On "Why Nations Fail" by Daron Acemoglu and James A. Robinson *****

Countries are poor or rich because of their institutions. That is the basic argument. The authors use the example of the two Koreas and even more the two Nogaleses, one in Mexico and one in Arizona. Each has a better off partner. Why? They have the same geography, culture, people, and knowledge. It is because on one side the institutions exploit the people and on the other the people have more say in those institutions. I think the authors are pretty much correct, though I wouldn’t credit the institutions so much as the character of the leadership. That is, corrupt government leads to poverty.

The authors reference inclusive versus extractive economies and politics. Historical examples proliferate, which makes for great reading. In the examples, only rarely does a political system and economy not match and usually not for long. Extractive situations enrich and empower a small elite, while inclusive ones do so for the vast swath of society. With this also is the need for a strong central authority; without such, there will be no one to enforce laws, and thus society will fail to be extractive but also will not be able to be stable enough to provide the benefits of inclusivity. While inclusive societies are better off, extractive political systems don’t give way to inclusive ones because of creative destruction. That is, inclusivity also means less power and less ability to hold on to resources for the elite, meaning they would lose out even in a richer society.

Two other factors affect growth: critical junctures and institutional drift. Sometimes a plague, disaster, or invention will come along and change all the rules. Small adjustments at these junctures become big differences between nations as the institutions drift along based on that reaction.

Extractive economies can provide economic growth for a time. The problem they inevitably encounter, however, is the lack of creative destruction. When elites are focused only on gaining riches, they fail to spur innovation among others and thus the economy eventually stalls, or others attempt to take the elite position and centralized authority disappears, bringing an end to the structure and stability needed to extract wealth.

It is in the best interest of those in power to prevent creative destruction and thus to continue to extract wealth. A broad coalition of stakeholders, however, can interfere with the ability of the elite to continue to hold power, and once that broad coalition exerts its own power to force creative destruction, society revolutionizes. If that broad coalition holds, you have inclusion and the advantages that come with it. But often new elites emerge in whose interest it is to prevent continuing creative destruction.

The slave trade of course was part of that extractive economy. But so too was colonialism. Once slave trading was banned in the west, the authors bring out, slavery continued into the twentieth century via rules put into place in African countries that kept locals essentially enslaved to corporations and rich folks in the country itself. I hadn’t really thought about this before. The history of South Africa was particularly galling to read, where laws were put in place to create a racial underclass to be low wage workers, where previously there had been a greater degree of equality and advancement. One small Asian nation was completely obliterated, fourteen thousand killed, by the Dutch east Asia company because the people refused essentially to become subservient to the corporation. These were cases as such where nations were made to fail so that others could succeed by extracting land and labor and resources.

Countries that adopted inclusive political dynamics in the nineteenth century as the Industrial Revolution was taking place tend to be the rich ones today.

A virtuous cycle exists for nations with inclusive politics and economies. As elites sense that by not giving in on small issues could lead to revolution, they tend to expand power to less well off people in a gradual process. Likewise, such elites recognize the power monopolies wield over them and not wanting to compete, they break them up. Essentially so many parties have some degree of power that they recognize that not following equality in the law, even when it hurts their own cause, could lead to trouble down the road when they are no longer in charge. An example is given with regard to how fdr tried to pack the courts, which proved unpopular even though his policies were popular and the courts were interfering. Such preserved rule of law. In Argentina the opposite happened. Peron managed to get power to fire judges and install his own and ever since there has not been an independent judiciary and thus rarely a functioning democracy. (I fear that our virtuous cycle is drawing to a close in America, as parties, especially conservatives, play zero sum games. Republicans packed the Supreme Court in a dubious manner. Now the president is wielding powers he doesn’t actually have and congress is letting him and aiding him.)

The vicious cycle is just the opposite of the virtuous. Political power is extractive and limited to a few; this gives economic power, which in turn aids the political power. When the regime changes, it’s not a broad coalition of people but just another group setting themselves up as elites. This is what happened in Africa. Colonial empires extracted resources and set up government to do so; when they left, those who took over used the same techniques to continue extracting resources. Such is also why the us south persisted in poverty for so long. Plantation elites extracted from cheap slave labor; after the civil war, they set up a new system that more or less continued the same practices and kept the rich rich and the poor poor. Very little manufacturing or urbanization or modernization occurred because the system was set up to allow the well off to continue extracting. Eventually if such vicious circles aren’t broken, constant fighting to be top dog leads to a breakdown in the entire system and a lack of any central authority.

The few countries that have broken the mold have done so, the authors claim, with a broad coalition of interests. They give the example of Botswana, which I did not realize was as wealthy as it is. It was not heavily victimized by colonialism. When it became independent it was very poor and had few educated. But what it did have, I would say, were good leaders. I’m not sure they could not have personally benefited from forging an extractive economy. But their focus was on the nation. When diamonds were discovered—likely the source of much of the national wealth—they ensured that the money made was invested not in the tribe who owned the land (which seems would have been easy, especially as it was the tribe of the nation’s leader) but in the nation itself. The wealth is shared. In this sense I can see the virtuous circle taking hold. Everyone knows that if one person or tribe took the wealth for themselves, the nation would lose out. Better to share.

The authors close by noting that their theory is historical. There is no policy prescription that will bring about such changes. Giving money to poor countries usually just enriches the charities and the people in charge, rather than aiding the poor in the country. Increasing trade with an extractive regime, like china, will not make the regime change to an inclusive one. As such, growth in such a country will be temporal, the authors argue. Indeed, in a concrete example given, where a man started a company that was too successful compared with the government companies, he was arrested. The people aren’t actually free to innovate; riches belong to the elite. That is China. But in Brazil, a workers party, a broad coalition, has taken over the government and positive changes seems to be taking hold. Inclusivity. In both examples, however, I see more personal character and lack of corruption as the reason for a given success. You can’t have inclusivity unless the leaders are truly servants more interested in helping their coalition than manipulating it to enrich themselves. In this regard, the American experiment may have benefited by such leaders and may be drawing to a close with the loss of such.

For those wanting a spiritual explanation, Paul and Peter note that God puts the leaders of nations in charge; as such nations rise and fall, succeed and fail, by the leaders who ultimately take those positions. Call it inclusivity versus extraction if you want, but such hardly seems a result of pure happenstance.

On "Capitalism and Freedom" by Milton Friedman ****

This work reads a lot like that of Hayek's. Friedman ties political freedom to capitalism or economic freedom. The reasons make a lot of sense in theory. The more power is concentrated in a few hands the less freedom there is. As such more and localer governments are preferred, giving one opportunity to move if displeased, as opposed to a strong central government. We should not expect government to work for us nor to work for government; rather we should ask what we can achieve through government, through voluntary association. This all sounds good. But then you get down to reality, and this is not always so great. Friedman gives the example of social security. We should have freedom to use that income as we see fit rather than the government taking it and only handing it back to us when old. Yes! Except, wait. How many will actually invest that money and have it on hand when old? And how many can afford to save like so? And what happens when people don’t? Do we just let them suffer, or do we end up paying anyway? (A better example is health care, where such freeloading ends up costing those who actually pay, because we aren’t generally cruel enough to just let the poor or the unwise die on the street.) Too much centralization is awful but a lack of centralized standards can be awful as well. There are reasons equality and well being are of importance; it’s a balancing act with freedom. That’s because free markets don’t dispense with power dynamics; they just move the from government to those with more resources.

Friedman next turns to the role government should play in the economy, which is solely as a rule maker and arbitrator. A key conflict he notes is the need to allow people via the market to make decisions and to combine at will while also keeping that combining from manipulating the market through monopoly. Friedman acknowledges that some industry is better with monopoly because of its nature— utilities such telephone and historically railroads. But what to do with such monopolies? There are three choices: let the government have the monopoly; let the government regulate the monopoly; or let the private monopoly flourish. Friedman actually proposes the latter as the least evil. He says that when the government controls the monopoly, at some point it interferes with innovation. An example is the railroad, which if it had not been regulated, would have eventually split up naturally in the face of new transport opportunities like cars and planes. Instead the government continues to regulate trains and the industry suffers. While deregulating trains might be good, given new technologies, I think letting a monopoly flourish when at its height likely would have kept those new industries from emerging. In the previous chapter Friedman had said all innovation came from private sector, but that is simply not true. Government has often seeded innovation: think of NASA. When it’s too costly and the reward to ethereal, private enterprise is not going to even try a particular innovation. Government can sponsor such.

