Digressions&Impressions

On Information and the State: from Justin Smith to George Stigler

[Over time I plan to phase out D&I at typepad. This post was first published at  digressions.impressions.substack here. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber at <digressionsimpressions.substack.com>]

A recent wide-ranging, erudite, and politically salient Substack post by Justin Smith defends the thesis that "we may identify a vast process currently underway whereby we are moving, in our efforts to understand reality and to harness it to our ends, from its to bits. It seems to me the real story of the past few decades, a story that easily explains the rise in popularity of the simulation argument...is of a fairly total regime change, from physics to informatics —here I am adapting the French informatique, which names the research domain in question far more appropriately than “computer science”— as the Prima Scientia or ultimate science of reality." (The post may be gated so you will have to trust me on its interest or take a subscription to Justin's excellent substack, Hinternet.) Presumably, by 'regime' Smith is suggesting that the wide world of learning is fundamentally ordered and (he makes an explicit nod to Hacking here) ordering and authoritative in some sense. 

In these digressions, I have been joking over the years that economics will soon be displaced by computer science. But as is usual while I have been focusing on a change in one tree, Justin is noticing the shifts in the wider forest.

Unfortunately, Smith never defines 'information' (and its non-trivial cognate,) 'units of information processing' despite it playing a key role in his overall argument. That's probably a feature and not a bug of his argument because part of his point is that in virtue of the significance and fluidity (within constraints) of symbolic representation information is not (ahh) ontically stable, eternally out there. 

Inform has Latinate roots (to give form to, to shape, educate, etc.), and, perhaps, there are echoes of the scholastic doctrine of hylomorphism lurking here. (Not so long ago, I was pleased to learn that computer scientists use 'hylomorphism' to refer to a certain recursive function which struck me as very funny and profound at once.) As I was barely conscious contemplating the possible significance of this, through the mystery of the associative process and the rapidity of modern networks (and Google), I looked up and downloaded George Stigler's (1961) "The Economics of Information." This paper has over 12000 citations, and alongside his work on economic regulation, crucial to his importance to the development of economics (for which he got a Nobel).

Somewhat amusingly, Stigler also fails to give a definition of information. He tends to use 'knowledge,' 'advertising,' subjective beliefs, and the comparison of prices by consumers as ways of understanding and describing information. Information can be 'pooled' and has a 'flow.' Most famously, information is costly (and can be bought and sold).

That information is costly is both part of the cause and part of the effect of the dispersion of prices. (In an older tradition of economics -- as David M. Levy taught me, one can think of Wicksteed -- prices were thought to be uniform in a market at a given time; although earlier, during the 18th century, Adam Smith and his contemporary, James Steuart, thought that prices dispersed, too although their analysis is not identical.) I don't mean to suggest that this exhausts the role of information in Stigler's analysis of economic life because it connects means and ends, but about that some other time more.

In Stigler's paper, I encountered a fascinating passage that is worth quoting and discussing (and this is the real point of this digression):

The maintenance of appreciable dispersion of prices arises chiefly out of the fact that knowledge becomes obsolete. The conditions of supply and demand, and therefore the distribution of asking prices, change over time. There is no method by which buyers or sellers can ascertain the new average price in the market appropriate to the new conditions except by search. Sellers cannot maintain perfect correlation of successive prices, even if they wish to do so, because of the costs of search. Buyers accordingly cannot make the amount of investment in search that perfect correlation of prices would justify. The greater the instability of supply and/or demand conditions, therefore, the greater the dispersion of prices will be.
In addition, there is a component of ignorance due to the changing identity of buyers and sellers. There is a flow of new buyers and sellers in every market, and they are at least initially uninformed on prices and by their presence make the information of experienced buyers and sellers somewhat obsolete.
The amount of dispersion will also vary with one other characteristic which is of special interest: the size (in terms of both dollars and number of traders) of the market. As the market grows in these dimensions, there will appear a set of firms which specialize in collecting and selling information. They may take the form of trade journals or specialized brokers. Since the cost of collection of information is (approximately) independent of its use (although the cost of dissemination is not), there is a strong tendency toward monopoly in the provision of information: in general, there will be a "standard" source for trade information. (Stigler 1961, 220)

Chicago economists are not exactly known for assuming that any market will tend toward a monopoly. As I noted last week, in the 1950s Stigler's work was, in fact, prominent for undermining empirically the Marxist (and Marx-inspired) thesis that markets tend naturally tend to monopoly. 

Now, later when (in part inspired by the work of the sociologist Morton and in part because of his interest in which economics Phds would be hired where) Stigler turned to the sociology of scientific knowledge, he tackled this tendency toward monopoly in knowledge production head on. And so I will return to it some other time. But in the 1961 paper he leaves the point in the quoted passage alone.

It would be tempting here to discuss the role of google or wikipedia or the stanford encyclopedia of philosophy as standard sources of information in our ecologies. (And to what degree ChatGPT can displace these or become one itself.) But I want to close with an important broader context in which i situate Stigler's passage.

In the liberal tradition — with which Stigler was very familiar — which understands, as a a core function of the state, it (the state) as a machinery of record, a collector and disseminator of accurate public data. A lot of our social practices, inside and outside the market, presuppose a social infrastructure in which the machinery of record is reliable, allowing public authorities and private actors to plan their activities. For that to happen, the public must be well-informed, and the only way citizens can possibly be well-informed on complex matters of policy is for state experts to organize and process information. Elsewhere, also in joint (forthcoming) work with Nick Cowen I have argued that Walter Lippmann's (1922) Public Opinion puts this vision forward.[1]

In fact, the germ of Lippmann’s idea is expressed in the closing paragraph of John Stuart Mill’s and Harriet Taylor’s On Liberty (1869, Ch. 5), where they claim that “the greatest dissemination of power consistent with efficiency” should be allied with “the greatest possible centralisation of information, and diffusion of it from the centre.” In context, it is clear (recall) that they are responding to Tocqueville’s fears that in order to prevent democratic despotism through local self-government, incompetent art of government is inevitable.

So, lurking in Stigler (1961) is a causal account that both explains the origin of the state and justifies the state's continued existence as a (perhaps even natural) authoritative monopoly provider of the machinery of record. (In fact, this is how Smith explains the epistemic origin of the state: as guarantor of measures and weights and the soundness of currency. ) And that even in a bit-rich world this will remain so.

Of course, Marxists and Libertarians may object that the account hinted at here effaces the violence of the state. This is undoubtedly so, but I consider this a feature not a bug of the argument.

• This first appeared at: <On Information and the State: from Justin Smith to George Stigler (substack.com)> a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Chicago Economics, MIT, and Monopoly Capitalism

[Over time I plan to phase out this blog at typepad. This post was first published at  digressions.impressions.substack here. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber at <digressionsimpressions.substack.com>]

Marxism predicts that left to its own devises capitalism tends toward monopoly. Let's call this the 'monopoly capitalism thesis.' I suspect the most famous articulation of this thesis was develop in the context of debates over the nature and fate of early twentieth century imperialism. For, both (recall; and here) Hobson (not a Marxist) and Lenin noticed that (militaristic) imperialism and monopoly were mutually reinforcing. For Hobson (in his 1902 Imperialism), monopoly capitalism was the effect of rent-seeking political behavior (by corrupt, imperial, financial interests). Lenin (ca 1916) didn't deny this, but while drawing on German data, especially, thought that capitalism had an inevitable tendency toward monopoly and cartels, and that imperialism (the search for monopoly markets overseas) is an effect of this tendency.

Arguably, (recall) Schumpeter (in Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy (1942) synthesized the two positions by suggesting that in conditions of modernization, monopoly would be caused (perhaps not by an internal logic of market economies, but rather) by, the "concentration of decision-making centers of the administration and the state" who seek out social counterparts in capitalist enterprises, who in turn take advantage of rents. While Burnham (in The Managerial Revolution 1941) is not interested in exploring the dynamics of the monopoly capitalism thesis, one can find a similar conclusion in it (see also my comment about Berle & Means below).

In what follows, I don't mean to suggest that the theoretical structure of the monopoly capitalism thesis was not developed after mid-century. Arguably Joan Robinson, Paul Sweezy and Baran, and Ernest Mandel all did so in various ways, and have inspired renewed work. From the left one could mention (recall this post) Durand, Cédric Durand's (2017) Fictitious capital: How finance is appropriating our future; from the more libertarian right one could mention Eric A., Posner and E. Glen Weyl (2018) Radical Markets: Uprooting Capitalism and Democracy for a Just Society, which strongly implies our age is characterized by monopoly capitalism.

As an aside, with the revival of scholarly interest in the roots of neoliberalism, it is quite natural to come away thinking that the major point of contention between Marxists and liberals within political economy centered on the socialist calculation debate. This debate is theoretically very interesting because it brings together epistemology, social theory, political economy, and (after Oskar Lange) artificial intelligence. And because Hayek got an early Nobel (in part) for his contribution to it, and Austrian economics shaped American libertarianism, there has been impressive continued interest in it even after central planning lost its luster. But even critics of Marxism can acknowledge the soviet style central planning and administrative pricing need not be the only way really existing Marxism can be tried out. This observation made me return to the fate monopoly capitalism thesis: why did it not haunt mid twentieth century economics?

Now, a key part of the answer has to be in the success of Keynes & Keynesianism and also the very idea of a mixed economy (the genealogy of which I have not studied, but I assume involves Samuelson). But in a way this pushes the problem back a level--why think a mixed economy is stable so as to block the monopoly capitalism thesis (or road to serfdom thesis)?

