the comprehensiveness the latter title might imply. Indeed, as already mentioned above, the editors are more circumspect than Springer’s blurb on its website about the comprehensiveness of coverage.  One can readily come up with a list of topics in which cliometrics has made important contributions that are omitted, including coverage of work on the major economic sectors, income and wealth inequality, and (as noted above) extended treatment of institutional approaches. And as suggested above, I would also have welcomed discussion of quasi-experimental approaches — both opportunities and reservations, in light of how prevalent this has become in recent research.  Nevertheless, given the apparent constraints on length presumably set by the publisher, the choice of topics is quite appropriate.  The editors are to be commended for taking on such a challenging yet important assignment and for recruiting such a strong set of contributors.  The resultant volume contains worthwhile contributions that readers from a range of disciplines and varying degrees of commitment to cliometrics will want to consult.   As more and more historians and sociologists, as well as economists, seem to be venturing into financial history, economic history, and the history of capitalism, it would be interesting to know more about how persuaded they will be about the usefulness of cliometrics by the essays in this volume.

References:

Philippe Aghion and Steven N. Durlauf, eds. 2005. Handbook of Economic Growth Vols. 1A and 1B, Amsterdam: North-Holland Elsevier.

William Collins, Kris Mitchener, Ran Abramitzky, and Naomi Lamoreaux. 2015. “Essays: The Future of Economic History,” Journal of Economic History, 75, 4: 1228-1257.

Robert Fogel and Stanley Engerman, editors. 1972. The Reinterpretation of American Economic History, New York: Harper and Row.

Oded Galor and David N. Weil. 2000. “Population, Technology, and Growth: From Malthusian Stagnation to the Demographic Transition and Beyond,” American Economic Review, 90, 4: 806-828.

Claudia Goldin and Lawrence Katz. 2008. The Race between Education and Technology, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

J.M. Keynes. 1922. “Introduction to H.D. Henderson, Supply and Demand,” Cambridge Economic Handbooks – 1, New York: Harcourt and Brace, pp. v-vi.

Marco H.D. van Leeuwen, Ineke Maas and Andrew Miles. 2004. “Creating a Historical International Standard Classification of Occupations: An Exercise in Multinational, Interdisciplinary Cooperation,” Historical Methods, 37, 4: 186-197.

Bart Van de Putte and Andrew Miles. 2005. “A Social Classification Scheme for Historical Occupational Data,” Historical Methods, 38, 2: 61-94.

Leigh Shaw-Taylor and E.A. Wrigley. 2014. “Occupational Structure and Population Change” in Roderick Floud, Jane Humphries, and Paul Johnson, editors, The Cambridge Economic History of Modern Britain, New Edition, Vol.1, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 53-88.

David Mitch is Professor of Economics at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County. He is the author of “Schooling for All by Financing by Some,” Paedagogica Historica, 52: 4 (August, 2016): 325-348.

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

Subject(s):Development of the Economic History Discipline: Historiography; Sources and Methods
Economic Development, Growth, and Aggregate Productivity
Education and Human Resource Development
Financial Markets, Financial Institutions, and Monetary History
Historical Demography, including Migration
History of Economic Thought; Methodology
History of Technology, including Technological Change
Military and War
Industry: Manufacturing and Construction
International and Domestic Trade and Relations
Labor and Employment History
Living Standards, Anthropometric History, Economic Anthropology
Macroeconomics and Fluctuations
Geographic Area(s):General, International, or Comparative
Time Period(s):General or Comparative

Money Changes Everything: How Finance Made Civilization Possible

Author(s):Goetzmann, William N.
Reviewer(s):Neal, Larry

Published by EH.Net (July 2016)

William N. Goetzmann, Money Changes Everything: How Finance Made Civilization Possible.  Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2016. x + 584 pp. $35 (cloth), ISBN: 978-0-691-14378-1.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Larry Neal, Department of Economics, University of Illinois.

Long awaited by other financial historians, myself included, William N. Goetzmann’s book has finally appeared! This, after years of research and teaching during which Goetzmann allowed anyone interested in financial history to view his chapters in progress on-line at: http://viking.som.yale.edu. (The website is well worth visiting in any case for the wide selection of primary source materials he has made readily available there for the rest of us.)  The printed product covers defining episodes in the history of finance from ancient Mesopotamia to the sub-prime crisis of 2008.  The introduction explains the themes that underlie the chest-thumping title despite his modest initial disclaimer that, “This book is a somewhat personal narrative about the people, places, and things that, in my view, shaped the history of finance as a technology of civilization” (p. 3). To motivate the structure of the book chapters that follow Goetzmann summarizes the key elements of finance as:
1. Reallocating economic value through time
2. Reallocating risk
3. Reallocating capital
4. Expanding the access to, and the complexity of, these reallocations

After explaining and extolling the virtues of each financial element, however, he broadens and deepens the implications of financial innovations that have occurred through history under each element.  The first element, the re-allocation of economic value through time, he sees as the fundamental feature that allowed civilizations to arise in the first place, wherever and whenever they occurred. Drawing on earlier work by his father, the late historian William H. Goetzmann, he distinguishes cultures as “structures of interrelated institutions, language, ideas, values, myths and symbols.  They tend to be exclusive, even tribal.  Civilizations, on the other hand, are open to new customs and ideas. They are syncretistic, chaotic, and often confusing societal information systems.  They continue to grow in the richness, variety and complexity of societal experience” (p. 9).

