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Karl Polanyi: A Life on the Left

Author(s):Dale, Gareth
Reviewer(s):Knoedler, Janet T.

Published by EH.Net (September 2016)

Gareth Dale, Karl Polanyi: A Life on the Left.  New York: Columbia University Press, 2016.  ix + 381 pp. $40 (hardcover), ISBN 978-0-231-17608-8.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Janet T. Knoedler, Department of Economics, Bucknell University.

Gareth Dale’s intellectual biography, Karl Polanyi: A Life on the Left, excavates the numerous intellectual influences on Karl Polanyi’s life and work during the tumultuous first half of the twentieth century.  Dale frames this biography using Polanyi’s own description of his life as “a ‘world’ life” (p. 10).  Indeed!  During the first three decades of his professional life, Polanyi witnessed two world wars and a worldwide depression; and as he explored the causes and consequences of these major episodes of twentieth century history, he collaborated with leading thinkers in progressive political and intellectual circles in Europe and the United States.  And in the end Polanyi produced a body of work that remains relevant today.  Using extensive primary and secondary sources, Dale examines the individuals and the ideas that led Polanyi to produce his masterpiece, The Great Transformation (hereafter, GT), and Polanyi’s many other contributions to scholarly and political discourse along the way.

During the eventful five decades of his professional life, Polanyi combined political engagement with the great issues of his day and scholarly pursuit of knowledge in a wide range of disciplines.  Before World War I, as a newly minted Ph.D. in jurisprudence, Polanyi, along with other leftists, formed the Galileo Circle, which promoted such progressive issues as universal suffrage, land reform, and racial tolerance, and he joined Hungary’s Radical Bourgeois political party.  As Dale explains, Polanyi was sympathetic to the Marxist critique of capitalism, but was drawn more to the ideas of Ernst Mach, Leo Tolstoy, G. K. Chesterton, Edouard Bernstein, Henry George, and Henry Charles Carey.  Polanyi came to perceive that the exploitation he and his colleagues were striving to overturn was rooted in ‘conquest and enserfment’” (p. 50), ideas that would become more fully developed in GT.  When the war broke out, Polanyi served as an officer in the Austro-Hungarian army, where his experience led him to ponder the “human capacity to construct sociotechnical systems geared to the wreaking of carnage” (p. 59).  A bout with typhus forced him to bed, during which he read the Bible and converted to Christianity, but a version of Christianity underpinned by an activist ethos in support of radical social change.  During his recuperation, he relocated to Vienna, where he lived for a time with Eugenie Schwarzwald, a noted social reformer, and learned from her frequent guests, including Hans Kelsen and Karl Popper.  There he also met his future wife, Ilona Duczynska, a scholar/activist committed to the communist revolution, and her pragmatism and activism remained an enormous influence on Polanyi throughout the rest of his life.

At this time, Vienna was the only large European city to be run by a labor party, which allowed Polanyi to observe social democracy at close quarters.  While in Vienna, Polanyi began to write about world affairs for the prominent Osterreichische Volkswirt, where he again came into contact with Kelsen, as well as Peter Drucker, Gottfried Haberler, Friedrich Hayek, and Joseph Schumpeter.  To supplement his meager salary, he taught part time at the People’s College in Vienna, where he began to delve more deeply into the history of economic ideas.  After reading H. G. Wells, Polanyi concluded that, not just war, but market-based society as well, was bringing catastrophic social disintegration to the world.  Polanyi increasingly viewed the international scene through the analytical framework that he would use in the GT: “with the enfranchisement of the working class, democratic government in the modern era had entered into an irreconcilable tension with the rule of capital” (p. 104).

However, by the 1930s, Austria’s social democratic movement was displaced by Nazism.  The Polanyis relocated to London, where they moved within a new circle of socialist friends and liberal idealists, including G. D. H. Cole, Richard Tawney, Harold Laski, Thomas Green, Arnold Toynbee, A. D. Lindsey, and John Macmurray.  Dale singles out Toynbee’s “Challenge and Response” framework as inspiring Polanyi’s concept of the double movement.  Polanyi began to read the classical economists, but rejected their analysis of market capitalism for “reducing human beings and nature to commodity status” (p. 156).  As Dale puts it, through his synthesis of the classical economists and the Christian socialists, “Polanyi had arrived at the thesis for which he was to make his name: that the introduction of laissez-faire liberalism provokes a protectionist reaction . . . that he famously termed the ‘double movement’” (p. 156).

However, due to the economic distress in Britain during this time, Polanyi was only able to find part-time work.  Through his influential contacts, he made a lecture tour in the United States, which led to a visiting position at Bennington College.  There he expanded his network of influences to include E. H. Carr, Erich Fromm, Aurel Kolnai, Karl Mannheim, Franz Borkenau, and Lionel Robbins.  There he also drafted the GT.  As Dale recounts, the book was, for Polanyi, not simply an analysis of the economics of industrial capitalism, but also a philosophy of history, a fusion of Christian socialism and modern British welfare policy, and an “analytical survey of contemporary history” (p. 169).  Though his famous brother, Michael Polanyi, predicted that the GT would make Karl famous, Dale reports that the initial reviews of the GT were lukewarm at best, some overtly hostile.

After the war, with the support of Carter Goodrich and Walter Stewart, Polanyi secured a permanent position in the Columbia economics department.  There Polanyi came into contact with prominent American economists and sociologists: along with Goodrich, John Maurice Clark, Talcott Parsons, Robert Merton, Seymour Lipset, C. Wright Mills, Arthur Burns, Moses Finley, and Paul Lazarsfeld.  Ironically, as Dale remarks, even in that diverse crowd of intellects, the sociologists at Columbia saw Polanyi as an economist while the economists saw him as a sociologist.  At Columbia, Polanyi began work on Trade and Market in the Early Empires, a study of ancient non-market economies.  During these years, Polanyi flourished as a scholar, thanks to a regular income, good research support, and collaboration with his colleagues and graduate students.  Moreover, working with anthropologists on the topic of non-market economies, Polanyi was “thrilled” to see that the evidence supported “the lack of a primary orientation to material gain . . . by ‘primitive’ people” (p. 226).  Polanyi’s study of non-market societies led him to develop his substantivist approach to economics, i.e., an institutional economic analysis that relied on the broader concept of provisioning rather than on the narrower concept of decision-making under scarcity being cemented in mainstream economics at the time.  Despite this scholarly success, Polanyi reentered the political realm with the Co-Existence project in the early 1960s, to engage in the debate over Hungary’s future.  His death in 1964 prevented him from seeing this project through.

Dale concludes his book with the observation that Polanyi has again become relevant for twenty-first century capitalism.  Workers are “bought and sold like cucumbers” (p. 282); welfare critics offer simplistic solutions to poverty and unemployment; global capitalism is increasingly ‘financialized;’ and trade is producing a race to the bottom.  As Dale puts it, “It is Polanyi’s diagnosis of the corrupting consequences of the marketization of labor power and nature that gives his work a contemporary feel and explains its continued appeal” (p. 282).  However, while Polanyi’s grounding in social democracy instilled in him a faith in the power of government to mitigate the excesses of industrial capitalism, as Dale notes, Polanyi did not live to see how modern governments would themselves be captured by the “interests and imperatives of capital accumulation” (p. 284).

Gareth Dale has done an outstanding job of recounting Polanyi’s very full life in both the political and academic realms.  A truly important contribution is how he has woven, throughout his narrative of Polanyi’s different periods and activities, the origin of the ideas that underpinned the GT.  Moreover, Dale has used extensive work in five different archival repositories as well as Polanyi’s own writings, and the writings of many of those who influenced Polanyi during the key turning points of his life, to place Polanyi in his historical context.  Dale has also placed Polanyi’s work in the modern context by highlighting the increased relevance of Polanyi’s critique of market capitalism.  If at times Dale’s description of the pantheon of important thinkers who influenced Polanyi becomes dizzying to the reader, it should be seen as testament to the rich tapestry of intellectual ideas upon which Polanyi daily seemed to gaze, and not the fault of Gareth Dale, who has done a masterful job in situating and summarizing these myriad important influences.  For those interested in the work, not only of Karl Polanyi, but of many leading liberal thinkers of the first six decades of the twentieth century, this book will be invaluable.

Janet Knoedler is co-editor and co-author of three books, The Institutionalist Tradition in Labor Economics (with Dell P. Champlin), Thorstein Veblen and the Revival of Free-Market Capitalism (with Dell P. Champlin and Robert Prasch), and Introduction to Political Economy (with Charles Sackrey and Geoffrey Schneider), as well as numerous articles on institutional economics.

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):History of Economic Thought; Methodology
Geographic Area(s):Europe
North America
Time Period(s):19th Century
20th Century: Pre WWII
20th Century: WWII and post-WWII

Current Federal Reserve Policy under the Lens of Economic History: Essays to Commemorate the Federal Reserve System’s Centennial

Editor(s):Humpage, Owen F.
Reviewer(s):Hausman, Joshua K.

Published by EH.Net (September 2016)

Owen F. Humpage, editor, Current Federal Reserve Policy under the Lens of Economic History: Essays to Commemorate the Federal Reserve System’s Centennial. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015. xxi + 386 pp. $110 (hardback), ISBN: 978-1-107-09909-8.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Joshua K. Hausman, School of Public Policy, University of Michigan.

This volume is a festschrift for Michael Bordo; it contains sixteen papers presented in December 2012 at the Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland. The conference, organized with the help of Barry Eichengreen, Hugh Rockoff, and Eugene N. White, celebrated both Michael Bordo’s work and the Federal Reserve System’s centennial. It brought together leading economic historians and macroeconomists, and they produced a collection of fascinating papers.

The volume is made more than a collection of papers by the introduction, the first chapter, and the last two chapters. The substantial introduction by Owen F. Humpage (the book’s editor and senior economic advisor in the research department at the Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland) summarizes each of the papers in the volume and draws out their common themes. (For further summary of the work in this volume, see Williamson 2016.) The first chapter by Barry Eichengreen, “The Uses and Misuses of Economic History,” argues for both the usefulness and potential limitations of historical analogies for informing public policy. It is an ideal first chapter, since the relevance of history to current macroeconomic policy is a more or less explicit theme of all the papers in this collection.

The second-to-last chapter, “Monetary Regimes and Policy on a Global Scale: The Oeuvre of Michael D. Bordo,” by Hugh Rockoff and Eugene N. White summarizes Michael Bordo’s lifetime of work. It is a testament to Bordo’s work that this summary doubles as a review of the causes of the Great Depression, the proper role(s) of a central bank, the operation of the Gold Standard and Bretton Woods system, and the changing frequency of financial crises. Rockoff and White do a particularly nice job of reminding readers of Bordo’s work on the history of economic thought. They make a persuasive argument that Bordo’s attention to past generations of economists was often fruitful; for instance, Bordo’s important 1980 Journal of Political Economy paper on the determinants of price responses to monetary policy shocks grew out of earlier work on the thinking of John Elliot Cairnes (Bordo 1975).

The book fittingly concludes with a short essay by Bordo, “Reflections on the History and Future of Central Banking.” Bordo argues that central banks should confine the use of monetary policy tools to targeting the traditional, pre-2008, goals of low inflation and short-run macroeconomic stability. In the event of a financial crisis, central banks should act as a lender-of-last resort, but should not engage in bailouts of insolvent institutions. Other financial stability concerns, in particular asset prices, are best addressed with different tools. This argument is grounded in history: Bordo argues that macroeconomic outcomes have been best when central banks have acted in this way.

The body of the book contains twelve academic papers. The first, by Marvin Goodfriend (“Federal Reserve Policy Today in Historical Perspective”) traces both the development of transparency in Federal Reserve communication and the Federal Reserve’s focus on inflation. Relatedly, the second paper, by Allan H. Meltzer (“How and Why the Fed Must Change in Its Second Century”), marshals history to argue in favor of rules-based monetary policy.

The next two papers consider the lender-of-last-resort aspect of monetary policy. Mark A. Carlson and David C. Wheelock (“The Lender of Last Resort: Lessons from the Fed’s First 100 Years”) review the history of the Fed as a lender of a last resort; most novel may be the discussion of Fed actions between 1970 and 2000, and the ways in which these foreshadowed those during the 2008 financial crisis. Jon Moen and Ellis Tallman (“Close but Not a Central Bank: The New York Clearing House and Issues of Clearing House Loan Certificates”) reevaluate the effectiveness of clearing house loan certificates for liquidity provision during the pre-Fed National Banking Era (1863-1913). They argue that the New York Clearing House and its clearing house loan certificates were unable to provide the liquidity necessary to effectively address banking crises.

Forrest Capie and Geoffrey Wood (“Central Bank Independence: Can It Survive a Crisis?”) consider how the inevitable strains of a crisis affect central bank independence. Their conclusion is pessimistic. In reviewing the recent history of the Bank of England and the Federal Reserve, they conclude that the 2008 crisis has reduced monetary policy independence.

The next two papers by Peter L. Rousseau (“Politics on the Road to the U.S. Monetary Union”) and Harold James (“U.S. Precedents for Europe”) consider the long and often messy process through which the U.S. achieved political, fiscal, and monetary union. Rousseau draws an optimistic lesson from this history for Europe today, arguing that forces like those that brought about union in the U.S. are at work in Europe. By contrast, James is pessimistic, concluding that “American history shows how difficult and obstacle-filled is the path to federalism” (p. 192).

Christopher M. Meissner in his paper “The Limits of Bimetallism” is also interested in historical parallels to Europe’s current problems. He makes the intriguing — and convincing — argument that France’s transition from bimetallism to the Gold Standard was an example of policymakers’ mistaken belief in the sustainability of the status quo. He concludes that for analogous reasons “European Monetary Union as established in 1999 is very likely to face the fate of bimetallism” (p. 214).

In their essay “The Reserve Pyramid and Interbank Contagion during the Great Depression,” Kris James Mitchener and Gary Richardson consider an often-ignored aspect of the early 1930s financial crisis: interbank deposit flows. Using a remarkable new dataset, they show that in the early 1930s these deposit flows transmitted shocks to financial centers.