Part of the answer can be found in a number of empirical, inductive studies associated with 'Chicago economics,' especially Warren Nutter’s (1951) The Extent of Enterprise Monopoly in the United States, 1899–1939, which originated in his (1949) dissertation and the fifth lecture, “Competition in the United States,” of George Stigler's (1949) Five lectures on economics problems first delivered at LSE at the behest of Robbins. (For detailed description of the material I am about to discuss see my paper, but back then I studied it through lens of paradigm building.)

I doubt I need to re-introduce Stigler (a future Nobel), who was at Columbia, to my audience. But despite the recent political and polemical focus on the Virginia School, Nutter is understudied (even his Wikipedia page is scarce), and only Daniel Kuehn has written much on him. Nutter, who during the cold war was one of the pre-eminent scholars of the Soviet economy Stateside (together with my very teacher Franklyn Holtzman), was at Yale when his dissertation work made an impact on American public life (it was featured in Fortune magazine). He later joined and co-founded the Virginia school of public choice and ended up a significant figure in the Nixon administration. In 1969, he published an extension of the dissertation with Henry Einhorn: The Extent of Enterprise Monopoly: 1899-1958. 

Now, as my comments above suggest, the 'monopoly capitalism thesis' drifted out of Marxism into mainstream-ish opinion during the Great Depression. Nutter's official target the “hypothesis that monopoly is automatically generated in a private-enterprise system” was also defended by Arthur R. Burns "in his book, The Decline of Competition.” Burns was an institutionalist economist at Columbia. (This Burns should not be confused with another economist at Columbia, Arthur F. Burns, who became more prominent as Chair of the Federal Reserve.) In his book, our Burns argues that technological developments alongside patent laws (which generate rents) made monopoly inevitable (and that anti-trust was imperfect).

Another, politically more important target (for Nutter and Stigler) is The Modern Corporation and Private Property (1932), co-authored by A.A. Berle and Gardiner Means. This was a major work that shaped the New Deal, corporate governance, and corporate law for  a generation. Berle and Means analytically (and legally) separated corporate ownership (which, under modern conditions, was diffused) from corporate control (which was concentrated). They thereby anticipate Schumpeter and Burnham's focus on a relatively narrow managerial-corporate class (albeit not to be identical simply with capital in a Marxist sense).

Nutter and Stigler have different empirical ways of tackling the underlying question, and they use different proxies to get a handle on the empirical problems (of operationalization concentrations within a industry and measuring its change over time, and of the whole economy). And their empirical findings don't always agree. But in a rather critical review (1953) article, "Is monopoly increasing?" Solomon Fabricant (an economist associated with NBER [see this portrait drawn by Lipsey]), who notes Nutter's and Stigler's partiality toward competition, and hostility to anti-trust policy, and implies they may be systematically biased,  concludes, nevertheless, “Yet, whatever the outcome, by the essential validity of their conclusion must stand. All the doubts that can be raised do not destroy, rather they support, the conclusion that there is no basis for believing that the economy of the United States is largely monopolistic and has been growing more monopolistic.” (92. Nutter himself had suggested there might have been very modest growth in monopoly, but mostly as an effect of government policy.) 

That is to say, by the early 1950s the economics profession thought the monopoly capitalism thesis was, if not empirically falsified, then at least decidedly unpromising empirically. This is especially notable because the data they covered included the impact of the Great Depression and all the New Deal activity.

In work (1951) that covered later time-series data for manufacturing through 1949, "The measurement of industrial concentration," another economist, M.A. Adelman, also decried the imperfection of the data (although he praised Nutter's measures explicitly) and diagnoses underdetermination of theory by data. (He also acknowledges that Nutter is more interested in monopoly, while he is more interested in concentration.) At the end of his survey Adelman concludes: 

"But although a given set of facts is compatible with more than one policy conclusion, this does not make it compatible with any conclusion, i.e., the facts are not simply irrelevant. Stated somewhat differently: our conclusions, if correct, should mean something for the atmosphere in which policy is formed. References to "the growth in economic concentration," or statements that "during the past I6 years [I932-48] big business has been getting bigger and little business littler," or that "the forces of concentration [are] growing stronger by the hour," or that "concentration of industry is increasing so fast that no half-measures can stop it," and many others of like tenor - these must now be dismissed as unfounded. Concentration may be a problem, but for better or worse it is not threatening to engulf the economy. The moral, therefore, is simply that there is time to stop, look, and take thought. This may detract from the color and excitement of our public life, but it may also contribute to better results."  

Adelman has, I think, attracted no scholarly attention. But he became one of pillars of the MIT economics department that Samuelson built to pre-eminence. (After his early work in anti-trust he became somewhat well known in the 1970s as a leading expert of energy economics and how to tackle the oil crisis.) And so he very much represents the middle of the road of the economics profession of the era.

I quote Adelman's passage at length because it gives a sense of how he takes the empirical results to license considerable de-politicization. (One can also find this in Fabricant's conclusion.) While economists remained highly interested in theories of monopoly and imperfect competition, and how to deal with (ant-trust) policy questions emanating from actual monopolies and economic concentration (and a whole range of potentially fascinating technical questions), the monopoly capitalism thesis was effectively dead, or at least temporarily pushed to the margins. 

As I noted in my original paper, this conclusion remained intact even if this inductive approach to the question of monopoly as pursued by Nutter and Stigler got displaced by a very different approach articulated by Harberger in “Monopoly and Resource Allocation.” (1954) And while this, in turn, was quite consequential for the shape of American anti-trust (not the least compared with the Ordoliberal approach), it was unconcerned with the monopoly capitalism thesis.

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Milton Friedman on Marx and Mill (pt 1): The Road to Serfdom and the Art of Government

Judged by the course of events of the last century, rather by the avowed aim of Mill and Marx, there is much for reversing the stereotyped roles assigned to the two men. If collectivism ultimately triumphs over individualism, it will be in no small measure a result of the influence of the ideas first popularized and made respectable by Mill; whereas, if individualism ultimately triumphs, it will be in no small measure a result of the ultimate effects of the belief in revolutionary action to which Marx and Engels gave such vivid expression in the Manifesto…

The great defect of the Benthamite liberals among whom Mill grew up was the absence of any theory or doctrine of the positive role of the state in the organization of economic activity. Benthamism was at bottom a fervent belief in the possibility of improving the condition of mankind through legislative enactment devoted to achieving the “greatest happiness of the greatest number.” These central premises do not themselves prescribe any particular content for legislative action. They are, in strict logic, consistent equally with fargoing collectivism and paternalism or with the ”laissez faire” doctrines with which they were in fact combined. The acceptance of laissez faire as a guiding principle was far less the product of explicit analysis or comparison of any exhaustive set of alternatives[;] prohibited were largely assaults on person or property overwhelmingly regarded as clearly indefensible and the appropriate subject for punitive legislation. In this way, the success of laisses faire removed one of the chief factors responsible for the initial acceptance of laissez faire. By the end of John Mill’s life, the state was no longer what it was during his father’s or Bentham’s time—a corrupt, inefficient instrument whose enactments were widely held in low repute. It had become a relatively honest and efficient body, whose enactments were held in high esteem by the body politic.

The sweeping away of the hindrances to the free movement of men, goods, and capital was followed by the great improvements in economic well being. Yet there obviously remained much misery and poverty to which a passionate humanitarian like Mill could not remain blind. It was perhaps not unnatural that we was willing to sanction action by an honest and much improved state administration to redress grievances. He had no principles of state action by which to test proposals for reform. He was almost certain to minimize or reject entirely the argument—if it were made—that direct interference by the state would threaten that private liberty he prized so highly.  For this argument conflicted with his deep, though naïve, belief in the perfectibility of human beings through education. Once men were educated, he believed, they would become not only wise but also good.--Milton Friedman (September 10, 1948) "Discussion of Paper by V.W. Bladen The Centenary of Marx and Mill" at The Eight Annual meeting of the Economic History Association. Hoover Institution, Collection Title: Milton Friedman papers Container: box 39. [HT David M. Levy]

Bladen's paper can be found here. Originally Friedman had been invited to comment on a paper on laisser faire by J. Bartlett Brebner (which was turned into an influential article: "Laissez Faire and State Intervention in Nineteenth-Century Britain." The Journal of Economic History, 8(S1), 59-73.) From the correspondence at Hoover it's unclear what prompted the move, but Bladen's paper was the opening and keynote to the conference, and Friedman did not object. The other commentator on the program is Elizabeth Schumpeter--the schedule adds in parenthesis: "Mrs. Joseph A." And it would be lovely to locate her comments. 

Bladen was late sending Friedman his paper, and this may help account for the fact that much of Friedman's discussion reads as a riff on A.V. Dicey's (1905 [1914]) Law & Public Opinion rather than a detailed criticism of Bladen (although Friedman added a passage on trade unionism that clearly is critical of Bladen). Throughout Friedman's writings Dicey is an important source, not the least his better studied (1951) “Neo-Liberalism and its Prospects” Farmand, 17 February 1951, pp. 89-93 [recall this post] and his (1962) "Is a Free Society Stable?" New Individualist Review [recall here] some other time I will return to that. (The 1962 piece draws on themes from the manuscript I am discussing today.) And while in today's post 'Marx' is clickbait in the title, I will return to Friedman's comments on Marx, too. Okay, with that in place, let me turn to the text.

Friedman attributes to Dicey (1835 – 1922) a kind of road to serfdom thesis in which Mill's good intentions lead not just to the prevailing support for collectivism that Dicey diagnoses as the effect of Mill's writing at the end of the nineteenth century, but also that the collectivist reforms proposed by Mill would (now quoting Friedman) "seriously threaten political liberty" in virtue of the gradualism that Mill advocated and the tendency to attribute difficulties consequent intervention to the "defects of the price system." Crucially, for Friedman it's the historical experience of Marx's effect on the Russian revolution that halts the English road to serfdom. 