Goetzmann concludes with the optimistic view that: “financial technology allowed for more complex political institutions, enhanced social mobility, and greater economic growth – in short, all the major indicators of complex society we call civilization” (p. 14). Following this upbeat overview, there are four major sections, each with a separate introduction to explain the motivation.  Part 1, “From Cuneiform to Classical Civilization,” starts with Babylon and ends with Roman finance making a transition from informal securities markets in the Republic to central control of the money supply and its uses under the Empire.  Part II, “The Financial Legacy of China,” is a thoughtful diversion about the different routes that financial engineers can take, depending on the nature of political controls and contract enforcement.  Part III, the bulk of the book in two hundred pages, describes in loving detail “The European Crucible,” beginning with sovereign debt in Venice and concluding with American substitutes for sovereign debt, often underwritten by Dutch financiers.   Part IV, “The Emergence of Global Markets,” takes the reader into the maelstrom of the late nineteenth, twentieth, and early twenty-first centuries as global finance made its way among competing political visions in the world, all the while becoming increasingly complex — and disruptive.

Part I, “From Cuneiform to Classical Civilization,” focuses on lasting contributions to the rise of civilizations in the West, starting with writing, then cities, and culminates with a “financial architecture” based on record keeping, contract enforcement, a numerical system that permitted compound interest calculations, and astronomical observations based on a calendar year of 360 days (to make interest calculations easier).  This financial architecture held congeries of cities together in mutually beneficial trade networks, but then also allowed the rise of empires and their disruptive consequences.  Especially poignant is the interpretation of the Muraŝu archive discovered in the ruins of ancient Nippur, which must have been one of the financial centers of the Persian Empire.  Three generations of the Muraŝu family maintained their clay tablets recording outstanding claims on property and business ventures, concluding with their aid to a usurper who overthrew the reigning emperor, Sogdianus.  The Muraŝu family organized the financing of the army of his half-brother, Ochus, who became Darius II.  After which, however, the archive testifies to continuing indebtedness and foreclosures of the various financiers.  Goetzmann concludes, “finance could rapidly and powerfully focus economic assets in one time and place for political gain” (p. 68).

The historical record of finance in the ensuring centuries remains largely to be decoded from the millions of clay tablets now dispersed in museums throughout the world, but the Mesopotamian innovations persisted into Grecian times.  The famed orator, Demosthenes, was often hired to express eloquently and convincingly the case of his client, whether an aggrieved creditor or debtor, before a mass jury of Athenian citizens.  His various speeches demonstrate the sophistication and complexity of Athenian private finance. Goetzmann concludes, “The Athenian state was able to induce investors into the equally risky venture of prospecting and mining through mechanisms for dispute resolution and the means by which the state fairly and transparently allotted property rights” (p. 91).

Roman finance, he argues, laid the basis for later development of corporate enterprises and secondary markets in mortgages as the Roman Republic expanded at the expense of Grecian (and Phoenician) city-states, while adopting their most successful and proven financial techniques, including the use of standardized coins to facilitate impersonal exchanges throughout the unified empire.  Why some forms of private finance, annuities based on rental properties, disappear from the historical record after the rise of the Empire remains a mystery.  The later travails of the Roman Empire with increasingly desperate measures for war finance, moreover, elicit a comparison with the contemporaneous Han Empire in China.

Part II, “The Financial Legacy of China,” basically resolves the so-called “Needham Paradox,” the failure of the technology advances of the Song Dynasty to generate an industrial revolution or further scientific advances that occurred much later in Europe, to the financial divergence between China and Europe. The key factor was the failure of China to develop sovereign debt, whether for its magnificent cities or for the central government.  Only with the opening of China’s treaty ports in the nineteenth century did the Chinese government finally resort to state debt, and even then the first Chinese government bonds were floated on international debt markets rather than in China itself.  But when China did enter global markets of the late nineteenth century, it did so with a vengeance. Shanghai rapidly became one of the great banking centers of the world in the 1920s, but only by discarding the imperial legacy of centuries before.  Goetzmann notes, “There was great debate in the Han over the role of private enterprise versus state ownership [especially regarding salt, iron, and maritime trade] and state ownership won” (p. 174).  Thereafter, the state provided credit to merchants and warlords when it needed to mobilize resources, eventually creating fiat paper money in the Song Dynasty.  Goetzmann concludes, “It is impossible to create fiat money without complete fiat.  Thus, the value of the currency rose and ultimately collapsed with the state” (p. 202).

Part III, “The European Crucible,” develops the logic that led small, competing, and warring city-states scattered across Western Europe to create viable forms of finance that led, with many well-known missteps but also with a few underappreciated financial successes, to modern, global finance.  Goetzmann sees the stages of financial development in Europe as: “first, the emergence of financial institutions; second the development of securities markets; third, the emergence of companies; fourth, the sudden explosion of stock markets; fifth, the quantification of risk; and finally, the spillover of this system to the rest of the world” (p. 203). The next twelve chapters explore both the missteps and the occasional successes that lay the foundations for modern finance.

