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http://nplusonemag.com/intellectual-situation-your-marx
The Intellectual Situation
On Your Marx
Neoliberalism on the rocks

This article originally appeared in the Intellectual Situation of 
Issue 8 (“Recessional,” Fall 2009).

The first intellectual consequence of the economic crisis was to 
undermine neoliberalism—or the belief in the sufficiency of 
markets to secure human welfare—as the age’s default ideology.

The second was to prompt a hasty resurrection of Keynes. “We are 
all Keynesians again!” the ghost of Richard Nixon might have 
declared as Gordon Brown and Barack Obama, leaders of the nations 
most squarely behind the neoliberal push of the last thirty years, 
changed the Anglo-American tune and, this past winter, begged 
their European colleagues to stimulate the Continental economy 
with borrowed money. The crisis also made the economists Paul 
Krugman and Nouriel Roubini into the first Keynesian superstars 
since John Kenneth Galbraith. Their recommendations, on their 
invaluable blogs, of still vaster countercyclical spending and the 
temporary nationalization of banks were not taken up by the Obama 
administration, but they did confer new respectability on the idea 
of close state involvement in the economy.

But the Keynesian revival, so far, is partial and expedient rather 
than thorough-going. Keynes’s “somewhat comprehensive 
socialization of investment” remains taboo, and when Hyman 
Minsky’s famous reinterpretation of Keynes was rushed back into 
print last year (Minsky developed through Keynes a theory of 
bubbles and their bursting), the author of the preface to the new 
edition assured readers that Minsky’s own advocacy of public-led 
investment could be ignored. There are at least two Keyneses: the 
tinkering inspiration for the so-called neo-classical synthesis, 
who demonstrates the ultimate viability of capitalism in spite of 
bouts of crisis; and the suave radical whose call for the “the 
euthanasia of the rentier” doesn’t stop far short of taking the 
rentier out to be shot. This second Keynes lives next door to the 
Marx who in the Manifesto insisted on the “centralization of 
credit in the banks of the state,” and hasn’t been heard from much 
lately.

For the moment, the neo-Keynesian blog posts bear the same 
relationship to the crisis as cognitive behavioral therapy does to 
a patient’s troubles. Here is something insightful, helpful; 
listen carefully and it might save your life. But when the acute 
pain passes you will be left with the chronic problem of who and 
what you are. The suffering individual has psychoanalysis to turn 
to. In economics, the analogous route is Marxism, which like 
psychoanalysis has a dubious reputation—and an explanatory power 
and long-term perspective that its rivals can’t touch. With luck, 
the next intellectual consequence of the crisis will be to pry the 
lid off Marx’s tomb, since it is only from a Marxian standpoint 
that the recent credit bubble can be understood in terms of the 
structural problems it affected to solve as well as those it has 
created.

 From the first there were confused signs of a hunger for Marxist 
thought. Back in the clammy depths of the market’s autumn plunge, 
Robert Kuttner of the determinedly liberal American Prospect 
acknowledged that in light of Treasury’s rescue plan the “Marxian 
cant” designating the government as “the executive committee of 
the ruling class” sounded perfectly just. And John Lanchester in 
the New Yorker wanted to know, “Are there any unreconstructed 
Marxists left, anywhere in the wild? (Universities don’t count.) 
If there are, now would be a good moment for one of them to 
publish a book saying that the man in the beard would regard 
himself as having been proved right.” Here was a call for Marxist 
ideas that simultaneously reimposed their ban. We might require 
authors of Marxist tomes—but professors don’t count, only 
freelancers. (Such a guy would be worth a New Yorker profile: for 
instance, who loans him his shoes?)

