The Chronicle of Higher Education
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Capitalism's Dismal Future
By Paul Mattick

Apart from the patently nonreality-based dissent of its Republican 
members, the Financial Crisis Inquiry Commission could hardly have 
expected the report it issued in January to arouse much 
excitement. After a year and a half of research and the testimony 
of academics and other economic experts, it came up with no more 
than the already conventional wisdom that the economic downturn 
that burst into public view in 2007 might have been avoided, 
having been caused by a combination of lax governmental regulation 
and excessive risk-taking by lenders and borrowers, particularly 
in the housing market. The same conventional wisdom assures us 
that swift government action prevented the Great Recession from 
turning into a full-blown depression, and that the downturn has 
given way to recovery, albeit a "fragile" one. No matter how often 
it is repeated, however, this wisdom remains unconvincing.

Why is the recovery so fragile? Why is unemployment stubbornly 
high? Why are the banks, newly stocked with cash by that swift 
government action, so uninterested in advancing it for business 
expansion? Why is the series of sovereign debt crises in Europe 
echoed in the United States by collapsing state budgets? Why do 
politicians call relentlessly for austerity even while the economy 
remains unable to satisfy the need of millions for housing, health 
care, education, and even food? The bankruptcy of the putative 
science of economics already demonstrated by the failure of 
experts to predict the catastrophe is underlined by their apparent 
inability either to explain what is happening at present or to 
reach consensus on measures to be taken in response.

A remarkable feature of the commentary on today's economic 
troubles is that, despite constant reference to the Great 
Depression of the 1930s, as well as to the many downturns since 
World War II, there has been little mention of the fact that 
business depressions have been a recurrent feature of the 
capitalist economy since the Industrial Revolution. But even the 
briefest attention to history makes recent events appear far from 
unusual. From the early 1800s to the late 1930s, in fact, 
capitalism spent between a third and a half of its history in 
depressions (depending on how they are dated by different 
authorities), which increased steadily in seriousness up to the 
Big One in 1929. It was only the relative shallowness of the 
recessions since World War II that gave rise to the idea that 
capitalism would no longer undergo the ups and downs 
characteristic of its first 150 years as the dominant social form. 
The choice in economic theory seemed to be between the neoliberal 
idea of capitalism as a self-equilibrating system and the 
Keynesian conception of the economy as controllable by government 
manipulation. The inadequacy of both views demonstrated by current 
economic events calls for another look at the long-term dynamic of 
the capitalist system.

Earlier students of what by the later 19th century had come to be 
called the business cycle came to understand it as characteristic 
of a market economy, in which most goods are produced for sale. In 
such an economy, the reason goods and services are produced by 
businesses is to make money; businesses expand and contract, and 
they move from producing one kind of good or service to another, 
in response to the level of profits earned by their investments. 
By the early 20th century, statistical studies (carried out, more 
important, by the American economist Wesley C. Mitchell and the 
National Bureau of Economic Research) demonstrated that the 
alternation of prosperity and depression followed the fluctuations 
of business profitability.

The most elaborately worked-out explanation of those fluctuations, 
Karl Marx's theory of the profit rate, came from so far outside 
the mainstream of economic theory as to be largely ignored by 
students of capitalism, including most on the left. But economic 
history suggests the accuracy of his idea that, while prosperity 
creates conditions for an eventual crisis, the ensuing depression 
makes possible an economic revival, as the lowering of investment 
costs—thanks to bankruptcies, price collapses, the vaporization of 
paper claims to investment income, and the decline of labor costs 
due both to increased unemployment and the improved productivity 
of new machinery—brings higher rates of return on investment, 
producing increased investment and so an expanding economy.

Despite their particular features, the Great Depression and the 
post-1945 revival of the capitalist economy followed, in broad 
outline, the pattern set in previous episodes of economic collapse 
and regeneration. The depression was a long one, and the level of 
physical and economic destruction of capital unusually high 
(especially during the war into which it opened). It is not 
surprising, therefore, that the revival led to a period of 
prosperity, lasting until the mid-1970s, that economists dubbed 
the Golden Age for its length and amplitude. The relative freedom 
from serious downturns during those years was due also to the 
continuation into the post-Depression period of what had come to 
be called Keynesian methods: Government spending as a proportion 
of gross domestic product in the OECD countries increased from 27 
percent in 1950 to 37 percent in 1973. In the United States, as 
the political economist Joyce Kolko noted in 1988, "roughly half 
of all new employment after 1950 was created by state 
expenditures, and a comparable shift occurred in the other OECD 
nations."