Friedman tries to blame the Great Depression on government regulation, which seems ludicrous to me. Certainly failed fiscal policy may have helped it along, but the idea that government overreach always makes economic trouble worse seems like poppycock.

Here are some things Friedman would have the government get out of: national parks, farm and housing subsidies, bank regulation, tariffs, social security, business licensing, FCC. I’m dumbfounded. Licensing is a pain and can be abused, but it also protects consumers. FCC regulation helps distribute limited bandwidths so that we have media at all. And every time we deregulate something with the banks, we find ourselves in some economic collapse a decade or two later caused by people gaming the system. Government has a role to play, and that role does stomp on our freedom, but it’s so that others don’t do the same but without a regulator to try to make things somewhat even. I can empathize with the idea of trying to keep power out of the hands of a few, but Friedman puts way too much faith in the supposedly unbiased market. But once monopolistic behavior arises, control is still bound up with just a few people. A democratic government at least lets a wider swath of people at least attempt to keep things even.

On fiscal policy Friedman calls into question Keynesian economics. He notes that government expense to spur the economy do just the opposite, simply making things worse and bloating the government. He points to 1937 when government expenses were cut in the Great Depression and how all Econ troubles resumed. But that seems to me precisely the issue. The government wasn’t aggressive enough to truly put an end to the trouble until ww2. Nevertheless he claims that stimulus is never ending and raises inflation and takes as much from private sector as it gives. This would seem to be true but the idea is that such stimulus is to be temporary; we’re just not good at cutting. In that sense Friedman’s preference for tax cuts instead, if there is stimulus at all, has some point, because it would tend toward shrinking government instead of adding to it. But the problem is the same, since no one wants more tax just as no one wants less government service, so we still end up usually with permanent greater debt. A better means of stimulus might be in the form of grants to private sector: temporary and one time but helping to spur one hopes an economy that has sputtered. (His claim that government stimulus never works seems very dubious to me, having seen it used twice to deal with turmoil and also in reading of troubles in less regulated late 1800s. Yes stimulus leads to inflation, but it does help restore spending in low times more that nothing would. It stops the trouble from getting worse.

On the education front, Friedman espouses vouchers. He notes that ideally only parents would pay for kids, save that society does reap some benefit from an educated populace such that government payment is justified. Still a voucher system with minimum standards about what kids are taught gives parents more choice and drives innovation and excellence through competition. It would also put all people on the same level and better integrate schools. (I have middling feelings about vouchers. If someone who pays in to public school but chooses private schools on top of that now gets money back, that would take money from those who already have less. Minimum standards means government would now wield some authority over private schools. And finally who is to say that vouchers would pay for all of education. A high class institution could charge more and thus cut off poor, leaving them able only to attend poorer schools that can be paid fully by vouchers. Still, I like the idea of giving students more choice.) Friedman argues that only lower level schooling should be paid for and not anything like basket weaving or basketball, which only helps the individual and not the state. For this reason higher education, especially as related to professional programs should not be paid for or operated by the state. You want to be a doctor or plumber, you pay for that yourself because you reap the financial benefit. (Friedman doesn’t address how public education for some such programs can help society fill shortages, but I suppose the free market would do that just as well, since jobs in need would pay more and thus would be more likely to have people willing to pay for education in those fields.) This still leaves a problem for those too poor to pay for such vocational training. Friedman proposes loans based on income one makes after (say the loaner gets 10 percent of your earnings); he acknowledges this is in a way akin to slavery, however. This might be something the government could supply—then it’s more like a tax but only on the beneficiary. And in a sense that’s what has happened with students loans the government sponsors.

On civil rights, Friedman espouses a color-blind society—neither laws enforcing integration nor laws enforcing segregation. In principle I can agree; in practice, it is not realistic. On some level, it seems like we should be able to associate with whom we want, and as Friedman notes, those who choose not to serve part of a community necessarily weaken their economic status compared to others, because they're limiting their audience. Except—and Friedman shares this counterpoint—if a community forges a standard bias such that when one openly breaks that standard, one actually sees economic trouble one would usually not see. He compares race to taste, but in that there is a great problem. Taste may mean blues musicians are in higher demand than classical, but a musician can switch music genres. That’s a whole other world to race, and the like. Despite misgivings, I find it fair that government takes a swing at preventing such biases. Freedom of association is wonderful until one is one of those not free to associate. But it is a tricky proposition, with inherent contradictions, because we clearly allow such freedom in some circumstances while not doing so in others. But not forcing such a situation, one could argue, actually reduces the unity of the society and thus its ability to function.

The most interesting idea in Friedman’s discussion of monopolies is that there should be no corporate income taxes. Rather shareholders should be taxed on company profits. This would encourage larger dividends rather than companies keeping their capital. In turn money would be invested in new enterprises and where it is needed, rather than companies squirreling money away and trying to find new ways to reinvest. It actually would help small businesses more. Interesting argument. After corporations aren’t people but rather the people who make up the corporation. In this sense also corporations should not be involved in welfare and social things; their job is to make money for the investors. Making them worry over other things dilutes their purpose and takes away individual’s freedom. As a stockholder I shouldn’t be forced to give via the company to things I don’t want to give to.

Already noted is how Friedman is against licensing, which he sees as just another form of monopoly, usually perpetrated by those already in a business. He lays out three options for ensuring people belong in a business and says the first two are better options: registration, certification, and licensing. In the first, you put your name on a list, of say gun sellers. Then if we need to figure out where a gun came from we can do so. It also might involve a tax. Certificates involve noting you’ve passed certain criteria like a CPA; others can still enter the business but the certificate gives the educated a leg up and helps customers know a bit about the risk they’re taking if they hire someone else. Licenses keep people from entering a business if they don’t pass a test. Friedman shows how licenses essentially establish a monopoly in fields like medicine; he has a point. But how to keep from malpractice without a license? Let people sue more easily for bad behavior; then again, I’m not sure I’d want money in exchange for poor doctor care.

Next comes redistribution of income, which he says is ineffectively done in taxes and unfair. Luck will always play a role in wealth, along with merit. It’s unfair to penalize someone who manages to do well. He’s a proponent of the flat tax. I have not thought it a great idea insofar as I tend to think there needs to be a way to reset wealth for the sake of balancing societal power. Yet he has a point insofar as he shows how our tax system allows so many loopholes that in fact we end up not with a tax on the wealthy but on those who would otherwise become wealthy. We tax income, not wealth. We don’t tax capital gains at the same rate. And so on. He would tax all money made at the same rate with only a single standard deduction. I’ve always liked the simplicity of such an idea. Not sure of its effectiveness in practice.

Unsurprisingly Friedman comes out against housing assistance, minimum wage, and social security. I see his point about housing assistance and his preference just to hand out money is less paternalistic; I see another solution in South America, where one program hands out half finished houses, giving people a home they own and a place they are invested in. Minimum wages have their problems, I will agree, but I do think establishing a baseline is important and useful. And I am not keen on the poverty of the old that would result if social security went away; there are reasons it was instituted.

That said removing all of the above programs might be fine if his other proposal were instituted: the negative income tax (or in other words the minimum livable income). This seems a bit surprising coming from a neoliberal. But it makes a lot of sense. It is the least paternalistic and offers the greatest freedom, while hopefully keeping folks from becoming indigent. In practice it might work (as some experiments have shown), or it might just lead to inflation in the manner that minimum wages do (or so the argument goes), such that the negative on the income tax does not really provide a livable minimum. (Indeed, I remain mostly skeptical. If we were all paid enough to survive just by living, I would venture that folks would be less inclined to work jobs they didn't like or want unless those jobs paid significantly more than the minimum given out by the government. I mean, why work if you're going to get paid whether you do or not? So some typically disliked job like fastfood would have to pay, I'd think, at least $500 more per month than what your negative tax would be. That would mean that prices would rise accordingly, which would result in that same vicious circle one gets with minimum wage.)

