Part V. Saving, Investment, Greed, and Original Accumulation Do Not Explain Growth

Of course, if you think up a waterpower-driven spinning machine, as both the Chinese and the British did, you need some thrifty savings somehow accumulated to bring the thought to fruition. But another of the discoveries of the 1960s by economic historians was that the savings required in England’s heroic age of mechanization were modest indeed, nothing like the eventually massive offspring of the “original accumulation of capital” that Marxist theory posits. Early cotton factories were not capital-intensive. Even in the 1830s, as François Crouzet noted, the percentage of all capital “sunk into fixed assets. . . was indeed small (25 percent, 20percent or less) even in the most ‘capital intensive’ firms.” ⁵⁸ The source of the industrial investment required was short-term loans from merchants for inventories and longer-term loans from relatives-not savings ripped in great chunks from other parts of the economy. Such chunk-ripping “capitalism” awaited the Railway Age.

The marxisant analysis is that what happened earlier was the original accumulation of capital. The original or primitive accumulation was according to Marx the seed corn, so to speak, or better the starter in the sourdough, in the growth of capital. We’re back to thrift or savings, not by historical fact but by blackboard logic. “The whole movement,” Marx reasoned, “seems to turn on a vicious circle, out of which we can only get by supposing a primitive accumulation, . . . an accumulation not the result of the capitalist mode of production, but its starting point.” ⁵⁹ The reasoning sounds plausible. It appeals, like Malthusian predictions of limits, to a mathematics. But it didn’t happen. As the economic historian Alexander Gerschenkron put it in 1957, with characteristic sarcasm, the primitive or original starting point is “an accumulation of capital continuing over long historical periods-over several centuries-until one day the tocsin of the Industrial Revolution was to summon it to the battlefields of factory construction.” ⁶⁰

Marx’s notion in Capital was that an original accumulation was a sine qua non, and had nothing to do with “that queer saint . . . of the woeful countenance, the capitalist ‘abstainer’.” There was no saintliness about it. The original accumulation was necessary (Marx averred) because masses of savings were necessary, and “conquest, enslavement, robbery, murder, briefly, force, play the greater part.” ⁶¹ He instanced enclosure in England during the sixteenth century (which has been overturned by historical findings that such enclosure was economically minor) and in the eighteenth (which has been overturned by findings that the labor driven off the land by enclosure was a tiny source of the industrial proletariat, and enclosure happened then mainly in the south and east where in fact little of the new sort of industrialization was going on). ⁶² He gave a large part then to regulation of wages in creating a proletariat for the first time in the sixteenth century (which has been overturned by findings that nearly half of the labor force in England as early as the thirteenth century already worked for wages; and that attempts to control the labor market did not work). ⁶³ And then to the slave trade: “Liverpool waxed fat on the slave-trade. This was its method of primitive accumulation” (which has been overturned by findings that the alleged profits were no massive fund). ⁶⁴ Later writers have proposed as the source of the original accumulation the exploitation by the core of the periphery (Poland, the New World). ⁶⁵ Or the influx of gold and silver from the New World-strange as it is then that imperial Iberia did not industrialize. Or the exploitation of workers themselves during the Industrial Revolution, out of sequence. Or other loot from imperialisms old and new, too small to matter much, and also too late. Or, following on Marx and Engels’ assertion in the Manifesto, even seventeenth-century piracy, tiny impositions on the flow of Spanish treasure by Sephardim venturing from Jamaica and runaway slaves from Hispaniola. ⁶⁶

None of these, it has been found, makes very much historical sense. If they happened at all, they are too small to explain what is to be explained. Such historical findings are in truth not very surprising. After all, conquest, enslavement, robbery, murder-briefly, violence-has characterized the sad annals of humankind since Cain and Abel. Why did not earlier and even more thorough expropriations result in an industrial revolution and a factor of sixteen or twenty or one-hundred in the widened scope of the average Briton or American or Taiwanese? Something besides thrifty self-discipline or violent expropriation must have been at work in northwestern Europe and its offshoots in the eighteenth century and later. Self-discipline and expropriation have been too common in human history to explain a Revolution gathering force in Europe around 1800.