Keynes's idea had been that governments would borrow money in 
times of depression to get the economy moving again; when national 
income expanded in response, it could then be harmlessly taxed to 
pay back the debt. In reality, crisis management turned into a 
permanent state-private "mixed economy." When the Golden Age came 
to a definitive end in the mid-1970s, the huge increase in 
government spending that avoided a return to depression conditions 
then was another step on the way to today's increasingly 
problematic deficits. The very reason for the increase in 
government spending—insufficient profits—made it impossible to pay 
off the resulting state debt.

Meanwhile, government debt was joined by soaring amounts of 
corporate and private debt, making possible the apparent 
prosperity of the last two decades. Promises to pay sometime in 
the future took the place of the money the slowing capitalist 
economy failed to generate. Since governments, businesses, and, to 
an ever-increasing degree, individuals used borrowed funds to 
purchase goods and services, public, corporate, and household debt 
appeared on bank and other business balance sheets as profits. But 
the repayment of debt requires money made by the profitable 
production and sale of goods and services. And, as the UCLA 
history professor Robert Brenner observes:

"Between 1973 and the present, economic performance in the U.S, 
western Europe, and Japan has, by every standard macroeconomic 
indicator, deteriorated, business cycle by business cycle, decade 
by decade (with the exception of the second half of the 1990s). 
Equally telling, over the same period, capital investment on a 
world scale, and in every region besides China, even including the 
East Asian [newly industrialized countries] since the middle 
1990s, has grown steadily weaker."

The result was, roughly, the reappearance in 2007 of the 
depression avoided in the 1970s.

When the collapse of the great American mortgage bubble in 2007 
set off a global crisis, national governments found themselves 
caught between the need to keep the system functioning by pouring 
money into financial firms "too big to fail," supporting local 
governments, and "stimulating" the private economy; and the 
imperative to limit the growth of state debt before it reached the 
point of large-scale default. The United States had a government 
debt of $16-billion in 1930; today it is $14-trillion and 
climbing. The federal debt had already reached 37.9 percent of GDP 
by 1970; it was at 63.9 percent in 2004, when the International 
Monetary Fund warned that the combination of America's budget 
deficit and its ballooning trade imbalance threatened "the 
financial stability of the global economy." The worldwide calls of 
businessmen and politicians for cuts in public spending, however 
exaggerated by neoliberal ideology, represent recognition of a 
post-30s novelty: the fact that the Keynesian card has largely 
been played.

As a result, although today's capitalism is in many ways a 
much-transformed version of its 19th-century self, this 
transformation has not brought an abatement of the systemic 
problems diagnosed by its critics in that century. It presents 
them, instead, in new forms. In fact, the crisis looming before us 
is likely to be, if anything, more terrible than the Great 
Depressions of 1873-93 and 1929-39. The continuing 
industrialization of agriculture and urbanization of population—by 
2010, it is estimated, more than half the earth's inhabitants 
lived in cities—has made more and more people dependent upon the 
market to supply them with food and other necessities of life. The 
existence on or over the edge of survival experienced today by the 
urban masses of Cairo, Dhaka, São Paulo, and Mexico City will be 
echoed in the capitalistically advanced nations, as unemployment 
and government-dictated austerity afflict more and more people, 
not just in the developed world's Rust Belts but in New York, Los 
Angeles, London, Madrid, and Prague.

Left to its own devices, capitalism promises economic difficulties 
for decades to come, with increased assaults on the earnings and 
working conditions of those who are still lucky enough to be wage 
earners around the world, waves of bankruptcies and business 
consolidations for capitalist firms, and increasingly serious 
conflicts among economic entities and even nations over just who 
is going to pay for all this. Which automobile companies, in which 
countries, will survive, while others take over their assets and 
markets? Which financial institutions will be crushed by 
uncollectible debts, and which will survive to take over larger 
chunks of the world market for money? What struggles will develop 
for control of raw materials, such as oil or water for irrigation 
and drinking, or agricultural land?