John Landon-Lane in his paper “Would Large-Scale Asset Purchases Have Helped in the 1930s? An Investigation of the Responsiveness of Bond Yields from the 1930s to Changes in Debt Levels” considers a counterfactual question: suppose that the Fed had undertaken quantitative easing in the 1930s; what would the effects have been? To answer this question, Landon-Lane examines the relationship between interest rates and large changes in outstanding debt. He concludes that the effect on interest rates of quantitative easing in the 1930s would have been similar to the effect of quantitative easing in recent years.

The final two academic papers relate to an important strand of Michael Bordo’s work: comparison of the U.S. and Canada. Ehsan U. Choudhri and Lawrence L. Schembri’s contribution (“A Tale of Two Countries and Two Booms, Canada and the United States in the 1920s and 2000s: The Roles of Monetary and Financial Stability Policies”) compares U.S. and Canadian monetary policy in the 1920s and 2000s. The description of Canadian monetary policy in the 1920s before there was a central bank will be useful for many. Angela Redish (“It Is History but It’s No Accident: Differences in Residential Mortgage Markets in Canada and the United States”) traces the current large differences between the U.S. and Canadian mortgage markets to differing institutional responses to the Great Depression.

This very brief review of the papers in this volume illustrates the diversity of topics considered. The diversity of methods is also noteworthy, ranging from a formal monetary model to cross-sectional econometrics and narrative evidence. This volume thus serves not only as a superb review of current lessons from monetary history, but also as an introduction to methods used by macroeconomic historians. This will be useful to students and practitioners alike.

References:

Bordo, Michael David. 1975. “John E. Cairnes on the Effects of the Australian Gold Discoveries, 1851-73: An Early Application of the Methodology of Positive Economics,” History of Political Economy, 7:3, pp. 337-359.

Bordo, Michael David. 1980. “The Effects of Monetary Change on Relative Commodity Prices and the Role of Long-Term Contracts,” Journal of Political Economy, 88:6, pp. 1088-1109.

Williamson, Stephen D. 2016. “Current Federal Reserve Policy under the Lens of Economic History: A Review Essay,” Journal of Economic Literature, 54:3, pp. 922-934.

Joshua K. Hausman is assistant professor of public policy and economics at the University of Michigan. He is currently working on understanding the role of agriculture in the initial recovery from the Great Depression.

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):Financial Markets, Financial Institutions, and Monetary History
Geographic Area(s):North America
Time Period(s):19th Century
20th Century: Pre WWII
20th Century: WWII and post-WWII

The Elgar Companion to Ronald H. Coase

Editor(s):Ménard, Claude
Bertrand, Elodie
Reviewer(s):Candela, Rosolino A.

Published by EH.Net (August 2016)

Claude Ménard and Elodie Bertrand, editors, The Elgar Companion to Ronald H. Coase. Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar, 2016. xii + 368 pp. $210 (hardback), ISBN: 978-1-78254-798-3.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Rosolino A. Candela, Department of Economics, George Mason University.

As Ronald Coase stated in his Nobel Prize Address, “the main activity of economists, it seems to me, has been to fill the gaps in Adam Smith’s system, to correct his errors, and to make his analysis vastly more exact” (1992: 713). Coase’s contributions, as highlighted by the excellent contributions put together in this volume, have drawn economists’ attention away from what Coase referred to as “blackboard economics” (1992: 714) and towards empirical observation of the “institutional structure” within which exchange and production take place. From his earliest work on the theory of the firm to his study of China’s transition to capitalism, The Elgar Companion to Ronald H. Coase emphasizes Coase’s particular attention to institutional detail in explaining exchange behavior in all of its diversity. Compiled in twenty-five chapters divided into five parts, editors Claude Ménard and Elodie Bertrand have gathered contributors to this volume ranging from Nobel Laureates in Economics, such as Kenneth Arrow and Oliver Williamson, to Coase’s intellectual biographer, Steve Medema, to Ning Wang, Coase’s co-author on his last book, How China Became Capitalist.

Much in the same way that Coase described the activity of economists, each chapter of this volume also fills particular gaps in Coase’s system, namely to contextualize and make more exact Coase’s contributions to the theory of the firm, the study of property rights, law and economics, and the economics of regulation. Each of these components to the New Institutional paradigm, as highlighted throughout this volume (particularly Parts IV and V), is united by Coase’s pioneering insight, namely that the role of the economist is to study a world of positive transactions costs and how such costs give rise to alternative institutional arrangements that structure contractual exchange and productive specialization.

Ronald Coase was a well-known member of the Chicago School of Economics. He first moved to the University of Chicago Law School in 1964, at which time he also began editorship of the Journal of Law and Economics,  a post he held until his retirement in 1982 (p. 13). However, it is important to understand (as Mary Shirley and Jim Thomas explain in the first two chapters) that prior to moving to Chicago Coase’s intellectual roots were shaped at the London School of Economics (LSE) under Arnold Plant. Reading Frank Knight and Philip Wicksteed at the LSE (p. 23), as well as his lessons from Plant, impressed upon Coase (1) the coordinating role of the price system as a guide to exchange within a system of private property and (2) the tendency for governments to serve special interests and suppress market competition and innovation (p. 249). Coase’s empirical analysis of “the working of the economic system” (p. 276), for example as seen through his research into the British pork industry as analyzed by George Evans and Roger Guesnerie (chapter 5), is one in which prices are not sufficient statistics to “solve” an allocation problem; rather, prices act as guides in the formation of future expectations, facilitating greater plan coordination through exchange (see Boettke and Candela 2016). From his analysis of the firm to his critique of Pigovian welfare economics, Coase drew upon empirical observation of how human creativity crafts institutional solutions to “problems” that are institutional in nature, namely how firms mitigate the costs of organizing production, how property rights address environmental externalities, and how legal rules and contracts facilitate mutually beneficial exchange.

Although Coase was a leading defender of the market economy and a skeptic of government regulation, Coasean economics is not a public policy conclusion, as pointed out by Douglas Allen and Yoram Barzel (p. 71). Rather, this volume emphasizes that Coase understood economic theory as a methodological tool to explain historical facts, and that different theoretical assumptions, in explaining historical facts, have public policy implications. Whether Coase examined the provision of postal services, radio broadcasting, or lighthouses, his inquiry was always of a comparative institutional nature. From a Coasean standpoint, the question is whether the historical-institutional context under examination provides incentives to mitigate the costs of opportunistic behavior and of using the price system. For example, in establishing the conclusion that the provision of postal services, radio broadcasting, and lighthouses is not the sole prerogative of government, John Groenewegen and Piet de Vries (chapter 18) and Elodie Bertrand (chapter 23) show that Coase examined the empirical facts of particular cases to establish how market actors established property rights to exchange scarce resources, and how government actors would succumb to special interest group pressure and regulatory capture. The question for Coase was not whether the market or the government can allocate resources; it was a more subtle question about which alternative institutional arrangements can mitigate the costs of opportunism and use the price system, the answer to which yields a public policy conclusion.

Coase also understood that facts are theory-laden, and the purpose of theory in explaining facts is to understand the meaning and purposes attached to human agency. As illustrated by Richard Brooks (chapter 10), Coase’s critique of the Fisher Body “hold up problem” was not to refute that holdup may theoretically lead to vertical integration (p. 146, fn. 20); rather, it was to question whether the facts that were established in the Fisher Body-General Motors case actually showed an intent on the part of Fisher Body to holdup General Motors. To purge the intent of human agents by imposing them into theory renders theorizing unrealistic and therefore un-explanatory of real world facts.

Given the breadth and depth of Coasean political economy that is covered throughout this volume, The Elgar Companion will serve as a valuable input into the research of scholars currently working within the Coasean tradition, as well as appealing to researchers looking for a comprehensive introduction into the context, methodology, and foundational concepts of Ronald Coase’s scholarship.

References:

Peter J. Boettke and Rosolino A. Candela (2016), “Price Theory as Prophylactic against Popular Fallacies,” George Mason University Working Paper in Economics No. 16-05. http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=2710201##

Ronald H. Coase (1992), “The Institutional Structure of Production,” American Economic Review, vol. 82, no. 4: 713-19.

Rosolino Candela is a Ph.D. candidate in economics at George Mason University and a Graduate Research Fellow in the F.A. Hayek Program for Advanced Study in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics at the Mercatus Center at George Mason University. He has published several book chapters and journal articles in outlets including Advances in Austrian Economics, the Atlantic Economic Journal, Man and the Economy, the Journal of Private Enterprise, the Review of Austrian Economics, and Sociologia.  rcandela@gmu.edu

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 (August 2016). All EH.Net reviews are archived at http://eh.net/book-reviews/

Subject(s):History of Economic Thought; Methodology
Time Period(s):20th Century: Pre WWII
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, Teotihuacán, 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, Bernardino 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.  As a result, the agreement was subject to a controversial renegotiation in 2018, largely fueled by protectionist sentiment in the Trump administration. While the intent was to increase costs in the Mexican automobile industry so as to price labor in the United Stats back into the industry, the long
term effect of the measure—not to say its ratification—remains to be seen.

 

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]  This may well change during the new presidential administration of Andrés Manuel López Obrador (known colloquially in Mexico as AMLO).

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.

The response of the Mexican public to a generation of stagnation in living standards, as well as to rising insecurity and the perception of widespread public corruption, was the victory of AMLO in the presidential election of July 2018.

AMLO had previously run for President with a different party. After two unsuccessful attempts, he started a new one, called MORENA. He then proceeded to win 53 percent of the vote, virtually obliterating the opposition parties, the incumbent PRI, and the PAN. MORENA also won majorities in both houses of Congress. To most observers, this signified that AMLO would be a potentially strong president, assuming his congressional party remained loyal to him. His somewhat checkered “leftist” past guaranteed that not everyone was thrilled at the prospect of a strong AMLO presidency.

Expectations for AMLO’s presidency are thus high, perhaps unrealistically so. While his initial budget has been generally well received by the financial markets, there is little question as to where AMLO’s priorities lie. He has advocated increases in spending on infrastructure, has moved to restore the real minimum wage to its level in 1994, and pledged to revitalize domestic agriculture. Whether these and a number of other reforms that AMLO has somewhat paradoxically labelled “Republican Austerity” will restore the country to its pre-1982 growth path now constitutes one of the most watched economic experiments in Latin America. [61]

[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)

[61]   For AMLO in his own words, see his A New Hope For Mexico: Saying No to Corruption, Violence, and Trump’s Wall. Translated by Natascha Uhlman (New York: O/R Books, 2018).

Citation: Salvucci, Richard . “Mexico: Economic History” EH.Net Encyclopedia, edited by Robert Whaples. December 27, 2018. URL http://eh.net/encyclopedia/the-economic-history-of-mexico/

 

The Engine of Enterprise: Credit in America

Author(s):Olegario, Rowena
Reviewer(s):Wright, Robert E.

Published by EH.Net (February 2016)

Rowena Olegario, The Engine of Enterprise: Credit in America. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2016. v + 301 pp. $40 (cloth), ISBN: 978-0-674-05114-0.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Robert E. Wright, Thomas Willing Institute, Augustana University.
Rest assured that I did not judge this book by its cover, ugly as the 1940 GMAC advertisement the book designer chose to use appears to my eye. But try as I might, I could not find an appropriate audience for this (perhaps overly) ambitious undertaking after perusing it for several days. There is no preface to help readers to understand the author’s goals or the book’s purpose and the introduction launches directly into the content.

As its title suggests, the thesis of The Engine of Enterprise is that “the United States was built on credit” (p. 1) or, with more nuance, “despite problems with credit that were at times severe, and which Americans have never fully solved, credit has been the invigorating principle that turned potential wealth into national prosperity” (p. 226) (my emphases). The proof comes in the form of five narrative chapters covering the colonial and early national (Chapter 1: “The Foundations of Credit in the New Republic”), antebellum (Chapter 2: “Credit, Enterprise, and Risk in the Antebellum Era”), postbellum (Chapter 3: “Credit in the Reconstructed Nation”), interwar and postwar (Chapter 4: “A Nation of Consumers and Homeowners”), and late twentieth century (Chapter 5: “The Erosion of Credit Standards”) periods, plus a brief postscript (“Creative and Destructive Credit”) on the causes and consequences of the Panic of 2008. The chapters do not follow a cookie cutter format but many cover the same topics, e.g., consumer credit, business credit, bankruptcy, and so forth.

While narrative descriptions of the evolution of different types of credit abound, the book does not show the primal importance of credit in statistically rigorous (e.g., Rousseau and Sylla 2005) or internationally comparative (e.g., Beck, Demirguc-Kunt, Levine 2007) ways, or even cite the finance-led growth literature (see Levine 2005 for a review). Moreover, the finance-led growth hypothesis was tempered by studies (e.g., Martin 2010; Wright 2008) that showed that financial development is just one of a series of growth-inducing economic changes that begin with secure human rights and end with improvements in physical and human capital that drive productivity gains. Because microfinance failed to spur growth in anarchic or dictatorial states, few continue to baldly assert the primacy of finance, let alone just its credit component. Alexander Hamilton had it exactly right when he argued that credit “was among the principal engines of useful enterprise” (p. 4) (my emphasis), i.e., that credit is a necessary but not a sufficient cause of economic growth. It is the fuel injection system, in other words, not the entire engine.

The book is unlikely to appeal to other specialists, either, as it is not based on new or extensive archival research or even novel interpretations of printed primary sources. As a senior research fellow at Said School of Business, author Rowena Olegario lives thousands of miles from scores of archival U.S. bank records that range from underutilized to completely untouched (for a partial list, see New Bedford Whaling Museum 2011), but one would think that Oxford University could afford to pay for the filming of, and/or travel to, at least one set of U.S. banking records. Moreover, although Olegario occasionally alludes to the theory of asymmetric information, the book is largely devoid of pertinent economic theories. So in her narrative, the early economy was “vulnerable to external shocks” (p. 24) due to unregulated banks and banknotes rather than the nation’s solution to the Trilemma or Impossible Trinity, a bimetallic standard demanding free international capital flows and fixed exchange rates in lieu of a central bank with significant monetary policy discretion.