Now, in his analysis Friedman ignores the role of imperialism, and the opportunities for rents this provided, in changing the political culture of nineteenth century liberalism. Hobson, for example, argued that this undermined the pacific, free trade coalition. And while Dicey has less nostalgia for this coalition, he concurs with Hobson's diagnosis. {Of course, given Mill's own advocacy for a civilizational mission of British imperialism, it's not as if this lets Mill off the hook.} It is worth noting that Dicey thinks that imperialism (and high taxation that is the effect of it) may well have slowed the road to serfdom process that Friedman attributes to him (see, especially, the 1914 introduction to the second edition, and chapter XII).

It's a bit odd that Friedman misses the significance of (financial and military procurement) rents to imperialism. Because earlier, in describing the rise of laissez faire, Friedman argues in a public choice vein, that “The Benthamites devoted much attention to improving public administration. Their success in this connection was as great as in establishing a large measure of laissez faire, and the two achievements are not of course unrelated. The establishment of laissez fair enormously reduced the benefits which civil servants could confer on private individuals and greatly lessened the incentive or opportunity to break laws.” 

As an important aside, I am pretty confident that Friedman had read Hayek's Road to Serfdom by 1948. And there is no sign in his 1948 argument that he is as critical of Hayek in the way that his later use of Dicey in 1962 suggests (recall here). 

What's neat about the material I have quoted above is that according to Friedman the key defect in Mill's political economy is that "he had no principles of state action by which to test proposals for reform." That is, the central problem that Mill faces in using state action to ameliorate the plight of the poor and miserable, is that according to Friedman Mill lacks -- and now I am using terminology common to Mill, J.N. Keynes, Friedman, and Foucault -- an art of government.

In fact, (recall) we know from his correspondence with Stigler (Hammond & Hammond) that by 1948 Friedman had started working on his (1953) "Methodology of Positive Economics" paper that uses that very terminology. And that Friedman ends up echoing Mill by treating the art of economics as dependent on empirical science. For it’s this science that provides the knowledge that constitute at least part of the rules of how one gets from given ends to proper outcomes. That is, the dependence of the art on positive science is epistemic in character. And so lurking here is a more fundamental (Marshallian) criticism of not just Mill's art of government, but his political economy more generally one that attributes to Mill a kind of violation of a do no harm principle in political life. To be continued.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hayek, Kukathas, and the Significance and Limitations of Social Theory

Yet agreement between Hayek and the dominant strand of liberal theory may not be quite so easily secured. For a great deal turns on what is understood by a modus vivendi, and thought necessary to secure it. For Gutmann and Larmore, a liberal modus vivendi may well involve the growth of the mechanisms of participatory democracy, and need not compromise egalitarian ideals. A Hayekian conception of the liberal order as a modus vivendi, however, would not be of this nature. The conclusion he draws from his social theory is that a liberal order must be ruled by a limited government whose primary task is to maintain the framework within which individuals and groups may pursue their respective aims, regardless of the shape the resulting society assumes.
Rawls, however...explicitly rejects the idea of a modus vivendi. For him, what is needed is a political conception of justice which will command the allegiance of a diversity of moral viewpoints in a pluralist society. Only such a public philosophy which was able to sustain an 'overlapping consensus' of views would ensure social unity in 'long run equilibrium'. A modus vivendi would amount to little more than a temporary truce, in which time the more powerful interests would be able to marshall their forces, later to impose their own attitudes upon all. This contrasts with Hayek who sees social stability as possible only under political institutions which removed social justice from the agenda of politics.
This lack of agreement does not, however, reduce the interest of Hayek's contribution to liberal theory. Indeed, it suggests one way liberals may approach the problem of dealing with differences that divide them: by returning to issues in social theory. His work deserves examination because he draws attention to the need to consider the nature of society and the way in which this constrains our choice of political principles. For, if Hayek is right, many kinds of principles may be ruled out as unworkable. In other words, the circumstances of justice need much more careful investigation than they have been given.
Hayek's endeavours, while they have not succeeded in establish­ing a coherent liberal philosophy, do push contemporary liberal theory in a promising direction. For they show, first, that the defence of the liberal order need not assume that man is an isolated, asocial, utility maximizer: the defence of liberalism can, and should, be grounded in a more plausible account of man and society. And they suggest, secondly, that, while it will prove difficult to establish philosophical foundations for liberal rights, or a liberal theory of liberty, an understanding of the nature of social processes may offer a surer guide by telling us what kinds of rights and liberties cannot be adopted if the liberal ideal is to survive.-- Chandran Kukathas (1989) Hayek and Modern Liberalism, pp. 227-228. [Emphasis in original]

[If you are impatient you can skip the first four autobiographical paragraphs of today's digression.] Because I never went through a libertarian phase (and where I grew up these barely existed then), I am not quite sure when I first encountered Hayek's name and when I first read him. I do know that when I entered graduate school at age 24, I was aware of some of the features of Hayek's 'knowledge problem' because I briefly tried -- without success -- to get others in my graduate cohort interested in Hayek as an epistemologist in light of Hayek 1945. But I am really unsure how I picked this up. Between college and graduate school I read anything that happened to come my way or encountered in bookstores so I'll leave it to chance. 

Because I ended up writing a PhD on Hume and Smith's philosophy of science, I did end up reading some of Hayek's writings on the Scottish Enlightenment. During my PhD, I also read the Road to Serfdom (which left me unmoved) and The Sensory Order (which was astonishing, and I was shocked nobody else I knew had read). But because I was not especially interested in spontaneous order or a deep dive into libertarianism (beyond Nozick) my knowledge of Hayek was superficial. 

This started to change near the end of my PhD, around 2001, when the historians of economics, David M. Levy and Sandra Peart, started to invite me to their annual workshop on the preservation of the history of economics. Peart was working on her excellent edition of Hayek on Mill. David knew his Hayek and could easily make him philosophically interesting to me. (Recently David has been sharing his excitement about the development of modal logics by nineteenth century economists who moonlight as logicians!) Through them I met Erik Angner who was very interested in Hayek's theory of cultural evolution (a topic I was then very interested in), and I eventually read his wonderful monograph on Hayek and natural law.

I mention all of this because after I did start reading Hayek, I actually thought of Hayek as a weird Kantian or neo-Kantian. When I first mentioned this to people with a philosophical interest in Hayek this was often dismissed (such people treated him as more as a follower of Hume). So, I was quite pleased back when I read Kukathas' book the first time (about two decades ago) that Kukathas argues for Hayek's Kantianism in great detail (alongside Hayek's debts to Hume). And not surprised when decades later I read Foucault (who historically precedes Kukathas by a decade) on the significance of Kant/Kantianism to Hayek and other neoliberals in his biopolitics lectures. 

Anyway, above I quote the final paragraphs of Kukathas' wonderful book, which manages to juggle quite a few balls apparently effortless at once: it is a careful study of Hayek as a systematic thinker; it locates Hayek in debates within liberalism (not the least through a detailed comparison with Rawls) and between liberalism(s) and its/their critics. Along the way, readers also get a judicious account of why it is misleading to treat Hayek as an (indirect) utilitarian. And while Kukathas is respectful of Hayek, as the quoted paragraph suggests, he argues at length that Hayek is incapable of reconciling the Kantian and Humean strands of his own theory.* Okay, so much for set up.

One important contribution of Kukathas' book is to illustrate the value of social theory to political philosophy even among those who think of political philosophy as an 'ethics first' or 'justice first' enterprise. Part of that use is hinted at in the closing paragraphs quoted at the top of this post: first, a social theory provides us with the content in a feasibility or aptness constraint. Let's call this a 'negative use of social theory' in which social theory is used (with a nod to 'ought implies can' perhaps) to rule out or block certain normative theories (or the principles on which they rely) because they are literally impossible for beings like us, once we're more informed about who we are (by social theory). Of course, unrealistic or unfeasible models or theories may still be useful in some way or another -- not the least as paradigms that discipline a field --, so one should not expect to use social theory (which often blends normative and empirical features in complex ways) as a hammer to destroy viewpoints one wishes to reject. 

Second, and this is a positive feature, social theory can provide one with a philosophical anthropology that allows one to recast one's political vision and/or normative theories. In Hayek's case this also (third) means that many typical criticisms of liberalism (familiar, say, from Karl Polanyi (who goes unmentioned), Alisdair MacIntyre, various communitarians and Marxists (etc.) are disarmed in advance because the anthropology supplied by Hayek's social theory actually is not the Robinson Crusoe one -- "isolated, asocial, utility maximizing" -- usually criticized by critics of liberalism; if anything Kukathas' Hayek (and I agree) is not very far from Hegel, although as Kukathas notes with some key differences.

But, unless I missed it, Kukathas does not define what he or Hayek means by 'social theory' (something on my mind due to failed efforts to do so while teaching undergrads).  Hayek does give us some material to work on this. For example, in (1967) in "Notes on the Evolution of Systems of Rules of Conduct: The Interplay between Rules of Individual Conduct and the Social Order of Actions," Hayek writes the following:

The whole task of social theory consists in little else but an effort to reconstruct the overall orders which are thus formed, and the reason why that special apparatus of conceptual construction is needed which social theory represents is the complexity of this task. It will also be clear that such a distinct theory of social structures can provide only an explanation of certain general and highly abstract features of the different types of structures (or only of the ‘qualitative aspects’), because these abstract features will be all that all the structures of a certain type will have in common, and therefore all that will be predictable or provide useful guidance for action.--p. 283 in The Market and Other Orders, edited by Bruce Caldwell.

