Any time that the state spends money, there is some cost to the economy.

The state can tax, in which case the cost is obvious. But I put obvious in quotation marks here, because people don't seem to think past the fact that money is taken, without much thinking that the value of money per se is its purchasing power.

The state can print money, issuing new currency to fund its expenditures. The cost here comes because

where M is the total supply of money in an economy system, ν is the average frequency with which a unit of currency changes hands in the system, q is vector of the quantities of goods and services purchased in the system per unit time, and p is the corresponding vector of prices. If M is increased, and there isn't some off-setting increase in the elements of q, or a drop in ν, then elements of p must increase. If prices go up, then the purchasing power of the unit of currency goes down. Ceteris paribus, when the state issues new currency, the value of the holdings of currency that people already had is decreased. (There are some other, potentially far more costly effects than the direct loss of purchasing power, but I don't want this entry to mushroom into some huge treatise.)

In many modern states, printing money is made to look like borrowing, whereïn the ostensible borrowing is from a central bank, a special creature of the state, which prints money and uses this to make the loan to the state.

But the state may also more genuinely borrow money (especially when officials of the central bank think this better than printing more) in the financial markets. In this case, borrowing by the state shifts out the demand curve for loanable funds. Unless the supply curve for loanable funds were perfectly elastic, so that any amount of funds would be made available by lenders at the prevailing price — the rate of interest — that price will go up.

When people lose purchasing power to taxation or to an over-all increase in prices, they reduce purchases of goods and of services, and they save less, so that funds for investment are decreased, and hence investment is decreased. When the price of borrowing is increased, people borrow less for consumer purchases and less for investment. So whenever the state spends, no matter whether it taxes, inflates, or borrows, that spending takes a piece of the economy. Whether there is a net cost turns upon whether the activity funded by state spending is somehow more productive than the private activity that it has crowded-out.

As I have explained, state allocation of resources can be more productive only if private provision is hampered by transactions costs, and the effects of those transactions costs are greater than the combined effects of state transactions costs (red tape and all that) and the loss of economic coördination which results from substituting guess-work for market prices.

Okay, so this gets me to these stimulus bills in the United States legislature. Various numbers are associated with various versions, but the bill that left the House of Representatives was for about 800 billion dollars. And various commentators, both conservatives at institutions such as the Wall Street Journal and social democrats (liberals) at institutions such as NPR, have noted that only about one-eighth of the projects in that bill could be reasonably claimed to be stimulus, with the rest just being pork-barrel projects. Regardless of whether we buy-into the Keynesian hopes for about $100,000,000,000, the loss to the economy associated with about $700,000,000,000 in pork will be vastly greater.

It was claimed that a stimulus bill was necessary because the economy is tanking. The word depression is being bandied-about. And, yet, a majority in Congress and the President are pushing what will plainly be a massive hit on the economy.

To explain the behavior of these parties, we could offer various hypotheses. Many politicians are simply great fools; some politicians might believe that we are indeed on the cusp of an economic disaster, but be so greedy for the political gains associated with these projects that they just won't allow themselves to think. Other politicians might not believe the talk of economic crisis, but be knaves who participate in it, creäting a smokescreen behind which to seek much the same gains as are the fools. Finally, some of these politicians might both genuinely believe that the economic crisis is quite dire, and recognize that a stimulus like those proposed will be greatly damaging, but expect that the effects of the bill can be blamed on other things, especially upon what remains of the market economy, so that those effects become an excuse for even greater expansion of state power.

With regard to one particular politician, the President, I don't at all think that he's so great a fool as to misunderstand what a stimulus bill that is about 7/8 pork would do. He knows that he's pushing a hit on the economy. I don't know whether he is amongst the knaves who don't really believe that the economic situation is all that dire, or amongst those who want to engineer a greater crisis in order to have a greater excuse to technocratically restructure the economy. But when the President speaks of recovery as taking years rather than months, I worry that he is not merely lowering expectations to reduce future criticism, but revealing more ambitious plans.

I haven't followed everything that has been said about the proposed bail-out of the major American automobile manufacturers, and I don't know whether the principal point that I'm going to make below has been much noticed.

It is quite natural for people to hold that, if the manufacturers are given a major infusion of financial capital, then they should surrender some control to the creditors; that if the manufacturers are given a bail-out by Congress, then Congress ought to be able to impose some changes in practices and in policies, to ensure that tax-payers are in some way repaid.