While I don’t buy into Friedman’s anti-Keynesian narrative, I find many of his ideas interesting and possibly better than how we manage the economy now. Much to think on.

On “The Community of the Beloved Disciple” by Raymond E. Brown ***

Brown's focus on the author(s) of the Gospel of John and the epistles of John provides some great insights, but as with the other work I've read of his, on Antioch and Rome, his conservatism on some levels mixes with conjecture to the extent that I found the work a bit hard to believe in spots. The basic aim of the book is to trace the development of the Johannine community, which Brown takes as being independent of other Christian groups in its early phases.

The earliest Johannine Christians were Jews with a lot of respect for Jesus but who were to an extent outside the realm of typical Jewish believers. Then, folded into them were the Samaritans, who brought along into belief a higher Christology. These developments in turn eventually led to their dismissal from the Jewish synagogues, which is when the Fourth Gospel was written, after this dismissal. Brown does some close readings of John to show how that most likely was the case, which I enjoyed being reminded of. For Brown, the author and person the community looks to is someone known as the Beloved Disciple. How or why John ends up being affiliated with the Beloved Disciple, I'm not sure, but for the community itself it is this disciple who is most important, a disciple who in Brown's theory, is not John.

With the group dismissed from the synagogue, it begins to turn its criticism to “outsiders” (as in the first epistle). These are people who retain relationships with the synagogue, whether as Jews or as hidden Christians, but more schism is on the horizon.

With time, this Gospel is interpreted in different ways by members of the community, and there is a split in the community, with one group moving steadily toward docetism and the other eventually being subsumed by the larger Christian community/church. This is the origin of the epistles for Brown, with one man writing against the group that is moving toward docetism. Because the community was not strongly authoritarian but rather followed the lead of the Holy Spirit, the irony of the epistles is that the author has to try to balance this lead of the Spirit with a certain dallying on authority. He does that by claiming only his group is following the lead of that Spirit. Eventually, with Ignatius, the idea becomes that one follows the leaders who are spirit led.

At least one author has called into question the idea that so many Christian groups existed in the first century, and while I think he might be a bit too conservative in stating that there really was just the one church—I do think some schisms did happen—Brown seems to be positing so many groups in the first century that one wonders who a church even came to be. I don't really buy that there was a Johannine community that was distinct from Paul and from the Twelve, headed by Peter or that some unnamed individual who goes undiscussed in the other gospels was a close affiliator with Jesus and only shows up in the Fourth Gospel.

On “The World Is Flat” by Thomas Friedman ****

Admittedly, I got Thomas and Milton mixed up. Milton is now next on my list. Thomas is an economic journalist; Milton is the actual economist. Still, I would have ended up reading this book no matter on this same economics list. It was the rage twenty years ago, just shortly after I moved to Georgia. I remember lots of NPR interviews and the like. Interviews with the author made me uncomfortable, because the topic is one to make one uncomfortable—namely, globalization's effect on each and every person on the planet, which can have some rather difficult implications for any single person who is looking to maintain a job. At thirtysomething, this was scary; at fiftysomething, I should be even more scared, insofar as it would be much harder to change focus and grab some new career. The fifties were many of my parents' generation lost jobs; some ended up getting better work, but others struggled along at odd jobs for the next decade until social security kicked in and never really recovered financially. Still, what give me some condolence is that globalization didn't come for me in the intervening twenty years.

It's interesting reading Friedman's book in the context of the new Trump administration. One can look at much of what he's doing as a reaction to just the sort of things Friedman writes about, and at least according to Friedman, they are just about the worst reaction one can have. Cutting one's self off from the world—with trade barriers and anti-immigrant policies—are more likely to slow the economy than protect the jobs one has. That would be Adam Smith's view too: trade barriers are good only to protect industries that are essential to protect for the national interest, like, say, military weaponry and the raw materials that go into that. But one can see why cutting the nation off from the world would seem to be the initial reaction.

Friedman makes clear the globalization is likely to lower the relative wealth of the United States, that is, wealth relative to other nations. However, it is also likely to “grow the pie,” as conservatives have in the past argued about income inequality. That is, it doesn't matter if the rich get richer faster if everyone is getting richer. There isn't a limit on riches one shares.

The first part of Friedman's book focuses on how globalization takes place and what sort of technologies have allowed that to happen, with numerous stories about businesses that have put such technologies into practice, things like offshoring and special software and so on. One of the most interesting developments to me was the case of UPS, which I had been totally unaware of. Apparently, some manufacturers have outsourced the repairs on their products to UPS. What I mean by that is instead of some Asian electronics manufacturer having us ship the defective product all the way back to the factory, it'll arrange for UPS to do not just the delivery but the repair itself. Numerous companies have apparently done this, such that UPS has facilities that are set up to fix stuff. This cuts down on shipping time and cost, for a fee that UPS reaps from the manufacturer, and makes things more convenient for the consumer.

So how are we to cope with things like accounting and taxes and constumer service and, well, just about anything one can think to outsource, and then even things one thinks can't be outsourced, to another nation with a labor force hungry for work and a cheaper cost-of-living? Friedman notes that the easiest tasks have been those that have tended to be farmed out, the standard accounting, for example. That allows those living in the older richer economies to focus on creative and more difficult endeavours. To do that, we need to be on our game in terms of maintaining education. (Something that seems, again, awful in terms of how it is precisely in education that the current administration has seen fit to start many of its budget cuts.)

But even this seems a difficult maneuver to me, when so many of the workers in a place like India actually have great educations. Who's to say an engineer has to be American? One could have the top-notch engineer overseas just as easily do the same work cheaper. In that sense, while Friedman's education argument makes some sense, it also doesn't seem a cure-all. Friedman talks of how some people he know have developed throughout their careers, moving from one thing to another in terms of starting off as, say, illustrators, then moving to medical illustration, then some very narrow portion of the industry—each time, making the change in light of the fact that the previous task became too easy for others (often overseas others) to do using software and training and thus lowering the price of the service. One of the things that made me so anxious when I heard about this book at thirtysomething was the way in which Friedman really pushed education—or really, reeducation. But the thing is, I like learning and study, but I didn't want to be in school constantly, chasing a new certificate or degree every five years because the previous job is no longer necessary. It's tiring enough working forty hours a week; add constant night classes on top of that just to keep a job, it just seems like a drudging way to live.

One interesting proposal in that regard, however, is Friedman's idea of underemployment insurance or transitionary employment insurance. Instead of paying people money when they lose their job or reward them for training, pay people for taking a job in a new-to-them industry, even if it means lower pay. It makes sense. So you're an engineer, but the product you worked on and specialized in goes defunct after twelve years; you were in the higher levels of the company and now you are out of work. You're chasing another job with equal pay, but there aren't many left in that sector of the industry anymore. Instead, employment insurance would pay you not just to go to school for retraining but rather for taking more of an entry-level position in another industry. It would make up the difference, and then, on the job, as you gain more experience and move up and earn more money, the insurance would kick off. This seemed one of the best ideas in the book, which if ever implemented, really would help people in a globalizing and fast-changing economy, one that we really can't recede from and expect to remain relevant or well off. (Indeed, Friedman criticizes the Bush administration for doing to some degree just that in reaction to 9/11, with its focus on closing borders and old gas technologies, rather than being forward thinking, and here we seem to be doing that again—but to a much greater degree.)

On “The Library of Eusebius of Caesarea” by Andrew Carriker ***

This is one of two books that I was reading near the same time that focus on writer's libraries and reading habits, using the various quotes and allusions they make in their book. The first, on Polycarp, provided some interesting asides and observations but largely was trying to make some larger points about Paul's influence; this one, on Eusebius, is set up more like a reference book, insofar as Carriker discusses each allusion in alphabetical order (split out by kind of source). In that manner, Carriker sets off to reconstruct what exactly was in Eusebius's library at Caesarea, when he wrote such books as his Church History, his Life of Constantine, and his Chronicle.

I read the book largely because I was interested in knowing more about the library at Caesarea (and at Jerusalem). Carriker tries, on some level, to reconstruct what those libraries, particularly the former, were like and how they originated, but in the end, the best we can do is theorize. We know the Eusebius had an eccesiastical library he used there in the city and that Origen some years earlier also used it (and perhaps even provided a large share of its books). Beyond that, it's really hard to say exactly when it was founded and by whom.

