Whenever the departed soul of  Karl Marx may be, it (or he?)  must be scratching a celestial (or infernal?) head at the strange intellectual cavorting of contempo­rary American leftists. No longer do these leftists say that socialism ­is necessary because capitalism op­presses the masses. What they are now complaining about is that our ­industrialists have made us too rich for our own good. We waste our money on frivolous things (so says Vance Packard). and, since the marginal utility of our mani­fold gadgets is questionable, Madi­son Avenue is called upon to pump up an entirely synthetic desire for them (so says Kenneth Galbraith). Indeed, our riches have so de­bauched our sensibilities that we refuse to pay out what is neces­sary for education, for leisure, for rebuilding our cities, and for bringing the best in medical care  to the elderly (so says Arthur us  Schlesinger, Jr.).

To the extent that the Packards, Galbraiths, and Schlesingers have a case, it would seem to call for a new generation of Carlyles, Rus­kins, or H. L. Menckens, esthetic ­ critics with a mission to reform  the tastes of the multitude. But Packard, Galbraith, and Schles­inger are not content to argue directly about the al­leged sinfulness of tail-finned cars or goods that come in fancy wrap ping paper. No, they make a pitch for putting the improvement of taste under the wing of political planners. We must be forced to like the right sort of thing by men who carry fiscal clubs behind their backs.

In other words, force majeure, and plenty of it. The little matter of first finding tasteful politicians among the tasteless masses and  then persuading the tasteless to   put the tasteful into office is   blithely skipped over. Since bad taste is always with at least to some extent, the complaints of Packard and Co.  have a certain relevance. But   these critics achieve their flesh creepy effects by pulling isolated and usually short-lived trends out of the context of a contemporary society that is neither unduly wasteful nor particularly con­cerned with sheep like "status seeking." They make parts do duty for wholes, and foreigners who rely on them for a portrait of America are thereby grossly mis­led.

A generation ago one could al­ways count on the wise Simeon Strunsky, who conducted a well-known newspaper column called "Topics of the Times," to pull the ever-swarming Packards and Gal­braiths of his age down from their pedestals. But there are no Strun­skys any more, and our contem­porary part-f rom-the-wholers seem to have blanketed most of the available white space. The an­swers to Packard and Co. lie all around us —but so far as my own searches show, the only place where they have been committed to paper in a thoroughgoing man­ner is in a book called Markets of the Sixties, compiled by the edi­tors of Fortune (Harper, $5.00).

Widespread Affluence

Markets of the Sixties paints a picture of an "affluent society," all right. But it is hardly the af­fluent society of Professor Gal­braith, a place in which "money is no object." True enough, it is a society in which there is a great deal of "bunching around the mid­dle," financially speaking. In 1959, on the threshold of the sixties, about 43 per cent of all nonfarm families had after-tax cash in­comes of from $5,000 to $10,000 a year. "Proletarians" had practi­cally disappeared; "blue collar" workers now lived in suburbs cheek-by-jowl with the white col­lar classes, and neither from their houses nor their spending habits could Karl Marx have told them apart.

The Fortune editors have in­vestigated the charges that the bunch-in-the-middle with the $5,000-to-$10,000 "disposable" in­comes wastes its money on frivoli­ties, or spends it in frenzied status-seeking. And the editors found some silliness. But in look­ing for "waste" and "conformity," they came upon a curious phenom­enon: a nation with increasingly large families which has little enough money to spare for throw­ing away when so many children demand so much schooling. The after-tax income of the U.S. ran to $336 billion in 1959. Three-quarters of this $336 billion were spent on the "essentials" —food, clothing, housing, and transporta­tion. Of the remaining $84 bil­lion, some $24 billion were set aside in savings. Almost $19 bil­lion went for medical care. Some $4 billion for private education, $17 billion for bank service charges, brokerage charges, in­terest on loans, and other "per­sonal business," and $16 billion for "fun" —i.e., movies, books, magazines, gardening, boating, ball games, and travel in foreign countries.

Who Says It Is Waste?

These figures do not mean much when taken by themselves. They do not include before-tax public education. When they are com­pared with the expenditures of former years, they really take on meaning. We discover that medical care, private education, and "per­sonal business" have been taking a steadily rising share of the con­sumer’s dollar. People have been keeping their cars longer; more­over, they have been insisting on "functional" cars (Volkswagens for shopping, secondhand cars for commuting to trains, station wag­ons for big family use, and so on). Money spent for spectator sports has been declining (since 1947 it has dropped from $2.3 billion a year to $2.2 billion). But "active" forms of recreation have been commanding rapidly increasing sums.

Is it a mark of "waste" that the number of Americans owning their own boats has jumped from two million to seven million in a littleover a decade? Or that money spent on books, magazines, and newspapers has jumped from $1.8 billion a year to $3.5 billion, with religious and business books out­pacing detective stories and West­erns? Is it "frivolity" that ani­mates the 2.5 million camera own­ers who qualify as "advanced ama­teurs," meaning the ones who like to operate their own darkrooms and belong to one or another of 12,000-odd photography clubs? And is it "Madison Avenue," or any other nest of "hidden per­suaders," that lures people into joining amateur community or­chestras, or sends 30 million Amer­icans fishing and 20 million hunt­ing when fishing and hunting sea­sons come around?

