Capitalism, Socialism and other terms to be avoided

Capitalism is a term coined, or at least popularised, by the enemies of the system they labelled capitalism. It was understood from the start to have a pejorative connotation and the term’s use is still dominated by that pejorative connotation. Despite the efforts of supporters of capitalism-so-labelled to reclaim capitalism as a positive, or at least neutral, label; particularly based on historical experience.

One should always be wary of any term where the pejorative element built in. Even if you somehow do not let the pejorative element infect your own thought, it is going to be there in the mind of many, often most, readers.

Socialism is a term coined, or at least popularised, by the proponents of the system they labelled socialism. It was understood from the start to have a positive, indeed overwhelmingly positive, connotation and its use is still dominated in many quarters by that positive connotation. This despite the efforts of the opponents of “socialism” to give it thoroughly negative connotations, particularly based on historical experience.

Capitalism has at least has some vague consensus on what the term means. Socialism does not even have that, as recent American politics has demonstrated, thanks to the attempts of Sen. Bernie Sanders, self-proclaimed socialist, to win the Democratic Party nomination for President of the United States.

Capitalism has some vague consensus regarding what the term means because almost everyone agrees that there is currently, and has been, a lot of it. Apart from some labelling of command economies as state capitalism, there is a general consensus that we more or less know capitalism when we see it.

There is no such consensus around socialism, mainly because socialists typically want to dissociate the term from every command economy that has ever operated, or patent embarrassments such as Venezuela. Conversely, the enemies of socialism what to hang every command economy that has ever operated, and embarrassments such as Venezuela, on any use of socialism.

If socialism has never been “really” tried, then it can never have failed. Or if there is this new form or conception of socialism that has never been tried, then clearly it has nothing to do with any command economy that has ever operated, or any embarrassment such as Venezuela.

Of course, one might suspect that this attempt to constantly separate socialism from history might be a bit of a warning sign. Especially if folk want to play the game of comparing the ideal of socialism (carefully separated from history) with the practice of capitalism (often using carefully edited, selected or re-construed bits of history).

For me, there is a simple solution. Avoid, as much as possible, using either term. Then you can at least aspire to some analytical rigour.

Other possibilities

That does not remotely foreclose considering new social possibilities. It just means trying to do so with some analytical precision without dragging along the deadweight of fraught ideological conflicts.

Moreover, contemplating the social possibilities that do not seem to be much explored can be a very useful exercise. To consider the dogs that don’t bark in the night.

If not separating workers from the product of their labour, or simply having the workers in charge, is such a fine thing, one might think that would be entirely possible to set up worker-controlled companies. Then the non-alienated, self-controlled workers might be expected to produce so well that they can outcompete capital-owned firms in the market place.

Of course, if your notion of alienation covers any attempt to produce for exchange, then even in a worker-controlled firm workers will be alienated from their labour. Of course, not producing for exchange then reduces Homo sapiens to the economic level of every other species on the planet. One might consider the possibility that producing for exchange permits the scaling up of production and consumption far more extensively or efficiently than any other way of dealing with the issues of subsistence and surplus. So, perhaps giving up an advantage that may predate our emergence as a species is not a good move.

Let’s assume that something we have been doing for maybe 320,000 years or so (and certainly for 200,000 years), exchanging things we have produced, is not some alienating disaster, and go with worker control is good. Worker-controlled firms is still an entirely possible option. So, why don’t we see far more of such?

What is a firm? A firm is a mechanism for lowering transaction costs and dealing with risk. Do we want to dump risk on to labour or on to capital? Surely, on to capital. So, a labour-controlled firm is going to make the decisions, and is going to need capital, but will also want to dump the risk onto the holders of capital.

So, which firms are going to operate better? Those where control ultimately rests with those who have to deal with the risks or those where control ultimately rests with those who get to systematically dump risk on to others?

Clearly the former. The owners of a capital-owned firm get the residual income from the firm because they also cover the residual losses from the firms.

Moreover, when we say “worker controlled”, which workers? The original workers presumably. But what if you want to hire new staff, do they get the same control rights? Suppose the firm has too many workers, it needs to lay off staff, how do you decide that? What are the dynamics of a group of workers who every so often may have to vote on who gets to be ejected from the firm?