I was drawn to the subject because of a claim one writer made that the earliest complete New Testament manuscripts were deposited at this library, along with other important libraries, such as Alexandria (in the early 100s CE). It's an interesting theory, and certainly, as Carriker shows, this library had many Old Testament manuscripts and also was the source of the New Testament manuscript later sent to Constantine (in the 300s), when he requested copies of it, but there isn't, alas, absolute certainty about when such manuscripts were deposited in the Caesarean library—and thus, no certainty, in that regard, about when that first edition of the New Testament was completed. And that, of course, is why the canon debate (what did second-century writers really consider canonical of the New Testament writings) can continue. Still, the fact that Constantine could request such would suggest that, despite Eusebius's misgivings about certain New Testament books, as noted in his Church History, what was actually part of the New Testament had been well enough settled that one could request a copy of it.

On “The Brother of Jesus and the Lost Teachings of Christainity” by Jefery Butz ****

This biography of Just James, while fairly succinct, seems to cover most of the current research on the subject (at least through 2005). I was initially a bit skeptical of Butz's book, especially as in his preface, he pointed out how much he respects the work of Robert Eisenman, whose biography of James may qualify as one of the longest ever but is also one of the most kooky. But Butz doesn't quite try to tie James in with the Dead Sea Scrolls and make claims that the entire original Christrian movement was actually some kind of Essene movement revolved completely around Jesus's family and that it had only ever aimed at being some kind of worldly Jewish Messiah, though in some ways he comes close.

What I like about what Butz does is that he doesn't quite go so radically far. Rather, he tries to reclaim James and the early Christian movement as part of Judaism, and while he does fall into the common Protestant and often secular point of view that James and Paul were at cross-purposes, which colors many of the insights he manages to provide, he does still manage to show just how important James was to early Christians and how that early movement was signficantly Jewish in form and nature. (Plenty of newer works call into question the antinomial Paul who created some kind of new movement that had little in common with what Jesus actually taught.)

Some of the interesting insights include a correction of the common idea that James and the rest of Jesus's family did not support Jesus during his physical life—that is, that they were not convinced of his ministry until after his resurrection. Some of this interpretation comes from the way we have read certain scriptures out of context, and some has to do with how later generations want to portray Jesus. Butz argues, fairly convincingly, that the family probably had connections to Jesus's ministry well before his resurrection.

Butz also shows how James fit within Judaism, and while claims that James was a Pharisee seem a bit too far out to be believed to me, there is a case to be made that in many ways the early Christian movment had much in common with Pharisaism—and in that way, James, Paul, Jesus, and the whole lot would have been a kind of offshoot.

The book ends with a call to unite the Muslim, Jewish, and Christian faiths through a degree of compromise. It's not a strong ending to me, insofar as I don't think things like divinity of Jesus are really up for debate between the faiths. But the push to remind people of how Christainity started in Judaism is a worthy enterprise.

On “Polycarp and Paul” by Kenneth Berding ***

This is one of two books that I've been reading that are essentially a list or study of a given author's sources. Such does not make for very compelling reading, though no doubt it has some value to those looking to learn more about a particular person, and given that we don't really know that much about Polycarp, the second-century bishop of Smyrna, it's probably about the most one could hope from a book-length work on the guy that isn't just a rehash of well-known facts in large print.

Berding studies Polycarp's one surviving work—his letter of the Philippians. Among facts I learned is the theory that the letter is in fact two letters that were subsequently merged. In this idea, which Berding shares with others, Chapters 13 or chapters 13 and 14 are one letter, while the rest of the letter consists of chapters 1-12. Why the idea? Because the latter part doesn't seem to have much to do with the earlier part. It is in the latter part that Polycarp discusses Ignatius, and it was likely a cover letter for the Ignatian letters. The former part is a discourse on righteousness, which seems an odd thing to attach as part of a cover letter to other letters. This discourse was likely written in response to a request for such a document. As such, Polycarp modeled much of his work on Paul's own statements about the subject.

Typically, Polycarp has been dismissed as a theological lightweight. After all, mostly all he does is heavily sort of quote other sources; he doesn't really bring a lot of his own thoughts to the discussion. But Berding shows that this ability to allude to others and so fully actually would have shown one's astuteness at the time that Polycarp was writing; brains were not coming up with something original but imitating well what had been stated before. At this, Polycarp excelled.

Perhaps one of the most useful aspects of Berding's study is the tracking of Polycarp's citations to Paul's letters to Timothy, to which he alludes heavily and often in the context of other Pauline writings, suggesting that Polycarp considered 1 and 2 Timothy to have been written by Paul, contra the many modern critics who dismiss the work as pseudo-epigraphic. The fact also that he quotes from what would come to be the New Testament letters frequently as authoritative as if he were quoting from the Old Testament or the sayings of Jesus suggests that he saw such works as near canonical. Berding further suggests that Polycarp is not as intense regarding the near-term return of Jesus as Paul usually is, suggesting also the gradual bigger focus on present conditions of the Christian.

On "The Affluent Society" by John Kenneth Galbraith ****

I'm glad someone recommended that I read F. C. Hayek's Road to Serfdom, because this book, as it turns out, is in large part a response to that work, as well as an exploration of what one is to do when a society reaches a state where production outstrips the need for people to be constantly producing--that is, where there is a surplus of necessary goods.

Galbraith notes that he has some skepticism about the worship of free market instead of socialism proffered in books like Hayek's. Those truisms, he says, are not a given. Planned economies can do great things too, like launch Sputnik. Furthermore the challenge of modern society is not poverty as was the case throughout human history for most people. Why do some stay poor amid abundance for most in the moder world? How do we resolve? These are the questions Galbraith sets out to explore. It’s not just about the free market—free market simply offer you a difference in terms of who you serve: the blind free market instead of a government bureaucrat.

Conventional wisdom is what most speak; it is based on what we are comfortable with based on experience, but it is not based in current events. Sometimes situations have changed and conventional wisdom is outdated and wrong. Revolutions in thought occur at some point and become new wisdom. Examples: The liberal policies of the American revolution broke the national planning of colonizers. The welfare state broke the free market. Keynesianism broke the balanced budget. Are we on the cusp of another revolution? (Or at least, were we in the 1950s to the 1970s, when Galbraith was writing this?)

A main problem with the free market is a lack of equality; another is the lack of security in the business cycle. The hard working person is just as likely to fail by luck as succeed.

Galbraith then provides a short history of American economic thought, with special emphasis on a non-American with the strongest influence during the gilded age: Herbert Spencer and social Darwinism, out of which our special faith in the free markets perhaps derives and continues. With Spencer, the rich are the fit, the poor are the weak and are slated to drop off. It's no big deal if the weak drop off; in fact, it is poor form to help them because you’re allowing the less fit to survive.

The counter to Spencer is Marx who is just as much a pessimist and optimist but in other ways. Society will always produce too much, which drives down wages of the poor and kills jobs. When produce runs out and the poor go back to work, wages rise, which brings about higher production costs, which kills jobs and thus kills the continued productivity. And so on. The cycle repeats itself, getting worse and worse until revolution results. Even if disagreeing with Marx, he has had a great influence on economic theory.

There are three basic economic problems: productivity, inequality, and insecurity. These were what economists dwelt on till twentieth century and what Galbraith spends the rest of the book analyzing.

Galbraith notes that there’s been a loss of interest in inequality since about 1950. Why is that so, even though it is still exists? Because of increases in productivity. In rich societies, everyone is getting a bigger amount, even if their shares aren’t equal. In poor societies landowners took all the surplus or growth; in addition, in the 1970s showing off wealth became gauche, so rich became less known. (That certainly doesn't seem the case in the 1980s or 2000s, but maybe it was a bit the case in the 1990s.) Likewise the rich are less powerful than they once were, as they are rarely any longer both entrepreneurs and owners (again, this seems less true now in our tech billionaire age); rather, faceless stockholders own the wealth. (Galbraith provides numbers for the share of wealth owned by the few at the time; they are small compared with today, even though they were egregious even then.)