After 219 pages of fascinating historical episodes, often interleaved with personal accounts of Goetzmann’s encounters with archaeological digs or archival sites, he sums up the lessons of history from the European example.  “Financial technology is redundant, adaptive, and sometimes mercurial.  The institutions we take to be sacrosanct, inevitable, and indispensable are probably not.  Given the random outcome of historical events, another set of institutions might have emerged to solve the same financial problems.  Financial innovation is thus a series of accidents of history — the caprice of time, location, and opportunity” (p. 219).  Consequently, his treatment of the technical advances in probability theory and actuarial science, starting with Fibonacci, Bernoulli and Pascal, contrasts sharply with that of Peter Bernstein’s Against the Gods: The Remarkable Story of Risk (New York: Wiley, 1996).  For Bernstein, the practical application of the Black-Scholes model for pricing options, built on the assumption that past distributions of asset prices could persist over the near future, had created the modern, efficient, global financial market.  For Goetzmann, however, the successes of the early financial markets led to the formalization in mathematical terms of the underlying processes.  He notes with approval the possibilities of non-linearities formalized by his Yale colleague Benoit Mandelbrot and erratic market movements highlighted by another Yale colleague, Robert Shiller.  Both scholars were inspired by observing anomalies in the price discovery processes revealed in the securities markets of the 20th century.

The final success of the European Crucible, according to Goetzmann, however, arose in the American colonies, first with their experiments with land banks (until outlawed by the British Parliament) and then with land companies backed usually by Dutch and British investors.  With all the current fervor surrounding the role played by Alexander Hamilton, thanks to the Broadway musical based on Ronald Chernow’s biography, Goetzmann instead gives Abraham Van Ketwich and a number of other Dutch bankers primary credit for having securitized the early debt of the United States.  True, “Dutch investors made out well when the debt of the United States was reorganized by Alexander Hamilton and the young nation made good on its financial commitments” (p. 386).  So, real credit for America’s success should go to the eighteenth century Dutch investors who developed the financial innovation of closed end mutual funds, which allowed small investors to share the returns from risky assets.

Part IV, “The Emergence of Global Markets,” begins with an interesting discussion of Marx, especially his insights into contemporary finance as demonstrated in his newspaper columns in the New York Daily Tribune in the U.S.  Goetzmann writes, “His prose is terse, witty, and convincing.  When I read these lively columns I can almost forgive him” (p. 411). The Tribune articles by Marx portray a world of “global linkages and geo-political dynamics” and that is what excites Goetzmann about this period of financial history. Especially noteworthy is the amount of information contained in the Investor’s Monthly Manual “quoting thousands of prices for securities from all over the world” (p. 412).  (And it’s available on downloadable pdf files from Goetzmann’s website given above.)  He extols The London Stock Exchange in 1870 as “giant economic lever with the fulcrum planted in the present, balancing past savings and future promises” (p. 413).

There follow fascinating insights into the experiences in pre-revolutionary China (“China’s Financiers”) and pre-World War I and early revolutionary Russia (“The Russian Bear”). Each country attempted to adopt financial innovations and capital from abroad while trying to establish legitimacy for a new government.  Both lapsed into authoritarian regimes espousing Marxian ideology, demonstrating again the historical contingencies under which financial innovations arise or meet their demise.  Chapter 26, “Keynes to the Rescue,” contrasts Keynes’ macro-economic recommendations, familiar to all from his General Theory, with his microeconomic investment strategies in handling the endowments of King’s College at Cambridge University.  At the macro-level, Keynes prescribed governmental spending whenever the animal spirits motivating private investment flagged while at a micro-level he switched from speculating on price movements in equities or foreign exchange (with dismal results) into equity investments in firms with sound management and robust markets.

“The New Financial World” emerged after World War I, not World War II, on Goetzmann’s account.  Highlighting the leadership of the U.S. in finance were skyscraper bonds, which he sees as an application into vertical space of the early American land companies dealing with wide, open horizontal spaces.  Financial architecture mimicked in many ways the new architecture that created a building boom toward the sky.  It is their eventual demise at the end of 1926 that Goetzmann sees as the collapse of a real bubble as “skyscrapers built in Manhattan were … driven by a demand for bonds that backed them rather than by a demand for the amazing new machine to make the land pay” (p. 480). Following the collapse of the urban real estate market in the U.S., returns from applying other new technologies such as radios, autos, and electrical appliances were delayed by a decade of more and equity prices in their companies collapsed, destroying the American public’s craving for investing in the stock markets.

Out of the Great Depression that followed, however, Goetzmann sees the emergence of useful financial innovations, starting with government regulation of the securities markets, implementation of a national Social Security plan, and improvements in mutual fund designs, all leading to post-war developments in financial theories, as well as intense empirical research into the varieties of movements in equity prices.  The challenges of the future, in a global financial system with confidence badly shaken from the 2008 financial crisis, lie in providing assurances to the current working age populations around the world that their future medical expenses and pension benefits can be financed. Attempts to meet these challenges with new financial innovations, whether from private or public initiatives, should be encouraged, as history shows that the consequences of disappointing the public’s expectations have always been disastrous for a civilization.

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

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

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

The Economic History of China: From Antiquity to the Nineteenth Century

Author(s):von Glahn, Richard
Reviewer(s):Deng, Kent G.

Published by EH.Net (June 2016)

Richard von Glahn, The Economic History of China: From Antiquity to the Nineteenth Century. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016. xiv + 461 pp. $40 (paperback), ISBN: 978-1-107-03056-5.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Kent G. Deng, Department of Economic History, London School of Economics.