Capital-owned firms solve these problems by essentially having a market in control. The more you are willing to buy in, the more control you have. If you want to leave, you sell your control rights. Decisions about hiring and firing are left with those who are managing the firm. (And firms with mechanisms for workers to become shareholders are still capital-owned firms.)

What about coordination issues as a worker-controlled firm gets bigger?

At this point, we can see why the somewhat Darwinian selection processes of markets select for capital-owned firms and not worker-controlled ones. It is not that worker-controlled firms are illegal, it is that they represent a risk-and-decision profile that no one (including workers) are likely to invest in. The closest we get are partnerships, and they represent human-capital firms, not worker-control.

And about the state

Consider again the question: which firms are going to operate better? Those where control ultimately rests with those who have to deal with the risks or those where control ultimately rests with those who get to dump the risk on to others? Here’s something to conjure with. Is not: a structure where control ultimately rests with those who get to dump the risk on to others, a pretty good description of the state?

People (often with good reason) complain about the socialisation of losses and the privatisation of profits. But that is precisely what an awful lot of state politics is about. Shifting benefits to one group and costs, including risks, to another because the coercive power of the state makes that a game that can be played (and is obviously one with significant potential pay-offs). When one sees risks being shifted from capital to labour, there is generally some state action underlying it.

This is why the term state capitalism has a little bit of purchase behind it. If you squint just right.

In a command economy, the state owns all (or almost all) the capital. So, in a command economy, risk regularly gets dumped by the capital-owning state on to labour. Including risks of mass starvation or environmental degradation. But that is not because capital owns the state, but because the state owns the capital.

Lenin, Stalin, Mao, etc. did not control the state due to their ownership of capital, they controlled the creation and use of capital due to their control of the state. To call such capitalist or capitalism is to get the causal drivers entirely the wrong way around.

So, yes, it is significant that state owns the capital in a command economy. It affects its patterns of behaviour and means there is no significant non-state control of surplus, so no significant basis of institutional resistance to the power of (those who control) the state. But the capital is entirely subordinate to the state. So, the society is not capitalist.

And we are back with avoiding the use of terms so weighed down with emotionally-laden connotations. Because, without those connotations, there would be no incentive to so badly mis-characterise the relevant social, political and economic dynamics.

Firms, Cities, States: who has open borders and why?

This is based on a comment I made here.

Econblogger Robin Hanson notes that firms and cities have open borders and argues that:

So if nations act differently from firms and cities, that should be because either:
1) there are big important effects that are quite different at the national level, than at firm and city levels, or
2) nations are failing to adopt policies that competition would induce, if they faced more competition.
My bet is on the latter.

This comparison is more complicated than it at first appears, but still (it turns out) revealing, if you consider how state behaviour has changed over time.

Firms (at least as employment entities) have highly controlled borders--they have to hire you, you can be fired. They also have expansionary tendencies and can operate across jurisdictions. That is not really open borders as such. Indeed, the harder it is to fire people, the more cautious they tend to be about who they hire (i.e. "let in"). You can buy your way in to a firm as a shareholder, but then you become a risk guarantor. It is a particular form of commercial exchange to which you commit capital.

Cities are ambiguous between jurisdictional entities, which are generally not allowed to control movement of people across their borders, or as some (territorially contiguous) level of density of population, in which case it is not clear exactly what one means by "borders" and who would "control" them.

Source.

City governments do tend to control land use, often in considerable detail, and that has sometimes been used to block the residence of certain groups (pdf). Politicians such as James Michael Curley and Coleman Young have used city policies to drive away folk in order to make their own ethnicity dominant, what economists Edward Glaeser and Andrei Shleifer called the Curley Effect (pdf). The returns to controlling land use are much higher than any returns to controlling population movement as such, so there seems no reason for cities to demand the right to their own border control from states that are not likely to grant it.

States are the only one of the three (firms, cities and states) with hard territorial borders. That is, borders that are policed, that separate entire legal systems, that have no overlapping political authority. (Obviously, some arrangements, such as the European Union, pool a certain amount of sovereignty, but they are exceptional to the normal pattern.)