Although The Engine of Enterprise presents more evidence about what people thought than how they behaved, the book is not a compelling “history of thought” either. Olegario, for instance, credits Henry C. Carey with being “the most notable economist of his time” and with anticipating “the new institutional economics by a century and a half” (p. 7). Carey’s life (1793-1879) overlapped those of important American political economists like Edward Atkinson (1827-1905), Alexander Bryan Johnson (1786-1867), and Erasmus Peshine Smith (1814-1882), not to mention numerous European economists of far more probity. Moreover, most of Carey’s ideas merely reiterated the thought of Hamilton and other financial founding fathers and even his own biological father. Olegario herself later (p. 59) admits that Carey was less important than Henry George (1839-1897).

Given its long coverage, from the colonial period to the present, the book might have been designed as a survey text, but for what course and at what level? Graduate students would quickly dismiss The Engine of Enterprise because it does not discuss historiography and glosses over the few debates that it explicitly recognizes without describing the major issues or even mentioning the major contributors. For example, Olegario informs readers that “historians are not in full agreement about how stringently” (p. 28) usury laws were enforced in colonial America but the corresponding note refers only to Geisst (2013). Most other debates are not even hinted at in the notes. For instance, the author blithely asserts that some colonial bills of credit depreciated because they “were insufficiently backed by land or taxes” (p. 21) without mentioning the long debate over “backing theory” (e.g., Michener 2015). Moreover, many endnotes point to a relatively limited set of broad secondary sources, like Wood (1991), Morgan (2000), and Calomiris and Haber (2014), rather than relevant specialized monographs like Kamoie (2007), which details the credit relations of the important Tayloe family in Virginia, or Roney (2014), which describes how NGOs in colonial Philadelphia served as financial intermediaries. Worse, works long since superseded are cited, some with disturbing frequency (e.g., Foulke 1941; Trescott 1963).

I also doubt that anyone teaching a financial history survey would adopt this book as an undergraduate text. The prose, while competent, is pedestrian throughout and hence more likely to bore Millennials than to spur their interest in financial history. Similarly, general readers usually demand ripping yarns like those spun in Kamensky (2008) or Mihm (2009). Lucid sections can of course be found (particularly recommended are the discussions of bankruptcy), but their benefits are outweighed by conceptual flaws and errors of commission and omission. By the latter, I mean missing important supporting data, superior examples, or more telling points. For instance, to make the point that Benjamin Franklin “took for granted that credit was essential to commerce” (p. 2), Olegario adduces mere words, Franklin’s “Advice to a Young Tradesman,” rather than Franklin’s actual actions, most notably his establishment of microfinance institutions in Philadelphia and Boston (Yenawine and Costello 2010). Likewise, the best evidence that the “new banks were meant not just to serve the needs of governments and merchants but also tradesmen, farmers, and manufacturers” (p. 24) is not Pennsylvania’s Omnibus Banking Act of 1814 but studies like Lockard (2000) and Wang (2006) that document actual bank lending patterns, a type of direct evidence that the author suggests does not exist (p. 64).

Olegario has particular difficulty astutely narrating the history of early U.S. finance because she accepts a narrow anthropological literature (e.g., Muldrew 1998) that sees much of the colonial credit system as pre-capitalist, as part of a “moral economy” characterized by “trust” and “barter” (pp. 24-25). But Olegario herself destroys both claims, presumably inadvertently. “Households bartered produce, game, and animal skins to obtain the services of blacksmiths, coopers, and other artisans,” she claims, but then adds that such exchanges were “notated in rough ledgers [sic] using monetary values even though no actual cash changed hands” (p. 24). So such transactions were not barter (trading one good for another without the use of money in any of its forms) at all but rather a form of open account, book credit, or “bookkeeping barter” (Michener 2011). Olegario also subverts the supposed reliance of colonial creditors on “trust” by detailing the widespread use of collateral, co-signers, lawsuits, prison, threats of reputation tarnishing, and other devices designed to induce borrowers to repay their debts. Colonists were certainly more apt to be lax when lending to family and friends, but that does not mean a “noncommercial morality” (p. 25) suffused the economy as family matters stand no differently today.

Other errors abound and many would flummox students and general readers. Olegario claims, for example, that bills of exchange “functioned as currency” (p. 21) by conflating negotiability (via endorsement) and currency (passing from hand to hand without formal assignment). By conflating banknotes with bank loans, she can assert that “entrepreneurial society desired … paper money” (p. 23) when in fact it sought intermediation. Imagine the confusion that would ensue were students to read that retailers “notated the value of purchased goods in a day book or ledger without issuing [sic] formal instruments like notes or bills of exchange” (p. 24). (Borrowers, not lenders, issue debt instruments.) Or that the Bank of the United States (1791-1811) was “rechartered [sic]” (p. 42) to be “in existence … again [sic]” (p. 49) as the Bank of the United States (1816-1836)!

I could continue but won’t for fear of drawing a flag for unscholarly-like conduct. Perhaps some readers will think I deserve a flag already but when the author’s school and publisher are so prestigious I think it incumbent upon reviewers to support negative generalizations with sufficient citations, details, and examples. The dust jacket can be removed if readers don’t like it, but the same can’t be said of the text, so potential readers must be credibly pointed elsewhere, like to the recent works cited below.

References:

Beck, Thorsten, Asli Demirguc-Kunt, and Ross Levine. 2007. “Finance, Inequality, and Poverty: Cross-Country Evidence.” Journal of Economic Growth (March): 27-49.

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

Foulke, Ray. 1941. The Sinews of American Commerce. New York: Dun and Bradstreet.

Geisst, Charles. 2013. Beggar Thy Neighbor: A History of Usury and Debt. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.

Kamensky, Jane. 2008. The Exchange Artist: A Tale of High Flying Speculation and America’s First Banking Collapse. New York: Viking.

Kamoie, Laura Croghan. 2007. Irons in the Fire: The Business History of the Tayloe Family and Virginia’s Gentry, 1700-1860. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia.

Levine, Ross. 2005. “Finance and Growth: Theory and Evidence.” Handbook of Economic Growth, edited by Philippe Aghion and Steven Durlauf. Amsterdam: Elsevier Science.

Lockard, Paul. 2000. “Banks, Insider Lending, and Industries of the Connecticut River Valley of Massachusetts, 1813-1860.” Ph.D. Dissertation. University of Massachusetts, Amherst.

Martin, Joe. 2010. Relentless Change: A Casebook for the Study of Canadian Business History. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

Michener, Ron. 2011. “Money in the American Colonies.” EH.Net Encyclopedia, edited by Robert Whaples. http://eh.net/encyclopedia/money-in-the-american-colonies/

Michener, Ron. 2015. “Redemption Theories and the Value of American Paper Money.” Financial History Review (December): 1-21.

Mihm, Stephen. 2009. A Nation of Counterfeiters: Capitalists, Con Men, and the Making of the United States. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Morgan, Kenneth. 2000. Slavery, Atlantic Trade and the British Economy, 1660-1800. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Muldrew, Craig. 1998. The Economy of Obligation: The Culture of Credit and Social Relations in Early Modern England. New York: St. Martin’s Press.

New Bedford Whaling Museum. 2011. “Records of the Merchants Bank Finding Aid, Appendix C,” MSS 107, New Bedford, Mass. http://www.whalingmuseum.org/explore/library/finding-aids/mss107#idp10883696

Roney, Jessica Choppin. 2014. Governed by a Spirit of Opposition: The Origins of American Political Practice in Colonial Philadelphia. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.

Rousseau, Peter and Richard Sylla. 2005. “Emerging Financial Markets and Early U.S. Growth.” Explorations in Economic History (March): 1-26.

Trescott, Paul. 1963. Financing American Enterprise: The Story of Commercial Banking. New York: Harper and Row.

Wang, Ta-Chen. 2006. “Courts, Banks, and Credit Markets in Early American Development.” Ph.D. Dissertation. Stanford University.

Wood, Gordon. 1991. Radicalism of the American Revolution. New York: Random House.

Wright, Robert. 2008. One Nation under Debt: Hamilton, Jefferson, and the History of What We Owe. New York: McGraw Hill.

Yenawine, Bruce and Michele Costello. 2010. Benjamin Franklin and the Invention of Microfinance. London: Pickering & Chatto.

Robert E. Wright is the Nef Family Chair of Political Economy at Augustana University and the author or co-author of seventeen books, including, with Richard Sylla, Genealogy of American Finance (Columbia 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 (February 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):North America
Time Period(s):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.

Building the Empire State: Political Economy in the Early Republic

Author(s):Murphy, Brian Phillips
Reviewer(s):Perkins, Edwin

Published by EH.Net (September 2015)

Brian Phillips Murphy, Building the Empire State: Political Economy in the Early Republic. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015. xi + 287 pp. $50 (cloth), ISBN: 978-8122-4716-9.

Reviewed for EH.Net by Edwin Perkins, Department of History, University of Southern California.

This book focuses on the highly active political maneuverings associated with the creation of corporate enterprises in the United States in the half century after independence.  Today, we take the corporate form of business enterprises for granted without applying moral judgments, but that acquiescence was not always the norm in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.  Many citizens had numerous concerns about the underlying legitimacy of creating corporations organized for the financial gain of private individuals.  Critics were especially worried about the possibility of creating restrictive monopolies.

The British heritage was profoundly negative.  Only a few corporations had received Parliament’s authorization to incorporate.  In the British financial sector, only the Bank of England held a corporate charter.  In the colonies there were no businesses organized with corporate privileges.   But after 1780, everything in American society was suddenly in flux — and particularly with regard to the potential advantages of allowing certain enterprises to assume a corporate framework.

Brian Murphy has narrowed his vision to activity occurring exclusively within the borders of the state of New York, but similar events presumably occurred throughout the new nation. The author has separate chapters on the creation of corporate charters linked to the Bank of New York, the Manhattan Water Company (and bank), the steamboats operating on the Hudson River, and finally the construction of the Erie Canal.   All four cases had their share of political intrigue.  Readers are given a blow-by-blow account of the behind-the-scenes encounters that led to the final authorization of corporate charters for these various ventures.  Politics and the private business sector were increasing intertwined.  State governments periodically became investors in a series of public-private joint projects in both the financial and transportation sectors of the economy.

In trying to fit these revelations into their proper historiographical context, I concluded that the author’s interpretative framework coincides with the general outlook of Gordon Wood, the eminent historian of the early national period.  Wood sees the election of Thomas Jefferson to the presidency in 1800 and the rise of the Democratic/Republican political party as perhaps the most truly “revolutionary” events in the nation’s history.  I draw the connection with Wood because Murphy demonstrates that the main defenders of the older anti-corporate ideology were primarily those aligned with the Hamiltonian-led Federalist Party that held sway in the 1780s and 1790s.  The Jeffersonians, in contrast, had a more middle class orientation, and the creation of incorporated enterprises gave them the opportunity to raise sufficient funds from multiple sources to participate more vigorously in the marketplace.

For economic historians with an interest in the complicated intricacies of institutional change this volume has much to offer.  While the story may seem endlessly and unnecessarily tedious at times, it convincingly reflects the realities of the times. Political history, in particular, can be a frustratingly messy exercise.  Even today it can take years to move forward any given bill, with numerous possible modifications, through a legislative body.

I think the book could have been improved, at the very outset, with a brief introduction centered on the British background with respect to the evolving status of corporate enterprises through the late eighteenth century.  That way readers could understand more fully how institutionally innovative the American experience was in the Early National Era.

Meanwhile, I find it very encouraging to see a greater number of mainstream scholars focusing their research on the political aspects of the nation’s economic and business history.   The author has added numerous explanatory endnotes that draw on a wide range of prior publications.  Admirably, he left no stone unturned.

Edwin Perkins is emeritus professor, University of Southern California, and the author of American Public Finance and Financial Services, 1700-1815 and in a later period, Wall Street to Main Street: Charles Merrill and Middle Class Investors.

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 (September 2015). All EH.Net reviews are archived at http://eh.net/book-reviews/

Subject(s):Business History
Geographic Area(s):North America
Time Period(s):18th Century
19th Century

The Cambridge History of Capitalism

Author(s):Neal, Larry
Williamson, Jeffrey G.
Reviewer(s):Mitch, David

Published by EH.Net (January 2015)

Larry Neal and Jeffrey G. Williamson, editors. The Cambridge History of Capitalism. Volume I. The Rise of Capitalism from Ancient Origins to 1848; and Volume II. The Spread of Capitalism: From 1848 to the Present. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2014. xii + 616 pp. (Vol. I) and x + 567 pp. (Vol. II), $230 (cloth), ISBN: 978-1-107-01963-8 (Vol. I) and 978-1-107-01964-5 (Vol. II).

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

After abandoning the topic for a quarter century to the wilderness of Economics Departments, historians have rediscovered capitalism. At least we are told so by recent articles in the New York Times (Schuessler, 2013) and the Chronicle of Higher Education (Adelman and Levy, 2014) as well as by Sven Beckert (2011; 2014) of Harvard’s History Department.  Historians have now found the study of economic history too salient to leave to economists “who sucked the culture and chronology out of it and turned it into an obscure province of mathematical formulas” (Adelman and Levy, 2014).  Capitalism is arguably not a core concept employed in economics textbooks or in the economics profession itself. Indeed, as Mark Harrison notes in his chapter in the second volume of those under review (p. 350) “the identity of capitalism was created by its critics … [T]o inquire into whether ’capitalism’ as such has a propensity for anything … is to enter a debate on conceptual territory chosen by the enemy.” Thus, it is of interest to see how two stalwarts of the cliometrics movement and their minions proceed with developing the history of this topic.  The editors tell us that the project got under way in 2005 and most of the essays seem to have been completed by late 2012. The editors themselves, Larry Neal (Illinois and LSE) and Jeffrey Williamson (Harvard), throughout their careers have had global interests and this is evident in the global scope of each of the volumes.