As for security, that has been resolved for commoners by social programs like unemployment and social security. For the rich, corporations have diversified and grown huge such that they can sustain losses in one area to gain in another and are too big to fail. Poor communities have little heavy desire for security, as they are simply struggling to stay alive, but as society grows affluent, the desire for insurance and the like is a result of what might be lost. The idea that security might make us less productive is a false one, as productivity has increased more with unemployment insurance and social security than without. (Galbraith fails to take into account many economies where people are less inclined to work, if they can't find the job they want, when unemployment is generous.)

Productivity is the obsession of the modern economist. Yet we define it narrowly. We take public service as being unproductive while producing private goods is productive. Actually, though, unemployment and government work helps stabilize the economy by providing production in downturns and thus keeping the private sector busier than it would otherwise be.

Satisfaction is never gained by an increase of goods. So there is no end to production. Yet it is rare goods, not easily obtained goods, that people want. This seems contradictory. Simply producing doesn’t mean you’ll sell the product produced. You have to have demand. That demand for product is based on seeing what others have and on advertising. Compare something you truly need versus something wanted. You know when you are hungry without someone telling you. The fact that someone has to inform you of a product through ads or comparison shows you don’t have to have it—it’s not a true need.

Production has become the system through which the economy grows. This came out of the depression when the solution was to get people back to work through producing stuff via government input. But the government never stopped pushing production and so we have way more stuff now than we used to.

Production is not that important really except insofar as it is necessary for security, that is, to keep people employed. Most people would choose to have low productivity and consistent jobs than high productivity and fewer jobs (this is Schumaker's argument too, in Small Is Beautiful). Contributing to this concern is the amount of debt people take on, which outpaces increased wages. It’s trouble waiting to happen.

How do we bring inflation under control to keep prices stable? When we raise prices, inevitably labor prices must rise. That means prices rise. It’s a loop. The key is more production so that prices need not rise to account for higher labor costs.

We attempt to spur or confine production through available cash—that is, by monetary policy or fiscal policy. Neither is fully effective and both affect sectors of society differently. Adjusting interest rates (monetary policy) has little effect except on smaller businesses, which are less able to invest in the future when rates are high. Big businesses have enough market share to inflate prices and consumers will generally just take out longer loans to deal with higher interest. Fiscal policy (adjusting tax rates) tends to interfere with stable employment, which then contradicts the goal of stabilizing prices. It seems there’s little solution. Galbraith seems to argue for price controls to a small degree here, even though he says that we’re historically averse to them. (Price controls lead to shortages, however, so I am not sure they are a real solution.)

Galbraith next turns to what he calls balance—social and investment. Social balance involves the public versus private economy. Our tendency is to see the public economy as a drain on the private, but the two go hand in hand, with the public usually lagging. If the private economy builds more cars, the public economy will require more roads for example or more traffic cops. We should not see the public economy as a drain on productivity; it enables continued productivity. Also of note in this regard is inflation, which Galbraith says eats into public expenditures as taxes do not rise as quickly (this seems a dubious claim to me) and taxes themselves (or rather the manner in which taxes address inequality, as the public sector tends to provide more for the poor but require more of the rich, which the haves do not like).

Investment balance has to do with how society tends to invest most in that which produces most and makes the most, which in turn becomes self fulfilling. A successful industry will develop faster than a more mundane one, leading to an imbalance in sectors. But what Galbraith really focuses on is education. Education enables industries to advance, as modern innovation rarely derives from uneducated people. But education is typically a public expenditure and thus not seen as directly productive. One could put education fully in the private sphere, but that would actually decrease freedom. This is a major point of contention with Hayek’s claim that the private sector ensures freedom rather than the public. If private industry funded all education, then people would have little choice in profession; industry would determine what can be studied and by whom.

This gets us to the crux of Galbraith’s argument, which is that in an affluent society, production should no longer be the main or only goal. After all, much production is unnecessary other than to encourage consumption: without ads few would know they lack a certain leisure good. Do we really want to force people to move or whatever to enable production of things we don’t actually have to have? But how, without such production, are we to have jobs—that is, the means to make money to live off?

The real concern in the economy is not production but employment and the income that comes with it. To break the dependence on production, Galbraith suggests unemployment compensation be closer to real wages. He claims this will lower production but not affect people's willingness to work. (I would suggest, based on European economies and the old communist regimes, that he is wrong. People tend to become pickier about jobs or not work to advance their positions if forced into jobs they dislike.) Or since some cannot work, a minimum living allowance (as some have recently proposed and experimented with), a likely better solution. To control inflation he suggests price and wage controls but only on corporations and unions, which control larger sections of the economy. This seems dubious also but possibly useful, insofar as indeed a large market share of a given thing does give one more ability to set prices and wages compared with a small employer or laborer.

Inadequate social balance between expenditures on private versus public items is best addressed by taxes, says Galbraith, but not those less flexible with inflation like property tax. Rather income tax is preferred, but most of that at this point is taken up by military expenditures. So to compensate we should have more sales tax. The poor are more affected by it; however, if that tax is used primarily for the public and especially the poor then taking away from consumption in the private sector to allow more consumption in public sector makes sense. We could use that tax for schools and the like, eventually leading to greater production anyway. Such taxes are also key to helping address poverty, because there is not more production but instead a better use of resources. (I’m not sure I buy this argument, as consumption taxes tend to be regressive; so one would essentially be taking money from the poor and handing it back to them in the form of government services—in other words, the government thus would be telling the poor how to spend, as it would do the spending for them.)

Galbraith closes with a discussion of how greater productivity has led to fewer hours and more leisure time, but a better way to address better productivity is also to make work more pleasant. As such there’s a new class, not a leisure class, but a new class: a group of workers who labor not primarily for money but for love of the work they do. Education is key to allowing this and should be the goal to bring most people into this class.

In a world where production is ample and there is no need to spend all our days just scrounging to survive, new ways of measuring economic value are needed that don’t simply count what has been produced, ways that actually somehow take into account our humanity. On this basic point, I guess, I would agree with Galbraith, but many of his policy solutions seem dubious. No matter, he offers much to think about in a mostly lucid way.

On “The United States and Britain in Prophecy” by Herbert W. Armstrong ****

I have not read this book since I was a teenager, and I was expecting to be somewhat underwhelmed, as I was with Armstrong's book on the millennium, but this one turned out to have a lot more heft than I anticipated. I remember, at the time I first read it, feeling like the author did an incredible job with the biblical material but that it wasn't too detailed when it came to the historical basis for the theory; that was my impression this time as well. But the book this time left me with a desire to go read up more on the subject historically to see the degree to which the biblical interpretation is accurate—and that's a good thing.

Having grown up being taught the these two countries forge the heart of ancient Israelite migrants, I find that my worldview, even today, to a large degree still falls back on that, even if I've had a few doubts through the years. I would say “it seems to be true,” but it's not a salvation issue. If the understanding is wrong, then in the end, it doesn't take away from the most important truths of scripture. (After all, I've heard other claims, that, for example, Japan is ancient Israel. I haven't looked into such with any seriousness, but I didn't grow up with such a theory either, so it's not where my mind first goes.) Rereading this book, however, made me see, as I noted, that there's a lot more reason to believe such might be the case biblically than perhaps I've recently thought much about.

The issue is, of course, that most modern scholars disagree with the historical thesis and that there are some good reasons for that. The number one reason is that the theory seemed to have found its greatest popularity during the height of British colonialism—that is, it was a way to justify certain racist views. It was, in other words, propaganda for Manifest Destiny and the like. So it is fair to be skeptical. At the same time, it is perhaps unfair to dismiss such ideas out of hand just because of their misuse. What one really has to do is go look at what really happened, insofar as that is possible. Most contemporary scholars are wary to do that in part because of the associated tropes. And so much of the history I've read through the years that ties the lost tribes of Israel to modern nations has been quite sketchy, based on similarities of names and the like—a possible coordinating fact but hardly strong proof around which to base an entire thesis–rather than really tracing the movements of peoples. More reading on the subject would go far in helping me see how such conclusions can be reached. But few serious scholars give the theory much time.