More Personal Ownership

The "money left over for the good life" —or the "discretionary dollar" —often winds up in the hands of money-lenders, which might be interpreted as "waste." But the editors of Fortune do not consider that the American people have gone goofy over consumer credit. In the old days people paid for their commuting on a day-to-day or month-to-month basis, by forking over their cash for trolley car fares or commuter train tick­ets. Now they still "pay as they go" —by reducing the debts on their automobiles as the themselves are "consumed." Once upon a time the American people paid for their movies at the box office. Now they pay for their tele­vision sets from month to month as they watch the television shows night upon night. However one figures it, it is still "pay as you get something." Though consumer credit totals may seem high, peo­ple have had very good records of repayment. When Americans used to travel to work by trolley and spend their evenings at the movie theater, they were simply out of pocket for their expenditures. They did not wind up as part owners of streetcar lines and theaters. But now, more often than not, they do wind up as pos­sessors of TV-sets and automo­biles "in the clear." In terms of personal ownership, this means less waste, not more.

Their "Status" Is Freedom

Instead of "keeping up with the Joneses," the modern American suburbanite is often what Fortune calls a "high mobile," or an "early adopter," one who likes to pioneer new trends. The "high mobiles" were the first to buy electric blank­ets, food freezers, and colored sheets. Waste? Well, maybe a pen­chant for colored sheets is rather silly, but it is certainly harmless. At any rate, the "high mobiles" obey their own whims, which means they are individuals. They can casually mix Victorian furni­ture and "modern" in the same living room without worrying about what their neighbors will think. To the extent that they en­courage other people to be whim­sical, they translate "status seek­ing" into something that is close to "self-realization."

Moreover, the taste of the "high mobiles" is, on the evidence pre­sented by Fortune’s Gilbert Burck, constantly changing for the better. In the sixties, so Mr. Burck pre­dicts, business will still be able to sell kitsch —or junk —to a lot of Americans. But it will surely "be able to make more money operat­ing on the assumption that people want something ‘better,’ not only functionally but aesthetically."

It is on this note that Mr. Burck ends his own penetrating essay on American taste, which sums up the conclusions of the Fortune editors. The book as a whole is far more soundly argued than the works of the Packard-Galbraith-Schlesinger school. Why, then, doesn’t it out­sell Packard’s latest? Is it because our popular taste in sociological works is still on a kitsch standard? Or is it because our "high mo­biles" buy Packard because they enjoy reading about people they can look down upon —the "other fellow," in brief? I suspect the latter explanation is the true one.

But, if so, the joke is on the "high mobiles," for the "other fellow," on the evidence of Fortune, is ceas­ing to exist. They have been read­ing about a disappearing animal.

Mark Twain And The Gov­ernment Selected and arranged by Svend Petersen (Caldwell, Idaho: Caxton Printers, Ltd., 1960. 146 pp. $3.50)

Reviewed by Robert Thornton

Serious social criticism is a recur­ring need, but it is never in such short supply as the kind of criti­cism supplied by an Artemus Ward, a Will Rogers, a Mencken, or a Mark Twain. These men are, first of all, a literary delight. They don’t hit us over the head with a remedy; rather, they help us see the plain truth about things. Take an example.

The mad scramble for political advantage provokes the usual con­demnation of pork barrel legisla­tion and we shrug it off. But Twain, watching the fracas, notes, "All were agreed upon one point, however: if Congress would make a sufficient appropriation, a colossal benefit would result," and immediately we get the thing into focus. Humorous critics have an­other advantage: they survive. As Mr. Nock put it, the wit and the court jester can say outrageous things which in serious form would never find their way into print; or, if by some oversight this occurred, the author would be shot or exiled to Outer Slobovia.

Just recently I read somewhere that anyone wishing to get the "feel" of World War II would do better to forget the serious trea­tises and novels and turn instead to Ernie Pyle’s books and Bill Mauldin’s Up Front. The latter is no doubt considered by most per­sons to be nothing more than a collection of cartoons that leave one weak with laughter after only a few pages. Well, they are that, it is true, but they are also much, much more as one learns after go­ing through the book several times and rereading the text which at first is probably forgotten by nearly every reader.

We could use a Mark Twain to­day, someone who is gifted with that sense of humor which makes a good critic a great one. We have lots of good critics but they are much too serious, much too angry; and, in consequence, they depress even the reader who quite agrees with them on every point. Thus, we are fortunate to have this la­bor of love which brings together Mark Twain’s many observations on what Huck Finn called "the gov’ment" gleaned by Mr. Peter­sen from Twain’s tremendous lit­erary output. The book can be read as a gorgeous bouquet of wit­ticisms, or as a collection of com­mon-sense observations on politi­cians, parties, patriotism, Con­gress, Washington, D.C., and kindred subjects. Mark Twain was, of course, a product of the frontier and, as such, had a built-in distrust of "the gov’ment" in Washington. Unfortunately, this trait has pretty much disappeared from the American personality and a man like Mark would be a curiosity in these days.       