The two volumes are organized quite differently. Volume I, edited by Neal, bears the subtitle “The Rise of Capitalism: From Ancient Origins to 1848.”  Each of the chapters in this volume focuses on a different episode, with each episode having at least fuzzy geographical boundaries — that is none of the chapters with the possible exception of Neal’s introduction is truly global in coverage though most do allow for the presence of open economy forces.  Some of the episodes identified are predictable including those on the Italian city states by Luciano Pezzolo and the Low Countries by Oscar Gelderblom and Joost Jonker culminating in the two penultimate chapters on “British and European Industrialization” by Knick Harley and “America: Capitalism’s Promised Land” by Jeremy Atack.  However many of the remaining twelve essays cover episodes much less likely to be associated with the rise of capitalism including the opening episode on “Babylonia in the First Millennium BCE” by Assyriologist Michael Bursa, that on the silk road by Etienne de la Vassiere, and that on native Americans before 1800 by Ann Carlos and Frank Lewis.  I found these unexpected episodes to be among the highlights of the two volumes, rather than irrelevant digressions, because these authors so deftly balanced the economic and non-economic forces in play. The volume also extends its geographical range with chapters on China by Bin Wong, India by Tirthankar Roy, the Middle East by Sevkut Pamuk, Latin America by Richard Salvucci, and Africa by Morten Jerven.

In his introduction to Volume I, Larry Neal (p. 2) identifies four common elements to capitalism: 1) private property rights, 2) contracts enforceable by third parties, 3) markets with responsive prices, and 4) supportive governments.  He formulates the question that the essays in this volume seek to address as “Why did capitalism and modern economic growth take so long to get started in the first place?” The common answer he identifies is the difficulty of coordinating the appropriate mix of elements required to “build and sustain permanent settlement.”  The themes of  Volume I are the early presence of key elements of capitalism but also the presence of factors stunting the development of those elements into a sustained system of capitalism with accompanying sustained economic growth.  The chapters in this volume for the most part maintain an admirable unity and coherence in addressing these issues by marshalling a rich command of the relevant historiographical and, in a number of instances archaeological, literature while also informed by an economic, roughly Northian, framework emphasizing the role of institutions. In his forthcoming review, however, Peter Temin detects a stronger flavor of John Hicks in this volume based on the distinction between custom, command and exchange.  On the evidence of this volume, cliometricians, traditional historians, archaeologists, and classicists have been having extensive intellectual intercourse over the past half century. The Carlos/Lewis chapter is the only one “marred” by the presence of economist’s diagrams and notation, though the chapters on ancient Greek and Roman economies do feature quantitative displays.  Evidently not just Peter Temin, but professors of classics such as Alain Bresson, author of the chapter on the Ancient Greek economy, and Willem Jongman, author of that on Ancient Rome, are willing to indulge in quantification when treating ancient economic history.

Volume II, edited by Jeffrey Williamson, is subtitled “The Spread of Capitalism: From 1848 to the Present.”  The sixteen chapters in this volume are thematic with each chapter seeking to provide global coverage.  These themes are quite diverse. Two chapters have a sectoral focus, that of Robert Allen on manufacturing and that of Giovani Frederico on agriculture. Other chapters take up — among other issues — those related to enterprise organization including Geoffrey Jones on multinational corporations and Randall Morck and Bernard Yeung on “freestanding firms versus family pyramids.”  The Economist in its Nov. 1, 2014 review of these volumes detects a lack of academic rigor and asserts that they are best suited for “the ordinary reader.”  However, a number of the chapters in this volume demonstrate on how high a level a good work of scholarly synthesis can operate by combining the cogent formulation of important general questions with the marshaling of wide ranging literatures that address these questions. In this regard, I particularly enjoyed Gareth Austin’s chapter on “Capitalism and the Colonies,” Kristine Bruland and David Mowery’s chapter on “Technology and the Spread of Capitalism” (admirable for its rich detail on the periphery as well as core cases) and Mark Harrison’s chapter on “Capitalism at War.”

Some of the chapters in Volume II that I was expecting to be ho hum, I instead found to be particularly compelling. Thus while Harold James’s essay on international capital movements is organized around a standard chronology of the evolution of the international monetary system, it is quite insightful in its exposition of the forces at work behind the historical episodes he considers. And although Peter Lindert’s essay on “Private Welfare and the Welfare State” employs the framework of his landmark Growing Public volumes, he goes well beyond them with his usual cogent posing of big picture issues — in this instance regarding the scope of private philanthropy in various time periods.

The overview above provides just a sampling of the rich material these two excellent volumes contain. The editors deserve praise for assembling such a diverse and distinguished group of authors while maintaining coherence and cross-referencing across chapters.  Readers will certainly want to make sure that their institutional libraries order these volumes and will also want to lobby Cambridge University Press to make the essays in these volumes more available to the overwhelming share of potential readers unlikely to be disposed to pay the exorbitant list price for this set.  Both volumes include contributions by historians as well as economists and none of the chapters bristles with mathematical formulas.

In evaluating the contribution of these volumes, it can be noted that historian and political scientist William Sewell set the theme for the 2012 Social Science History Association meeting as “Histories of Capitalism,” with the plural explicitly pointing to the variety of approaches that can be taken to the history of this subject.  Neal and Williamson appropriately chose not to take on the full range of methodologies that could be employed in writing histories of capitalism. This would have cost the volumes coherence and could well have resulted in a further decade or more before they saw the light of day.  However, in doing due diligence as reviewer, I should point out some of the roads not taken with these volumes and questions not fully addressed.

The concept of capitalism itself can be defined in various ways and how it is conceived influences how one would tell its history.  The use of the verbal nouns “rise” in the sub-title of Volume I and then “spread” in that of Volume II imply the presence of forces at work or a teleology about capitalism that is not very fully explored by the editors. Whether capitalism is a trans-historical concept as concepts such as private property rights or markets with responsive prices would seem to be or instead refers to an historical epoch, as in William Sewell’s 2012 SSHA Presidential address, is also not directly considered.  The editors, as in Neal’s elements laid out above, do provide a serviceable and clearly stated definition but allow flexibility and expansiveness across chapters as some bring in other elements of capitalism such as a focus on factory organization in Knick Harley’s chapter on British and European industrialization (p. 491, 512).  However, in a number of the chapters the distinctions between capitalism, economic history, and economic growth are elided.

This lack of conceptual clarity is manifest in putting the two volumes together to constitute a history of capitalism. Just when one would expect the narrative to be hitting its stride chronologically in turning to England in the early nineteenth century or the U.S. in the later nineteenth century, one arrives at Volume II with its global thematic organization and any perspective on the maturation of British, U.S. or for that matter German or Japanese capitalism, is subject to an obstructed view. Thus, while I found Jeremy Atack’s chapter on the U.S. quite informative including his discussion of the evolution of the corporate form of organization, his coverage stops at 1900 and gives the most extended attention to developments prior to 1850. If not a Hamlet without the Prince there is definitely an element of “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead” about the pair of volumes.  Volume I, with its cohesive narratives of either capitalism stunted or capitalism in early origins, is more Shakespearean in flavor while Volume II, with its quick succession of contrasting themes, is more redolent of Tom Stoppard, a shift perhaps appropriate for treatment of the twentieth century.

The chapters in these volumes are hardly devoid of culture or chronology.  However, historians including business historians may be concerned that human agency does not feature very prominently. There is little evidence of a belief in “the vital few.”  It is telling in this regard that the term “entrepreneurs” garners eleven rows of listings in the index to Volume I while is completely missing from the index to Volume II.  Such leading entrepreneurs as Andrew Carnegie, J.P. Morgan, and John D. Rockefeller get one citation each in the index to Volume II, while Henry Ford and Andrew Mellon are not listed at all.

The volumes are largely materialistic in their focus. The intellectual and cultural dimensions of capitalism are not very developed.  This is not an unreasonable decision. One can view the volumes as presenting a history of what actually happened in the economy as opposed to debates about competing ideologies. This would be in line with both a Marxist view that intellectual and cultural developments are primarily superstructure and a Humean view that actual human behavior as opposed to intellectual controversies among the schools should be of most interest to the historical economist.  However, there are indications that the editors don’t fully believe in such mind-body dualism.  They tell us that the 1848 break point between the two volumes was chosen not because of actual economic or even political developments but because of the publication that year of two landmark intellectual works, Mill’s Principles of Political Economy and The Communist Manifesto of Marx and Engels. The chapters by Jose Luis Cardoso on “The Political Economy of Rising Capitalism” in Volume I and by Jeffry Frieden and Ronald Rogowski on “Modern Capitalism: Enthusiasts, Opponents, and Reformers” do give coverage to intellectual developments. However, they also provide perhaps the strongest support among the chapters in these volumes for the Economist’s concern noted above that such 30-page surveys can only provide superficial overviews to lay readers without providing much insight to scholars.

Yet there is ample scope for thinking that the history of ideas matter, whether this be capturing the influences on  Keynes’ madmen or considering the origins of the policy measures that Robert Allen identifies in his chapter as dominating over ideology or institutions as causal factors in the rise of manufacturing. More recent “spiritual accounts” of the rise of capitalism such as those of Deirdre McCloskey and Joel Mokyr are notably not represented in either volume.  And the older spiritual approach of Max Weber gets only one cite in either of the indexes and that of R.H. Tawney gets none.

If the coverage to intellectual and cultural history is weak, the coverage of the historiography on the concept of capitalism is even more limited. The views of Polanyi, Schumpeter, and Marx on the evolution of the capitalist system get at most passing mention in a few of the chapters. Milton Friedman gets only two cites in the index to Volume II, while Frank Knight and Friedrich Hayek are not listed at all. Nor do Andrew Ure, Charles Babbage or Frederick Winslow Taylor get any listings in the index to either volume.

The master narrative of the volumes as suggested by the concluding chapter on the future of capitalism is distinctly pro-capitalist, attributing to the capitalist system the material fruits of modern economic growth.  In projecting the future of capitalism, and the editors do seem to think that capitalism has an indefinite future, their discussion focuses on institutional and financial arrangements. It is noteworthy that in this futuristic chapter no mention is made of the role of technology.  In evaluating the impact of capitalism on human welfare, Leandro Prados’s penultimate chapter to Volume II focuses primarily on absolute measures of human welfare.  With Williamson as one of the co-editors, one might have expected more coverage in both volumes to be given to the relationship between capitalism and economic inequality, a sore point often raised by critics of capitalism, most notable recently in Thomas Piketty’s apparent ambush of the economics profession.

Thus there is ample scope for developing other perspectives on the history of capitalism than those represented in these two volumes and for historians based in history departments to ply their craft to the topic. Perhaps Cambridge or some other major university press should consider a volume or even set of volumes just dedicated to the history of American capitalism. Nevertheless, the two volumes make a strong case that economic history as currently practiced is essential for an understanding of capitalism and its history.

References:

Jeremy Adelman and Jonathan Levy, “The Fall and Rise of Economic History,” Chronicle of Higher Education, Dec. 1, 2014.

Sven Beckert, “History of American Capitalism” in Eric Foner and Lisa McGirr, editors, American History Now, Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2011.

Sven Beckert, Angus Burgin, Peter James Hudson, Louis Hyman, Naomi Lamoreaux, Scott Marler, Stephen Mihm, Julia Ott, Philip Scranton, and Elizabeth Tandy Shermer, “The History of American Capitalism,” Journal of American History, 101, 2014.

“Capitalism through the Ages. A Grand Tour,” Economist, November 1, 2014.

John Hicks, A Theory of Economic History, London: Oxford University Press, 1969.

Douglass North, Institutions, Institutional Change and Economic Performance, New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990.

Jennifer Schuessler, “In History Departments It’s up with Capitalism,” New York Times, April 6, 2013.

Willliam H. Sewell, Jr. “The Capitalist Epoch,” Presidential Address, Social Science History Association, 2012, Social Science History, 38, 2014.

Peter Temin, “The Cambridge History of ‘Capitalism.’” NBER Working Paper 20658, November, 2014; forthcoming in the Journal of Economic Literature.

David Mitch is Professor of Economics at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County. His essay on “Morality versus Money: Friedrich Hayek’s Move to the University of Chicago” will be published in a forthcoming volume of Hayek: A Collaborative Biography edited by Robert Leeson.

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 (January 2015). All EH.Net reviews are archived at http://eh.net/book-reviews/

Subject(s):Economywide Country Studies and Comparative History
Markets and Institutions
Geographic Area(s):General, International, or Comparative
Time Period(s):General or Comparative

John Allan James: A Scholarly Remembrance

Submitted by: Chris Hanes, Hugh Rockoff, Mark Thomas and David Weiman

John anniversary 2013

John entered the MIT graduate program during the early, lofty days of the “new” economic history, and emerged as one of its most deft, sensible and versatile practitioners.  His PhD dissertation—directed by Peter Temin—exemplifies the promise of this new approach to historical analysis.  It addresses a central issue in American political economic development, the formation of a more integrated (or “perfect”) money market in the late nineteenth-century.  Influenced by the earlier contributions of Lance Davis and Richard Sylla, John set out to document systematically the timing and spatial extent of this financial innovation, and then to explain why it occurred where and when it did.  He adapted current finance theory (CAPM) to the historical context by incorporating possible market imperfections due to spatial factors such as local market power.  He collected mounds of data on national banks across the country to derive average annual loan rates—the key variable to be explained —over the period 1888 to 1911.