And as a practical matter a pile of physical capital financed from, say, Piet Heyn’s seizure of the Spanish treasure fleet in 1628 would by the year 1800 melt away to nothing. It does not accumulate. It depreciates. And as Gerschenkron noted, “why should a long period of capital accumulation precede the period of rapid industrialization? Why is not the capital as it is being accumulated also invested in industrial ventures?” ⁶⁷ Why not indeed. In the story of original accumulation the clever capitalists are supposed to let their capital lie idle for centuries until the “tocsin” sounds.

People seem to be mixing up financial wealth and real wealth. Financial wealth in a bank account is merely a paper claim to the society’s real wealth by this person against that person. The society’s real wealth itself, on the other, is a house or ship or education. From the point of view of the society as a whole the real wealth is what’s needed for real investment, not paper claims or gold coins. The paper claims are merely ways of keeping track of who owns the returns to the capital. They are not the real capital itself. You can’t build a factory with pound notes, or dig a canal with bank accounts. You need bricks and wheelbarrows, and people skilled to wield them. Mere financing or ownership can hardly be the crux, or else the Catholic Church in 1300, with its dominate command of tokens of wealth, would have created an industrial society. Or the Philips II, III, and IV of Spain-who after all were the principal beneficiaries of the treasure fleets the English and Dutch privateers preyed upon-would have financed industrial revolutions in Bilboa and Barcelona instead of obstructing them.

Any original accumulation supposed to be useful to any real industrialization must be available in real things. But as the Koran says, “what you possess [in real, physical things] will pass, but what is with God will abide” (16:96). “These lovely [earthly] things,” wrote St. Augustine, “go their way and are no more. . . . In them is no repose, because they do not abide.” ⁸ A real house made in 1628 out of Piet’s profit from robbing Spain would be tumbled down by 1800, unless in the meantime its occupants had continued to invest in it. A real educated person of 1628 would be long dead, a real machine would be obsolete, a real book would be eaten by worms. The force of depreciation makes an original accumulation spontaneously disappear.

This is not to say, note well again, that conquest, enslavement, robbery, and murder play no part in European history. A Panglossian assumption that contract, not violence, explains, say, the relation between lord and peasant defaces the recent work on “new” institutionalism, such as that of Douglass North. ⁶⁹ Yet, pace Marx, modern economic growth did not and does not and cannot depend on the scraps to be gained by stealing from poor people. It is not a good business plan: it never has been, or else industrialization would have happened when Pharaoh stole labor from the Hebrew slaves. Stealing from poor people, when you think about it, could hardly explain enrichment by a factor of sixteen, not speak of one hundred. Would you do so well by robbing the homeless people in your neighborhood, or by breaking into the home of the average factory worker? Would grabbing stuff from the poor of the world enrich the average person in the world, including those poor victims themselves, by a factor of ten since 1800? Does it strike you as plausible that British national income depended on stealing from an impoverished India? If so, you will need to explain why real income per head in Britain went up sharply in the decade after Britain “lost” India, and so too for all the imperial powers after 1945: France, Holland, Belgium, and at length even Portugal.

Modern economic growth has not depended on saving, and therefore has not depended on stealing to get the saving, or any other form of original accumulation, even the peaceful practice of the knights of the woeful countenance abstaining from consumption. Turgot and Smith and Mill and Marx and the new growth theorists among the economists, all of whom emphasize capital accumulation, get the story quite wrong. That the oldsters got it so wrong is unsurprisingly considering the stately pace at which the economies they were looking at were improving, at least by contrast with the frenetic pace after 1848 and especially after 1948, and most especially after 1978. (The youngsters of the new growth theories have no such excuse; they should have learned by now that modern economic growth is unique.) The early economists had a notion of modest modernization to the level of, say, the prosperous Netherlands in 1776, easily achievable by peace and routine investment, not a transformation to a level of suburban America in 2010, achievable only by a rate of innovation each year such as had never happened before. “All the authors [who] followed the Turgot-Smith line,” wrote Schumpeter as the frenzy was becoming apparent, “[were] at fault in believing that thrift was the all-important [causal] factor.” ⁷⁰ Most savings for innovation, Schumpeter had noted twenty years earlier, “does not come from thrift in the strict sense, that is from abstaining from consumption. . . but [from] funds which are themselves the result of successful innovation” (in the language of accounting, “retained earnings”).⁷¹ The money for the few massive and capital-intensive innovations such as railways, he argues, comes from banks using “money creation.” (The mysterious phrase “money creation” means simply the loans beyond the gold or dollars in their vaults that venturing bankers can make, on the hopeful supposition that not everyone will want their gold or dollars back at the same time. In a word, it is credit.)

