The Way We Live Now vs. The Germination of McCloskeyian "Betterment"
While Deirdre McCloskey made some very persuasive and intriguing
points, I found myself wondering how different the current financial environment
is from the one that germinated the "Great
Enrichment," or the "Betterment" that she describes. Since she, like Marx, uses
historical examples to theorize about the future, it seems worthwhile to consider how the variables might have changed.
First, since 1971, our money has been divorced from the gold
standard. In contrast, from what I understand, the nineteenth century witnessed
an international movement in the opposite direction, as multiple countries
agreed to use gold to back up money. I’m not sure exactly what the
ramifications of this might be (Dammit Marx, I’m a literature student, not an
economist!), but this seems worth mentioning.
Second, credit and debt seem to have worked quite differently
in the nineteenth century than they do now. Although debt problems rose
alongside Victorian commodity culture, I don’t think that this sort of “negative
money” was accrued in the same way that it is now. I’ve been extraordinarily lucky, but I
know that a terrifying number of students finish college tens of thousands of
dollars in debt. This type of poverty tends not to be readily visible, as these people still find places to live and money to buy groceries, yet their debts accumulate.
They don't end up in debtors' prisons, yet this “less than zero” balance could prevent them from owning a house, renting
certain apartments, or getting certain jobs. This would certainly inhibit the
bourgeois Betterment that McCloskey envisions. This dearth of the upwardly mobile would have consequences not only in terms of their potential enrichment but their potential consumption.
Debt at the Beginning
of the Great Enrichment
So how did debt work at the beginning of McCloskey’s Great
Enrichment? This is my understanding, pieced together from varied readings... Stores
often established credit for customers based on their understanding of their
clients’ social status (Rumors of aristocratic connections do the trick for Lydgate
in Middlemarch). Toward the end of
the century, with the popularity of traveling to larger cities to shop, store
owners would have to rely on newspapers and trade papers to judge when to sell
on credit. (Plus, loans could also come through pawnbrokers, business owners,
and friends, as in Crime and Punishment
and, again, Middlemarch).
However, creditors could sometimes be evaded. There were no electronic
debt-tracking systems or phone-calling debt collectors, although there were humans
who tracked debtors (Think the bailiff who hunts down Harold Skimpole in Bleak House). But the growing cities—abounding
with strangers from a variety of different places—offered anonymity to people
willing to make a completely fresh start and clever enough, or deceptive enough,
to find a position without comprehensive or entirely credible references (Lady Audley’s Secret and Bleak House come to mind. And “How to
Live Well on Nothing a Year” in Vanity
Fair outlines how Becky and Rawdon elevate their social status through
conspicuous consumption, under-the-table dealings with a moneyed aristocrat,
and deceiving creditors.)
Of course, the consequences of accruing debt could be dire. Entire
families moved into debtors’ prisons, and many languished and died there. In
many ways, it seems to have been more of a family problem (centralized through the
patriarchy) than an individual one. Wives did their shopping on their husbands’
credit (Think M. Heureux in Madame Bovary),
but their debt would shift to their husbands (although I think that in some
cases, husbands could free themselves of this debt by proving they hadn’t given
their wives permission to spend the money). Eldest sons could capitalize on
expected inheritances and go into debt gambling at gentlemen’s clubs or
outfitting themselves at tailors’ houses (Think Buddenbrooks,
Middlemarch, or The Way We Live Now). On the other hand, sons could also contribute to paying off the family's debt. As a child, Dickens worked miserably long hours in
a blacking factory while living in a boarding house to pay off his
father’s debts, while his parents and younger siblings lived in the debtors’
prison with his father.
The Way We Live Now
It seems like a lot of modern debt falls on individuals, especially
young students without the means to repay it in a timely fashion. It is still a
problem for established households, but the worst situations seem to be those
of isolated young people whose balance drops further into the negative at an
alarming rate. This debt seems more hidden, somehow: I never see men hauled away to
debtors’ prisons or debt collectors removing furniture from the homes of
once-moneyed, now down-on-their-luck aristocrats.
The continuation of McCloskeyian Betterment seems to depend on
the formulation, commodification, and accumulation of new ideas. Although the successful
college drop-out has almost become a cliché in the realm of new technologies, this
success seems somewhat out of reach even to the most intelligent college
drop-outs. So, accepting McCloskey’s major premises, if we consider that college
is represented as a necessity to intelligent, innovative young people, and many
of them cannot afford to attend without student loans, then the continuation of
the Great Enrichment might have some major obstacles.
I know this post might be a long one to get through, but
does anyone have any ideas?
How might our divorce from the gold standard inflect McCloskey's logic or projections? Would it strengthen her point that the world isn't a zero-sum equation, since we don't have to be held to a limited amount of gold? What about the difference in the way debt works now vs. at the beginning of McCloskey's "Great Enrichment?"
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