John’s results, subsequently published in his early scholarly articles (one of which was awarded the prestigious Arthur H. Cole prize by the Economic History Association) and then masterfully synthesized in his book Money and Capital Markets in Postbellum America, still constitute the received wisdom on this topic.  Part of the staying power of John’s work can be attributed to the wide range of techniques that he mastered and used.  John refined the art of descriptive statistics especially graphical analysis—or “eye balling the data” in his words—but he also built sophisticated models and tested them using the most current econometric methods.  And then true to his calling as both economist and historian, he constructed a compelling narrative showing the interaction between popular (or in the case of regional interest rates, more accurately Populist) politics and banking development.  First, he showed that the convergence of bank rates to levels in the Northeast occurred unevenly across the regions of the U.S.  It was most pronounced in the Midwestern and Pacific Coast states, and least evident in the South.  The latter observation was the subject of a separate article on Southern financial underdevelopment, and resurfaces in his recent co-authored research on the evolution of the American currency-monetary union.  Second, he dated this convergence from the late 1880s, timing which defied the alternative hypotheses based on the formation of a national commercial paper market (which occurred earlier) and passage of relevant federal banking reforms (in 1900).  Finally, his results emphasized the importance of local market power as a factor in explaining the delayed and uneven narrowing of regional interest differentials.  Reinforcing this conclusion, John marshaled statistical and qualitative evidence relating the erosion of bank market power to the liberalization of state banking laws in the 1880s, but only where populist candidates challenged incumbents.  Regional differences in the risks of lending, although present, it turned out were of secondary importance in explaining regional differences in interest rates.

John’s subsequent research shows his continued fascination with the manifold, profound transformations in the American economy from the Civil War era through the Roaring Twenties.  He contributed significantly to the debates over the first and second industrial revolutions in a series of articles on the causes and consequences of technological innovation over the nineteenth century.  He first investigated whether labor scarcity induced American manufacturers to adopt more capital-intensive, labor-saving (that is mechanical) innovations.  His most widely cited paper on this issue, co-authored with then University of Virginia colleague Jonathan Skinner, provided the definitive resolution of the “labor scarcity” paradox, showing that new mechanical technologies substituted for relatively scarce skilled labor but were strategic complements to unskilled labor and natural resources.  In turn, the James-Skinner view corroborates empirically an alternative frontier thesis, which emphasizes America’s relative abundance of natural resources and not the lure of abundant farm land on labor supplies.  Applying a similar production function analysis to the late nineteenth century period, John also furnishes one of the few statistical tests of Alfred Chandler’s influential thesis relating shifts in the pattern of technological innovation to the rise of big business.

The James-Skinner article is also noteworthy for its application of general equilibrium simulation modeling in economic history.  John had first deployed this methodology in his analysis of U.S. tariff policy before the Civil War.  Armed with a new sophisticated—and disconcertingly intractable—technique for deriving general equilibrium outcomes, John corroborates the conventional view on the distributional impacts of antebellum tariffs: all other things equal, they burdened Southern cotton exporters but benefitted Northern manufacturers and their workers.  At the same time he challenges the mainstream by suggesting that average tariff rates across the period may have been economically “optimal.”

John also made many important contributions to the general macroeconomic history of prewar United States. Working solely and with several co-authors including Christopher Hanes, Jon Skinner, and Mark Thomas, John’s program embraced pay and wealth inequality during the first industrial revolution; public and private savings behavior and economic growth; unemployment-inflation dynamics and the shifting Phillips curve relationship; and changes in the sources and extent of unemployment and cyclical fluctuations.  John’s work in these areas appealed to macroeconomists and made use of the latest econometric methods.  His 1993 article in the American Economic Review pioneered the use of structural vector autoregression analysis in economic history.  A decade later he published another paper in the AER, which used nineteenth century wage data to look for evidence of downward nominal wage rigidity, a phenomenon that had only recently become a focus of research in monetary policy (and has become even more relevant in the post-2008 slump).  Though much of John’s work in these areas appeared in general-interest economics journals, it displayed all the virtues of the best economic history.  John was careful to account for peculiarities of historical data and institutions, and to point out the implications of his findings for the larger sweep of American social history.

John’s foray into the history of U.S. savings tackled thorny questions at the macro and micro levels.  Complementing his earlier work on the impact of Civil War debt repayment (or public savings) on late nineteenth century growth, John, in tandem with Skinner, analyzed the dramatic rise in the personal savings rate during the first industrial revolution (published in a volume that placed him among the elite in the profession).  True to form, they identified a novel mechanism operating through changes in the occupational rather than the age distribution of the population.  And ironically (at least for John), their results downplayed the importance of financial market innovations, such as the spread of deposit banking so important in his earlier work.  But typical of John’s commitment to following the lead of the data, he could not and did not resist the apparent paradox.

A number of years later John investigated the microeconomics of saving behavior with former Virginia graduate student Michael Palumbo and colleague Mark Thomas.  Grounded in the historical equivalent of ‘big data’—almost 28,000 observations of late 19th century working-class households from Federal and State Bureau of Labor Statistics surveys—they modeled the distribution of savings by age group, derived estimates of the persistence of family income and savings rates over time, and then simulated wealth accumulation by 10,000 model households.  Their striking conclusions challenged critics of old-age insurance and working-class profligacy: workers did not save at higher rates in the era before Social Security than in the 1980s.  They also showed that few late nineteenth century working class households saved enough before age 65 to meet their living expenses in old age (an expected 10 more years of life), and conjectured that they likely depended on their children, in particular co-habitation with an older son or daughter in the very houses where they had raised their families.  Further research revealed that workers smoothed their consumption over a medium-period time horizon, indicating the influence of precautionary savings motives in response to a world of considerable riskiness from unemployment, illness, incapacity, and premature death of the household head.  Attesting to his growing interest in Japan, John (in work with Isoa Suto) extended this approach to Japanese savings behavior in the era before the social safety net.[2]

John’s other major contributions to the micro-economic foundations of macro-economic outcomes focused on wage and unemployment dynamics in late 19th century labor markets.  In characteristic fashion, he collected all available data on these topics and then framed questions of historical and current import.  Besides challenging earlier research showing signs of nominal wage rigidity, John also investigated and did not find evidence of increasing wage inequality over the period.  On the unemployment front, he estimated flows into and out of jobs based on the 1885 Massachusetts census, and found evidence of significant positive duration dependence, for employment and non-employment spells.  With a vaster dataset (containing over 100,000 observations), John estimated the natural rate of unemployment in 1909 to be just under 6 percent, strikingly similar to estimates today.  To explain this relatively high rate, his simulation analysis, which divided the labor market into stable-primary and floater-secondary workers, pointed to an eclectic mix of factors: seasonal disturbances for many stable workers, lay-offs for workers in cyclically sensitive sectors, and brief, relatively frequent spells for the floaters.  The paper, co-authored with Mark Thomas, won John his second Arthur H. Cole Prize from the Economic History Association.  Their joint work also challenged the findings of Christina Romer by showing that unemployment was more cyclically volatile during America’s first Gilded Age than it was during its Golden Age (in the post-WWII period).  His broader conclusion from these various strands of research is both simple and striking—labor markets and the macro-economy worked differently in the past and historians need to focus on the role of changing institutions and changing policies to try to explain how and why history matters.

Just prior to his sudden and untimely death, John returned to a topic briefly addressed in his dissertation and subsequent book on banking-financial markets in postbellum America.  At a St. Louis Fed conference, he presented data showing the increased efficiency of a largely private, decentralized banking system in greasing the wheels of commerce by moving money from one location to another, even across the country, at relatively low cost.  Teaming up with David Weiman, they explained this trend by the formation of a tiered network of correspondent banks centered on New York.

James and Weiman elaborated this initial paper into a book-length project to explain the evolution of this neglected economic infrastructure from the demise of the Second Bank of the United States to the formation of the Fed.  Informed by current policy debates, they conceived these transformations in terms of the “benefits and costs” of alternative institutional forms—private versus public and hierarchical networks versus bureaucracies.  En route, they decided to write on the Civil War era banking legislation, which institutionalized the emerging private correspondent banking network.  Their initial foray uncovered a striking connection between the adoption of a common currency and a longer-term trend toward a “more perfect” bank money (or payments) union.

Armed with this serendipitous result, James and Weiman have broadened the scope of their project to show the complex interplay between the “punctuated” evolution of the interbank payment network and the American monetary union.  Conceived along these lines, their book (in progress with a manuscript expected by the end of 2015) will complete what for John was a lifetime’s exploration of the development of the banking system in postbellum America.  Banks, we know, are peculiar financial institutions, both credit and payments intermediary.  John’s first book Money and Capital Markets analyzed their former dimension, and his forthcoming book will attend to the latter.

John’s scholarly contributions cannot be measured solely by his outstanding research record.  He was an academic mensch, to use a most fitting Yiddish expression.  John never refused the thankless tasks of a productive scholar—the endless referee reports, book reviews and discussant comments—but even when critical, he always struck a constructive tone sweetened with a good dose of his dry wit.  (In the case of the discussants’ role, we should also note that ever the cosmopolitan John would rarely pass up the opportunity to venture far and wide to see new sites and especially opera productions.)  But John’s spirit truly shone through in his interactions with younger scholars from all walks of intellectual life.  He was an intellectual gourmand ever curious to broaden his own substantive and theoretical-methodological horizons, but also a genuinely gifted mentor who guided others down their own paths, not his own.  And he was always ready to share his data, and willing to explain how to use them.  This aspect of John’s career can be best measured by the outpouring of affection from his “juniors,” who now can proudly call him a colleague, collaborator, and friend.  And they all describe him in virtually identical terms: brilliant, probing, curious, supportive, generous, decent, kind, humane, compassionate and passionate.  We are sure that this list is not complete but can attest to one fact.  John will be sorely missed by all of those whose lives he touched so profoundly.

Selected Highlights from John’s Career

Capitalism in Context: Essays on Economic Development and Cultural Change in Honor of R. M. Hartwell, ed. (with Mark Thomas). Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994.

Money and Capital Markets in Postbellum America. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978.

“Political Economic Limits to the Fed’s Goal of a Common National Bank Money: The Par Clearing Controversy Revisited” (with David F. Weiman). Research in Economic History.

“Main Street and Wall Street: The Macroeconomic Consequences of New York Bank Suspensions, 1866 to 1914” (with David F. Weiman and James A. McAndrews), Cliometrica,7 (2013), 99-130.

“The National Banking Act and the Transformation of New York Banking after the Civil War” (with David F. Weiman), Journal of Economic History, 71(June, 2011), pp. 340-364

“Early Twentieth-Century Japanese Worker Saving: Precautionary Behavior before a Social Safety Net” (with Isao Suto), Cliometrica, forthcoming.

“From Drafts to Checks: The Evolution of Correspondent Banking Networks and the  Formation of the Modern U.S. Payments System, 1850-1914” (with David F. Weiman), Journal of Money, Credit, and Banking, 42 (April, 2010), pp. 237-265.

“Consumption Smoothing among Working-Class American Families before Social

Insurance” (with Michael Palumbo and Mark Thomas), Oxford Economic Papers, 59 (October, 2007), pp. 606-640.

“The Political Economy of the U.S. Monetary Union: The Civil War Era as a Watershed” (with David F. Weiman), American Economic Review Papers and Proceedings, 97 (May, 2007), pp. 271-275 .

“Romer Revisited: Long-term Changes in the Cyclical Sensitivity of Unemployment” (with Mark Thomas), Cliometrica, 1 (April, 2007), pp. 19-44.

“Have American Workers Always Been Low Savers?” Patterns of Accumulation among Working-Class Households, 1885-1910,” (with Mark Thomas and Michael Palumbo), Research in Economic History, Volume 23, Amsterdam: Elsevier, 2005. Pp. 127-175.

“Financial Clearing Systems” (with David F. Weiman). In Richard Nelson, ed.,

Complexity and Limits of Market Organization, New York: Russell Sage, 2005. Pp. 114-155.

“A Golden Age? Unemployment and the American Labor Market, 1880-1910” (with Mark Thomas), Journal of Economic History, LXIII (December, 2003), pp. 959-994.

“Wage Adjustment under Low Inflation: Evidence from U.S. History” (with Christopher L. Hanes), American Economic Review, 93 (September, 2003), pp. 1414-1424.

“Industrialization and Wage Inequality in Nineteenth-Century Urban America” (with Mark Thomas), Journal of Income Distribution, 9 (2000), pp. 39-64.

“Savings and Early Economic Growth in the United States and Japan,” Japan and the World Economy, 11 (1999), pp. 161-83.

“The Early History of Nominal Wage Rigidity in American Industrial Labor Markets,” Rivista di Storia Economica, XIV (December, 1998), pp. 243-73.

“The Rise and Fall of the Commercial Paper Market, 1900-1930.” In: M. Bordo and R. Sylla, eds., Anglo-American Finance: Financial Markets and Institutions in 20th Century North America and the UK, Homewood, IL: Dow Jones-Irwin, 1996. Pp. 219-59.

“Reconstructing the Pattern of American Unemployment Before World War I,” Economica, 62 (August, 1995), pp. 291-311.

“Job Tenure in the Gilded Age.” In: George Grantham and Mary MacKinnon eds., Labour Market Evolution, London: Routledge Kegan Paul, 1994. Pp. 185-204.

“Economic Instability in Nineteenth-Century America,” American Economic Review, 83 (September, 1993), pp. 710-31.

“The Stability of the Nineteenth-Century Phillips Curve Relationship,” Explorations in Economic History, XXVI (April, 1989), pp. 117-34.

“Sources of Savings in the Nineteenth-Century United States” (with Jonathan Skinner). In: Peter Kilby, ed., Quantity and Quiddity: Essays in U.S. Economic History in Honor of Stanley Lebergott, Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 1987. Pp. 255-85.

“The Resolution of the Labor Scarcity Paradox,” (with Jonathan Skinner), Journal of Economic History, XLV (September, 1985), pp. 513-40.

“The Use of General Equilibrium Analysis in Economic History,” Explorations in Economic History, XXI (July, 1984), pp. 231-53.

“Public Debt Management Policy and Nineteenth-Century American Economic Growth,” Explorations in Economic History, XXI (April, 1984), pp. 192-217.

“Structural Change in American Manufacturing, 1850-1890,” Journal of Economic History, XLII (June, 1983), pp. 433-60.

“The Optimal Tariff in the Antebellum United States,” American Economic Review, LXXI (September, 1981), pp. 726-34.

“Some Evidence on Relative Labor Scarcity in Nineteenth-Century American Manufacturing,” Explorations in Economic History, XVIII (September, 1981), pp. 376-88.