But Schumpeter did not fully appreciate that even in the twentieth century of wide markets and big laboratories a company can expand without massive loans, rather in the way that the first innovations of the Industrial Revolution relied on retained earnings, trade credit, and modest loans from cousins and scriveners and solicitors. The big public offerings required 1840-1940 by capital-intensive industries such as railways, steel, chemicals, automobiles, electricity generation, and oil exploration and refining were unique. Economics as a science grew up in the Age of Capital (as the historian Eric Hobsbawm called it). Naturally the economists such as Mill or Marx or Marshall became obsessed with physical accumulation. But as Hobsbawm and other historical materialists who have long lamented the dominion of capital do not sufficiently appreciate (though employed in the industry supplying education), 1840-1940 became an age increasingly of human capital. By now in rich countries the returns to human capital account for a much higher share of national income than do the returns to the land and especially to the machinery that so exercised the very first generation of economic historians-Marx, Arnold Toynbee (uncle of the historian of universal history), and their contemporaries.

But human capital without the Revaluation of bourgeois innovation would have piled up merely another item in the Age of Capital, and would now give no persuasive explanation of enrichment. The economic historian David Mitch, the doyen of the educational historians of Britain, has shown that education of the masses played a small role in the early stages of the Industrial Revolution. “England, during its Industrial Revolution 1780 to 1840, experienced a notable acceleration in economic growth yet displayed little evidence of improvement in the educational attainments of its workforce.” ⁷² Granted, a wholly illiterate country could hardly have taken advantage of the steam engine in the way the British did. Mitch makes the point with a hilarious counterfactual (intentional hilarity being not all that common in economic history) in which he imagines switching the populations of Britain and the Eskimo far north. ⁷³

By contrast, Richard Easterlin has answered the question “Why isn’t the whole world developed?” by pointing to “the extent of [a] population’s formal schooling.” The difference between the two writers can be explained by the periods that Mitch and Easterlin are studying. Lately human capital has become indubitably important. But around 1840 it’s hard to make the case that it was important for coal miners or cotton mill workers. Easterlin points out that the spread of technology is personal, in just the sense that the chemist and philosopher Michael Polanyi used the word in his book Personal Knowledge (1958), and quotes the economist Kenneth Arrow: “it seems to be personal contact that is most relevant in leading to. . . adoption” of a technique. ⁷⁴ Technical knowledge is largely tacit, non-write-downable, and requires people quick on the uptake. Quickness of uptake-most relevant to recent years in which the technology to be taken up is so ample-can be encouraged by literacy.

But it can also be discouraged by literacy, leading to a rote-learning bureaucracy hostile to innovation. And if by itself teaching many more people to read was good for the economy, as it surely has been recently, it must be explained why Greek potters around 600 B.C.E. signing their amphora did not come to use water power to run their wheels and thence to ride on railways to Delphi behind puffing locomotive. And if not in 600 B.C.E, then why not later in the long history of the unusually literate Greeks? Easterlin in fact agrees, noting that high educational attainment in Spain early on was offset by the rigid (and anti-bourgeois) control by the post-Reformation Church. ⁷⁵

Education can make people free without making them rich. The historian George Huppert has told of the invention of widespread education in Europe from the sixteenth-century on. ⁷⁶ The secular “grammar” schools prepared young men for careers in the clerisy, such as Huppert’s hero the naturalist Pierre Belon (1517 1564), or Pierre Ramus (1515-1572), the Huguenot reformer and underminer of the medieval rhetorical tradition. The mushrooming merchant academies had a more practical curriculum than the grammar schools, seeking bourgeois and thrifty ways of making and doing things. In France especially, Huppert argues, education down to the level of village schools for peasants became a passion in the sixteenth century, and a worry for the Church: “even in the smallest towns of the kingdom,” a priest wrote, “merchants and even peasants find ways of getting their children to abandon trade and farming in favor of the professions.” ⁷⁷

Yet education without the new bourgeois rhetoric is merely a desirable human ornament, not the way to human riches. It makes for a clerisy that may in fact be hostile to bourgeois values, and very willing to become serviceable to the anti-economic projects of the emperor or the lord bishop. “For two centuries,” wrote Mill in 1845, “the Scottish peasant, compared with the same class in other situations, has been a reflecting, an observing, and therefore naturally a self-governing, a moral, and a successful human being-because he has been a reading and a discussing one; and this he owes, above all other causes, to the parish schools. What during the same period have the English peasantry been?” ⁷⁸ Yet the superior education, right up to the notable superiority of Scottish and German over English and French universities in the eighteenth century, did not make Scottish or German economic growth superior to English, or for that matter French. Education proved to be of little use without the liberal rhetoric that made innovation possible.

