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Monday 16 March 2009

The logic of arranged marriage in India


 

The logic of arranged marriage in India

15 Mar 2009, 2226 hrs IST, Santosh Desai


Why does the institution of the arranged marriage survive in India in this day and age? The India I am talking about in this case includes the educated middle class, where the incidence of arranged marriages continues to be high and more importantly, is accepted without any difficulty as a legitimate way of finding a mate. Twenty years ago, looking at the future, one would have imagined that by now, the numbers of the arranged marriage types would have shrunk and the few remaining stragglers would be looked down upon as belonging to a somewhat primitive tribe. But this is far from being so.

The answer lies partly in the elastic nature of this institution, and indeed most traditional Indian customs, that allows it to expand its definition to accommodate the needs of modernity. So today's arranged marriage places individual will at the heart of the process; young men and women are rarely forced to marry someone against their wishes. The role of the parents has moved to that of being presiding deities, with one hand raised in blessing and the other hand immersed purposefully in the wallet.

The need for some arrangement when it comes to marriage is a very real one, both here as well as in those cultures where arranged marriages are anathema. The blind date, being set up by friends, online dating, the speed date, reality swayamvar-type shows are all attempts to arrange ways that one can meet a potential spouse. Here the idea of love is being not-so-gently manufactured by contriving a spark that could turn into the cozy fire of domesticity.

The arranged marriage of today is more clearly manufactured but it also offers a more certain outcome. Online matrimonial sites are full of young professionals seeking matches on their own, knowing that what is on the table here is not a date but the promise of marriage. In the West, the curiously antiquated notion that it is the prerogative of the man to propose marriage makes for a situation where the promise of marriage is tantalizingly withheld by one of the concerned parties for an indefinite period of time. Indeed, going by Hollywood movies, it would appear that to mention marriage too early in a relationship is a sure way of scaring off the man. So we have a situation where marriage is a mirage that shimmers on the horizon frequently, but materializes rarely. The mating process becomes a serial hunt with the man doing the pursuing to begin a relationship and the woman taking over the role in trying to convert it into something more lasting.

At a more fundamental level, the idea that romantic love is the most suitable basis for a long-term relationship is not as automatic as it might appear. Marriage is the only significant kinship tie that we enter into by choice. We don't choose our parents, our relatives or our children — these are cards that are dealt out to us. For a long time, in a lot of cultures, and even now in some, marriage too is a relationship we do not personally control. This view of marriage works best in contexts where the idea of the individual is not fully developed. People live in a sticky collective and individuality is blurred. A young Saraswat Brahmin boy, earning in four figures was sufficient as a description and one such person was broadly substitutable with another.

As the role of the individual increases and as dimensions of individuality get fleshed out in ever newer ways, marriage must account for these changes. The idea of romance makes the coming together of individuals seem like a natural event. Mutual attraction melts individuals together into a union. In contexts where communities fragment and finding mates as a task devolves to individuals, romance becomes a natural agent of marriage. The trouble is that while the device works very well in bringing people together, it is not intrinsically equipped to handle these individuals over time. For, the greater emphasis on the individual has also meant that personal needs and personal growth come to occupy a privileged position in every individual's life. Falling in love becomes infinitely easier than staying in it as individuals are no longer defined primarily by the roles they play in marriage.

So we have a situation where people fall in and out of love more often, making the idea of romance as a basis of marriage not as socially productive as it used to be. Romantic love seeks to extend the present while the arranged marriage aims at securing the future. It keeps the headiness of romance at bay, and recognizes that romance and the sustenance of a socially constructed long-term contract like marriage do not necessarily converge. Of course, the arranged marriage has its own assumptions about what variables make this contract work and these too offer no guarantees.

In a world where our present has become a poor indicator of our future, the idea of arranging marriages continues to hold charm. Whether it is cloaked in tradition as it is in India or in modernity as it is elsewhere, the institution of marriage needs some help. The expanded Indian view of the arranged marriage functions as a facilitated marriage search designed for individuals. Perhaps that is why convented matches from status families will continue to look for decent marriages, caste no bar.