“Financial Underdevelopment in the Postbellum South,” Journal of Interdisciplinary History, XI (Winter, 1980), pp. 443-54.

“Cost Functions of Postbellum National Banks,” Explorations in Economic History, XV (April, 1978), pp. 184-95.

“The Welfare Effects of the Antebellum Tariff: A General Equilibrium Analysis,” Explorations in Economic History, XV (July, 1978), pp. 231-56.

“Banking Market Structure, Risk, and the Pattern of Local Interest Rates in the United States, 1893-1911,” Review of Economics and Statistics, LVIII (November, 1976), pp. 453-62.

“The Conundrum of the Low Issue of National Bank Notes,” Journal of Political Economy, LXXXIV (April, 1976), pp. 359-67.

“The Development of the National Money Market,” Journal of Economic History, XXXVI  (December, 1976), pp. 878-97.

“Portfolio Selection with an Imperfectly Competitive Asset Market,” Journal of Financial and Quantitative Analysis, XI (December, 1976), pp. 831-46.

[1] Composed by Christopher L. Hanes (SUNY-Binghamton), Hugh Rockoff (Rutgers University), Mark Thomas (University of Virginia), and David F. Weiman (Barnard College, Columbia University)

[2] John had earlier explored the different historical savings patterns in Japan and the U.S. and their implications for economic growth.

Antebellum Banking in the United States

Howard Bodenhorn, Lafayette College

The first legitimate commercial bank in the United States was the Bank of North America founded in 1781. Encouraged by Alexander Hamilton, Robert Morris persuaded the Continental Congress to charter the bank, which loaned to the cash-strapped Revolutionary government as well as private citizens, mostly Philadelphia merchants. The possibilities of commercial banking had been widely recognized by many colonists, but British law forbade the establishment of commercial, limited-liability banks in the colonies. Given that many of the colonists’ grievances against Parliament centered on economic and monetary issues, it is not surprising that one of the earliest acts of the Continental Congress was the establishment of a bank.

The introduction of banking to the U.S. was viewed as an important first step in forming an independent nation because banks supplied a medium of exchange (banknotes1 and deposits) in an economy perpetually strangled by shortages of specie money and credit, because they animated industry, and because they fostered wealth creation and promoted well-being. In the last case, contemporaries typically viewed banks as an integral part of a wider system of government-sponsored commercial infrastructure. Like schools, bridges, road, canals, river clearing and harbor improvements, the benefits of banks were expected to accrue to everyone even if dividends accrued only to shareholders.

Financial Sector Growth

By 1800 each major U.S. port city had at least one commercial bank serving the local mercantile community. As city banks proved themselves, banking spread into smaller cities and towns and expanded their clientele. Although most banks specialized in mercantile lending, others served artisans and farmers. In 1820 there were 327 commercial banks and several mutual savings banks that promoted thrift among the poor. Thus, at the onset of the antebellum period (defined here as the period between 1820 and 1860), urban residents were familiar with the intermediary function of banks and used bank-supplied currencies (deposits and banknotes) for most transactions. Table 1 reports the number of banks and the value of loans outstanding at year end between 1820 and 1860. During the era, the number of banks increased from 327 to 1,562 and total loans increased from just over $55.1 million to $691.9 million. Bank-supplied credit in the U.S. economy increased at a remarkable annual average rate of 6.3 percent. Growth in the financial sector, then outpaced growth in aggregate economic activity. Nominal gross domestic product increased an average annual rate of about 4.3 percent over the same interval. This essay discusses how regional regulatory structures evolved as the banking sector grew and radiated out from northeastern cities to the hinterlands.

Table 1

Number of Banks and Total Loans, 1820-1860

Year Banks Loans ($ millions)
1820 327 55.1
1821 273 71.9
1822 267 56.0
1823 274 75.9
1824 300 73.8
1825 330 88.7
1826 331 104.8
1827 333 90.5
1828 355 100.3
1829 369 103.0
1830 381 115.3
1831 424 149.0
1832 464 152.5
1833 517 222.9
1834 506 324.1
1835 704 365.1
1836 713 457.5
1837 788 525.1
1838 829 485.6
1839 840 492.3
1840 901 462.9
1841 784 386.5
1842 692 324.0
1843 691 254.5
1844 696 264.9
1845 707 288.6
1846 707 312.1
1847 715 310.3
1848 751 344.5
1849 782 332.3
1850 824 364.2
1851 879 413.8
1852 913 429.8
1853 750 408.9
1854 1208 557.4
1855 1307 576.1
1856 1398 634.2
1857 1416 684.5
1858 1422 583.2
1859 1476 657.2
1860 1562 691.9

Sources: Fenstermaker (1965); U.S. Comptroller of the Currency (1931).

Adaptability

As important as early American banks were in the process of capital accumulation, perhaps their most notable feature was their adaptability. Kuznets (1958) argues that one measure of the financial sector’s value is how and to what extent it evolves with changing economic conditions. Put in place to perform certain functions under one set of economic circumstances, how did it alter its behavior and service the needs of borrowers as circumstances changed. One benefit of the federalist U.S. political system was that states were given the freedom to establish systems reflecting local needs and preferences. While the political structure deserves credit in promoting regional adaptations, North (1994) credits the adaptability of America’s formal rules and informal constraints that rewarded adventurism in the economic, as well as the noneconomic, sphere. Differences in geography, climate, crop mix, manufacturing activity, population density and a host of other variables were reflected in different state banking systems. Rhode Island’s banks bore little resemblance to those in far away Louisiana or Missouri, or even those in neighboring Connecticut. Each state’s banks took a different form, but their purpose was the same; namely, to provide the state’s citizens with monetary and intermediary services and to promote the general economic welfare. This section provides a sketch of regional differences. A more detailed discussion can be found in Bodenhorn (2002).

State Banking in New England

New England’s banks most resemble the common conception of the antebellum bank. They were relatively small, unit banks; their stock was closely held; they granted loans to local farmers, merchants and artisans with whom the bank’s managers had more than a passing familiarity; and the state took little direct interest in their daily operations.

Of the banking systems put in place in the antebellum era, New England’s is typically viewed as the most stable and conservative. Friedman and Schwartz (1986) attribute their stability to an Old World concern with business reputations, familial ties, and personal legacies. New England was long settled, its society well established, and its business community mature and respected throughout the Atlantic trading network. Wealthy businessmen and bankers with strong ties to the community — like the Browns of Providence or the Bowdoins of Boston — emphasized stability not just because doing so benefited and reflected well on them, but because they realized that bad banking was bad for everyone’s business.

Besides their reputation for soundness, the two defining characteristics of New England’s early banks were their insider nature and their small size. The typical New England bank was small compared to banks in other regions. Table 2 shows that in 1820 the average Massachusetts country bank was about the same size as a Pennsylvania country bank, but both were only about half the size of a Virginia bank. A Rhode Island bank was about one-third the size of a Massachusetts or Pennsylvania bank and a mere one-sixth as large as Virginia’s banks. By 1850 the average Massachusetts bank declined relatively, operating on about two-thirds the paid-in capital of a Pennsylvania country bank. Rhode Island’s banks also shrank relative to Pennsylvania’s and were tiny compared to the large branch banks in the South and West.

Table 2

Average Bank Size by Capital and Lending in 1820 and 1850 Selected States and Cities

(in $ thousands)

1820Capital Loans 1850 Capital Loans
Massachusetts $374.5 $480.4 $293.5 $494.0
except Boston 176.6 230.8 170.3 281.9
Rhode Island 95.7 103.2 186.0 246.2
except Providence 60.6 72.0 79.5 108.5
New York na na 246.8 516.3
except NYC na na 126.7 240.1
Pennsylvania 221.8 262.9 340.2 674.6
except Philadelphia 162.6 195.2 246.0 420.7
Virginia1,2 351.5 340.0 270.3 504.5
South Carolina2 na na 938.5 1,471.5
Kentucky2 na na 439.4 727.3

Notes: 1 Virginia figures for 1822. 2 Figures represent branch averages.

Source: Bodenhorn (2002).

Explanations for New England Banks’ Relatively Small Size

Several explanations have been offered for the relatively small size of New England’s banks. Contemporaries attributed it to the New England states’ propensity to tax bank capital, which was thought to work to the detriment of large banks. They argued that large banks circulated fewer banknotes per dollar of capital. The result was a progressive tax that fell disproportionately on large banks. Data compiled from Massachusetts’s bank reports suggest that large banks were not disadvantaged by the capital tax. It was a fact, as contemporaries believed, that large banks paid higher taxes per dollar of circulating banknotes, but a potentially better benchmark is the tax to loan ratio because large banks made more use of deposits than small banks. The tax to loan ratio was remarkably constant across both bank size and time, averaging just 0.6 percent between 1834 and 1855. Moreover, there is evidence of constant to modestly increasing returns to scale in New England banking. Large banks were generally at least as profitable as small banks in all years between 1834 and 1860, and slightly more so in many.

Lamoreaux (1993) offers a different explanation for the modest size of the region’s banks. New England’s banks, she argues, were not impersonal financial intermediaries. Rather, they acted as the financial arms of extended kinship trading networks. Throughout the antebellum era banks catered to insiders: directors, officers, shareholders, or business partners and kin of directors, officers, shareholders and business partners. Such preferences toward insiders represented the perpetuation of the eighteenth-century custom of pooling capital to finance family enterprises. In the nineteenth century the practice continued under corporate auspices. The corporate form, in fact, facilitated raising capital in greater amounts than the family unit could raise on its own. But because the banks kept their loans within a relatively small circle of business connections, it was not until the late nineteenth century that bank size increased.2

Once the kinship orientation of the region’s banks was established it perpetuated itself. When outsiders could not obtain loans from existing insider organizations, they formed their own insider bank. In doing so the promoters assured themselves of a steady supply of credit and created engines of economic mobility for kinship networks formerly closed off from many sources of credit. State legislatures accommodated the practice through their liberal chartering policies. By 1860, Rhode Island had 91 banks, Maine had 68, New Hampshire 51, Vermont 44, Connecticut 74 and Massachusetts 178.

The Suffolk System

One of the most commented on characteristic of New England’s banking system was its unique regional banknote redemption and clearing mechanism. Established by the Suffolk Bank of Boston in the early 1820s, the system became known as the Suffolk System. With so many banks in New England, each issuing it own form of currency, it was sometimes difficult for merchants, farmers, artisans, and even other bankers, to discriminate between real and bogus banknotes, or to discriminate between good and bad bankers. Moreover, the rural-urban terms of trade pulled most banknotes toward the region’s port cities. Because country merchants and farmers were typically indebted to city merchants, country banknotes tended to flow toward the cities, Boston more so than any other. By the second decade of the nineteenth century, country banknotes became a constant irritant for city bankers. City bankers believed that country issues displaced Boston banknotes in local transactions. More irritating though was the constant demand by the city banks’ customers to accept country banknotes on deposit, which placed the burden of interbank clearing on the city banks.3

In 1803 the city banks embarked on a first attempt to deal with country banknotes. They joined together, bought up a large quantity of country banknotes, and returned them to the country banks for redemption into specie. This effort to reduce country banknote circulation encountered so many obstacles that it was quickly abandoned. Several other schemes were hatched in the next two decades, but none proved any more successful than the 1803 plan.

The Suffolk Bank was chartered in 1818 and within a year embarked on a novel scheme to deal with the influx of country banknotes. The Suffolk sponsored a consortium of Boston bank in which each member appointed the Suffolk as its lone agent in the collection and redemption of country banknotes. In addition, each city bank contributed to a fund used to purchase and redeem country banknotes. When the Suffolk collected a large quantity of a country bank’s notes, it presented them for immediate redemption with an ultimatum: Join in a regular and organized redemption system or be subject to further unannounced redemption calls.4 Country banks objected to the Suffolk’s proposal, because it required them to keep noninterest-earning assets on deposit with the Suffolk in amounts equal to their average weekly redemptions at the city banks. Most country banks initially refused to join the redemption network, but after the Suffolk made good on a few redemption threats, the system achieved near universal membership.

Early interpretations of the Suffolk system, like those of Redlich (1949) and Hammond (1957), portray the Suffolk as a proto-central bank, which acted as a restraining influence that exercised some control over the region’s banking system and money supply. Recent studies are less quick to pronounce the Suffolk a successful experiment in early central banking. Mullineaux (1987) argues that the Suffolk’s redemption system was actually self-defeating. Instead of making country banknotes less desirable in Boston, the fact that they became readily redeemable there made them perfect substitutes for banknotes issued by Boston’s prestigious banks. This policy made country banknotes more desirable, which made it more, not less, difficult for Boston’s banks to keep their own notes in circulation.

Fenstermaker and Filer (1986) also contest the long-held view that the Suffolk exercised control over the region’s money supply (banknotes and deposits). Indeed, the Suffolk’s system was self-defeating in this regard as well. By increasing confidence in the value of a randomly encountered banknote, people were willing to hold increases in banknotes issues. In an interesting twist on the traditional interpretation, a possible outcome of the Suffolk system is that New England may have grown increasingly financial backward as a direct result of the region’s unique clearing system. Because banknotes were viewed as relatively safe and easily redeemed, the next big financial innovation — deposit banking — in New England lagged far behind other regions. With such wide acceptance of banknotes, there was no reason for banks to encourage the use of deposits and little reason for consumers to switch over.

Summary: New England Banks

New England’s banking system can be summarized as follows: Small unit banks predominated; many banks catered to small groups of capitalists bound by personal and familial ties; banking was becoming increasingly interconnected with other lines of business, such as insurance, shipping and manufacturing; the state took little direct interest in the daily operations of the banks and its supervisory role amounted to little more than a demand that every bank submit an unaudited balance sheet at year’s end; and that the Suffolk developed an interbank clearing system that facilitated the use of banknotes throughout the region, but had little effective control over the region’s money supply.