But ownership is no more or less than a right of control, and to the extent that control is transferred, ownership is surrendered. What we are then discussing, however we might put it, is nationalization, albeït perhaps only partial nationalization, whether it is called this or not.

Once the automobile industry is nationalized, management of that industry becomes another government programme, with a large bloc of voters fairly directly dependent upon that programme for their incomes. A sizeable portion of this bloc will insist upon indefinite guarantees concering employment and income. The industry would likely become another third rail of the political system, virtually untouchable unless it is to expand the benefits received by the beneficiaries. Further, conceptualizing what amounts to a transfer programme (welfare) as a manufacturing programme will consume additional resources, which really ought to go into other projects. It would literally be more efficient to pay some or all of the automobile workers to stay home than to pay them to make some or all of the vehicles that they would make; but, by golly, the illusion of productivity will trump the reälity of waste.

Because the political significance of a transfer programme is positively correlated with its direct economic benefits to recipients, the stronger are the initial guarantees of employment and of income, the more powerful will be the abiding political effect of the programme. The Republican insistance that a bail-out provide for swift wage cuts probably speaks to some awareness that the bloc of voters in-question would more naturally align with the Democratic Party.

Meanwhile, the White House discussion of doing an end-run to provide a bail-out from other funds may be an attempt to head-off later action by Congress when the Democrats assume the more sizeable majorities from the last elections. Giving money to the manufacturers with fewer strings attached puts less of a programme in place.

Let's say that we might make veeblefetzers, and we have three available processes:

Now, we have two questions:

• How many veeblefetzers should we make?
• Which process should we use to make veeblefetzers?

From our table we can answer part of the second question: If adamantium and vibranium are actually goods (rather than something otherwise harmful), then we just don't want to use process C; compared with process C, process A would save us some adamantium for other uses, and process B would save us some vibranium. So (again on the assumption that adamantium and vibranium are goods), technical considerations tell us not to use process C.

But it gets messier when we attempt to decide between process A and process B; we have to know whether we want adamantium more for other things than we want vibranium. And there's basically the same question in deciding whether to make veeblefetzers. Could the adamantium or the vibranium be put to better use than in making veeblefetzers? (It gets even more complicated if the processes don't simply scale linearly, so that doubling inputs doesn't double outputs, or new veeblefetzers get put to decreasingly important uses as we make increasing quantities, or we start to take adamantium or vibranium away from increasingly important things as we make more veeblefetzers.)

What we want are numbers or number-like things that are assigned to veeblefetzers, adamantium, and vibranium, so that we can compare those numbers or number-like things, and know whether it's better to save adamantium or vibranium, and whether the priority should be to make veeblefetzers or to do something else with the adamantium and vibranium. Those numbers or number-like things are prices. Market prices are prices assigned by a market process, but any prioritization implies a corresponding system of prices, explicit or implicit. Where there aren't any prices (explicit or implicit), there isn't a system of priorities.

If prices weren't and couldn't be set for us by a market process, then how should they be set? One student, when given a hypothetical example like this of veeblefetzers, adamantium, and vibranium, demanded to know why I didn't use familiar, real-world products and inputs. The answer is that we have a sense of how the world does price things such as watches, aluminium, and gold. Further, aluminium was once more precious than gold, and a decent watch was once unattainable. Relative priorities change, and with them prices. I wanted him to consider pricing from scratch.

In attempting to price adamantium and vibranium, part of what would obviously need to be considered would be the other uses to which one might put each. Were one going to price adamantium or vibranium rationally, then one would have to answer the same sorts of questions for those alternate uses as one wanted to answer for the production of veeblefetzers. In other words, one would have to price the alternative products, and the other inputs (besides adamantium and vibranium) in those other processes. That means looking at other products and processes for those inputs, with no direct involvement of veeblefetzers, of adamantium, or of vibranium. To price anything rationally, one would have to price everything rationally.

One might in theory construct tables of processes for other goods and services. In many cases, one could quickly discard some processes for the same reason that we discarded process C. And, were adamantium or vibranium itself something that must be produced, and not something that a consumer would want in and of itself, then perhaps one could replace it in one's calculations as a function of other inputs.