Of course there are reasons for being suspicious of Marxism. 
During the Third International and in the scattered sectarian life 
it has led outside the universities since the Second World War, 
Marxism has shown a susceptibility to dogma hardly equaled outside 
of American economics departments. But the ideological rout that 
Marxism began to suffer in the ’70s did what periods in the 
wilderness are supposed to do: it discouraged bandwagon-jumpers 
and enforced a new seriousness on those who stuck around. The 
truth is that since the neoliberal era began thirty years ago, 
Marxism has yielded some of its most formidable monuments of 
economic thought. Two in particular are David Harvey’s abstract 
and categorical Limits to Capital (1982), which as the restatement 
and completion of a great thinker’s project easily outclasses 
Minsky’s John Maynard Keynes (1975), and Robert Brenner’s 
narrative and empirical Economics of Global Turbulence (2006), 
which barely mentions Marx while vindicating, through an analysis 
of the postwar American, German, and Japanese economies, the idea 
Marx took from David Ricardo and made his own: the tendency of the 
rate of profit to fall in a situation of free competition.

The need for a Marxist macroeconomics is patent in one small line 
from Paul Krugman’s Return of Depression Economics: “In the early 
1970s, for reasons that are still somewhat mysterious, growth 
slowed throughout the advanced world” (our italics). And growth 
had stayed slow, for reasons that to a mainstream economics 
confessedly “shy of the grandest themes” (as the founder of 
general equilibrium theory once put it) remain a baffling mystery.

The global rate of economic growth has declined from about 3.5 
percent annually in the ’60s, to 2.4 percent in the ’70s, to 1.4 
percent and 1 percent in the ’80s and ’90s, to 1 percent in this 
decade—much of which single paltry percentage turns out to have 
been illusory. Meanwhile, financial services, starting in the 
early ’80s, took a larger and larger share of total income and 
total profits in the world’s largest economy, until finally 
finance had become, by last fall, the largest American industry, 
accruing to itself a quarter of all US profits. This combination 
of declining overall growth with burgeoning finance suggests that 
the connection between finance and investment can’t have been the 
alleged one: the direction of capital to its most productive uses. 
So there must be a better way to characterize a situation—that of 
the last decades—in which vast quantities of overaccumulated 
capital (the neo-Keynesian’s “excess of desired savings”) circle 
the globe in search of profits, while the vitality of capitalism 
as a whole steadily diminishes.

Marxists differ in the details of their accounts of the postwar 
economy, but the story, which ends for now in the cliffhanger of 
the first contraction of the world economy since 1945, goes 
something like this: The so-called Golden Age of postwar 
capitalism from 1950–70—a time of rising wages, profits, and 
investment—was the product of special and perishable 
circumstances. The wartime destruction of the Japanese and German 
productive base meant that, with the resumption of peace and 
renewed growth in demand for non-military goods, all the major 
industrial economies could for a time thrive without threat to one 
another. But the maturation of European and Japanese industry 
toward the end of the ’60s spelled the return of mutually 
destructive competition. Firms producing internationally tradable 
goods (cars, electronics, et cetera) could only survive by 
reducing prices, which in turn reduced profitability. And yet the 
capital sunk in manufacturing plants was enough to make 
capitalists reluctant to exit a given product line in spite of 
reduced profitability. Besides, governments don’t like to see big 
firms fail even when they can’t compete. (The Obama administration 
has lately proved almost as indulgent of GM as the state-directed 
Japanese banks have always been of Japanese industry.) And the 
more recent advent of China as a manufacturing power only 
exacerbated the situation, as the Chinese (to quote Brenner) 
“continued to expand capacity faster than it could be scrapped 
system-wide and to rain down torrents of redundant, increasingly 
high-tech goods upon the world market.”

The orthodox story blames declining profitability (and price 
inflation) during the ’70s on the excessive demands of labor—a 
plausible enough explanation until you consider that the worldwide 
defeat of labor since the ’80s has failed to restore prior levels 
of growth. The high wages of the early ’70s are long gone. What 
has endured and intensified since then is a systemic bias in favor 
of short-term financial speculation over longer-term productive 
investment. The replacement of the gold standard by floating 
currencies encouraged capital to flit from country to country in 
search of returns magnified by any temporary overvaluation of this 
or that national fiat money. At the same time, information 
technology sped transactions along at a new rate and volume. What 
in 1983 was a daily mass of $2.3 billion in international 
financial transactions had become $130 billion by 2001. Only about 
2 percent of the same sum would be necessary to maintain 
international trade and productive investment.