This book carries on a great scholarly tradition in three dimensions: a macro-level outlook (taking a huge land mass as a single unit), a long-term vision (using one millennium as a basic unit), and a critical synthesis (examining the fields of history from a commanding height) — something that is best suited for study of remarkably long-lasting civilizations and economies like China and yet has become less available (or, to put it bluntly, less popular) among economic historians in the recent decades. One should be considered fortunate to be able to master one such a dimension. To have all three in one is a heroic undertaking. Not only that, the great care that has been taken in selecting and evaluating a wide spectrum of historical factors/facts and views in the on-going scholarly debate and then in weaving them together in a consistent and coherent fashion makes for a masterpiece of scholarship. In this new book, Richard von Glahn of the University of California, Los Angeles, has achieved just that.

The book’s main achievement is three-fold. First, the author gives qualitative data a deserved fair share rather than treating them as inferior evidence. In doing so, a good balance is maintained between quantifiable and non-quantifiable evidence in Chinese history. This is vital for an evenhanded understanding of the China over the very long term. The author’s emphasis on the nature, function, evolution and impact of the imperial state is deeply rooted in such an approach.

Second, the book is based on  “real data” from China’s written records instead of “pseudo-data” made of often dodgy estimates or, even worse, meaningless guesstimates. Here, the author’s unmitigated integrity, as well as his elevated proficiency in handling historical records written in the classical Chinese language, becomes most noticeable. With it, the author demonstrates what a good historical study requires: nonnegotiable training in history plus encyclopedic knowledge. The message from the author is that the heavy lifting in studying and understanding the basics in Chinese history cannot be and should not be skipped.

Third, despite the potentially dull nature of the subject area (i.e. an economic history of the long run) and the dense text and historical data (110 maps, figures and tables), the book is surprisingly an easy read compared to its counterparts. In addition, each chapter is self-contained which makes it highly suited for a layperson or a student.

Structurally, this book has ten substantial chapters, organized with a new periodization according to China’s economic performance rather than the old-fashioned pattern of regime changes from unification to fragmentation to re-unification and then to re-fragmentation (commonly known as fenjiu bi he, hejiu bi fen). What really mattered was China’s economic performance, with a great deal of flexibility in society. After a comprehensive review of the literature in the introduction (covering scholarship in English, Chinese and Japanese languages), the book moves to technology (chapter 1), empire-building (chapters 2-3), maturity in institutions (chapters 4-6), maturity in the economy (chapters 7-8), and ends with crises and challenges from the outside world (chapter 9).

Although the author decides not to offer final conclusions or remarks, the main argument put forward is that despite numerous changes in the state and society, economic life adapted and continued. People’s choices were highly rational — in the short run at least. In explaining China’s comparative “slowing down,” the usual clichés of “Oriental despotism,” “Confucian conservativism,” “dynastic cycle,” “rice economy,” and “high-level equilibrium trap” are not resorted to by the author. Even “Chinese-ness” is not considered anything mysteriously inferior (pace Max Weber). Rather, the author provides us with a new insight: China’s growth trajectories in the long run were either state-led or state-dependent. The market, and with it the general population, played but a limited role. In the Marxian jargon, therefor the “superstructure” determined the “economic base” in China.

For the interest of global or trans-national historians, von Glahn convincingly demonstrates that most elements that have been seen as unique in pre-modern Western Europe or Japan were present in pre-modern China, including technology, feudalism, the fiscal-military state, mercantilism, markets and capitalism. The only difference was that they appeared earlier in China. Such observation resonates the more radical views of Joseph Needham (Science and Civilization in China, Cambridge 1954-2015) and John Hobson (Eastern Origins of Western Civilization, Cambridge, 2004).

This is the kind of book that will almost certainly enjoy a long shelf life, like some of the most recognizable titles on China’s long-term history — such as Joseph Needham’s The Grand Titration (London, 1969), Mark Elvin’s The Pattern of the Chinese Past (Stanford, 1973), and Kang Chao’s Man and Land in Chinese History (Stanford, 1986). I strongly recommend this book to students of Chinese history, East Asian history and world/global history.

Recent publications by Kent G. Deng (k.g.deng@lse.ac.uk) include Mapping China’s Growth and Development in the Long Run, 221 BC to 2020 (London: World Scientific Press and Imperial College Press, 2015) and (with Patrick O’Brien) “Establishing Statistical Foundations of a Chronology for the Great Divergence: A Survey and Critique of the Primary Sources for the Construction of Relative Wage Levels for Ming-Qing China,” Economic History Review.

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

Subject(s):Economywide Country Studies and Comparative History
Geographic Area(s):Asia
Time Period(s):Ancient
Medieval
16th Century
17th Century
18th Century
19th Century

Purchasing Power: The Economics of Modern Jewish History

Editor(s):Kobrin, Rebecca
Teller, Adam
Reviewer(s):Chiswick, Carmel U.

Published by EH.Net (March 2016)

Rebecca Kobrin and Adam Teller, editors, Purchasing Power: The Economics of Modern Jewish History.  Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015.  vii + 355 pp. $65 (cloth), ISBN: 978-0-8122-4730-5.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Carmel U. Chiswick, Department of Economics, George Washington University.