Banking in the Middle Atlantic Region

Pennsylvania

After 1810 or so, many bank charters were granted in New England, but not because of the presumption that the bank would promote the commonweal. Charters were granted for the personal gain of the promoter and the shareholders and in proportion to the personal, political and economic influence of the bank’s founders. No New England state took a significant financial stake in its banks. In both respects, New England differed markedly from states in other regions. From the beginning of state-chartered commercial banking in Pennsylvania, the state took a direct interest in the operations and profits of its banks. The Bank of North America was the obvious case: chartered to provide support to the colonial belligerents and the fledgling nation. Because the bank was popularly perceived to be dominated by Philadelphia’s Federalist merchants, who rarely loaned to outsiders, support for the bank waned.5 After a pitched political battle in which the Bank of North America’s charter was revoked and reinstated, the legislature chartered the Bank of Pennsylvania in 1793. As its name implies, this bank became the financial arm of the state. Pennsylvania subscribed $1 million of the bank’s capital, giving it the right to appoint six of thirteen directors and a $500,000 line of credit. The bank benefited by becoming the state’s fiscal agent, which guaranteed a constant inflow of deposits from regular treasury operations as well as western land sales.

By 1803 the demand for loans outstripped the existing banks’ supply and a plan for a new bank, the Philadelphia Bank, was hatched and its promoters petitioned the legislature for a charter. The existing banks lobbied against the charter, and nearly sank the new bank’s chances until it established a precedent that lasted throughout the antebellum era. Its promoters bribed the legislature with a payment of $135,000 in return for the charter, handed over one-sixth of its shares, and opened a line of credit for the state.

Between 1803 and 1814, the only other bank chartered in Pennsylvania was the Farmers and Mechanics Bank of Philadelphia, which established a second substantive precedent that persisted throughout the era. Existing banks followed a strict real-bills lending policy, restricting lending to merchants at very short terms of 30 to 90 days.6 Their adherence to a real-bills philosophy left a growing community of artisans, manufacturers and farmers on the outside looking in. The Farmers and Mechanics Bank was chartered to serve excluded groups. At least seven of its thirteen directors had to be farmers, artisans or manufacturers and the bank was required to lend the equivalent of 10 percent of its capital to farmers on mortgage for at least one year. In later years, banks were established to provide services to even more narrowly defined groups. Within a decade or two, most substantial port cities had banks with names like Merchants Bank, Planters Bank, Farmers Bank, and Mechanics Bank. By 1860 it was common to find banks with names like Leather Manufacturers Bank, Grocers Bank, Drovers Bank, and Importers Bank. Indeed, the Emigrant Savings Bank in New York City served Irish immigrants almost exclusively. In the other instances, it is not known how much of a bank’s lending was directed toward the occupational group included in its name. The adoption of such names may have been marketing ploys as much as mission statements. Only further research will reveal the answer.

New York

State-chartered banking in New York arrived less auspiciously than it had in Philadelphia or Boston. The Bank of New York opened in 1784, but operated without a charter and in open violation of state law until 1791 when the legislature finally sanctioned it. The city’s second bank obtained its charter surreptitiously. Alexander Hamilton was one of the driving forces behind the Bank of New York, and his long-time nemesis, Aaron Burr, was determined to establish a competing bank. Unable to get a charter from a Federalist legislature, Burr and his colleagues petitioned to incorporate a company to supply fresh water to the inhabitants of Manhattan Island. Burr tucked a clause into the charter of the Manhattan Company (the predecessor to today’s Chase Manhattan Bank) granting the water company the right to employ any excess capital in financial transactions. Once chartered, the company’s directors announced that $500,000 of its capital would be invested in banking.7 Thereafter, banking grew more quickly in New York than in Philadelphia, so that by 1812 New York had seven banks compared to the three operating in Philadelphia.

Deposit Insurance

Despite its inauspicious banking beginnings, New York introduced two innovations that influenced American banking down to the present. The Safety Fund system, introduced in 1829, was the nation’s first experiment in bank liability insurance (similar to that provided by the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation today). The 1829 act authorized the appointment of bank regulators charged with regular inspections of member banks. An equally novel aspect was that it established an insurance fund insuring holders of banknotes and deposits against loss from bank failure. Ultimately, the insurance fund was insufficient to protect all bank creditors from loss during the panic of 1837 when eleven failures in rapid succession all but bankrupted the insurance fund, which delayed noteholder and depositor recoveries for months, even years. Even though the Safety Fund failed to provide its promised protections, it was an important episode in the subsequent evolution of American banking. Several Midwestern states instituted deposit insurance in the early twentieth century, and the federal government adopted it after the banking panics in the 1930s resulted in the failure of thousands of banks in which millions of depositors lost money.

“Free Banking”

Although the Safety Fund was nearly bankrupted in the late 1830s, it continued to insure a number of banks up to the mid 1860s when it was finally closed. No new banks joined the Safety Fund system after 1838 with the introduction of free banking — New York’s second significant banking innovation. Free banking represented a compromise between those most concerned with the underlying safety and stability of the currency and those most concerned with competition and freeing the country’s entrepreneurs from unduly harsh and anticompetitive restraints. Under free banking, a prospective banker could start a bank anywhere he saw fit, provided he met a few regulatory requirements. Each free bank’s capital was invested in state or federal bonds that were turned over to the state’s treasurer. If a bank failed to redeem even a single note into specie, the treasurer initiated bankruptcy proceedings and banknote holders were reimbursed from the sale of the bonds.

Actually Michigan preempted New York’s claim to be the first free-banking state, but Michigan’s 1837 law was modeled closely after a bill then under debate in New York’s legislature. Ultimately, New York’s influence was profound in this as well, because free banking became one of the century’s most widely copied financial innovations. By 1860 eighteen states adopted free banking laws closely resembling New York’s law. Three other states introduced watered-down variants. Eventually, the post-Civil War system of national banking adopted many of the substantive provisions of New York’s 1838 act.

Both the Safety Fund system and free banking were attempts to protect society from losses resulting from bank failures and to entice people to hold financial assets. Banks and bank-supplied currency were novel developments in the hinterlands in the early nineteenth century and many rural inhabitants were skeptical about the value of small pieces of paper. They were more familiar with gold and silver. Getting them to exchange one for the other was a slow process, and one that relied heavily on trust. But trust was built slowly and destroyed quickly. The failure of a single bank could, in a week, destroy the confidence in a system built up over a decade. New York’s experiments were designed to mitigate, if not eliminate, the negative consequences of bank failures. New York’s Safety Fund, then, differed in the details but not in intent, from New England’s Suffolk system. Bankers and legislators in each region grappled with the difficult issue of protecting a fragile but vital sector of the economy. Each region responded to the problem differently. The South and West settled on yet another solution.

Banking in the South and West

One distinguishing characteristic of southern and western banks was their extensive branch networks. Pennsylvania provided for branch banking in the early nineteenth century and two banks jointly opened about ten branches. In both instances, however, the branches became a net liability. The Philadelphia Bank opened four branches in 1809 and by 1811 was forced to pass on its semi-annual dividends because losses at the branches offset profits at the Philadelphia office. At bottom, branch losses resulted from a combination of ineffective central office oversight and unrealistic expectations about the scale and scope of hinterland lending. Philadelphia’s bank directors instructed branch managers to invest in high-grade commercial paper or real bills. Rural banks found a limited number of such lending opportunities and quickly turned to mortgage-based lending. Many of these loans fell into arrears and were ultimately written when land sales faltered.

Branch Banking

Unlike Pennsylvania, where branch banking failed, branch banks throughout the South and West thrived. The Bank of Virginia, founded in 1804, was the first state-chartered branch bank and up to the Civil War branch banks served the state’s financial needs. Several small, independent banks were chartered in the 1850s, but they never threatened the dominance of Virginia’s “Big Six” banks. Virginia’s branch banks, unlike Pennsylvania’s, were profitable. In 1821, for example, the net return to capital at the Farmers Bank of Virginia’s home office in Richmond was 5.4 percent. Returns at its branches ranged from a low of 3 percent at Norfolk (which was consistently the low-profit branch) to 9 percent in Winchester. In 1835, the last year the bank reported separate branch statistics, net returns to capital at the Farmers Bank’s branches ranged from 2.9 and 11.7 percent, with an average of 7.9 percent.

The low profits at the Norfolk branch represent a net subsidy from the state’s banking sector to the political system, which was not immune to the same kind of infrastructure boosterism that erupted in New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland and elsewhere. In the immediate post-Revolutionary era, the value of exports shipped from Virginia’s ports (Norfolk and Alexandria) slightly exceeded the value shipped from Baltimore. In the 1790s the numbers turned sharply in Baltimore’s favor and Virginia entered the internal-improvements craze and the battle for western shipments. Banks represented the first phase of the state’s internal improvements plan in that many believed that Baltimore’s new-found advantage resulted from easier credit supplied by the city’s banks. If Norfolk, with one of the best natural harbors on the North American Atlantic coast, was to compete with other port cities, it needed banks and the state required three of the state’s Big Six branch banks to operate branches there. Despite its natural advantages, Norfolk never became an important entrepot and it probably had more bank capital than it required. This pattern was repeated elsewhere. Other states required their branch banks to serve markets such as Memphis, Louisville, Natchez and Mobile that might, with the proper infrastructure grow into important ports.

State Involvement and Intervention in Banking

The second distinguishing characteristic of southern and western banking was sweeping state involvement and intervention. Virginia, for example, interjected the state into the banking system by taking significant stakes in its first chartered banks (providing an implicit subsidy) and by requiring them, once they established themselves, to subsidize the state’s continuing internal improvements programs of the 1820s and 1830s. Indiana followed such a strategy. So, too, did Kentucky, Louisiana, Mississippi, Illinois, Kentucky, Tennessee and Georgia in different degrees. South Carolina followed a wholly different strategy. On one hand, it chartered several banks in which it took no financial interest. On the other, it chartered the Bank of the State of South Carolina, a bank wholly owned by the state and designed to lend to planters and farmers who complained constantly that the state’s existing banks served only the urban mercantile community. The state-owned bank eventually divided its lending between merchants, farmers and artisans and dominated South Carolina’s financial sector.

The 1820s and 1830s witnessed a deluge of new banks in the South and West, with a corresponding increase in state involvement. No state matched Louisiana’s breadth of involvement in the 1830s when it chartered three distinct types of banks: commercial banks that served merchants and manufacturers; improvement banks that financed various internal improvements projects; and property banks that extended long-term mortgage credit to planters and other property holders. Louisiana’s improvement banks included the New Orleans Canal and Banking Company that built a canal connecting Lake Ponchartrain to the Mississippi River. The Exchange and Banking Company and the New Orleans Improvement and Banking Company were required to build and operate hotels. The New Orleans Gas Light and Banking Company constructed and operated gas streetlights in New Orleans and five other cities. Finally, the Carrollton Railroad and Banking Company and the Atchafalaya Railroad and Banking Company were rail construction companies whose bank subsidiaries subsidized railroad construction.

“Commonwealth Ideal” and Inflationary Banking

Louisiana’s 1830s banking exuberance reflected what some historians label the “commonwealth ideal” of banking; that is, the promotion of the general welfare through the promotion of banks. Legislatures in the South and West, however, never demonstrated a greater commitment to the commonwealth ideal than during the tough times of the early 1820s. With the collapse of the post-war land boom in 1819, a political coalition of debt-strapped landowners lobbied legislatures throughout the region for relief and its focus was banking. Relief advocates lobbied for inflationary banking that would reduce the real burden of debts taken on during prior flush times.

Several western states responded to these calls and chartered state-subsidized and state-managed banks designed to reinflate their embattled economies. Chartered in 1821, the Bank of the Commonwealth of Kentucky loaned on mortgages at longer than customary periods and all Kentucky landowners were eligible for $1,000 loans. The loans allowed landowners to discharge their existing debts without being forced to liquidate their property at ruinously low prices. Although the bank’s notes were not redeemable into specie, they were given currency in two ways. First, they were accepted at the state treasury in tax payments. Second, the state passed a law that forced creditors to accept the notes in payment of existing debts or agree to delay collection for two years.

The commonwealth ideal was not unique to Kentucky. During the depression of the 1820s, Tennessee chartered the State Bank of Tennessee, Illinois chartered the State Bank of Illinois and Louisiana chartered the Louisiana State Bank. Although they took slightly different forms, they all had the same intent; namely, to relieve distressed and embarrassed farmers, planters and land owners. What all these banks shared in common was the notion that the state should promote the general welfare and economic growth. In this instance, and again during the depression of the 1840s, state-owned banks were organized to minimize the transfer of property when economic conditions demanded wholesale liquidation. Such liquidation would have been inefficient and imposed unnecessary hardship on a large fraction of the population. To the extent that hastily chartered relief banks forestalled inefficient liquidation, they served their purpose. Although most of these banks eventually became insolvent, requiring taxpayer bailouts, we cannot label them unsuccessful. They reinflated economies and allowed for an orderly disposal of property. Determining if the net benefits were positive or negative requires more research, but for the moment we are forced to accept the possibility that the region’s state-owned banks of the 1820s and 1840s advanced the commonweal.

Conclusion: Banks and Economic Growth

Despite notable differences in the specific form and structure of each region’s banking system, they were all aimed squarely at a common goal; namely, realizing that region’s economic potential. Banks helped achieve the goal in two ways. First, banks monetized economies, which reduced the costs of transacting and helped smooth consumption and production across time. It was no longer necessary for every farm family to inventory their entire harvest. They could sell most of it, and expend the proceeds on consumption goods as the need arose until the next harvest brought a new cash infusion. Crop and livestock inventories are prone to substantial losses and an increased use of money reduced them significantly. Second, banks provided credit, which unleashed entrepreneurial spirits and talents. A complete appreciation of early American banking recognizes the banks’ contribution to antebellum America’s economic growth.

Bibliographic Essay

Because of the large number of sources used to construct the essay, the essay was more readable and less cluttered by including a brief bibliographic essay. A full bibliography is included at the end.

Good general histories of antebellum banking include Dewey (1910), Fenstermaker (1965), Gouge (1833), Hammond (1957), Knox (1903), Redlich (1949), and Trescott (1963). If only one book is read on antebellum banking, Hammond’s (1957) Pulitzer-Prize winning book remains the best choice.