The economic historian Lars Sandberg spoke of Sweden as “the impoverished sophisticate”: in 1800, though among the poorest countries in Europe, Swedes read at least the Good Book, because Luther had demanded it, and indeed Sweden boasted in Uppsala one of the oldest universities in Europe. In the late nineteenth and especially in the twentieth century Sweden could take advantage of its literacy, and there is no doubt that education does matter mightily to its standing now as one of the richest countries in the world. ⁷⁹ But without a liberalized attitude towards innovation, such sophisticates would have kept their country impoverished. The educated Chinese elite did. The educated Spanish elite did. The Afrikaners during the nineteenth century were, as Calvinists, supposed to become literate enough to read the Bible. Many in fact didn’t, until the reforms of Afrikaner education after 1900, which was accompanied by a self-conscious attempt to adopt pro-innovation views formerly disdained. ⁸⁰

The truth remains that education by itself does not yield much. Cubans nowadays go to school, if strictly limited in what they are permitted to read (a bookstore in Havana has the usual books on technical subjects like engineering; but in history or the social sciences it has nothing beyond the Marxist-Leninist orthodoxy). Yet Cubans cannot start a restaurant or take their farm produce to markets, and so they remain cripplingly poor because they are disabled from exercising bourgeois virtues-in sharp contrast to their cousins in Miami. Cuba’s income per head by 2001 was still about what it had been in 1958, while all around it since the Revolution income per head had almost doubled. ⁸¹ You will say, “But Cubans as you admit are educated, and well cared for in their hospitals.” Yet so they were before 1959, too, by the standards of those days. And yet they fled after 1959 to Miami. The sociologists Victor Nee and Richard Swedberg note that in recent decades China, which had ruined its educational system in the Great Leap Forward, has grown vigorously, while Russia, which led the world in education during the communist period, and which in some ways still does, yet is notably lacking in the toleration for bourgeois innovation that China has developed, did not grow except when oil prices were high. ⁸² Specialize in ping pong and sending professors to re-education camps, like the Chinese, and prosper. Win chess matches and lead the world in certain fields of mathematics, like the Russians, and stagnate.

“Capitalist production,” Marx declared, “presupposes the pre-existence of considerable masses of capital.” ⁸³ No it doesn’t. A modest stream of withheld profits will pay for repairing the machines and acquiring new ones, especially the uncomplicated machines of 1760, and now again the complicated but capital-cheap machines of the computer age. In 1760 the most complicated European “machine” in existence was a first-rate ship of the line, itself continuously under repair. Even then Chinese junks were better ships, with such innovations as watertight compartments to prevent sinking, and in their heyday they were gigantically larger than European sailing ships-in the fifteenth century 600 feet in length, as again the pathetic 98 feet of Columbus’ Santa Maria. But the “Ming Ban” on ocean-going trade after 1433 effectively stopped the building and use of big ships for the very long-distance trade in which the Europeans a little later came to delight. Had the Emperor and his successors continued the (highly unprofitable) trade beyond southeast Asia and India, and had Europe not come to admire bourgeois life and innovation, by now all of North and South America, and much of Africa, would be speaking Chinese, and wondering why the Europeans had been slow to industrialize. And so far as the origin of capitalist production is concerned, the “masses” of capital could be in 1760 modest in magnitude-again the starter in sourdough bread-and could come from small change anywhere, not only from some great original sin of primitive accumulation.