Purchasing Power is a collection of eleven well-researched and well-documented essays about the economic life of Jews in a particular industry, time period, or location, usually as producers but sometimes also as consumers.  This subject has only recently been treated seriously as an important aspect of Jewish history, earlier work typically either ignored the practicalities of earning a living or else relied on — or even generated — stereotypes that obscure rather than illuminate.   The editors of Purchasing Power, Rebecca Kobrin of Columbia University and Adam Teller of Brown University, have made a good start on rectifying the situation with this book.

Part I of this collection, “Networks and Niches,” has five historical essays on the economic activities of Jews in various circumstances.  Chapter 1 by Bernard Dov Cooperman (University of Maryland) is about Jewish moneylenders in early modern Rome.  Chapter 2 by Carsten L. Wilke (Central European University, Budapest) focuses on the Jews of the French Pyrenees who held the tobacco monopoly in seventeenth-century Spain.  Chapter 3 by Cornelia Aust (Leibniz-Institute for European History, Mainz, Germany) uses bankruptcy data from eighteenth-century Central Europe to draw insights about the credit-worthiness of Jewish merchants.  Chapter 4 by Glenn Dynner (Sarah Lawrence College) considers whether residential restrictions affected (or did not affect) the success of Jewish businesses in nineteenth-century Poland, including some interesting analysis of unintended consequences.  Chapter 5 by Adam D. Mendelsohn (College of Charleston) tells the story of a family of English Jews that exported clothing to British colonies during the nineteenth century.  Chapter 6 by Jonathan Karp (Binghamton University, SUNY) describes twentieth-century American and British Jews whose economic niche was in (phonograph) record stores catering to collectors of early Rock’n’Roll and folk music.

Together these chapters provide a nuanced view of Jewish business networking, evidence that being Jewish was neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition for inclusion in a successful business relationship.  Most if not all of these networks depended on non-Jews for certain activities, and not every Jew was sufficiently reliable and trustworthy to be included.  In each instance, a person’s good name (i.e., reputation) would be much more important than his religion when it came to building a successful business network.  Jewish businessmen operating in the larger society and belonging to the Jewish community were subject to the (sometimes conflicting) laws and ethical standards of both, and while this could be unduly restrictive it might also provide some wriggle-room for evading the less advantageous legal context.  In a hostile socio-political environment Jews might make a living in niche industries that were scorned by others, but even in friendly environments Jewish innovators created successful niches in new industries or markets.  The reader cannot help but be struck by the entrepreneurship and innovation demonstrated in these chapters.

While the chapters in Part I focus on how Jews earned a living, those in Part II give examples of how economically successful Jews used their wealth to help their less-fortunate co-religionists.  Chapter 7 by Abigail Green (Brasenose College and University of Oxford) considers the nineteenth-century appearance of international Jewish philanthropy, as increasingly high-income Jews in the liberal West tried to alleviate the poverty and powerlessness of Oriental Jews.  Chapter 8 by Derek Penslar (University of Oxford and University of Toronto) describes how Israel was able to finance its 1948 War of Independence with donations from Diaspora Jewish organizations, from wealthy Jewish philanthropists, and from the many contributions of individual middle- and low-income Western (especially American) Jews.  Chapter 9 by Veerle Vanden Daelon (Centre for Historical Research and Documentation on War and Contemporary Society in Brussels) follows the fortunes (good and bad) of Antwerp’s Jews in the diamond industry as they weathered the crises of two World Wars, struggled with the twin challenges of modernization and globalization, and interacted with Belgian governments that were sometimes friendly and sometimes not.  Chapter 10 by Jonathan Dekel-Chen (Hebrew University of Jerusalem) takes the late twentieth-century “Free Soviet Jewry” movement as an example of how financial resources and political activism greatly influenced Jewish communities in the U.S. and UK, even though it is unclear how much of this actually effected change in the Soviet Union.  Chapter 11 by Adam Sutcliffe (King’s College, London) concludes the volume with a re-examination of how Werner Sombart’s important work on Jews and capitalism reflected the popular stereotypes of his time and place, influencing the politics of Jewish economic history for decades to come.

With a few exceptions, Purchasing Power focuses on big successes, whether tracing the growth of business empires or the distribution of wealth to improve the welfare of others.  It is a welcome contribution to the growing literature on the economic activities of Jews.  Part I is myth-busting, providing evidence that the most successful Jewish commercial networks were probably not nearly so parochial as common stereotypes might suggest.  Part II deals with another stereotype, that of a few powerful Jews using their wealth to manipulate world events, but its focus is on politics within the Jewish community rather than influences on the larger society.  Each of the two Parts are composed of chapters that are themselves useful references that open new doors for further research.

As an economist interested in Jewish economic history, I welcome the (belated) entry of historians into this field.  I look forward, however, to new studies that place this literature in a broader perspective.   Most Jews would have earned their livelihood in small businesses, in crafts and trades, or in professions like medicine or clergy, and it would be interesting to know how their economic lives affected the Jewish community as well as the broader economy.  Since Jews were typically a tiny minority in their respective societies, it would be interesting to compare their philanthropic patterns with those of non-Jewish neighbors.  (Any such comparison might well consider that religious philanthropy typically occurred in the context of a state religion for non-Jews but not for Jews, an important difference explored in the growing literature on the economics of religion.)  Perhaps the greatest contribution made by the collection of essays in Purchasing Power is that each chapter is important not only for the light it sheds on the economic activity of Jews but also as a foundation for further research into the economic history of the Jewish people.