Leaving aside labour bondage systems (serfdom, slavery, Communism) which, by their nature, have to control exit-movement, states have historically not sought to control inward movement. Indeed, attracting more people meant more tax payers. 

What states have had strong controls over is who gets to control the state. Historically, that has been bitterly defended. It is conspicuous that border controls over inward movement start happening when states start acquiring broad electorates. In particular, working class voters have tended to be strong supporters of various forms of border control. Indeed, generally they still are.

Ceuta border fence.

So, the question is not "why do states control borders?" in the sense of movement across borders, because historically many have not, but "why do working class voters support border control?". That is not a hard question to answer. Especially when the vote is their only significant political leverage and they are the group (unlike migrants and holders of land and capital) who do not gain significantly from migration, indeed, can be net losers from migration, and who are much more reliant than more educated voters on local networks for support and risk management that can easily be disrupted by migration.

So, once we have worked through the what do you mean by borders? question, yes it is about competition pressures and how much capacity working class voters have to push back. But it is the comparison with state behaviour over the long run that is the most revealing, not the comparison with firms and cities.


[Cross posted at Skepticlawyer.]

Giving more power to entropy in its endless war against order

Merit and competence is often hard to measure. Give a bureaucracy some simpler metric (say, diversity points) and it will grasp it with all its tentacles. The resulting "boiling frog" decline in competence is too slow and removed to override the ease and short-term benefit of the simpler metric. Until the crash, or crashes even. (Another triumph of entropy over order.)

When progressives take over an institution, there is a strong tendency for the institution to slowly decline. First, because progressives typically do not take the problems of achieving and maintaining order seriously. (Hard for them to do so, because that would tend to make them conservatives.)

Second, because they are cognitively intolerant, tending to deem contrary ideas as evil and/or stupid. This creates a double-bubble. A bubble of like-minded people, as they drive away or refuse to hire those who do not ideologically conform (or, at least, appear to do so). A bubble of conformist thought, because contrary ideas are often simply blocked from consideration.

So, when things start to go wrong, they are only really left with doubling down on the original set of presumptions. Which speeds up the decline rather than reverses it. Helped by the fact that the decline often does not contravene their markers of wrongness but doing something effective about it is somewhat likely to.

Iowahawk expresses the above ideas much more pithily.

1. Identify a respected institution.
2. kill it.
3. gut it.
4. wear its carcass as a skin suit, while demanding respect.#lefties

— David Burge (@iowahawkblog) November 10, 2015

This somewhat harrowing description of the experience of teaching in the New York public school system shows what working inside the decline feels like. Basically, progressive ideology (particularly identity politics) + soviet mode of production => bad public schools.

Progressive ideology does, after all, tend to create simple metrics for bureaucracies to follow.

ADDENDA: But increased accountability, openness to innovation and a systematised pragmatic concern with what works can turn schools and school systems around.

Plan or strategy?

In Austrian school economics, and economics influenced by the same, there is often talk of entrepreneurs as making plans. This turns up, for example, in Mark Casson's entrepreneurial theory of the firm (pdf).

As someone who is actually in business, I find the notion of plan somewhat problematic. The business I am a principal of does not make plans in any strong sense, it adopts strategies. It is not about a planned-out sequence of steps, but making decisions about purchases, procedures and communication. Yes, they are aimed at achieving certain outcomes, but in a flexible and operational way.

I suspect the plan usage is something of a holdover from when manufacturing was the dominant mode of private production. Making things does involve a certain amount of planning (and the bigger the thing being made, the more than is true). But, even manufacturing, firms are engaged in commerce, so are about (if they are to be successful) connecting to customers, and you do not control your customers or your competitors. So, the planning of manufacturing is still embedded within commercial strategies.

This is more than a semantic point. Operational strategies are more flexible things than plans. Strategies typically do not regiment decision-making, they coordinate it. The trick is not to target a precise outcome, but to have an outcome within the ambit of success for your commercial strategy. Which procedures such as, for example, just-in-time logistics make easier to achieve.

At a macro level, this makes coordination between commercial strategies somewhat easier. It also makes the entrepreneurial function less like something bureaucratic and more what it is--something very hard to replicate in a highly bureaucratised environment.