The conviction that innovation was born in sin, though, has proven hard to shake. It gets its staying power from guilt meeting zero sum. We are rich. Surely we got so by stealing. As the Master himself put it, “primitive accumulation plays in Political Economy about the same part as original sin in theology.” ⁸⁴ Most intellectuals, who do not grasp the productivity of cooperation in markets or especially the productivity of creative destruction, take such illogic as a known fact. The historian Louis Dupré pauses in his recent survey of the French Enlightenment to gesture towards the quite different Enlightenment going on in Scotland at the time. He commends Smith for “a genuine concern for the fate of the workers,” but then asserts as though we all know it to be true that “an unrestricted market economy could not but render their lot very harsh, especially during the early period of industrial innovation when accumulation of capital was largely to be earned at their expense.” ⁸⁵ Not surprisingly, Dupré offers no evidence for such an obvious truth. It is part of our intellectual upbringing, not something requiring evidence-that accumulation is the key to growth and that accumulation depends on the sacrifice of workers. Thus Sellar and Yeatman in their spoof of English history, 1066 and All That (1931), describe “the Industrial Revelation” as the most memorable of the discoveries made around 1800, namely, “the discovery (made by all the rich men in England at once) that women and children could work for 25 hours a day in factories without many of them dying or becoming excessively deformed.” ⁸⁶ Most educated people believe such a history is approximately correct, and credit Charles Dickens as an accurate reporter on industrialization. Dickens seldom ventured north of London, knew nothing of industrialization, and spoke instead of poverty of a traditional sort in London itself, which he viewed from a perch in the bourgeoisie. The claim that immiserization is inevitable, a God-given equilibrium short of the Second Coming, arises from Malthus in 1798, reaffirmed by The Communist Manifesto in 1848, and comes more deeply from a Christian embarrassment of riches.

But economic historians have shown original accumulation to be mistaken on both counts. Accumulation was not the key, and sacrificing the workers was not how the accumulation that did happen was achieved. Workers in industrial areas of Britain were to be sure wretchedly poor. But so were Dickens’ London poor. And so was every ordinary person in the world in those times before the greater day of the bourgeoisie and invention and innovation-all of our ancestors lived on that miserable $3.00. True, children worked. But they always had, and late-nineteenth century industrialization reduced rather than increased their number picking coal or retying broken yarn. Factory work was seen by the children themselves as better than farm work. ⁸⁷ Wages rose relatively in the industrial areas of England or Scotland or Belgium, despite a rising population overall and the weight of the Napoleonic struggle. The coal miners and cotton mill workers were notably better off than their country cousins, which is why the industrial workers left the farms in the first place. Innovation, as many have noted since Friedrich Hayek and Max Hartwell and Thomas Ashton spoke out in the 1950s against the Fabian socialist version of British history, was not born in a sin of expropriation. ⁸⁸

What did not happen in any case, I’ve noted, was a big rise in European thrift. Nothing much changed from 1348-1700 or from 1700 to 1848 in the actual circumstances of thriftiness. And the modest changes did not matter much. Individual Dutch and English speaking people who initiated the modern world did often practice personal thrift-or often did not; as they still do, or do not. Look at your improvident cousin with a $20,000 of credit-card debt, or on the other side your miserly neighbor. And changes in aggregate rates of saving drove nothing of consequence. No unusual Weberian ethic of high thriftiness or Marxian anti-ethic of forceful expropriation started economic growth. East Anglian Puritans learned from their Dutch neighbors and co-religionists how to be thrifty in order to be godly, to work hard in order, as John Winthrop put it, “to entertain each other in brotherly affection.” ⁸⁹ That’s lovely, but it’s not what caused industrialization-as indeed one can see from the delay of modern (as against early-modern) industrialization even in the Protestant and prosperous parts of the Low Countries, or for that matter in East Anglia.

The habits of thriftiness and luxury and profit, and the routines of exploitation, are humanly ordinary, and largely unchanging. A surprising support for such a point comes from a follower of Karl Polanyi: “There are always and everywhere potential surpluses available. What counts is the institutional means for bringing them to life. . . . for calling forth the special effort, setting aside the extra amount, dividing the surplus.” ⁹⁰ As the theologian and social observer Michael Novak puts it, “Weber stressed asceticism and grind; the heart of the system is actually creativity.” ⁹¹ That’s what was new. Modern economic growth depends on applied innovation in crafting gadgets (organizational and intellectual gadgets such as law partnerships and the calculus as much as physical ones), what the philosopher Whitehead called the invention of invention. The invention of invention appears in turn to depend on bourgeois dignity and liberty-at any rate when the ingenious gadgets were first invented, not merely borrowed, as later the USSR and the People’s Republic of China were able to do (though sluggishly when under central planning). “We doubt not,” wrote a pamphleteer against machine-breaking in 1675, “but innovation will find encouragement in England.” ⁹² And so it did.