Carmel U. Chiswick is the author of Judaism in Transition:  How Economic Choices Shape Religious Tradition, Stanford University Press, 2014.

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

Subject(s):Business History
Financial Markets, Financial Institutions, and Monetary History
History of Economic Thought; Methodology
International and Domestic Trade and Relations
Markets and Institutions
Social and Cultural History, including Race, Ethnicity and Gender
Geographic Area(s):Europe
Middle East
North America
Time Period(s):16th Century
17th Century
18th Century
19th Century
20th Century: Pre WWII
20th Century: WWII and post-WWII

Robert W. Fogel: Visionary economic historian, generous mentor, eternal optimist

Written by: Dora Costa, Claudia Goldin, and Robert A. Margo

 

Generous Mentor, Eternal Optimist, Enthusiastic Guide

Robert W. Fogel was a visionary economic historian whose works and lectures have informed and incited for more than half a century and whose writings will continue to do so for decades to come.  He died on June 11, 2013 in his eighty-sixth year.  He had co-taught a graduate course at the University of Chicago that quarter and in the weeks before he died he was planning his Fall 2013 teaching.  “I’ve often told my students I’m not retiring. You’re going to have to carry me out in a wooden box.  I’m having too much fun,” he remarked to a recent class.

His fun was palpable to others and his enormous enthusiasm for the material he taught overflowed to his audience.  Legendary for encouraging students to pursue their ideas, he was an eternal optimist about their abilities and projects.  Bob had a fine sense of humor and his chuckle was an integral part of his speech.  He was known for his generosity and humanity.  A scholar of high standards, he often leavened criticism of students with a rare gentleness.

He taught by example the importance of being more interested in what others are doing than in oneself and that social time is a critical input to scholarly time.  No matter how busy he was he always found time to engage with others.  No opinion was too small to debate and no person too inconsequential to engage with.  He was, as well, an institution builder.  He founded the Development of the American Economy Program at the National Bureau of Economic Research in 1978 and it thrives until today.  He established the Center for Population Economics at the University of Chicago, although it has, sadly, passed along with him.  Bob thought big both in terms of his projects and the apparatus that buttressed them.

How Bob accomplished so much was due to his exceptional mind, laser beam vision and extraordinary work ethic.  It has been said that when the Nobel committee called him around 5:30am he was already up working in his office, as he was every day.

The Fogel System of Research

The Fogel system of research is characterized, in the first instance, by a question of contemporary relevance that requires the long lens of history.  The issues examined are big and are those that have engaged generations of scholars.  Because there are already a host of potential answers for the question and generally one that has dominated the literature, the Fogel system creates a “counterfactual.”  If the answer proposed to question Y is X (Y = what caused economic growth? and X = railroads), then the Fogel system must prove that if not for X (railroads) the premise of question Y would not have occurred (there would have been far less economic growth).  Finally, the Fogel system takes what appears to be an intractable problem (e.g., creating an economy without the railroad) and simplifies the answer into a single number.

Although the counterfactual is most associated with Fogel’s work on the railroads, it is also imbedded in his other work.  Much of the work on slavery addressed the counterfactual: “Had slavery not existed in the United States, the South would have been a wealthier region.”  That was the claim of many whose writings preceded Time on the Cross.  In his work on standards of living, the implicit counterfactual was: “Had incomes not risen in eighteenth century Europe mortality and morbidity would have been markedly worse.”  In this case, the counterfactual was shown to have been true.  Moreover, use of counterfactuals is inescapable.  If, as Fogel believed, the long lens of history is needed to inform the present, one must ask what the present would look like without some part of the long lens.  Each of the three major research projects of his career illustrates this fundamental methodological point.

The Projects

Bob’s reputation was largely made by his PhD dissertation on the railroads. He estimated that the “social savings of the railroad,” including both the interregional and intraregional portions, was between 6 and 7 percent of 1890 GNP.[1]  Whether that is a large or small number is in the eyes of the beholder.  But to many it was a small number relative to prior claims that the railroad was indispensable to American economic growth.  The main reason the estimate is not larger is that there were many substitutes for the railroad in the United States in the form of water transportation.  The social savings was much higher in places like Mexico where there were poorer substitutes for the railroad.

But Railroads and American Economic Growth went far beyond measuring the aggregate “treatment effect” of the Iron Horse.  The idea of jump-starting economic growth was a popular notion in the 1950s and big infrastructure projects were a potential lever for developing nations.  As a graduate student at Johns Hopkins, Fogel had actively debated the work of Walt Rostow with his classmate Stan Engerman.  According to Rostow an economy could “take-off” because of a single innovation and, moreover, America did take-off in the 1840s through the railroad’s many backward linkages.  On the contrary, demonstrated Fogel, there was no take-off and backward linkages were neither extensive nor critical to growth in other sectors.  The railroads were not a magic bullet for economic growth because there are no magic bullets.