But the presumption that one could assemble all that technical information — and it must be assembled (not merely collected, but organized) before boffins and wonks can feed it to their super-computers — is truly heroïc, even if one assumes purely automated production. (More on that assumption in a bit.)

Even then, what would be produced would not be prices, but a system of equations and inequalities expressed in terms of unknowns, corresponding to relative valuations of consumer goods and services. One would need to know, at various levels of consumption, whether each participant would rather have a bit more water or a bit more warmth, a bit more warmth or a bit more clothing, and so forth, before one could compute prices rationally or (equivalently) allocate production and distribution rationally.

And, actually, this matter of human preferences cannot be postponed quite like that, because the assumption of complete automation is counterfactual. Human beings may not be factors of production in the making of veeblefetzers, but they are factors of production in quite a bit else. So, to describe production, not only would one have to know how many whoozits can be produced by a purely automated procedure; one also would have to know exactly how specific, real-world human beings (who are very much a part of real-world production) will respond to specific, real-world incentives.

Markets establish prices by concurrent processing. Knowledge is left dispersed; private data, such as preferences, are expressed in the behaviour of individuals participating in the economy. When the price for a given good or service is below an equilibrium, would-be sellers withdraw or try to negotiate a higher price while would-be buyers pursue the good or service in frustration (showing would-be sellers that they might get a higher price) and perhaps offer a higher price; when the price is above an equilibrium, these rôles are largely reversed. So prices are being pushed towards the equilibrium of the moment. Meanwhile, the prices of each good and services is effecting how much people are attempting to buy or sell of other services.

A general equilibrium would never actually be obtained in a real world, because preferences are always in flux, and resources, including technology, change in ways that cannot be particularly well predicted. Still, a market would be in constant pursuit; the process of correction beginning immediately as new information were introduced. And a notable mathematical result is the Coase Theorem: If property rights were clearly defined and respected, then in the absence of transactions costs a market equilibrium would always be economically efficient.

Socialism — the doctrine or practice that the means of production should be owned by the community per se and administered for the over-all benefit of that community — is now-a-days primarily associated with claims about fairness, but in its heyday, and to some extent still to-day, it entailed a belief that technocratic planning could outperform the market by some combination of speed, accuracy, and the avoidance of transactions costs. In the context of production which is assumed to be dramatically more efficient, it becomes easier to talk about the relationship of workers to work changing, and about different patterns of distribution. But the problem here was and remains that socialists rarely recognize the problems of efficiency beyond technical efficiency. In effect, they presume that the differences between processes A and B must ultimately be no different from those between either and C. One often even finds socialists who deny the relevance of prices to socialist planning, betraying some failure to understand the general concept of price. The great problem for socialism is that it must price but, because pricing involves more than technological efficiency, has no sensible system for pricing in the absence of markets. In the absence of sensible pricing, rather than getting wildly more efficient production, one gets horrific chaos and waste.

In practice, socialisms that attempted to avoid having their own markets largely adopted the prices of the more market-oriented economies that they could observe. They had some sense of the present relative values of aluminium, of gold, and of watches because markets elsewhere had valued them. But those prices are prices appropriate to the context in which those markets prevailed; if markets had prevailed in the imitating community, then they would set different prices corresponding to that context. Further, the technocrats can't give the game away by fully imitating the prices of market economies — that would make their own economies more overtly caricatures of market economies. So pricing in communities without their own markets, while not typically being as awful as it might be, is still markedly worse than that in less socialistic nations.

There have long been some socialists who recognized the need for market prices, and such socialists started to become relatively common in the 1980s. The problem for these attempts to combine markets with socialism is that, to the extent that the resulting system behaves like a market, it behaves nothing like socialism; and, to the extent that it behaves like socialism, it behaves nothing like a real market — it doesn't coördinate private and dispersed knowledge to form prices.

(Neoclassical economics hasn't had a good handle on these issues, because it typically assumes-away the underlying problem of information being private and decentralized.)

That's not to say that markets should be used for all economic allocation. The real world involves transactions costs. Sometimes the transactions cost of markets are sufficiently high, and the transactions costs of alternative institutional relationship — contracts, firms, &c — are sufficiently low that the difference then more than off-sets the lost informational value of market prices. But one should remember that real-world alternative institutions do entail transactions costs, and indeed sometimes these are even higher than those associated with markets.