On Hayek's view social theory is, thus, engaged in conceptual construction. And it aims to construct what he calls an 'overall order.' (There are distinct resonances here with the morphological project of the ordoliberal, Eucken.) These overall orders are "systems of rules of conduct" which "will develop as wholes" and on which a certain kind of "selection process...will operate on the order as a whole." Now, clearly this conception of social theory is, while capable of objectivity, itself partial to Hayekian projects (he goes on to claim that "of theories of this type economic theory, the theory of the market order
of free human societies, is so far the only one which has been systematically developed over a long period"), so I don't mean to suggest Hayek's idea of 'social theory' ought to generalize to all social theory.

Now, crucially, Hayekian social theory provides one with functional explanations of social order(s). Hayek is very explicit about this on the following page (p. 284). It may require auxiliary sciences to do so (Hayek is discussing the rule of evolutionary social psychology in context). And one way it offers such a functional explanation is to make clear the "interaction between the regularity of the conduct of the elements [or individuals] and the regularity of the resulting structure." (289)

I call it 'Hayekian' social theory because one of the other "tasks" he ascribes to it is to explain the "unintended patterns and regularities which we find to exist in human society." (from Hayek (1967) "The results of human action but not of human design." p. 294 in The Market and Other Orders.) Obviously, that may be incompatible with a social theory that has a different focus, although Marx is clearly interested in features of such a social theory.

So, why do I mention this? Before I answer that let's stipulate that Hayek's social theory is coherent. I have two reasons. First, even coherent, it is not entirely obvious what the status of the fruits of Hayekian social theory are. What kind of impossibility is proven by social theory if it has a Hayekian cast? This is not obvious. (In part this is not obvious because the empirical basis of social theory is not easily disentangled from its normative commitments.) I don't see how Hayekian social theory can rule out orders constructed on principles very different than Hayekian social theory, even if one can suspect that these will not be functional in the way that (say) spontaneous orders will be. This depends on plasticity of humans but also on the possibility of social structures with different kinds of social rules. I don't think this paragraph undermines Kukathas' particular argument because he shows how much Rawls and Hayek agree in their commitments.

Second, Hayekian social theory inherits from 19th century historicism (and some aspects of the Scottish Enlightenment) the idea of social wholes (that are constituted by their system of rules). Now, Hayek acknowledges that (say) a historian or social scientist may well do his or her job without embracing social wholes. His is not an organicist theory, and since social pluralism is -- as Kukathas reveals -- kind of bedrock in his theory it would be odd to attribute organicism to Hayek. However, it is not obvious why in a world constituted by social pluralism of different sorts -- and with non-trivial barriers that would facilitate differential and distinct selection -- we would find such social wholes even in (say) places that share non-trivial social commonalities. If human law or force is part of the selection process we should in fact expect greater diversity. In fact, I am echoing here Hayek's friend, Eucken, who clearly thought that Hayek's expectation of such social wholes was only so in theory, but that in practice one could find a rich diversity of social orders (based on a limited number of morphological elements).

Let me stop there. I don't mean to suggest these are fatal objections to Hayek's theory. But  if we look forward to Kukathas' Liberal Archipelago it helps explain Kukathas' non-trivial distance from using Hayekian social theory despite Kukathas and Hayek sharing a deep debts to Hume.

On the New Alexandria

This is where I believe we are in analytic philosophy. Contrary to the scholastic charge analytic philosophy is not really characterised by formalised debates around niche propositions got from pernickety yet rigorous deductions from esoteric and ultimately pointless theories. For one thing I think the rigour of analytic deductions is much overstated. For another it just misses what has been apparent about analytic philosophy for a number of years, it is an outdated stereotype of the field from a time (perhaps in its recent past, late 20th century for instance) when the field was quite insular and self-satisfied. But nowadays it is apparent that widespread naturalism and the practical turn have each in their own way broke down those doors. Analytic philosophers nowadays are typically very keen to show their work is in good scientific standing, and will have practically interesting consequences for the pressing issues of the day. And what that means is syncretising.

Our political and ethical theories often involve drawing on a mish-mash of sources. First, there is the pertinent philsophical tradition. In analytic philosophy this usually means at least one of Rawls or some other great liberal, Rawls' students, or their students; feminist theory of the recent past; or, in some quarters, libertarian thinkers whose connections to Pinochet were, we are assured, much overstated. These are shown to be able to accommodate or refine views that are taken from the vanguard of very online downwardly mobile frequent social media users ("activists", as academics will refer to them), the common sense of the Euro-American middle class, salient results from legal theory or social psychology, and increasingly nowadays maybe AI or machine learning in its more socio-politically salient aspects. Along the way one may well get some argument or deduction of one part of the framework for the other -- but the energy, the impetus, comes really from the fact that bourgeois common sense, comprehensible bits of social science, shouty people online, and the recent philosophical tradition of one sort or another, are all felt to be authoritative. The payoff is the reconciliation, the sense that one can have one's cake and eat it.

I have a very similar sense for contemporary epistemology and metaphysics. Once again we admit bourgeois common sense, pertinent sciences - again sometimes psychology, but here also linguistics, statistics, physics, biology (more rarely chemistry I do not know why) - and the authoritative works of highly respected recent philosophers, typically Lewis or Kripke, increasingly Carnap, more rarely Wittgenstein, Brandom, or McDowell. Once again arguments can sometimes be had, but they are really in the service of proving coherence rather than anything akin to deduction from accepted first principles. The emotional pay off is, I believe, the achievement of synthesis. We are in a syncretic age.

And I believe that is why we will soon be forgot. The common sense of the bourgeois (which may not even be that common), social science that shan't survive the replication crisis, AI and machine learning (and thus statistical and reasoning capacities) that are manifestly in their infancy, and the theoretical works of people who happened to be good at placing their students in the latter quarter of the 20th century? I just see zero reason to predict that anyone will care what we make of this. It matters to us - we may well have reason to continue to try and organise it, this is our zeitgeist and anyway attempts to make it make sense will probably reveal its weaknesses and thus generate real progress. But we are a syncretising era working with elements whose nature and interrelations no-one shall care about within the space of a generation. 

This is more hopeful than the polemical claim that the present age is scholastic. I think there is more room for creativity in this activity. The attempt to rationalise new socio-ethical movements in the face of decaying empire mean that we join the Alexandrites in trying to provide comfort to a time that needs it. The failures and frictions of our attempts to syncretise will no doubt reveal anomalies that are worth attending to. But I think it is less likely to be of lasting interest than ambitious derivations from first principles. These sort of projects are designed to gain attractiveness from the inner plausibility of their premises, and thus gain a sort of independence from the immediacies of their age. Descartes, Hume, and Spinoza have far more secure places in history. I think this will be felt as a loss because for whatever reason lasting influence does seem to be sought after.--Last Positivist "The New Alexandria" January 28, 2023

If you are not laughing when you learn inter alia that we are a repetition of an out of Africa episode, the joke is on you. But if you are only laughing you may be missing some of the bite here. Before I get to that, I agree with Bright that it is time to retire a whole bunch of external critiques (that we are scientistic and/instrumentalizing, scholastic, deneutered cold war puppies, or speech policing servants of the carceral state) that stem from an unwillingness to read the much more thoroughgoing self-indictments of analytic philosophy (or so I argue).

It is quite natural that on social media the claims about syncretism, scholasticism, and historical memory past and future received much attention. But I call attention to three unpleasant aspects of Bright's analysis: first, our cultural or intellectual world is doomed. For, while we like the Alexandrians may have "hope of righting course" and not yet despair despite the "clear signs of turning for the worse," if the analogy is strict enought, the game is up (and one worries for the fate of our Hypatia). This makes it puzzling why anyone would accept the "zeitgeist;" any "real progress" we generate will be futile. I return below to consider how we should treat this rhetoric.

Second, there is a ludicrious mismatch between our self-image as fearless aimers for truth (or, as Bright allows, fighters for social justice) who follow the argument come what may  and our unwillingness to pay a price for it: in our reflective equilibrium we become reconciled to, even consoled by, our world, but this is no better than a stale confirmation bias if you are bourgeois (or adapted preferences if you are from another class.) While twentieth century continental philosophy was too addicted to the smells and sights of decomposing corpses in the imagery of Baudelaire, we are, in reality, the true decadents who reconcile ourselves by our inability to see our own corpse ahead.

Now, it is quite possible that this is all intended as sober diagnosis. But it is worth noting that there is a subtle connection between these two aspects. The more doomed we are in reality the more our self-imposed aspirations our out of touch with it. We lack, that is, third, self-knowledge. History repeats, as farce only.

Now, it's possible that Bright is preaching quietism in light of our fate; maybe we should keep our heads down and achieve the progress we can. But, this rhetoric can also be a call to arms -- or philosophical prophecy -- in two ways: first, he is baiting us to find within our umwelt the paths that lead to our equivalent of  St. Augustine. That is, some of us must throw our lot in with africana philosophy. (Another route goes to Al-Farabi, and the East). This is The Dream of Scipio as retold by Iain Pears. 

The other possibility is to rebel against our fate and that we really change course and unlearn the many bad intellectual habits that are diagnosed by him; a painful emendation of the mind. For, the intellectual revolution that the moment requires is, if we take his diagnosis seriously, the overthrow of our common sense. And in so far as our intuitions are shaped by our material conditions and practices of social recruitment this is a call to arms to destroy the modern research university, of at least philosophy's place in it. 

Not unlike MacAskill, one wishes to say, Bright is playing the long game for high stakes. But rather than betting the farm on engineering the right sort of population (human or robotic) given existing institutions and philanthropy by the wealthy, Bright is hinting at a different approach less beholden to Mammon. After all, I can't help but notice that his narrative echoes rather neatly Friedrich Engels' variations (see here; and here) on Bauer on the rise of Christianity. We might say, then, that the last waltz is about to be played.