The Ivory Tower of the 1960s was no scholarly oasis from the intrusions of the real, political world.  Married to an African-American woman, Bob could not escape heated discussion of Civil Rights even at the dinner table.  Stan Engerman and he embraced the topic of slavery with all of its potential social and political improprieties.  Would slavery have died out, without a protracted, bloody, divisive, and costly Civil War?  No, because slavery was profitable and viable.  Was the relative poverty of the post-Civil War South a mere extension of slavery?  No, because the per capita income of antebellum white southerners was about equal to that of Midwestern farmers and because the southern economy grew at the national average between 1840 and 1860.  Were slave owners the principal economic beneficiaries of the Peculiar Institution because they ruthlessly “exploited” their chattel?  The answer is more complicated.  Fogel and Engerman uncovered precisely why the force of slavery produced enormous wealth.  The gang system made cotton and other staple crops cheaper and all of this eventually benefited consumers through lower prices.  Fogel and Engerman also maintained there was a record of black achievement during and after slavery that deserved celebration.  As expressed in the frontispiece to Time on the Cross—a dedication to Bob’s wife Enid, who predeceased him—“To Mary Elizabeth Morgan’s first daughter: She has always known that black is beautiful.”

Time on the Cross was applauded initially but backlash soon followed.  Throughout the give-and-take of the often acrimonious debate Bob and Stan maintained their good cheer and fundamental optimism that the scholarly dispute was to everyone’s benefit.  “It was an exchange,” Bob wrote in Without Consent or Contract, “in which there were no losers.”  Without Consent clarified that the ultimate issues of slavery were moral and that confronting these linked the historical study of slavery to the moral issues of the modern American dilemma.  Slavery was an abomination not because it was economically moribund but because slaves were denied basic human rights.  The abomination was perpetuated across generations and was assisted by institutionalized racism after the Civil War.  The moral indictment of racial discrimination and segregation underlying the Civil Rights Movement forms a continuum with Fogel’s moral indictment of slavery.

Work on slave living standards suggested that adult height could be used an indicator of health and wellbeing.  Preliminary research, completed in 1978, with numerous co-authors showed deterioration in the heights and life expectation of whites in the mid-nineteenth century.  The finding led to an exploration of archival data that could help improve our understanding of health and mortality changes from 1650 to 1910.  That search unearthed the military records in the U.S. National Archives and Bob’s realization that longitudinal data for the first cohort to reach age 65 in the twentieth century could be created by combining wartime service, pension, and census records of Union Army soldiers.

The Union Army project illustrates Bob’s dictum: “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth spending ten years of your life doing it right.”  A project to collect the records of Union Army soldiers to study the effects of wartime and early life stress on older age mortality and morbidity, as well as the determinants of retirement, was proposed in 1986.  Funded in 1991 by the National Institute of Aging as Early Indicators of Later Work Levels, Disease, and Death, the project was renewed many times and was on-going at the time of Fogel’s death.  To date, the project has made available (at uadata.org), the life histories of 39,000 white Union Army soldiers, 6,000 black Union Army soldiers, and detailed ward maps and ward statistics for selected cities.  The project is currently collecting the records of an additional 15,000 black Union Army soldiers and of Union Army soldiers who grew up in the large and unhealthy cities of the time and of those who lived to at least 95 years.

Findings from this research program on the health of men in the past led Bob to formulate a theory that he called “technophysio evolution,” described most recently in The Changing Body.   Adjustments to adverse conditions including a limited food supply, Bob argued, do not occur through crisis mortality but, rather, through chronic starvation producing a thin, stunted population.  The Bastille, according to Bob’s memorable image, was stormed by underweight Lilliputians.  Bob viewed the relationship between health and economic growth as an intergenerational one.  Nutritional status (a function of both nutritional intake and the demands made on that intake by work and disease) determines longevity and current work levels.  Work levels and intensity plus technology determine output.  Output in turn determines living standards and technological investments.  The standard of living in turn determines the nutritional status of the next generation.

Robert Fogel always made time in his full and demanding life for meaningful hobbies in woodworking and photography, both of which were pursued at highly skilled levels.  His pastimes and scholarship shared an essential feature.  An artful table has pleasing proportions, intricate detail and functionality.  A masterful photograph is a thoughtful, well-composed window on a larger world.  Robert Fogel’s outstanding attribute as a scholar was his ability to visualize and orchestrate the complete architecture of a project, each piece polished and in its proper place with the whole greater than the sum of the parts.  He could envision his research in final form long before any of the parts were complete.  In this he has no peers.

We were his students as his career was taking off and in full swing.  He then became famous, was awarded the Nobel, and had many demands on his time.  He also aged and developed various infirmities.  Bob always stressed the importance of family and his many students are like a family.  As he once said: “It is difficult to be orphaned at any age.”  We take solace and pleasure in the statement of a recent student that: “He was the best of scholars and a caring teacher.”  He was that—and more—for us.

References Cited

Floud, Roderick, Robert W. Fogel, Bernard Harris and Sok Chul Hong.  The Changing Body: Health, Nutrition, and Human Development in the Western World since 1700.  NBER Series on Long-term Factors in Economic Development.  Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011.

Fogel, Robert W.  Railroads and American Economic Growth: Essays in Econometric History.  Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1964.

Fogel, Robert W. Without Consent or Contract: The Rise and Fall of American Slavery.  New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 1989.

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

Fogel, Robert W. and Stanley L. Engerman.  Time on the Cross: Evidence and Methods, a Supplement.  Boston: Little Brown and Company, 1974.

[1] These figures add the interregional and intraregional estimates and use a blow-up factor of four.  The intraregional estimates are those with new canals and road resurfacing.  The lower figure takes some land out of cultivation and the higher one does not.