Which is my other objection to the plan usage. It does not make clear enough that what goes on in commerce and what goes on in the apparatus of the state tend to be significantly different.

ADDENDA:  The plan usage may also be, as Nick Rowe suggests in a comment, a response to socialist planning claims. In fact, that is more likely.

[Cross-posted at Skepticlawyer.]

An ambiguity in production functions

I had never given much thought to production functions, a standard way for economists to formalise thinking about production, until a rather frustrating discussion with commenter Martin on Scott Sumner's Money Illusion blog provoked me into thinking about them a bit more and I came to realise there is an ambiguity in production functions. Or, at least, an easy way to be misled about them.

The standard production function is the Cobb-Douglas production function:



Where

▪ Y = total production (the monetary value of all goods produced in a year)
▪ L = labor input
▪ K = capital input
▪ A = total factor productivity
α and β are the output elasticities of labor and capital, respectively: values that are constants determined by available technology.

The ambiguity is what do we mean by input? It is easy to think of the input as, for example, machinery (capital) and workers (labour). But that is not true. You can have all the machinery and workers you like, but if they are not actually doing anything, there is no production.

The inputs are the using of the machinery and the labour: the capital and labour services. Measuring total amounts of capital and labour available may tell us something about total production capacity, but they do not tell us anything about actual production. The function itself is about use, not capacity.

And the using of the capital and labour involves all sorts of extra complexities. How efficiently are they being used? How well allocated are they? What incentives to use them efficiently are operating? What information flows are operating? What risks are being generated? How are they being managed? Yes, total factor productivity (A) (aka the Solow residual) is part of the function but, as Wikipedia correctly says, the Solow residual “is a question rather than an answer”.

In running a firm, having the capital and labour is merely the first step. The difficult bits are in directing and managing their effective use. Which is then an iterative process, as capacity is accumulated or dispensed with according to what comes out of said use. Nor, as Yoram Barzel points out, can the boundaries of a firm be captured by a production function. Firms engage in all sorts of activities that are not merely applying labour to capital for some specific output.

One cannot produce something from nothing; but merely having something, merely having capital and labour, does not tell us what is produced, how well and to what value. Hence the failure of “just add capacity” (typically capital) analyses of, and policies for, economic growth.

Production functions are not independent of institutional frameworks, they are deeply and profoundly embedded in them. But if one is misled into thinking production functions are about capacity, rather than use of such capacity, it is easy to be misled about that.

Why have contracts?

This was originally provoked by a question and answer here.


One of the most productive questions ever asked in economics is: “why do firms exist?” Why are not all economic agents sole traders? Alternatively, why is there not one big firm? Why, indeed, do firm structures vary so noticeably across industries?

The question was famously posed by Ronald Coase and he answered it with what became known as transaction costs. (A useful summary and appreciation of his work is here [pdf].) In effect, firms existed to minimise transaction costs: if it is cheaper to do a transaction in-house, then it is. If it is cheaper to do purchase a good or service externally, then it is. Firms are alternatives to coordination by the price mechanism. In a sense, they are areas of the suppression of the price mechanism. (Original article is here [pdf].) This was very productive question because it transformed organisational and institutional analysis -- many subsequent Nobel prices in economics were awarded for work based on use of transaction costs.

But is a firm defined by a transaction costs boundary? Or is it, as Yoram Barzel has argued, defined by the range of the guarantee of the equity capital? By the range across which expenditure to match obligations is guaranteed (and, if the guarantee fails, bankruptcy occurs). Firms then become mechanisms to deal with both risks and transaction costs. It is the intersection of comparative transactions costs and risk coverage that sets the boundary of the firm. Noting that it is existence of a realm where it is beneficial to replace the price mechanism (Coase’s point) that creates the range of expenditures needing the equity guarantee (as identified by Barzel) in the first place.

Coase’s analysis in itself does not explain why firm ownership is purchased and why the owner is the recipient of the residuum (the net income of the firm, whether positive or negative after all expenditures are paid for): adding Barzel’s analysis does. While Barzel's analysis does not identify why there is a range of transactions needing the equity guarantee in the first place (as Coase's analysis does.)