On Foucault's Discipline and Punishment & Chicago/Public Choice Economics (II)

But perhaps one should reverse the problem and ask oneself what is served by the failure of the prison; what is the use of these different phenomena that are continually being criticized; the maintenance of delinquency, the encouragement of recidivism, the transformation of the occasional offender into a habitual delinquent, the organization of a closed milieu of delinquency. Perhaps one should look for what is hidden beneath the apparent cynicism of the penal institution, which, after purging the convicts by means of their sentence, continues to follow them by a whole series of 'brandings' (a surveillance that was once de jure and which is today de facto; the police record that has taken the place of the convic's passport) and which thus pursues as a 'delinquent' someone who has acquitted himself of his punishment as an offender. Can we not see here a consequence rather than a contradiction? If so, one would be forced to suppose that the prison, and no doubt punishment in general, is not intended to eliminate offences, but rather to distinguish them, to distribute them, to use th!m; that it is not so much that they render docile those who are liable to transgress the law, but that they tend to assimilate the transgression of the laws in a general tactics of subiection.--Michel Foucault (1975) Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison [Surveiller et punir: Naissance de la prison] translated by Alan Sheridan, pp. 272.

The passage quoted above occurs in the section where Foucault steps back from his account of the 'birth' of a prison and reminds his reader that he is researching and writing his book during "prisoners' revolts of recent weeks." (p. 268) And some readers, then and now, will be familiar with Foucault's activism on behalf of those prisoners. Foucault goes on to note that such revolts elicit a predictable response from (what one might call) enlightened, bien pensant public opinion: "the prisoners' revolts...have been attributed to the fact that the reforms proposed in 1945 never really took effect; that one must therefore return to the fundamental principles of the prison." (p. 268) And Foucault goes on to note that the (seven) principles that entered into the 1945 reform and the predictable response to their failure are a return of the same with a history of "150 years," (p. 269): "Word for word, from one century to the other, the same fundamental propositions are repeated. They reappear in each new, hard-won, finally accepted formulation of a reform that has hitherto always been lacking." (p. 270).*

A certain kind of economist -- often associated with public choice theory and/or Stigler's account of rent-seeking [hereafter the fusion of Chicago and Virginia] --, when confronted by a persistent and enduring failure of a social institution, will ask Cui bono? And what will follow is a story about persistent rents, and rent-seeking. That is, while it is often presented in terms of methodological individualism of utility maximizing agents, the Chicago-Virginia fusion offers a functionalist account of the persistence of social institutions in virtue of the functions they serve to some socially powerful agents or classes of agents. (I put it like that to pay due hommage to the Smithian and Marxist (recall) roots of the emphasis on rent-seeking in the Chicago-Virginia fusion (recall this post on Stigler and recall here on Buchanan and Tullock.) If you don't like the word 'class' use 'representative agent' instead.

Now, before I say anything else, it is worth noting that in the subsequent pages of the material I quote, Foucault offers the rent-seeking answer familiar from Chicago and Virginia fusion. In particular, he identifies three kinds of rents: first, and this is central to the argument of the whole book, members of the human sciences -- medicine, psychology, crimonology, pedagogy, social work, statistics, sociology etc. -- directly gain employment and status from the fact that modern prisons are not just places to lock people away, but also to reform and discipline them. They also gain an easily acessible study object and data (e.g. p. 277 & p. 281).  Second, the criminalization of, say, brothels and the simultaneous regulation of the health of the prostitutes create "enormous profits" that are partially captured by members of the political classes, partially captured by police forces, and again  medicine (see, especially, pp. 279-280). Third, prisons are themselves producers of delinquincy, and so that generates one might call 'second order rents' because it reinforces all the primary rents discussed just mentioned.

There is a further, more important, convergence with Chicago-Virginia fusion lurking here. Foucault treats prisons and the penal system as producers of delinquincy. (This is, in fact, one of the central insights of most prison reform programs that reappear.) And, in fact, it is quite natural to read Becker and Stigler as providing a framework to think about what (in the 1970s already) was called "the crime production function" (as even critics acknowledged). As Becker (1968) put it one can articulate a "function relating the number of offenses by any person to his probability of conviction, to his punishment if convicted, and to other variables, such as the income available to him in legal and other illegal activities, the frequency of nuisance arrests, and his willingness to commit an illegal act." (Crime and Punishment: An Economic Approach, p. 177) From his annotations, we know Foucault read this essay (even though we don't know when exactly).  That is to say, what Foucault recognizes is that the production of delinquincy is itself a source of possible rents or what Foucault calls "usable...illegality." (p. 277) And in (1979) Birth of Biopolitics, Foucault explicitly links his discussion of the "cost of delinquency" to Becker, Stigler, and Ehrlich.  (21 March 1979, Lecture 10, p. 248) And in many ways the tenth lecture can be read as a restatement of Foucault's Discipline & Punish in the vernacular of Chicago.

So, again, as I noted last week, this kind of convergence between Foucault and the Chicago-Virginia fusion suggests either that Foucault was familiar with Stigler's and Becker's work before he published Discipline and Punish and before he encountered Lepage's (1978) Tomorrow, Capitalism: The Economics of Economic Freedom or that there was a kind of convergence between Foucault and Chicago already during his prison activism phase (when Foucault was associated with Maoist and far left groups).

I could stop here, but I don't mean to suggest that for Foucault the enduring functionality of prison as a producer of delinquincy is exclusively or primarily in financial (and scientific) rents. He also thinks that it has other enduring political benefits to ruling elites in direct and indirect ways. Whether one agrees with this or not, Foucault's answer here is no different in kind than the one articulated just now in terms of rents. (Even if the utility involved would be more difficult to measure directly.) And somewhat remarkably, in his classic study (Sour Grapes) Jon Elster singled out Foucault's question and answer as an especially bad consequence explanations--ones that lack a mechanism, a feedback mechanism, and even an intentional agent.  I responded to that charge in press here before I developed my interest in the Birth of Biopolitics and Foucault's thought. And while I would be the last person to suggest that Foucault's work could pass peer review at JPE, good chunks of the enduring substance of Discipline & Punish is not fundamentally different from work that did at the time.

 

On Foucault's Discipline and Punishment & Chicago Economics

It is understandable that the criticism of the public execution should have assumed such importance in penal reform: for it was the form in which, in the most visible way, the unlimited power of the sovereign and the ever-active illegality of the people came together. Humanity in the sentences was the rule given to a system of punishment that must fix their limits on both. The ‘man’ that must be respected in the sentence was the juridical and moral form given to this double delimitation.
But, although it is true that reform, as a penal theory and as a strategy of the power to punish, took shape at the point of coincidence of these two objectives, its stability in the future was due to the fact that, for a long time, priority was given to the second. It was because the pressure on popular illegalities had become, at the period of the Revolution, then under the Empire, and finally throughout the nineteenth century, an essential imperative, that reform was able to pass from the project stage to that of an institution and set of practices. That is to say, although the new criminal legislation appears to be characterized by less severe penalties, a clearer codification, a marked diminution of the arbitrary, a more generally accepted consensus concerning the power to punish (in the absence of a more real division in its exercise), it is sustained in reality by an upheaval in the traditional economy of illegalities and a rigorous application of force to maintain their new adjustment. A penal system must be conceived as a mechanism intended to administer illegalities differentially, not to eliminate them all.--Michel Foucault (1975) Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison [Surveiller et punir: Naissance de la prison] translated by Alan Sheridan, pp. 88-9 [in the Vintage & Penguin classcis edition]

The passage quoted from Discipline and Punish (hereafter D&P) caught my attention because the final sentence expresses an idea that later in the (1979) lecture series, Birth of Biopolitics, Foucault associates with the 'Chicago' (that is, Becker and Stigler) approach to crime. Let me explain.

At the end of the second lecture of 17 January 1979, with an explicit nod to Beccaria, Foucault had summarized  the"new regime" of "the well-known principle of mildness of punishment appears:" "...government is basically no longer to be exercised over subjects and other things subjected through these subjects. Government is now to be exercised over what we could call the phenomenal republic of interests." (p. 49) In fact, in 1979, Foucault here explicitly denies that this change has anything to do with a new humane sensibility.

He then returns to the theme of crime as a major subject (recall this post) in his tenth lecture of 21 March 1979, which is the second one devoted to American (Chicago) neoliberalism (in context he explicitly mentions Ehrlich, Becker, and Stigler).* There he starts his discussion by claiming that "Their analysis of criminality at first appears to be the simplest possible return to the eighteenth century reformers like Beccaria and especially Bentham." (248)+ He then goes on to summarize a kind of synthesis of the reformers as follows (and uses Coase-ian language):

A good law is necessary and almost sufficient, was nothing other than the desire for what could be called, in economic terms, a reduction in the transaction cost. The law is the most economical solution for punishing people adequately and for this punishment to be effective. First, the crime must be defined as an infraction of a formulated law, so that in the absence of a law there is no crime and an action cannot be incriminated. Second, penalties must be fixed once and for all by the law. Third, penalties must be fixed in law according to the degree of seriousness of the crime. Fourth, henceforth the criminal court will only have one thing to do, which is to apply to an established and proven crime a law which determines in advance what penalty the criminal must suffer according to the seriousness of his crime. An absolutely simple, apparently completely obvious mechanics constitutes the most economic form, that is to say, the least costly and most effective form for obtaining punishment and the elimination of conducts deemed harmful to society. (p. 249)

So, in 1979, Foucault implies that the late eighteenth century penal reformers (Beccaria & Bentham) invent the economic analysis of the law in terms of transaction costs and cost benefit analysis. It is worth noting that this reflects a modest change from Discipline and Punishment, where Beccaria is not treated as a progenitor of law and economics, and where (with nods to Capital) Bentham is treated as someone who helps create or constitute the homo economicus through a 'disciplinary mechanism' (D&P, pp. 205-209), but does not take homo economicus as given (in the way, say, Chicago economics does). This change, reflects a rethinking on Foucault's part of the role of interest (and of a decrease of Marx's significance and an increase of Hume's significance to his overall argument), but about that some other time more.