Meanwhile production is guided by the search for low wages. The 
export-led growth of first Germany and Japan, then the “Asian 
Tigers,” then China with its endless reserve army of labor has 
flooded the world with cheapening goods; and between 1985 and 1995 
the US itself staged a manufacturing revival through the 
exporter’s proven formula of cowed labor and an undervalued 
currency. But this is supply: what about demand? The fundamental 
problem with workers (to whom as much money as possible should be 
denied if commodities are to be affordable) is that they are also 
consumers (to whom as much money as possible should be supplied if 
they are to buy commodities). Marxists aren’t kidding when they 
talk about the contradictions of capitalism. In the end, as Marx 
wrote, “the ultimate reason for all real crises always remains the 
poverty and restricted consumption of the masses.” The result of 
declining or stagnant real wages since the ’80s has been global 
industrial overcapacity: too much plant turning out too much stuff 
for not enough buyers.

The structural solution to this dilemma was as ingenious as it was 
unsustainable. If the global wage-bill couldn’t cover all the 
world’s gimcrack goods and coastal vacation properties, then 
consumers—especially American, but also European—had to be 
extended a new line of credit. They would borrow money to buy 
houses, and then borrow more money, to buy other stuff, against 
the rising value of these houses! Of course many new home-buyers 
plainly couldn’t pay their mortgages; the mortgages were granted 
on the assumption that someone else ultimately could and would. So 
present consumer demand was leveraged against a future demand for 
which there was no plausible source. For mortgage brokers 
operating under the originate-and-distribute model this didn’t 
matter; they had already pocketed their commissions. And those 
bundling iffy mortgages into securities comforted themselves with 
a rhetorical question: What was the likelihood of homeowners 
defaulting en masse?

The venality and self-deception of the brokers, rating agencies, 
and bankers are now notorious. By comparison, David Harvey’s most 
audacious theoretical move, in Limits to Capital, seems sensible 
enough: How can Marx’s labor theory of value (which identifies 
value as “socially necessary labor time”) be reconciled with land 
prices, given that land is obviously not the product of human 
labor? Harvey’s answer was that under capitalism land becomes “a 
pure financial asset”; land price is a claim on future revenue 
treated as a present-day asset. “Mortgages,” Marx said, “are mere 
titles on future rent.” And Harvey completes his thought: “Land 
price must be realized as future rental appropriation, which rests 
on future labor” (our italics). The big risk, naturally, is that 
you will attribute to real estate far more present-day value than 
can later on be returned to it by labor (in the form of the 
portion of total income devoted to housing). A bubble occurs not 
when people pay for real estate with money they don’t yet have—as 
always happens, given the availabilty of credit—but when they pay 
with money they will never have, out of wages they will never 
receive—out of wages no one will ever receive. This past fall the 
papers were full of “analysts” wrapping their heads around a new 
idea: “Home prices,” said one, “are going to have to start 
reflecting people’s income.”

In the world at large, if not always in the bubble-addicted US, 
recessions have been deeper and longer and recoveries ever more 
feeble since 1973. Already the recovery after the recession of 
2001–02 was the weakest on record, adding virtually no new jobs to 
the rolls. The main stimulus to consumption was the confection of 
fantastic, improbable, and finally fictitious paper assets. And as 
Brenner wrote in 2006—were he not a Marxist he would be counted 
among the prophets of the crash—“the US Fed’s continuing 
dependence on cheap credit and asset-price bubbles to provide the 
subsidy to demand to keep the economy turning over appears to have 
only delayed, but not really avoided, the economy’s obligatory 
responses to the over-capacity, fall in profitability, and 
asset-price crash of 2000–01.” In this way alone—alas—the Bush 
Administration never happened.

The motor of accumulation has been sputtering for nearly four 
decades, and its coughs can be heard again now that the roar of 
combusting paper wealth is dying down. This doesn’t mean 
capitalism or even growth is at an end. Economists of all kinds 
have pinned their hopes on the transformation of laboring and 
saving Chinese into hardy consumers. In any case, the US 
consumer—a ravening appetite in a paper house—appears to be 
finished as the world’s buyer of last resort. It would add a nice 
dialectical twist to the future history of our period if it could 
be said that, around the time the post-Maoist Chinese took up 
shopping, the post-bubble Americans turned to studying Marx.

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