So, why do contracts exist? Why are not all transactions just on-the-spot swaps?

Lots of transactions are, after all. Not only are there spot markets, but retail markets are dominated by such on-the-spot swaps, where prices are free to move between transactions.
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Contracts exist for the same reasons firms exist, to lower transaction costs and manage risks. Contracts structure, and thereby permit, economic interactions that extend beyond a caveat emptor swap on the spot. A contract is any agreed transaction or series of transactions across time. So, any purchase which is not on a caveat emptor basis has some contractual element, as there is an obligation across time. (So even spot markets can have contractual elements.)

This is easiest to see with regard to labour markets. While spot markets for labour have existed, they tend to be relatively rare. Generally, people providing goods and services they do not make or provide themselves need to use labour with some regularity, and labour with specific skill sets and characteristics (such as reliability). A contract offers income to the provider of the labour on the basis of providing particular skill sets and personal characteristics. The promise of future income (to the labour provider) and future use (to the hirer of the labour) gives the hirer of the labour reason to engage in necessary training (even if only in the procedures of the firm) and a reasonable expectation of the labour being available. The hirer can then have a reasonable expectation of providing the goods or services he can then offer to customers.

The point can be extended to any good or service that is a regular part of the production process.

So, contracts exist to manage interactions across time. They are more than simply repeated games (such as one has with a regular customer/purveyor: though these can involve built-up expectations which can become implicit contracts). Contracts structure any interactions where there is a delay between provision and payment. So, ordering a meal in a restaurant is a contract, since you are promising to pay at the end of the meal. Even if payment for an on-the-spot swap is immediate, if a transaction is not caveat emptor there will be some continuing obligations about quality which make the transaction a contract.

In common law, a contract is a matter of offer and acceptance (i.e. mutual assent) and consideration. That is, a contract involves mutual agreement for some benefit (typically, an exchange of benefits). The mere matter of assent and benefit simply makes it a transaction: it is having explicit or implicit operation over time that makes it a contract.

Contracts reduce transaction costs – in particular, you do not have to keep searching for providers, negotiation costs are reduced (particularly if standard contracts, whether customary or statutory, are used) – and they reduce risks: you can act on the basis of reasonable expectations, with means of redress if there is a failure to provide as promised, making planning ahead easier. Since time-range transactions are so common, contracts are ubiquitous in human economies. So much so, that customary contracts evolve to an extent that people are not even conscious of being engaged in an (implicit) contract, as in purchasing a restaurant meal. By creating a structure one that allows transactions that operate across time (that is, loosen the time constraint) a contract also allows much more complex interactions than would otherwise be practical.

Having high levels of social trust and effective contract law enforcement greatly increases the range of transactions that it is reasonable to engage in. The biggest single economic advantage to high levels of social trust may well be the expanded ability to engage in contractual (i.e. time-range) transactions.

While there is some minimal trust element in on-the-spot swaps, there is so little that even black markets can engage in them easily. To engage in time-delay transactions generally requires an enforcement/recourse mechanism. This accounts for much of the overt menace in black markets, since such enforcement have to provided by the purveyor themself. (The rest of the menace and violence comes from the need to privately enforce property rights, making them much more “up for grabs”, and to deter assisting the state to enforce its ban of those transactions.)

So, a contract is a way of reducing transaction costs and managing risks thereby permitting transactions that have some element across time. Which leads rather naturally into the notion of a firm as a nexus of contracts.

Unlike firms, contracts are not generally suppressions of the price mechanism: typically, they are ways of extending its operation – that is, they bring a wider range of possible transactions into the market. What is distinctive about the contracts of a firm is that they provide the basis for alternatives to the price mechanism in coordination and their operation is within the guarantee of the equity capital. Noting that firms are a nexus of contracts does not, of itself, appear to add anything to the combined Coase-Barzel analysis of firms outlined above.

It is more that firms are a particular nexus of contracts. That is, firms and contracts are both ways of reducing transaction costs and managing risks: it is just that a firm uses contracts to create a specific realm of coordination and equity guarantee. Contracts are the mechanism, the firm is a particular conjunction of the use of contracts.