Now, in the passage quoted from p. 249 it seems as if Foucault allows that the 18th century reformers allowed for the complete elimination of conduct deemed harmful to society. But recall (again here) that this will come at a cost. And so, de facto, the way Foucault introduces the eighteenth century reformers is that in their law & economics of crime, one can calculate a kind of optimum crime rate at the lowest cost to society. And, after explaining that the reformers did not have a pure law & economics, this is, in fact, the view he ends up attributing to Stigler as "the objective of a penal policy: “The goal of law enforcement,” he says, “is to achieve a degree of compliance with the rule of prescribed behavior that society believes it can procure while taking account of the fact that enforcement is costly.” This is in the Journal of Political Economy in 1970." (256; as the editors note, this is a reference to “The optimum enforcement of laws,”) And then Foucault glosses Stigler's point as follows: "Consequently, good penal policy does not aim at the extinction of crime, but at a balance between the curves of the supply of crime and negative demand. Or again: society does not have a limitless need for compliance. Society does not need to conform to an exhaustive disciplinary system." (256)**

That a "penal system must be conceived as a mechanism intended to administer illegalities differentially, not to eliminate them all" is, thus, a key insight of Stigler (1970), and Foucault makes a point of emphasizing this in his 1979 lecture where he treats it as a return to the reformist sensibility of the late 18th century (before it was, as it were, corrupted by criminology's search for the anthropology of the criminal). Foucault thinks this is highly significant because, looking forward, "On the horizon of this analysis we see instead the image, idea, or theme-program of a society in which there is an optimization of systems of difference, in which the field is left open to fluctuating processes, in which minority individuals and practices are tolerated, in which action is brought to bear on the rules of the game rather than on the players, and finally in which there is an environmental type of intervention instead of the internal subjugation of individuals." (259-260, emphasis added on the Hayekian, 'rules of the game'). While I would not go so far as claiming that Foucault endorses this horizon in normative fashion, I do think he is intrigued by the opportunities this affords.

Before I conclude. You might think I have made way too much of Foucault's claim that the "penal system must be conceived as a mechanism intended to administer illegalities differentially, not to eliminate them all" as an anticipation of his analysis of Chicago law & economics. After all, the quoted paragraph leading up to it does not seem very law & economics at all. Fair enough. However, in his own gloss, he goes on to write the following:

Shift the object and change the scale. Define new tactics in order to reach a target that is now more subtle but also more widely spread in the social body. Find new techniques for adjusting punishment to it and for adapting its effects. Lay down new principles for regularizing, refining, universalizing the art of punishing. Homogenize its application. Reduce its economic and political cost by increasing its effectiveness and by multiplying its circuits. In short, constitute a new economy and a new technology of the power to punish: these are no doubt the essential raisons d'etre of penal reform in the eighteenth century. (D&P, 89)++

So, it's clear that in 1975, Foucault understands the significance of the late 18th century penal reformers in terms of a political economy. And he presents them as anticipating the very point that in 1979 he attributes to Stigler (who he treats as returning to the best insights of the reformers). And this theme is really introduced as early as D&P p. 82, so it's not a mere  throw away remark.

Let me conclude with two speculations. First, it is not impossible that Foucault was familiar with Stigler's work before he published Discipline and Punish. There is an annotation on Stigler 1970 in his hand (see here). After all, Foucault was enmeshed in prison reform activism, so not just doing historical research on prisons in the early 1970s. This hypothesis is strengthened by the fact that Stigler 1970 is absent in Lepage (1978), which is often treated as Foucault's source to Chicago neoliberalism.** So, if that's right, Foucault was already interpreting his source material in light of some familiarity with the Chicago approach to crime.

Second, it's also possible, of course, that Foucault's familiarity with Stigler and the Chicago approach to crime came after he wrote Discipline and Punish. And then that opens up the possibility of not just an epynomous disovery (a term coined by George's son, Stephen Stigler), but also a kind of convergence between Foucault and Chicago economics on a non-trivial issue. This suggests that Foucault's purported late affinity with American neoliberalism (a much debated issue among Foucault scholars) may have roots in his own intellectual development in reflecting on the role of crime and punishment in society.

 

Weber, Bellamy, and Burnham on Power and Truth

In contrast to these older forms, modern bureaucracy has one characteristic which makes its inescapability much more definite: rational specialization and training. The Chinese mandarin was not a specialist but a gentleman with a literary and humanistic education. The Egyptian, Late Roman or Byzantine official was much more of a bureaucrat in our sense of the word. But compared to the modern tasks, his were infinitely simple and limited; his attitude was in part tradition-bound, in part patriarchally, that means, irrationally oriented. Like the businessman of the past, he was a pure empiricist. The modern official receives a professional training, which unavoidably increases, corresponding to the rational technology of modern life. . . . Whenever the modern specialized official comes to predominate, his power proves practically indestructible since the whole organization of elementary want satisfaction has been tailored to his mode of operation. A progressive elimination of private capitalism is theoretically conceivable. . . . What would be the practical result? The destruction of the steel frame of modern industrial work? No! The abolition of private capitalism would simply mean that the management of the nationalized or socialized enterprises would become bureaucratic. Are the daily working conditions of the salaried employees and the workers in the state-owned Prussian mines and railroads perceptibly different from those in big business enterprises? In truth, there is even less freedom since every struggle against a state bureaucracy is hopeless and since, in principle, nobody can appeal to an agency which would be interested in limiting it, contrary to what is possible in relation to a private enterprise. That would be the whole difference.

State bureaucracy would rule alone. The private and public bureaucracies which now work next to, and potentially against, each other and hence check one another to a degree would be merged into a single hierarchy. This would be similar to the situation in ancient Egypt, but it would occur in a much more rational and inescapable form.--Max Weber (1917) excerpted in State and Society: A Reader in Comparative Political Sociology, edited by R. Bendix, p. 301-302.

Richard Bellamy partially quotes the passage on p, 193 in his excellent (1992) Liberalism and Modern Society: A Historical Argument in his chapter on Max Weber. (Recall my more critical post here.) While Bellamy's book is not obscure it is somewhat unfairly rarely mentioned in the contemporary revival of so-called 'political realism.' The chapter on Weber and the critique of late twentieth century what he calls "neutralist liberalism" are both very nicely done and repay close reading. My favorite feature of Bellamy's book -- and the aspect that has not lost any significance at all -- is Bellamy's close attention to liberal thought in the context where survival of liberalism cannot be taken for granted (something true, I hasten to add, of liberalism everywhere and at all times).

Bellamy quotes the passage from Weber in the context of explaining Weber's views on the significance of the balancing of counter-veiling bureaucracies in industry and state in the service of Weber's larger argument against a fully planned economy. And it shows how prescient Weber was relative to Marxist revolutions to come. But also, that after the first world war, as well as the development of the cartelization of the German economy (something Lenin had also commented on), Europeans had already sufficient experience with the nature of (at least partially) planned economies to understand some of its structural political and economic weaknesses. I return to that below.

It is kind of amusing - in light of the recurring tendency in our philosophical self-understanding to treat empiricism as something noble and sophisticated --  that Weber identifies 'pure empiricism' with a kind of irrational orientation toward reality to be contrasted with a (modern) skilled control over one's environment in the context of the advanced division of labor (and rule-following). To what degree his comparative account of bureaucracy can survive scholarly scrutiny I leave to others. But it is important to see that for Weber modernity is characterized by the omni-presence of bureaucratic organization. It is an interesting question to what degree modern information technologies allow for a de-skilling of the bureaucracy (in the private and public sectors). 

Now, in the quoted passage, Weber clearly anticipates Burnham's thesis defended in the Managerial Revolution (and in a different way, Galbraith). I don't recall Burnham crediting Weber. I don't mean to suggest that Burnham plagiarized Weber; it's pretty clear that they were both familiar with Mosca, Pareto, and Michels (who work through related ideas). But Weber turns their diagnoses into an argument for maintaining the market as a site of countervailing powers. And this anticipates the ORDO-liberals' emphasis that while power in the marketplace is dangerous (and certainly to be guarded against) it can also be a partial check on state power (even if it also increases danger of rent-seeking). I don't think these passages suggest that Weber 'idealized capitalist relations to a certain extent' (a partial concession Bellamy makes to a criticism by Marcuse) because Weber's analysis relies on a kind of 'least bad' style argument.

Thus, Weber grasps -- and again this makes his analysis all the more salient today -- that relatively unchallenged and unaccountable rule by technically sophisticated administrators can itself be a species of despotism (which anticipates, again, the Hayekian attack on Saint Simonism as much as it does Graeber & Wengrow). And part of the despotic nature of pure rule by the technically sophisticated bureaucrat is that she does so in the name of, and drawing on, rationality. And it is incredibly difficult to oppose reason without looking and becoming irrational. (This is all the worse if the reason the bureaucrat is instantiating understands itself as ethical.) Again, this is all quite prescient.