Political Order and Inequality: Their Foundations and Their Consequences for Human Welfare

Author(s):Boix, Carles
Reviewer(s):Clay, Karen

Published by EH.Net (November 2015)

Carles Boix, Political Order and Inequality: Their Foundations and Their Consequences for Human Welfare. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015. xii + 311 pp. $65 (hardcover), ISBN: 978-1-107-08943-3.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Karen Clay, Department of Economics, Carnegie Mellon University.

Anyone who has read Acemoglu and Robinson’s Why Nations Fail: The Origins of Power, Prosperity, and Poverty or North, Wallis and Weingast’s Violence and Social Orders: A Conceptual Framework for Interpreting Recorded Human History or Hoffman’s Why Did Europe Conquer the World? or Pomeranz’s The Great Divergence: China, Europe, and the Making of the Modern World Economy or Mokyr’s The Lever of Riches: Technological Creativity and Economic Progress or similar books will want to consider buying Political Order and Inequality: Their Foundations and Their Consequences for Human Welfare.  The book, written by Carles Boix (the Robert Garrett Professor of Politics and Public Affairs at Princeton University), is very much in the spirit of these books.  It tackles a huge and very important question, provides a theoretical framework, and offers selected empirical evidence to support the argument.

One important way in which this book differs from the economics literature, particularly the work on institutions, involves the direction of causality.   Boix argues that technological change and economic growth preceded the formation of the state.  Political order, growth, and inequality were shaped by economic and military factors.  While institutions play a role in this framework, it is a much more limited role than in the work of some other authors.  Boix links his framework loosely to Marx and to endogenous growth models in the sense that economic change takes place through an endogenous process. This allows Boix to offer a theory that can accommodate political and institutional change.

The framework can be thought of as beginning in an initial hunter-gather world. Individuals led relatively equal lives in small cooperative bands that focused on providing enough food for the group.  The price of growth is then inequality.  And inequality brings about, in turn, the breakdown of cooperation that exists in the “state of nature.”  One example of a technological change that caused inequality and change was plant domestication.  A limited number places were suited to initial domestication, and in those places, greater productivity led to inequality and political change.  Out of this emerged one of two types of states.  The majority of early institutions were monarchical, but some were republican or mixed.  The type that emerged depended on military technology.  Monarchies tended to arise when technologies such as horses gave advantages to looters.  Republics tended to arise when technologies such as navies gave advantages to producers. Inequality is then jointly determined by factor endowments and political institutions and is higher under monarchies than republics. Both types of political institutions tended to stifle innovation in order to maintain the status quo.

Boix attributes the rise of the West to a combination of factors. One was endogenous technical change driven by population growth. Urbanization brought together the elements necessary for innovation and endogenous growth. A second was the political fragmentation of Europe.  In a number of areas of Western European, producers were able to fend off looters or the landed elites intermarried and invested in the industrial elites.  A third was a military revolution that allowed some urban centers to defend themselves and continue the process of growth. War-related technologies allowed some groups of producers to prevent military conquest and eradication of their gains.  These war-related technologies included pikes, gunpowder, and navies. These three factors eventually led to the Industrial Revolution. Other regions had some of the same elements, notably China, but in the end growth was stifled.

The empirical evidence is of necessity selected, because an exhaustive discussion of the evidence would take decades to write and many volumes to publish.  Boix also aims to tell a causal story, which is very much in line with analysis by economists.  What sorts of evidence does Boix provide?  Chapter 1 draws on evidence from the Ethnographic Atlas on social structures, inequality, and political life. Chapter 3 returns to the Ethnographic Atlas with a focus on economic activity.  Here Boix provides some evidence that economic activity drives social and institutional outcomes.  In particular he presents graphs showing the relationship between early transition to agriculture and early state formation.  Chapter 4 draws on data on parliamentary meetings, real wages and population densities in Europe. Chapter 5 investigates economic and political inequality using height data.  Whether one finds this useful will depend on one’s view of height data and the nature of the comparisons across groups. Chapter 6 examines evidence on urbanization, politics, income and wealth.

Political Order and Inequality: Their Foundations and Their Consequences for Human Welfare is an important book.  It is by no means the last word regarding the big historical questions such as why some nations are rich and others poor and why the Industrial Revolution happened in Europe.  It does, however, require economists to carefully consider the causal structure of their arguments and the importance of political institutions.  Perspectives may differ on whether Boix has the story right.  But anyone writing in this area needs to read Boix, along with books listed in the first sentence of this review, and offer an interpretation that fits all of the empirical evidence advanced thus far.

Karen Clay’s publications include “Adapting to Climate Change: Evidence from Long-Run Changes in the Temperature-Mortality Relationship in the 20th Century United States”  (with Barreca, Deschenes, Greenstone, and Shapiro – forthcoming in the Journal of Political Economy) and The Evolution of a Nation: How Geography and Law Shaped the American States (with Daniel Berkowitz).

Copyright (c) 2015 by EH.Net. All rights reserved. This work may be copied for non-profit educational uses if proper credit is given to the author and the list. For other permission, please contact the EH.Net Administrator (administrator@eh.net). Published by EH.Net (November 2015). All EH.Net reviews are archived at http://eh.net/book-reviews/

Subject(s):Government, Law and Regulation, Public Finance
Geographic Area(s):General, International, or Comparative
Time Period(s):General or Comparative