Gloomy though such considerations are, they leave out two 
paradoxically related factors that promise further dire effects 
for the future of capitalism: the coming decline of oil—the basis 
of the whole industrial system at present—as a source of energy, 
and the global warming caused by the consumption of fossil fuels. 
Even if continuing stagnation should slow greenhouse gas-caused 
climate change, the damage already done is extremely serious. 
Elizabeth Kolbert, a journalist not given to exaggeration, called 
her soberly informative account Field Notes From a Catastrophe. 
The melting of glaciers threatens not only Swiss views but the 
drinking supplies of whole populations in such areas as Pakistan 
and the Andean watersheds; droughts have ravaged Australian and 
Chinese agriculture for years now, while floods periodically 
devastate the low-lying South Asian homes of tens of millions of 
people. The rolling parade of disasters is, unfortunately, only 
getting started. It will accompany a stagnant economy and only be 
exacerbated by the increased greenhouse-gas emissions that a 
return to true prosperity would bring.

What both of these continuing social stresses promise is that the 
decline of the economy, however cyclically inflected, will simply 
be the lead-in to a crisis of the social system that, because it 
is based on the laws of physics and chemistry, will transcend 
strictly economic issues. If the peaking of oil supplies and the 
catastrophes of climate change do not provoke a major 
transformation of social life, then it's hard to imagine what 
could. This idea may seem unreal today to those of us who still 
live, for the most part, in what remains of the material 
prosperity wrought by postwar capitalism, much as the misery and 
terror of the inhabitants of war-torn Congo are hard to grasp for 
the inhabitants of New York or Buenos Aires. But this demonstrates 
only imagination's weakness, not the unreality of the challenges 
in store for us, as local disasters like the flood of oil that 
poured out from BP's drilling rig into the Gulf of Mexico in 2010 
will perhaps make it easier to understand.

The biggest unknown in contemplating the future of capitalism is 
the tolerance of the world's population for the havoc that this 
social system's difficulties will inflict on their lives. That 
people are able to react constructively in the face of the 
breakdown of normal patterns of social life, improvising solutions 
to immediate problems of physical and emotional survival, is amply 
demonstrated by their behavior in the face of disasters like 
earthquakes, floods, and wartime devastation, as well as in 
earlier periods of economic distress. That 21st-century people 
have not lost the capacity to confront social authorities in 
defense of their interests has been demonstrated by protesting 
young people in Athens, striking government workers in 
Johannesburg, and most recently and spectacularly by the Egyptians 
who, at least for the moment, destroyed a long-lived police state.

People are, in any case, going to have adequate opportunity to 
explore such possibilities in the near future, if they wish to 
better their conditions of life in the concrete ways an unraveling 
economy will require. While at present they are still awaiting the 
promised return of prosperity, at some point the newly homeless 
millions, like many of their predecessors in the 1930s, may well 
look at newly foreclosed, empty houses, unsaleable consumer goods, 
and stockpiled government foodstuffs and see the materials they 
need to sustain life. The simple taking and using of housing, 
food, and other goods, however, by breaking the rules of an 
economic system based on the exchange of goods for money, in 
itself implies a radically new mode of social existence.

The social relation between employers and wage earners, one that 
joins mutual dependence to inherent conflict, has become basic to 
all the world's nations. It will decisively shape the ways the 
future is experienced and responded to. No doubt, as in the past, 
workers will demand that industry or governments provide them with 
jobs, but if the former could profitably employ more people, they 
would already be doing so, while the latter are even now coming up 
against the limits of sovereign debt. As unemployment continues to 
expand, perhaps it will occur to workers with and without jobs 
that factories, offices, farms, schools, and other workplaces will 
still exist, even if they cannot be run profitably, and can be set 
into motion to produce goods and services that people need. Even 
if there are not enough jobs—paid employment, working for business 
or the state—there is plenty of work to be done if people organize 
production and distribution for themselves, outside the 
constraints of the business economy. This would mean, of course, 
constructing a new form of society.

Capitalism has been around for so many generations now, proving 
its vitality by displacing or absorbing all other social systems 
around the globe, that it seems a part of nature, irreplaceable. 
But its historical limits are visible in its inability to meet the 
ecological challenges it has produced; to generate enough growth 
to profitably employ the billions of people accumulating in slums 
in Africa, South America, and Asia, along with growing numbers in 
Europe, Japan, and the United States; and to escape the dilemma of 
dependence on a degree of state participation in economic life 
that drains money from the private enterprise system. Just as the 
Great Recession has demonstrated the limits of the means set in 
place during the last 40 years to contain capitalism's tendency to 
periodic disaster, it suggests the need finally to take seriously 
the idea, as the saying goes, that another world is possible.

Paul Mattick is chair of the department of philosophy at Adelphi 
University and former editor of the International Journal of 
Political Economy. This essay is adapted from his book Business as 
Usual: The Economic Crisis and the Failure of Capitalism, 
published this month by the University of Chicago Press.
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