Interestingly enough, Weber does not slide into conservatism (away from liberalism) and the valorization of elite rule (familiar from Burnham and his followers), but rather -- as Bellamy emphasizes --, into thinking about the ways in which institutions and procedures can redistribute power and to allow for at least a "plurality of competing values in society" (Bellamy 1992: 216). That is, such plurality of competing values is both an effect of the advanced division of labor and competing interests and, in turn, a means to check any ideal from becoming an oppressive ideology. Rather than, for example, promoting a marketplace of ideas as a means toward consensus/truth, the marketplace of ideas becomes another vehicle for permanent disagreement (anticipating Mouffe and Berlin to some degree) and a check on power that presents itself as truth. This is, of course, Foucault's great theme.* 

 

A note on Foucault and Kuhn on Scientific Revolutions, and Adam SMith & Stigler.

And thus, in fragments here and there, political economy is thought to have been silently bringing into position its essential themes, until the moment when, taking up the analysis of production again in another direction, Adam Smith is supposed to have brought to light the process of the increasing division of labour, Ricardo the role played by capital, and J-B. Say some of the fundamental laws of the market economy. From this moment on, political economy is supposed to have begun to exist with its own proper object and its own inner coherence.
In fact, the concepts of money, price, value, circulation, and market were not regarded, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, in terms of a shadowy future, but as part of a rigorous and general epistemological arrangement. It is this arrangement that sustains the 'analysis of wealth' in its overall necessity. The analysis of wealth is to political economy what general grammar is to philology and what natural history is to biology. And just as it is not possible to understand the theory of verb and noun, the analysis of the language of action, and that of roots and their development, without referring, through the study of general grammar, to the archaeological network that makes those things possible and necessary; just as one cannot understand, without exploring the domain of natural history, what Classical description, characterization, and taxonomy were, any more than the opposition between system and method, or Tixism' and 'evolution'; so, in the same way, it would not be possible to discover the link of necessity that connects the analysis of money, prices, value, and trade if one did not first clarify this domain of wealth which is the locus of their simultaneity.--Michael Foucault The Order of Things (1970) {1994, Vintage Books Edition} Translated by Alan Sheridan* (original Les Mots et les Choses, 1966), pp. 166-167.+

In a correspondence shortly after Structure of Scientific Revolutions first appeared, Thomas Kuhn reminded the future Nobel laureate and Chicago Economist, George Stigler, that in Structure he considered economics as a mature science. The passage Kuhn refers to is one that illustrates Kuhn's argument for rejecting a definition of science. 

Furthermore, if precedent from the natural sciences serves, they will cease to be a source of concern not when a definition is found, but when the groups that now doubt their own status achieve consensus about their past and present accomplishments. It may, for example, be significant that economists argue less about whether their field is a science than do practitioners of some other fields of social science. Is that because economists know what science is? Or is it rather economics about which they agree?--Kuhn Structure (Second, enlarged edition), pp. 160-161.

What's notable about Kuhn's position here is that he ties essentially sociological and political criteria and concepts (viz., groups, status, consensus) to help identify if not characterize that we're in the presence of a scientific community. Undoubtedly this is familiar to my readers. But it's worth adding that the agreement isn't merely over the present, but also about the past. A few pages later Kuhn shows that it is textbook that generate such consensus over the past (pp. 165-167), and he is quite explicit that the textbook account of the past is outright fabrication: "the member of a mature scientific community is, like the typical character of Orwell's 1984, the victim of a history rewritten by the power that be." (167)

In Kuhn, the maturity of science and consensus are tightly intertwined and Kuhn is clear that both are, in part, the effect of textbook education (see also. p. 10). Now, I don't think Kuhn ever uses the language of 'immature' science (for it would be characterized by disagreement and so by definition is no science). But he does identify paradigmatic science with maturity, and so it is natural to treat what Kuhn calls as 'pre paradigm' period as the immature era which is, after, all  characterized by disagreement. In context Kuhn alerts the reader to the significance of this comment to "those concerned with the development of the contemporary social science sciences." (p.167)

As an aside, in "What is Enlightenment," Kant associates the progressive possibilities of intellectual autonomy, that is Enlightenment, with maturity. And the periods of authority over individual thought as immaturity. And there is interesting work to be done on the subtle shifts in and appropriations of Kantian commitments in Kuhn (and those that shaped Kuhn's philosophy.)

Before I return to Foucault, it is worth noting two features of Kuhn's position (that are textually connected in subsequent sentences, although I have reversed the presentational order). First, not all criteria that help identify a science are sociological or political in character. In particular, for Kuhn what makes consensus possible is the establishment of a paradigm (more about that below). And a paradigm is characterized by and makes "possible" what Kuhn calls "normal puzzle-solving research." (Postscript from 1969, p. 179) This seems very much internal to scientific practice, and undoubtedly can be characterized, in part, in epistemic terms.

However, and this is my second observation (and it is Foucault-ian in character), Kuhn explicitly assumes that there is no progressive puzzle-solving research in eras that are characterized by disunity of paradigms. Here's how Kuhn puts it: "The members of all scientific communities, including the schools of the "pre-paradigm" period, share the sorts of elements which I have collectively labelled 'a paradigm.' What changes with the transition to maturity is not the presence of a paradigm but rather its nature." (Postscript from 1969, p. 179) It's nature is that makes progressive puzzle-solving possible. So, paradigms make forward looking progress possible; and from the perspective of the paradigm, it's characteristic of the pre-paradigm era to exhibit "initial divergences" (17) of methods, evidential standards, and even what the subject matter really is.

It's quite odd that Kuhn doesn't notice that conceptually (and historically) it's quite possible that during disunified 'immature' eras the paradigms of the competing 'schools' (his term) can be progressive and be (or in virtue of their) puzzle-solving. (I actually think this is true even of cases central to his account of the scientific revolution in 17th century physics, but let me leave that aside here.) Since crisis eras of mature sciences are explicitly likened to pre-paradigmatic eras (72/84/101) -- and in crisis eras  of mature science there is still progressive puzzle-solving despite the anomalies - it is odd that Kuhn does not reflect on this.

Before I get to Foucault one important point as background. That there is a distinction between mature and immature sciences, and that they are seperated by intellectual revolutions of some sort, was widely held view among economists in the late nineteenth century through the middle of the twentieth centuries. This is, in fact, a point that Stigler kind of makes in his side of the correspondence with Kuhn. And he encloses a number of papers that show this. In addition, that consensus is a marker of such maturity is also present in economics. (I have done some scholarship to establish these points, too; see here; and here.) My own speculative view is that Adam Smith's essay on the History of Astronomy is the source, within nineteenth century and twentieth century economics of the existence of these proto-Kuhnian ideas within economics. (That he held such views see here.) But other intellectual sources are possible.

Okay, if we now look at the passage quoted at the top of the post, we see that in the first paragraph Foucault describes what he takes to be a common view on the transition from a fragmented prior era, to a mature unified intellectual discipline. It's easy to recognize a narrative that involves transition from a pre-paradigmatic stage to a paradigmatic stage here. Once there is a ruling paradigm, after all, a field has a coherent forward motion and a clearly defined subject matter (this is, in fact, the constitutive nature of a paradim). In fact, the narrative is common ground among economic textbooks and Marxists (who have a story about the developmental relationship between pre-classical and classicale economics).

I don't mean to suggest the common view is intended as a characterization of Kuhn's position. It's also more likely that Foucault is targeting a kind of whiggishness that is quite common in the writing of the growth of knowledge/science from within and about the sciences. But I don't think the distance between the two is as large as we often now understand it in post Kuhnian philosophy of science. While Kuhn rejected the idea that there was a telos within or of science (he is fond of comparing it to the undirecteness of Darwinian evolution), he still inscribes a soft teleology into his account in virtue of the way the mature/immature, diverging/consensus, and pre-paradigm/paradigm (all seperated by a revolution) distinctions (and the associated network of concepts) operate in his account. Kuhn has gone  native (and so as a matter of Kuhn interpretation he is right to reject the extreme relativists/constructivists in science studioes that have presented him as their progenitor).

But in the second quoted paragraph Foucault goes on to reject the common view. For him the pre-Smithian (and pre-classical) political economists were not different in kind with those that followed Smith-Ricardo-Say. They held very different kind of views and with different methods, but that is because the thought of the age was structured by a very different kind of set of conceptual background conditions (episteme).  These conceptual background conditions can be stable over considerable time and act on and through many different intellectual disciplines at once for Foucault. (Part of the excitement of Foucault's book is his analysis of the structural analogies of different disciplines in the same era (defined by an episteme). I leave aside here the mechanisms of how this is supposed to work.

Now, crucially for my present concerns Foucault recognizes ruptures between successive eras (epistemes) and within disciplines within eras.* These can coincide, when ruptures within disciplines lead to a new era. Interestingly enough, as it happens (and I return to this some other time) Adam Smith's work is a vector of such micro rupture in a field that also happens to inaugurate a much larger set of shifts. (I am not ascribing to Foucault a causal account here because I want to avoid discussing here his account of large scale change between epistemes.)**

So, in Foucault's account, from the perspective of a later time (within a discipline), especially in a later episteme, the earlier work will, when intelligible at all, seem childish or disunified. Very much the way Kuhn describes immature, pre-paradigm eras. But on Foucault's own all things considered view, this is a kind of optical illusion, itself the effect of unexamined teleological commitments. One is literally unable to see what he calls 'the link of necessity that connects' the conceptual structure and practices of those in an earlier age. And because Foucault doesn't use consensus as a marker of scienticity or disciplined knowledge he can actually analyze how it works -- and since he is interested in human sciences -- and how such knowledge works on humans on its own (contested) terms.**

To be continued.