The last chapter of the book, alas, made me uneasy. It's the chapter where the author really lets readers know the troubles that are coming for these nations and pushes readers to join the church the author is associated with in order to escape. I suppose I can't argue with a sincere call to repentance, assuming that's what's going on, and as I see my country literally falling apart now, I can't help but think the author was right in that regard. But the chapter reminded me of many of the nightmares from my childhood, and the appeal to fear and to join one particular group is not something I am completely comfortable with now; it suggests to me these days a kind of insincerity. Repent, yes, but if it's just to save one's own skin and the key is joining one particular organization, something seems a bit off. I don't think a bunch of people just looking to save themselves is what God is after. I'm reminded of what someone said to me shortly after 9/11, namely that they were thinking of returning to church because they were scared of what was going to happen to them. I suppose fear can be a motivating factor for getting one back to doing the right thing, but if that's the whole motive and remains the motive, it's hardly a life of joy and such a choice is not likely to stick. And indeed, that person did not.

On “Theory of the Leisure Class” by Thorstein Veblen ***

I took a step back fifty years or so to add this text to my economics list, given that it shows up on so many lists of classic econ works. Veblen wrote at the height of the Gilded Age—and also at a time when evolutionary theory was making its way into social theory as well. The influence of evolutionary thought is all over this work, and in a way I think it rather harms much of Veblen's theory, which seems very focused on materialism, even though there are aspects of the theory that potentially enlightening.

The gist of the argument is that power and prestige is assigned within communities by the ability one has to live a leisurely life. This leisure is largely shown through one's ability to consume time and money conspicuously—indeed, wastefully. Only the lower classes, the less powerful, have to use their time and money to meet their basic needs. So far so good, but I have difficulty with who Veblen puts into this leisure class category, which is essentially anything having to do with government work or religion. In his view, it seems that unless you're actually making things or growing things, you are conspicuously consuming in terms of the work that you are doing. There is no value to helping to keep society on a moral keel. I guess in Veblen's view, such would take care of itself.

Chapter 1 begins with primitive humanity. Primitive society is more peaceful because people have no time to fight (right here, already, Veblen throws me—people fight over resources all the time; it's not like the poor are immune from such). As one moves toward barbarism, which is a step up from primitive life, one introduces social classes. The higher leisure class is made up of warriors, priests, government, and sport, and it is based around the idea of doing exploits, which give you esteem and power. Intellectual work also places one into this leisure class.

In chapter 2, Veblen notes how the importance of exploits is replaced by an importance in property ownership, as a society advances. Slaves and women are the first property, along with land and eventually goods. The more you own, the more respect you have. Interestingly, Veblen notes, this is why no amount of property is ever enough. I find this latter idea to make some sense. Even contemporary studies show that people tend to be satisfied with less as long as they have more than others around them. Since there is always someone with more somewhere, even the very rich compete to acquire more and stay on top.

The leisure class, that is, the upper class, chiefly engages in nonproductive activity, which can include studies of the occult, dead languages, and grammar, and upholding good manners. As one advances in class, conspicuous consumption is abedded by moving not only one's self into the nonproductivity but also one's spouse and even one's servants (becoming butlers, and so on).

Also as society advances, leisure time is replaced by consumption of goods, especially goods with less use and more expense (think, in modern parlance, brand-name goods). Even lower classes can get in on this action in an attempt to prove a higher status.

In chapter 5, Veblen discusses how hard people will work to remain in a higher class. It is harder, psychologically, to move down classes than up. Because everyone is trying to be like the higher classes, eventually upper-class standards move down into the lower—thus, manners and the like get transferred downward. Veblen especially criticizes scholars, who although usually poor like the lower classes, put on airs to attempt to fit in with the upper class.

Conspicuous consumption goes to the heart of such attempts. One will buy stuff to make one's self seem sophisticated—often stuff that is actually less useful than another option. Thus, handmade stuff is preferred to machine made. We like special editions of books rather than books that are just as good (in terms of info inside and quality of the production) but less expensive.

In chapter 7, Veblen looks at dress in light of this and at the way fashions change just so that we'll seem up to date and sophisticated.

In chapter 8, Veblen returns to evolution, arguing that the leisure class is actually more conservative. Because it does not depend on the society at large, it can be aloof to changes going on and thus doesn't evolve with society. (This seems somewhat counter to the chapters previously, as consumption would suggest actually sticking with trends. I think Veblen is more focused on political and environmental trends here, however. But one has to wonder where the political trends come from? Do they not derive from laborers/producers, who supposedly don't have time to think or to do anything but work?)

This argument sets up chapter 9, where Veblen notes that there are basically two kinds of people: peaceful primitives and barbaric predatory. The leisure class is largely the latter. It is selfish and indvidualistic, while the primitive is community oriented. I'm getting a kind of communist anarchist vibe from this argument, which again I think just misunderstand human nature.

Chapter 10 discusses sports as a leisure activity that shows off exploits while doing nothing of actualy consequence.

Chapter 11 focuses on gambling, which Veblen sees as more conspicuous consumption. The issue I have here, however, is that this is not an activity confined to the upper class. Indeed, the poor often have more reason to gamble, which again goes against his argument. Veblen then notes that those involved in sports and gambling also tend to be more religious, which again I take issue with. He halfway had me through the first seven chapters of the book, but as his argument continues on, the more absurd it seems.

Chapter 12 discusses religion as conspicuous consumption, as it renders no material product. Instead, it uses up resources for valueless items: church buildings, special clothes, and so on. In the mechanical age, the middle classes fall away (especially men), as it is a waste of time. The poor stick to it because they lack resources to change in response to modern circumstances. Meanwhile, the richest take on religion as a means of showing off their wealth—religion becomes bound up in spectacle (as in ancient Rome, I suppose: I sponsor some grand thing and put my name on it). But again, these ideas seem contradictory. If the higher classes are what everyone is aiming for, why would the middle class give up religion while the upper class continues in it? Wouldn't everyone be aspiring to be like the rich, as Veblen earlier argued?

In chapter 13, Veblen discusses the counterforces to the leisure class. As some grow tired of conspicuous consumption, they aim for a more substantive life, one that involves actually producing things. Women especially grow tired of being simply a conduit through which men show off their wealth.

Finally, chapter 14 ends the book with a discussion of how higher education is a form of conspicuous consumption, as it produces nothing but knowledge for knowledge sake. Veblen is especially critical of humanities. Science, based in the practical arts, has invaded this realm, bringing the laborng class into the colleges. Science advances society and moves away from the social order established among the leisure class, while humanities is inherently selfish because it produces nothing of value.

On "Wealth in Ancient Ephesus" by Gary G. Hoag *****

I found this scholarly volume immensely interesting. Hoag does a close reading for select passages from the first letter to Timothy alongside a review of Xenophon of Ephesus's Ephesiaca. By doing so, he provides a new way of interpreting many of the passages in the biblical letter. Some readings seem more convincing than others, but no matter, one comes away feeling as if one knows Timothy much better in its context.

Xenophon's work has historically been placed a century or two after Timothy, but as Hoag notes, more recent scholars now see it as being written at about the same time, which allows for the parallel reading. Hoag examples specifically attitudes toward wealth in Timothy and how those attitudes compare with those of the Ephesians and others who would have read Xenophon's tale.

The tale involves a young couple who meet at a festival for Artemis. Because they don't properly respect the goddess, the goddess banishes them to some hard times before they are allowed to return, more humbly, to Ephesus as the loving couple that they are.

In the most convincing of his arguments, Hoag examines how the work links up ideas about femininity in comparison to what the author of Timothy writes about women. Some odd statements are made in Timothy, but they fit very well when one reads them in light of the mythology surrounding Artemis. There seem to be very good reasons that the author of Timothy discusses childbirth and the creation, beyond just these being biblical stories.

Hoag's arguments regarding false teachers, benefactors, and wealth are a bit less convincing, but they are still intriguing ways to read the letter. I say they're less convincing not because they aren't good arguments but because the standard reading of the letter--that the author is dealing with some kind of proto-gnostic set of teachers--still makes sense. In other words, although Hoag makes a strong case that the enemies of the writer could be wealthy Ephesian worshipers of Artemis, he doesn't quite convince me that the other possibility doesn't make sense. So really, he simply adds to the way that one could read such passages. But this is by no means a bad thing.