The literature on New England banking is not particularly large, and the more important historical interpretations of state-wide systems include Chadbourne (1936), Hasse (1946, 1957), Simonton (1971), Spencer (1949), and Stokes (1902). Gras (1937) does an excellent job of placing the history of a single bank within the larger regional and national context. In a recent book and a number of articles Lamoreaux (1994 and sources therein) provides a compelling and eminently readable reinterpretation of the region’s banking structure. Nathan Appleton (1831, 1856) provides a contemporary observer’s interpretation, while Walker (1857) provides an entertaining if perverse and satirical history of a fictional New England bank. Martin (1969) provides details of bank share prices and dividend payments from the establishment of the first banks in Boston through the end of the nineteenth century. Less technical studies of the Suffolk system include Lake (1947), Trivoli (1979) and Whitney (1878); more technical interpretations include Calomiris and Kahn (1996), Mullineaux (1987), and Rolnick, Smith and Weber (1998).

The literature on Middle Atlantic banking is huge, but the better state-level histories include Bryan (1899), Daniels (1976), and Holdsworth (1928). The better studies of individual banks include Adams (1978), Lewis (1882), Nevins (1934), and Wainwright (1953). Chaddock (1910) provides a general history of the Safety Fund system. Golembe (1960) places it in the context of modern deposit insurance, while Bodenhorn (1996) and Calomiris (1989) provide modern analyses. A recent revival of interest in free banking has brought about a veritable explosion in the number of studies on the subject, but the better introductory ones remain Rockoff (1974, 1985), Rolnick and Weber (1982, 1983), and Dwyer (1996).

The literature on southern and western banking is large and of highly variable quality, but I have found the following to be the most readable and useful general sources: Caldwell (1935), Duke (1895), Esary (1912), Golembe (1978), Huntington (1915), Green (1972), Lesesne (1970), Royalty (1979), Schweikart (1987) and Starnes (1931).

References and Further Reading

Adams, Donald R., Jr. Finance and Enterprise in Early America: A Study of Stephen Girard’s Bank, 1812-1831. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1978.

Alter, George, Claudia Goldin and Elyce Rotella. “The Savings of Ordinary Americans: The Philadelphia Saving Fund Society in the Mid-Nineteenth-Century.” Journal of Economic History 54, no. 4 (December 1994): 735-67.

Appleton, Nathan. A Defence of Country Banks: Being a Reply to a Pamphlet Entitled ‘An Examination of the Banking System of Massachusetts, in Reference to the Renewal of the Bank Charters.’ Boston: Stimpson & Clapp, 1831.

Appleton, Nathan. Bank Bills or Paper Currency and the Banking System of Massachusetts with Remarks on Present High Prices. Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1856.

Berry, Thomas Senior. Revised Annual Estimates of American Gross National Product: Preliminary Estimates of Four Major Components of Demand, 1789-1889. Richmond: University of Richmond Bostwick Paper No. 3, 1978.

Bodenhorn, Howard. “Zombie Banks and the Demise of New York’s Safety Fund.” Eastern Economic Journal 22, no. 1 (1996): 21-34.

Bodenhorn, Howard. “Private Banking in Antebellum Virginia: Thomas Branch & Sons of Petersburg.” Business History Review 71, no. 4 (1997): 513-42.

Bodenhorn, Howard. A History of Banking in Antebellum America: Financial Markets and Economic Development in an Era of Nation-Building. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000.

Bodenhorn, Howard. State Banking in Early America: A New Economic History. New York: Oxford University Press, 2002.

Bryan, Alfred C. A History of State Banking in Maryland. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1899.

Caldwell, Stephen A. A Banking History of Louisiana. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1935.

Calomiris, Charles W. “Deposit Insurance: Lessons from the Record.” Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago Economic Perspectives 13 (1989): 10-30.

Calomiris, Charles W., and Charles Kahn. “The Efficiency of Self-Regulated Payments Systems: Learnings from the Suffolk System.” Journal of Money, Credit, and Banking 28, no. 4 (1996): 766-97.

Chadbourne, Walter W. A History of Banking in Maine, 1799-1930. Orono: University of Maine Press, 1936.

Chaddock, Robert E. The Safety Fund Banking System in New York, 1829-1866. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1910.

Daniels, Belden L. Pennsylvania: Birthplace of Banking in America. Harrisburg: Pennsylvania Bankers Association, 1976.

Davis, Lance, and Robert E. Gallman. “Capital Formation in the United States during the Nineteenth Century.” In Cambridge Economic History of Europe (Vol. 7, Part 2), edited by Peter Mathias and M.M. Postan, 1-69. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978.

Davis, Lance, and Robert E. Gallman. “Savings, Investment, and Economic Growth: The United States in the Nineteenth Century.” In Capitalism in Context: Essays on Economic Development and Cultural Change in Honor of R.M. Hartwell, edited by John A. James and Mark Thomas, 202-29. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994.

Dewey, Davis R. State Banking before the Civil War. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1910.

Duke, Basil W. History of the Bank of Kentucky, 1792-1895. Louisville: J.P. Morton, 1895.

Dwyer, Gerald P., Jr. “Wildcat Banking, Banking Panics, and Free Banking in the United States.” Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta Economic Review 81, no. 3 (1996): 1-20.

Engerman, Stanley L., and Robert E. Gallman. “U.S. Economic Growth, 1783-1860.” Research in Economic History 8 (1983): 1-46.

Esary, Logan. State Banking in Indiana, 1814-1873. Indiana University Studies No. 15. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1912.

Fenstermaker, J. Van. The Development of American Commercial Banking, 1782-1837. Kent, Ohio: Kent State University, 1965.

Fenstermaker, J. Van, and John E. Filer. “Impact of the First and Second Banks of the United States and the Suffolk System on New England Bank Money, 1791-1837.” Journal of Money, Credit, and Banking 18, no. 1 (1986): 28-40.

Friedman, Milton, and Anna J. Schwartz. “Has the Government Any Role in Money?” Journal of Monetary Economics 17, no. 1 (1986): 37-62.

Gallman, Robert E. “American Economic Growth before the Civil War: The Testimony of the Capital Stock Estimates.” In American Economic Growth and Standards of Living before the Civil War, edited by Robert E. Gallman and John Joseph Wallis, 79-115. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992.

Goldsmith, Raymond. Financial Structure and Development. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1969.

Golembe, Carter H. “The Deposit Insurance Legislation of 1933: An Examination of its Antecedents and Purposes.” Political Science Quarterly 76, no. 2 (1960): 181-200.

Golembe, Carter H. State Banks and the Economic Development of the West. New York: Arno Press, 1978.

Gouge, William M. A Short History of Paper Money and Banking in the United States. Philadelphia: T.W. Ustick, 1833.

Gras, N.S.B. The Massachusetts First National Bank of Boston, 1784-1934. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1937.

Green, George D. Finance and Economic Development in the Old South: Louisiana Banking, 1804-1861. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1972.

Hammond, Bray. Banks and Politics in America from the Revolution to the Civil War. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957.

Hasse, William F., Jr. A History of Banking in New Haven, Connecticut. New Haven: privately printed, 1946.

Hasse, William F., Jr. A History of Money and Banking in Connecticut. New Haven: privately printed, 1957.

Holdsworth, John Thom. Financing an Empire: History of Banking in Pennsylvania. Chicago: S.J. Clarke Publishing Company, 1928.

Huntington, Charles Clifford. A History of Banking and Currency in Ohio before the Civil War. Columbus: F. J. Herr Printing Company, 1915.

Knox, John Jay. A History of Banking in the United States. New York: Bradford Rhodes & Company, 1903.

Kuznets, Simon. “Foreword.” In Financial Intermediaries in the American Economy, by Raymond W. Goldsmith. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1958.

Lake, Wilfred. “The End of the Suffolk System.” Journal of Economic History 7, no. 4 (1947): 183-207.

Lamoreaux, Naomi R. Insider Lending: Banks, Personal Connections, and Economic Development in Industrial New England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994.

Lesesne, J. Mauldin. The Bank of the State of South Carolina. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1970.

Lewis, Lawrence, Jr. A History of the Bank of North America: The First Bank Chartered in the United States. Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott & Company, 1882.

Lockard, Paul A. Banks, Insider Lending and Industries of the Connecticut River Valley of Massachusetts, 1813-1860. Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of Massachusetts, 2000.

Martin, Joseph G. A Century of Finance. New York: Greenwood Press, 1969.

Moulton, H.G. “Commercial Banking and Capital Formation.” Journal of Political Economy 26 (1918): 484-508, 638-63, 705-31, 849-81.

Mullineaux, Donald J. “Competitive Monies and the Suffolk Banking System: A Contractual Perspective.” Southern Economic Journal 53 (1987): 884-98.

Nevins, Allan. History of the Bank of New York and Trust Company, 1784 to 1934. New York: privately printed, 1934.

New York. Bank Commissioners. “Annual Report of the Bank Commissioners.” New York General Assembly Document No. 74. Albany, 1835.

North, Douglass. “Institutional Change in American Economic History.” In American Economic Development in Historical Perspective, edited by Thomas Weiss and Donald Schaefer, 87-98. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994.

Rappaport, George David. Stability and Change in Revolutionary Pennsylvania: Banking, Politics, and Social Structure. University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1996.

Redlich, Fritz. The Molding of American Banking: Men and Ideas. New York: Hafner Publishing Company, 1947.

Rockoff, Hugh. “The Free Banking Era: A Reexamination.” Journal of Money, Credit, and Banking 6, no. 2 (1974): 141-67.

Rockoff, Hugh. “New Evidence on the Free Banking Era in the United States.” American Economic Review 75, no. 4 (1985): 886-89.

Rolnick, Arthur J., and Warren E. Weber. “Free Banking, Wildcat Banking, and Shinplasters.” Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis Quarterly Review 6 (1982): 10-19.

Rolnick, Arthur J., and Warren E. Weber. “New Evidence on the Free Banking Era.” American Economic Review 73, no. 5 (1983): 1080-91.

Rolnick, Arthur J., Bruce D. Smith, and Warren E. Weber. “Lessons from a Laissez-Faire Payments System: The Suffolk Banking System (1825-58).” Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis Quarterly Review 22, no. 3 (1998): 11-21.

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1 Banknotes were small demonination IOUs printed by banks and circulated as currency. Modern U.S. money are simply banknotes issued by the Federal Reserve Bank, which has a monopoly privilege in the issue of legal tender currency. In antebellum American, when a bank made a loan, the borrower was typically handed banknotes with a face value equal to the dollar value of the loan. The borrower then spent these banknotes in purchasing goods and services, putting them into circulation. Contemporary law held that banks were required to redeem banknotes into gold and silver legal tender on demand. Banks found it profitable to issue notes because they typically held about 30 percent of the total value of banknotes in circulation as reserves. Thus, banks were able to leverage $30 in gold and silver into $100 in loans that returned about 7 percent interest on average.

2 Paul Lockard (2000) challenges Lamoreaux’s interpretation. In a study of 4 banks in the Connecticut River valley, Lockard finds that insiders did not dominate these banks’ resources. As provocative as Lockard’s findings are, he draws conclusions from a small and unrepresentative sample. Two of his four sample banks were savings banks, which were designed as quasi-charitable organizations designed to encourage savings by the working classes and provide small loans. Thus, Lockard’s sample is effectively reduced to two banks. At these two banks, he identifies about 10 percent of loans as insider loans, but readily admits that he cannot always distinguish between insiders and outsiders. For a recent study of how early Americans used savings banks, see Alter, Goldin and Rotella (1994). The literature on savings banks is so large that it cannot be be given its due here.

3 Interbank clearing involves the settling of balances between banks. Modern banks cash checks drawn on other banks and credit the funds to the depositor. The Federal Reserve system provides clearing services between banks. The accepting bank sends the checks to the Federal Reserve, who credits the sending bank’s accounts and sends the checks back to the bank on which they were drawn for reimbursement. In the antebellum era, interbank clearing involved sending banknotes back to issuing banks. Because New England had so many small and scattered banks, the costs of returning banknotes to their issuers were large and sometimes avoided by recirculating notes of distant banks rather than returning them. Regular clearings and redemptions served an important purpose, however, because they kept banks in touch with the current market conditions. A massive redemption of notes was indicative of a declining demand for money and credit. Because the bank’s reserves were drawn down with the redemptions, it was forced to reduce its volume of loans in accord with changing demand conditions.

4 The law held that banknotes were redeemable on demand into gold or silver coin or bullion. If a bank refused to redeem even a single $1 banknote, the banknote holder could have the bank closed and liquidated to recover his or her claim against it.

5 Rappaport (1996) found that the bank’s loans were about equally divided between insiders (shareholders and shareholders’ family and business associates) and outsiders, but nonshareholders received loans about 30 percent smaller than shareholders. The issue remains about whether this bank was an “insider” bank, and depends largely on one’s definition. Any modern bank which made half of its loans to shareholders and their families would be viewed as an “insider” bank. It is less clear where the line can be usefully drawn for antebellum banks.

6 Real-bills lending followed from a nineteenth-century banking philosophy, which held that bank lending should be used to finance the warehousing or wholesaling of already-produced goods. Loans made on these bases were thought to be self-liquidating in that the loan was made against readily sold collateral actually in the hands of a merchant. Under the real-bills doctrine, the banks’ proper functions were to bridge the gap between production and retail sale of goods. A strict adherence to real-bills tenets excluded loans on property (mortgages), loans on goods in process (trade credit), or loans to start-up firms (venture capital). Thus, real-bills lending prescribed a limited role for banks and bank credit. Few banks were strict adherents to the doctrine, but many followed it in large part.

7 Robert E. Wright (1998) offers a different interpretation, but notes that Burr pushed the bill through at the end of a busy legislative session so that many legislators voted on the bill without having read it thoroughly or at all.

Citation: Bodenhorn, Howard. “Antebellum Banking in the United States”. EH.Net Encyclopedia, edited by Robert Whaples. March 26, 2008. URL http://eh.net/encyclopedia/antebellum-banking-in-the-united-states/