That Renegade Kautsky, and the fate of Capital and Liberalism

In the matter of defining imperialism, however, we have to enter into controversy, primarily, with Karl Kautsky, the principal Marxist theoretician of the epoch of the so-called Second International—that is, of the twenty-five years between 1889 and 1914. The fundamental ideas expressed in our definition of imperialism were very resolutely attacked by Kautsky in 1915, and even in November 1914, when he said that imperialism must not be regarded as a “phase” or stage of economy, but as a policy, a definite policy “preferred” by finance capital; that imperialism must not be “identified” with “present-day capitalism”; that if imperialism is to be understood to mean “all the phenomena of present-day capitalism”—cartels, protection, the domination of the financiers, and colonial policy—then the question as to whether imperialism is necessary to capitalism becomes reduced to the “flattest tautology”, because, in that case, “imperialism is naturally a vital necessity for capitalism”, and so on. The best way to present Kautsky’s idea is to quote his own definition of imperialism, which is diametrically opposed to the substance of the ideas which I have set forth (for the objections coming from the camp of the German Marxists, who have been advocating similar ideas for many years already, have been long known to Kautsky as the objections of a definite trend in Marxism).

Kautsky’s definition is as follows:

“Imperialism is a product of highly developed industrial capitalism. It consists in the striving of every industrial capitalist nation to bring under its control or to annex all large areas of agrarian [Kautsky’s italics] territory, irrespective of what nations inhabit it.” 

This definition is of no use at all because it one-sidedly, i.e., arbitrarily, singles out only the national question (although the latter is extremely important in itself as well as in its relation to imperialism), it arbitrarily and inaccurately connects this question only with industrial capital in the countries which annex other nations, and in an equally arbitrary and inaccurate manner pushes into the forefront the annexation of agrarian regions.

Imperialism is a striving for annexations—this is what the political part of Kautsky’s definition amounts to. It is correct, but very incomplete, for politically, imperialism is, in general, a striving towards violence and reaction. For the moment, however, we are interested in the economic aspect of the question, which Kautsky himself introduced into his definition. The inaccuracies in Kautsky’s definition are glaring. The characteristic feature of imperialism is not industrial but finance capital...The characteristic feature of imperialism is precisely that it strives to annex not only agrarian territories, but even most highly industrialised regions (German appetite for Belgium; French appetite for Lorraine), because (1) the fact that the world is already partitioned obliges those contemplating a redivision to reach out for every kind of territory, and (2) an essential feature of imperialism is the rivalry between several great powers in the striving for hegemony, i.e., for the conquest of territory, not so much directly for themselves as to weaken the adversary and undermine his hegemony....

Kautsky refers especially—and repeatedly—to English writers who, he alleges, have given a purely political meaning to the word “imperialism” in the sense that he, Kautsky, understands it. We take up the work by the English writer Hobson, Imperialism, which appeared in 1902, and there we read:

“The new imperialism differs from the older, first, in substituting for the ambition of a single growing empire the theory and the practice of competing empires, each motivated by similar lusts of political aggrandisement and commercial gain; secondly, in the dominance of financial or investing over mercantile interests.” 

We see that Kautsky is absolutely wrong in referring to English writers generally...We see that Kautsky, while claiming that he continues to advocate Marxism, as a matter of fact takes a step backward compared with the social-liberal Hobson, who more correctly takes into account two “historically concrete” (Kautsky’s definition is a mockery of historical concreteness!) features of modern imperialism: (1) the competition between several imperialisms, and (2) the predominance of the financier over the merchant. If it is chiefly a question of the annexation of agrarian countries by industrial countries, then the role of the merchant is put in the forefront.

Kautsky’s definition is not only wrong and un-Marxist. It serves as a basis for a whole system of views which signify a rupture with Marxist theory and Marxist practice all along the line. I shall refer to this later. The argument about words which Kautsky raises as to whether the latest stage of capitalism should be called imperialism or the stage of finance capital is not worth serious attention. Call it what you will, it makes no difference. The essence of the matter is that Kautsky detaches the politics of imperialism from its economics, speaks of annexations as being a policy “preferred” by finance capital, and opposes to it another bourgeois policy which, he alleges, is possible on this very same basis of finance capital. It follows, then, that monopolies in the economy are compatible with non-monopolistic, non-violent, non-annexationist methods in politics. It follows, then, that the territorial division of the world, which was completed during this very epoch of finance capital, and which constitutes the basis of the present peculiar forms of rivalry between the biggest capitalist states, is compatible with a non-imperialist policy. The result is a slurring-over and a blunting of the most profound contradictions of the latest stage of capitalism, instead of an exposure of their depth; the result is bourgeois reformism instead of Marxism.

...

The reply seems quite plausible, but in effect it is a more subtle and more disguised (and therefore more dangerous) advocacy of conciliation with imperialism, because a “fight” against the policy of the trusts and banks that does not affect the economic basis of the trusts and banks is mere bourgeois reformism and pacifism, the benevolent and innocent expression of pious wishes. Evasion of existing contradictions, forgetting the most important of them, instead of revealing their full depth—such is Kautsky’s theory, which has nothing in common with Marxism....

“From the purely economic point of view,” writes Kautsky, “it is not impossible that capitalism will yet go through a new phase, that of the extension of the policy of the cartels to foreign policy, the phase of ultra-imperialism,” i.e., of a superimperialism, of a union of the imperialisms of the whole world and not struggles among them, a phase when wars shall cease under capitalism, a phase of “the joint exploitation of the world by internationally united finance capital.” 

...

Kautsky’s utterly meaningless talk about ultra-imperialism encourages, among other things, that profoundly mistaken idea which only brings grist to the mill of the apologists of imperialism, i.e., that the rule of finance capital lessens the unevenness and contradictions inherent in the world economy, whereas in reality it increases them.--Lenin (1917) Imperialism, The Highest Stage of Capitalism, Chapter VII

Much of Lenin's argument in his Imperialism, The Highest State of Capitalism is directed against that 'renegade' Kautsky's position. But Kautsky's own stance has not generated much enthusiasm nor, it seems, interest from subsequent scholarship (which tends to read Kautsky (1854 –  1938), a major theorist of the second International, explicitly or implicitly, through Lenin's perspective). It is pretty clear why it was important to Lenin's leadership and strategic ambitions to disqualify Kautsky and why, perhaps, there is a sense in which Kautsky's stance on imperialism is not echt Marxist (I have no stake in that debate). But Kautsky's account treats uncorrupted liberalism as the pathway into modern (nineteenth century) imperialism. If Kautsky is right about this (to be explored below) this would be highly salient to the liberal tradition's self-understanding. For, by contrast, Lenin and Hobson put rent-seeking elites at the core of their explanations of such imperialism (even if they diverge on the details--with Lenin ((recall; and here) singling out monopoly capitalism as the late stage of capitalism, while Hobson (recall) points to a too limited franchise that facilitates elite rent-seeking). 

Now, characteristically Lenin does not  literally misrepresent Kautsky. But through his omissions one ends up missing the significance of Kautsky's definition of imperialism quoted above. Kautsky's underlying position is this: once post Cobden, industrialized/industrializing European societies embrace free trade and invest in their comparative advantage in industry and through technological innovations escape the Malthusian trap with growing populations (also, as Kautsky explicitly notes, through immigration from agrarian countries), they will start to need to import a growing number of agricultural goods. Under a regional federation or in pacific times, this state of affairs is splendid with all sides gaining from trade. 

But in the context of great power rivalry the effects of such a liberal free trade policy makes one vulnerable to food blockades or other ways in which the need for food imports can be weaponized. (The risks associated with the experience of the blockade of grain shipments from Ukraine's ports this year was all too common during the nineteenth century.) And so, what Lenin treats as Kautsky's definition of imperialism is de facto a description of the effects of free trade on industrialized wealthy states in an imperfect security environment (or a Hobbesian state of nature in international affairs). And so they will try to control agricultural zones in order (and I quote Kautsky's (1914) Ultra-Imperialism) "to force them to restrict themselves entirely to agricultural production."

As hinted above, what's important about Kautsky's approach to imperialism, is that it foregrounds how as liberalism's political fortunes rise -- as it manifestly did in the middle of the 18th century -- with a peak moment the 1860 Cobden–Chevalier Treaty (an Anglo-French free trade agreement, including most favored nation clauses that facilitated more such agreements) -- it generates the seeds for imperialism, absent a wider political settlement. To the best of my knowledge only Kautsky noticed how liberalism's political success generates a dynamic that threatens to become self-undermining. (I don't mean to suggest the lesson wasn't later learned and applied!)

That is to say, domestic liberal economic policies require, once implemented, transnational political responses in order to be managed. And is clear from Lenin's description, Kautsky anticipates this point. I don't mean to suggest Kautsky is the first to notice the need for transnational liberal institutions -- Kant, Mazzini, and others had argued for it --, but rather Kautsky recognizes that such institutions will be needed to solve the political problems that are the effects of embracing free trade.

Here, too, Lenin's approach to Kautsky is literally true, but turns out to be misleading through his omissions. What's key to Kautsky's analysis is not the possibility of international cartels who manage trade in the way Deutsche Bank manages German industry, but rather (and now I quote Kautsky directly), "the result of the World War between the great imperialist powers may be a federation of the strongest, who renounce their arms race." (Recall also here my discussion of Luxemburg's criticism of Kautsky; and especially here where I discuss Kautsky's 1911 proposals). Such a federation would also turn the zero-sum political environment into a context in which the gains from trade would generate mutual prosperity and security. 

And in so far as international institutions like the IMF and World Bank act as 'cartels' for capital/finance, then these, too, serve the same interest. Either way, from a liberal perspective Kautsky points the way toward the future, and turns out to be quite prescient and even helps explain why the internal contradictions of capitalism have not been the ultimate undoing of liberalism, so far.*