On “The Road to Serfdom” by F. A. Hayek ****

This author was recommended to me by someone who found out I was doing an economics reading list. I was not really looking forward to this work, as it Hayek was someone I'd never heard of and he seemed more of a minor figure such that reading him would take from others I would otherwise read as part of this list. When I read a bit about him, I was even more put out; he sounded like a huge right-wing, free-market capitalism fan, for which I already had a few such books on my list. I figured Smith and Marx to be enough in terms of older classics, Keynes and Galbraith for moderns, and then the rest would be applied and contemporary.

And indeed, as I started out on this book, Hayek's hit me in a lot of wrong ways. He seemed just too big a fan of the free market without any sort of government oversight. But as I read further, he made more and more sense—and he also seemed at times to contradict himself. That is, he seemed very heavy on avoiding government intervention in the economy, but then would backtrack and say that some intervention was okay. In some ways, it reminded me of the way Elizabeth Warren claims to be a friend of capitalism—but only capitalism done the right way.

What Hayek's book is really doing is arguing against socialism—whether on the right or the left. He was writing near the end of World War II, when the troubles that had risen to the fore in Germany with the National Socialists were very apparent. And he was fearful, he notes, that too many other nations, such as the United States and Britain, were drifting toward the same sort of socialist frenzy under the inane idea that socialism solves problems and creates a more equitable society. (He notes that this is actually more a book on politics than on economics, which seems true, save the economics has much to do with his political views.)

Here's where Hayek's big critique of such thinking really gives one much to ponder. He notes that when the government imposes its will on the forces of the market in the name of providing equity, it denies freedom to the people it rules. A planned economy essentially means that certain people will not be able to do as they wish, be it start a particular type of business, sell a particular item, or do a particular job. In that sense, socialism leads inevitably to totalitarianism. In this way of thinking, I would have to agree. The problem, of course, is that simply letting the market dictate things doesn't necessarily lead to a greater amount of freedom; that's because when a private corporation corners a market, now it's just the private corporation that dictates one's ability to start a new business, sell a particular item, or do a particular job. Which are you going to ask to control your fate? Hayek doesn't spend much time on this latter possibility—except he does at some point note the problems with monopolies. In that sense, he seems to imply that ultimate economic freedom for people can only exist when we are talking about small-time capitalists, not multinationals that control the fate of millions. And in that, too, I would agree, save that some industries require such an outlay of capital that they are impossible to run with such a small footprint. The guy down the street cannot decide that he's going to start building commercial airplanes with a small savings or a small loan; there are reasons there are really only a couple of viable commercial airplane manufacturers. In those sort of endeavours, it seems we really do have to fall back on either government involvement or a near monopoly.

And just as one thinks Hayek is espousing total free markets, he pulls back, admitting in places that the government does have a role to play. It is there to keep markets fair (this is where I thought of Warren), so that fraud and monopoly don't twist the market in ways that remove opportunity for everyone. He even at some point notes that the government should be involved in health care, which seems very much more of a socialist kind of argument in many people's views. Once the government starts getting involved in such things, it seems, it warps the market—that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's really a matter of the tradeoff one is willing to make, where one is willing to cede authority and freedom in the hope that a central-planning bureaucrat will be able to do better. I wouldn't want to live completely at the whim of the free market, nor would I want to live totally under the thumb of a government decision maker. Where that balance is is hard to say.

A late chapter in the book discusses a kind of world government. There, he argues against a socialist world government, noting that were we to have such, certain nation-states would insist on cornering the market in certain areas. There would not be the sharing of resources as one would hope. Instead, there would be resentment, the keeping down of certain nations and of the development of their own industries. Instead, he advocates a kind of world government that instead of mandating things would simply prohibit certain things—what sounds to me in some ways what would become the United Nations. One nation, for example, cannot invade another, lest all the other nations then unite to keep such an invasion from happening. Thus, we would have peace. Of course, the issue with this is apparent from the lack of success the UN has had. I mean, it requires other nations to be willing to sacrifice to stop another nation from taking advantage of others. But beyond that, what's the difference between a prohibition and a mandate? On some level, are they not similar things? If we refrain from mandating that a nation provides a living wage to its citizens, but prohibit a nation from starving its people, what's the difference?

Anyway, in the end, I'm glad Hayek was recommended to me. I found it particularly interesting reading in our current times.

On “Cold-Case Christianity” by J. Warner Wallace *****

After hearing an interview with the author, I'd been looking forward to reading this for probably a few years and finally got ahold of a copy. It was worth the wait. Granted, the early going portions of the text were a bit disappointing, but as Wallace moves deeper into his arguments, the case gets more and more compelling. There isn't much that is necessarily suprising; it's all basic Christian apologist argument, but Wallace is pretty thorough.

What the author does here is essentially discuss how the manner in which one goes about solving a criminal case based on evidence and testimony actually fits well with what evidence has been left for us in the Bible about Jesus's life and work. He starts early on by discussing the basic argument that skeptics have against the Bible: namely, that miraculous/supernatural events do not compute with what we understand about the known world. Indeed, if one is a materialist, that is the end of the conversation right there. But Wallace claims that witness testimony of the supernatural can't be disregarded, especially when there are so many witnesses. For my own self, I've been somewhat skeptical of the idea that our five senses explain everything about the world around us; it seems a bit bold to try to claim that all knowledge can be gathered from the “physical” world; there might well be things that we can't see/hear/touch/smell/feel that are real and existent. As such, one can't necessarily dismiss all things that don't fit with our material limitations, even if there is nothing we can glean about things outside of them without some sort of revelation. But we can see, as Warner himself notes in one chapter, the material results of such supernatural power—that is, one chapter is devoted to the creation, wherein Wallace essentially runs down the various well-trodden arguments for creation versus some other less than satisfactory argument for the origin of life and the universe. But in that sense, the book, in its earliest chapters, where it's running through these well-rehearsed arguments alongside his police life, the book seems a little predictable.

The deeper in Wallace gets, however, the more intriguing the work becomes. That's because he begins to summarize some ideas that are somewhat less explored in standard apologetics and theological works, and he does it in a way that is very much easy for a lay reader to understand. I recognized some of the scholarly work that I've seen others write in Wallace's text, but made much more accessible. Some of that work is in books I've managed to check out of the college library, but said books are at such high academic prices I'll never likely purchase a copy; now, I have those arguments, scriptures, and quotes in Wallace's book, and it's nice to have those summations put into such easy to access form. I especially enjoyed section 2 of the book, where he is as much talking about being a detective as he is about examining the evidence. His main point in this section is that, yes, one can still argue other things about the evidence presented, but are those arguments the most logical? the simplest? I think Wallace presents a good point here. We can accept the evidence handed down to us; that is in fact the simplest explanation for all that we know about Jesus. Or we can, by contrast, settle on something that is much harder to defend, some sort of conspiracy theory. It doesn't fit the evidence as well or as simply, but if one is a materialist, such an argument fits with the world one knows. It's really a matter of which one you're going to choose.

On “The Economic Consequences of the Peace” by John Maynard Keynes ***

I was looking for a book by Keynes for my economics reading list and chose this one. It wasn't quite what I was looking for insofar as it didn't really seem focused on what folks call “Keynesian economics.” Then again, I didn't really want some really scholarly text, and that was one main reason I settled on this one: because it was, I read, intended for a popular audience. By that, however, the “popular” audience was very much that of its day. There wasn't much in here that I felt invested in in our day.

That said, the book is an interesting snapshot of one of the concerns of its day, and in it, one can see that Keynes had some foresight. The text largely criticizes the conditions of the peace treaty coming out of World War I, one that was very draconian in the manner in which it treated Germany and that was not in keeping with the assurances Germany had been given when it surrended. He shows how the punishment, the payment forced on Germany by the winners of the war, was unsustainable. It took away chunks of land that Germany had had, some indeed of the most productive land. It asked Germany to repay based on a degree of production that it was incapable of, especially without that land. And it rewarded nations that were not as damaged by the war as certain others and that could have likely sustained the losses—namely Britain and in turn the United States (which Britain was indebted to and thus was repaying), as opposed to nations like France, which suffered much more substantial losses and whose payment was likely more justified.