A Short History Of Money by George Winder (London: New­man Neame, Ltd. and the Institute of Economic Affairs. 188 pp., 15 shillings.) Available from The Foundation for Economic Educa­tion, Irvington-on-Hudson, N. Y., $2.50.

Reviewed by Henry Hazlitt

Editor’s note: A fortunate blunder on our part has resulted in this second review of Mr. Winder’s A Short His­tory of Money. Professor Peterson’s review appeared in the October Free­man. The importance of the subject and the excellence of the book war­rant this added attention.

This little book is not only a short history of money, as its title declares; it is an excellent primer on money and banking, and a clear and courageous analysis of the cause of present-day British (and world-wide) inflation.

Individual chapters discuss whether banks "create" money, the purpose of money, the quantity theory, gold and silver, the bill of exchange, the goldsmith’s note, the Bank of England, the bank note, deposit money, the creation of credit money, a world monetary system, the gold stand­ard, postwar exchange control, saving and full employment, state-created cash, and finally (the chapter title is significant) "The Cause [not causes] of Inflation."

The subject of money, banking, and inflation is capable of being dealt with simply and lucidly; but it is honeycombed with traps for the unwary. It has taken mankind centuries to achieve a true and comprehensive analysis. Progress in understanding has by no means occurred in a straight line. As pioneers such as Hume, Adam Smith, Ricardo, Mill, Jevons, B. M. Anderson, Ludwig von Mises, have pushed forward to greater clarity, other writers have es­poused new fallacies or entangled themselves in new confusions that required an ever more acute anal­ysis to unravel. The great nine­teenth century controversy be­tween the Currency School and the Banking School is still being waged on some issues. Even thinkers who have contributed to understanding on one point have contributed to confusion on an­other.

But throughout the history of monetary controversy there is one choosing of sides that has been decisive. That is between the in­flationists and the champions of sound money.

There are some points in mone­tary and banking theory on which I think George Winder is mis­taken. But I do not propose to discuss them here. For not only does he come out on the side of the angels on the chief monetary issue of our time, but he is so informative, he is so right on so many things, he has stated his case so clearly and cogently, that he has given us one of the best introductions to money, banking, and inflation to appear in the last thirty years.

On the historic side, the book is full of fascinating information. It gives the history of money and coinage since ancient times, and explains the origin of banking and bank notes. But it is not for its historical informativeness but for the unequivocal position that it takes on current monetary is­sues that Winder’s book should be most valued.

He recognizes that "a rise in prices is not itself inflation; it is the outward symptom of infla­tion." He recognizes that the gold standard gave "the world an in­ternational money," and that this money, in a world of comparative­ly free trade, in effect coordinated international prices and so "actedas a coordinator of production all over the world." He is not con­vinced that it was necessary for Great Britain to abandon gold in 1931.

Winder recognizes that if wage rates are properly adjusted no un­employment whatever need exist. He sees through the iniquities of exchange control, and the brazen nonsense about a "world dollar shortage." He sees the Interna­tional Monetary Fund as an un­successful institution that has thrown its weight behind the dubious policy of "keeping wrong exchange rates stable." Pending the restoration of a real interna­tional currency he suggests that "the free exchange of currencies, at their free market values, would aid international trade just as much as the free exchange of goods." He suspects that the pres­ent "almost universal opposition to these two freedoms" exists "chiefly because they would make the inter­nal planning of an economy, by the politicians and the economists, an impossibility."

But most of all Winder sees, and clearly says, that it is, first and foremost, governments that are the architects of inflation. "One of the chief objections to the power of the State to create money at will is that it always creates too much." He keeps mer­cilessly citing the British statistics on this. "The power of gov­ernments to control the quantity of bank loans may be described as an attempt to substitute a flex­ible supply of money for a flexible wage-and-price structure."

"Both in war and in peace, in­flation in Great Britain has its source in the government’s fail­ure to balance its budget… so that it had recourse to the bank­ing system, which has supplied it with new money…. The surest way of stopping inflation is for the government to cease increas­ing its borrowings from the bank­ing system…. The expenditure of the government in excess of its resources has been the cause of post-war inflation."

***

Ideas on Liberty

Freedom

Freedom can well be lost to us through misinterpreta­tion of it. When we think it gives us the right to another man’s harvest, or entitles us to an honor we are unwilling to earn, we place ourselves in a bondage that curtails our true growth in every way.

Through the privilege of choice our way is opened for us to become what we will. The wise use of this faculty brings out the best that is in us, and thereby places us in positions and circumstances that are compatible with our abilities and much to our liking. When we direct our efforts to the knowledge and expression of the real Self, of our Sonship with God, we take from no man what is rightfully his, nor do we place anyone in our debt. Freedom does not mean that each shall have the same thing, or even express in the same way; for it is every man’s right to discover the path to his highest good. But how we use this priceless heritage of choice decides what we become. True freedom is experienced as we earn it through thought and deed.

LA VERNE BOWLES

From the "Daily Guide to Richer Living" for September 15, 1960, appearing in Science of Mind.