There are many tales told about the pre-history of thrift. The central tales are Marxist or Weberian or now growth-theory-ish. They are misled. Accumulation has not been the heart of modern economic growth, or of the change from the medieval to the early-modern economy, or from the early-modern to the fully modern economy. It has been a necessary medium, but easily supplied, like Shakespeare’s alphabet. The substance has been innovation. If you personally wish to grow a little rich, by all means be thrifty, and thereby accumulate for retirement. But a much better bet is to have a good idea and be the first to invest in it. And if you wish your society to be rich you should urge an acceptance of creative destruction and an honoring of wealth obtained honestly by innovation. You should not urge thrift, not much. (Nor should you recommend sheer wealth acquired by stealing, such as the program of making a “middle class” in certain African countries by enriching the state bureaucrats in the main cities at the expense of farmers. ⁹³ ) You should work for your society to be free, and thereby open to new ideas, and thereby educable and ingenious. You should try to persuade people to admire properly balanced bourgeois virtues, without worshipping them. Your society will thereby become very, very rich. American society nowadays is notably unthrifty. The fact is much lamented by modern puritans left and right. But because the United States accepts innovation and because it honors Warren Buffett, it will continue to be rich, in frozen pizzas and in artistic creativity and in scope for the average person.

“Thrift” has been much praised in American civic theology. “Work hard, follow the rules,” say the American politicians: “Anyone can achieve the American Dream.” No, sadly, they cannot. But like many other of the sacred words, such as “democracy” or “equality” or “opportunity” or “progress,” the rhetoric of thrift and hard work and following the rules turns out to be more weighty than its material force. Time for the old tale of thriftiness to be retired, and a new history of innovation to replace it.

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58. [back] Crouzet 1985, p. 9.
59. [back] Marx 1867, p. 784.
60. [back] Gerschenkron 1957 (1962), p. 33.
61. [back] Marx 1867, p. 785.
62. [back] McCloskey 1975a, and works cited there.
63. [back] Postan 1966, p. 622, that "in order to subsist an average smallholder [more than one half of the population in a sample of 104 manors in southern England] had to supplement his income in other ways." Postan was not optimistic that all would get wage work, but from the hiring side he inferred that many did (p. 623).
64. [back] Marx 1867, p. 833.
65. [back] Wallerstein 1974.
66. [back] Kritzler 2008.
67. [back] Gerschenkron 1957 (1962), p. 34.
68. [back] Augustine, Confessions, 398 AD, IV, x.
69. [back] See Ogilvie's devastating empirical inquiry Ogilvie, 2004 into such Panglossian hypotheses.
70. [back] Schumpeter 1954, p. 572n2.
71. [back] Schumpeter 1926 [1934], p. 72.
72. [back] Mitch 2003, p. 6; and Mitch 1992, 1999, 2003, 2004. Compare West 1978.
73. [back] Mitch 2004, p. 6.
74. [back] Arrow 1969, quoted in Easterlin 2004, p. 61.
75. [back] Easterlin 2004, pp. 67-68.
76. [back] Huppert 1977, 1999.
77. [back] Huppert 1999, p. 100.
78. [back] Mill 1845.
79. [back] Sandberg 1979.
80. [back] Gilomee 2003, pp. 210-212, 319, 371, 405-406. Olive Schreiner wrote a novel about Afrikaner farm life in the 1860s. Her character the Afrikaner Tant' [Aunt] Sannie declares, "Didn't the minister tell me when I was confirmed not to read any book except my Bible and hymn-book, that the Devil was in all the rest?" (Schreiner 1883, p. 113). There was some doubt that Tant' Sannie could read much even of these.
81. [back] Maddison 2006, p. 525.
82. [back] Nee and Swedberg 2007, p. 3.
83. [back] Marx 1867, p. 794.
84. [back] Marx 1867, Chp. xxvi, p. 784.
85. [back] Dupré 2004, p. 178.
86. [back] Sellar and Yeatman 1931, p. 92-93.
87. [back] Honeyman 2007.
88. [back] Hayek, ed. 1954; Hartwell 1961; for the pessimistic case, see Hobsbawm 1957.
89. [back] Winthrop quoted in Innes, "Puritanism and Capitalism," 1994, p. 106.
90. [back] Pearson, p. 339, quoted in Hirschman 1958 (1988), p. 5n11.
91. [back] Novak 2007, p. 227.
92. [back] Earle 1989, p. 337, quoting in turn Wadsworth and Mann 1931, p. 103.
93. [back] Schultz 1964 and Bates 1981.

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