The result, Keynes hints, is one that is actually not going to resolve issues that it hopes to resolve and instead is likely to lead to the renewal of hostilities, because the German population is not going to be willing to be taxed into poverty for war debt with no end in sight. Such are the arguments, and such, of course, is what came to be.

On “A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy” by Karl Marx ***

Das Kapital isn't available in English on Project Gutenberg and is actually a three-volume work that I was kind of dreading reading on my economics reading list, given its length. I've read that it is actually at points enjoyable, with humor and anecdotes, but my guess is that it's similar to Smith's Wealth of Nations, insofar as the anecdotes were obviously of their time and so not necessarily easily referenced to things occurring in our day and also full of responses to economic writing of the day. So I settled on this shorter work, which is available for free at Project Gutenberg and is, in some ways, apparently, a kind of distillation of Marx's economic thinking. My fear that on some level its density would prove daunting proved to be somewhat true. I'd have had to spend a lot more time with it to really comprehend what Marx was saying, and I likely would have had to review Smith's work as well as read up on the work of a few other theorists.

The book begins with a basic premise, which is that at base all compensation/money/production is based on labor. When we swap goods, we are swapping man hours. It takes person X 6 hours to buld a book shelf; it takes person Y 3 hours to put a new fuel injector system into a vehicle. I swap two fuel injector system installations for one book shelf. Of course, this sort of direct swap isn't really workable, so money gets involved as an intermediary. Most often this has been gold or silver, because these are stable production units, as opposed to, say, a bag of flour, which eventually goes bad. So then the commodity is swapped for money, which is then swapped for another commodity (C > M > C). As silver or gold become more rare or abundant, the amount needed to swap also goes up and down, just as with commodities, creating changes in prices. In time, rather than carrying gold or silver, paper began to be used as a stand-in for the gold or silver (after all, even gold and silver wears down with time, so it's safer to lock away an ounce of gold than to carry it around). (Interestingly, I hadn't thought of it before, but British money has terms like pound and sterling, which likely refer to the weight of the metal originally serving as money.) Theoretically, the paper can be turned in for the gold and silver. But of course, sometimes, with the rise or fall of the value of that gold or silver, the paper might end up being worth more than the actual gold or silver as a commodity (or even the coin); when that happens, it woud be tempting to melt down the silver dime, for example, and recoup the value of the silver rather than use the coin itself. Paper, as such, Marx seems to kind of frown on as essentially useless/pointless. (Another book, which I'll read later but which I have read a few chapters of previously, called Debt makes the point that there never really was a barter economy, that we've always had money of a sort, and that money is really a form of IOU. In that case, paper with a number on it is as workable as a monetary unit as anything else. You pay me 6 hours for the book shelf; I pay you 3 hours for the fuel injector installation, and I pay Jay, down the street, 3 hours for trimming my trees.)

Near the end of the work, Marx shows how commodities, distribution, exchange, and production are actually all just forms of production. I'm not quite sure I buy this argument. It's true, insofar as to produce something one has to distribute it and exchange it, and also as Marx notes, any given commodity is also often the source of production. That is, the book shelf is made from other commodities—the tree one planted and then cut down, the lumber that was manufactured from that tree, as well as the nails, paint, etc., that went into the shelf. But I could as easily say that production is just a form of commodity. In fact, as far as public economy goes, I'd be more inclined to say the latter. Why? Marx, of course, wants to come back to labor, which is production. But that puts the emphasis on the amount of time spent making something. Whereas, all that labor, to me, seems pointless if in the end no one wants the commodity. If we produce six book shelves but can only sell two, then we have excess production. We might as well just burn the extra book shelves, which means there as good as never existing. If we fail to distribute the shelves, we have production without commodification. Really, the labor is only worth something outside of the home if/when that labor is distributed and commodified via exchange. I can produce a lot of spittle, but I can't commodify it. As such, does the time spent producing spittle amount to any kind of applicable labor unit?

In a final appendix, Marx argues that the greatest artistic works come from baser societies—that is, ones in which production is more rooted in humans than in the machines they have created. He uses Greek literature as his example, saying that those were the greatest works of all, better than Shakespeare or anything since. In an age in which labor rests within a steam engine, it is harder to write about the real essence of life, than, say, when one is wrestling against so-called gods of the elements. It's another argument I don't buy.

On “An Essay on the Principle of Population” by Thomas R. Malthus ***

This famous work essentially espoused the idea that there was an upper limit to the degree to which the earth could sustain human population, one that Malthus felt was, even in his life around 1800, substantially already at the brink of being reached. That's the popular understanding of it, at least, that I'd always gleaned. And to some extent, the book is about that sort of thing, but to me it seemed really the musings of a consumant pessimist.

The basic theory/idea that starts off and informs everything else in the work is one in which Malthus claims that population increases at a faster than the ability of humans to find ways to supply food for that population. If we were to graph the two items, one could imagine the food supply increasing as a constant rate—a straight line going slowly upward; meanwhile, the population line would go up at an accelerating rate—a line like the right half of a parabola. This is because, essentially, people love sex. We just can't help ourselves. So whether there's food or not, we're going to keep making more people. (The issue, of course, is that when the two lines meet, that parabola will come to an end: population wouldn't keep going up; rather, a lot of folks will die of hunger. In a sense, overpopulation takes care of itself. Malthus never really addresses this.)

Beyond that, Malthus argues against various other writers who espouse various rosy ideas about humanity. We won't ever put off our reproductive desire or our wish to have more. We will continue toward greed and avarice. Society is ever headed toward a bad end. If and when things do improve (temporarily), that will just encourage more population and more desire. That is, even as we increase our resources, it's inevitable that our desires and our population will always outstrip capacity. Efforts to alleviate suffering of less fortunate only further the problem by encouraging more population among the less fortunate and thus more suffering. Is there a solution? Malthus doesn't really propose much that's workable. The essay seemed more a head exercise and set of opinions than anything substantiated in statistical anaysis.

On “The Antichrist” by Ernest Renan ***

I came across mention of this old book in Paul Trebilco's history of the church in Ephesus. He noted Renan as one of the few who heavily prognasticated the eventual move of much of the first-century Jerusalem church to Ephesus. Since that was a subject of interest to me, I figured I should read it. The connection between churches was something of a disappointment; Renan sort of asserts that, but there isn't a lot of concrete evidence, as really all there is anyway are implications (otherwise, there'd be more written about this subject).

This is actually volume 4 of 7 of Renan's huge work on the early history of Christianity. This is the one that focuses most on the time period I figured would be more applicable: the destruction of the Jersusalem and the work of John in Ephesus. There's good info here, but alas, one often doesn't know where Renan pulls it from, given that there are no notes attached. Furthermore, this work is old, and it shows, insofar as Renan wrote at a time when it was considered good form to wax poetic on subjects. As such, he often takes thirty words to say what could be said in ten, which can be irritating. There are quite a few comparisons to Europeans dynamics at the time he was writing in the nineteenth century, which can be interesting but usually aren't, and while no doubt such comparisons probably were of value to his contemporaries, they didn't serve much use to this reader more than a hundred years later.

Renan's work is apparently somewhat controversial. He was a proponent of Jesus being just a man, not divine. (And Wikipedia notes various antisemetic tropes and racism in his larger work.) But surprisingly, as this volume brings out, he did mostly accept the traditional authorship of the New Testament. He was a big proponent of the idea that the Apostle John wrote Revelation—and likely the other items attributed to him. He didn't stand much for the John the Presbyter idea. All this makes for an interesting contrast, since so many modern critics espouse ideas that much of the New Testament (sometimes as little as seven letters of Paul) was written decades after its supposed authorship by pseudonymous authors. Such makes it much easier to dismiss the facts of the New Testament and make whatever claims one wishes with regard to early Christianity and Jesus. Renan doesn't do so much of that, and yet still managed to reach the conclusions he did regarding Jesus.

Much of this volume is given over to Renan's explication of Revelation, which he sees as being written in response to events in the Roman Empire, and especially with regard to Nero's persecution of Christians in Rome. Reading Revelation “historically” rather than as prophecy gives it quite a different spin.