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Monday 9 March 2009

Ethics, Economics and Global Justice




Rowan Williams
 
In a conversation a couple of months ago at Canary Wharf, a senior manager in financial services observed that recent years had seen an erosion of the notion that certain enterprises necessarily took time to deliver and that therefore it was a mistake to look for maximal profits on the basis of a balance sheet covering only one or two years. There had been, he suggested, a deep and systemic impatience with the whole idea of taking time to arrive at a desired goal – and thus with a great deal of the understanding of both labour and the building of confidence. Either an enterprise delivered or it didn't, and the question could be answered in a brief and measurable time-span.

 
For all the rhetoric about accountability, getting your money's worth, the effect of such assumptions in all kinds of settings has been a spectacular failure to understand the variety of ways in which responsible practice might be gauged – whether in relation to investment in actual production or in relation to new financial products, whose sustainability and reliability can only be proved after the passage of time. Very much the same kind of impatience has also been part of the tidal wave of assault on the historic professions – including the law, teaching and academic research and some aspects of public service. The short-term curse continues to afflict the voluntary sector in the absurd timescales attached to grant-giving; but all that is material for a lecture in its own right …

 
But in connection specifically with the financial crisis, the main point is about what appropriate patience might look like where various financial and commercial enterprises are concerned. The loss of a sense of appropriate time is a major cultural development, which necessarily changes how we think about trust and relationship. Trust is learned gradually, rather than being automatically deliverable according to a set of static conditions laid down. It involves a degree of human judgement, which in turn involves a level of awareness of one's own human character and that of others – a degree of literacy about the signals of trustworthiness; a shared culture of understanding what is said and done in a human society.

 
And this learning entails unavoidable insecurity. I do not control others and I do not control the passage of time and the processes of nature; even the ­processes of human labour are limited by things outside my control (the capacities of human bodies). My lack of a definitive and authoritative or universal perspective means that I may make mistakes because I misread others or because I miscalculate the levels of uncertainty in the processes I deal in. And the further away I get from these areas of learning by trial and error, the further away I get from the inevitable risks of living in a material and limited world, the more easily can I persuade myself that I am after all in control.

 
Although people have spoken of greed as the source of our current problems, I suspect that it goes deeper. It is a little too easy to blame the present situation on an accumulation of individual greed, exemplified by bankers or brokers, and to lose sight of the fact that governments committed to deregulation and to the encouragement of speculation and high personal borrowing were elected repeatedly in Britain and the United States for a crucial couple of decades.

 
Add to that the fact that warnings were not lacking of some of the risks of poor (or no) regulation, and we are left with the question of what it was that skewed the judgment of a whole society as well as of financial professionals. John Dunning, a professional analyst of the business world, wrote some six years ago about what he called the "crisis in the moral ecology" of unregulated capitalism (in the editorial afterword to a collection of essays on Making Globalisation Good, p.357); and he and other contributors to his book discussed how "circles of failure" could be created in the global economy by a combination of moral indifference, institutional crisis and market failure, each feeding on the others. Yet warnings went unheeded; people's rational capacities, it seems, were blunted, and unregulated global capitalism was assumed to be the natural way of doing things, based on a set of rational market processes that would deliver results in everyone's interest.

 
This was not just about greed. At least some apologists for the naturalness of the unregulated market pointed – quite reasonably in the circumstances – to the apparently infallible capacity of the market to free nations from poverty. It may help to turn for illumination to an unexpected source. Acquisitiveness is, in the Christian monastic tradition, associated with pride, the root of all human error and failure: pride, which is most clearly evident in the refusal to acknowledge my lack of control over my environment, my illusion that I can shape the world according to my will. And if that is correct, then the origin of economic dysfunction and injustice is pride – a pride that is manifest in the reluctance to let go of systems and projects that promise more and more secure control, and so has a bad effect on our reasoning powers.

 
This in turn suggests that economic justice arrives only when everyone recognises some kind of shared vulnerability and limitation in a world of limits and processes (psychological as well as material) that cannot be bypassed. We are delivered or converted not simply by resolving in a vacuum to be less greedy, but by understanding what it is to live as an organism which grows and changes and thus is involved in risk. We change because our minds or mindsets are changed and steered away from certain powerful but toxic myths.

 
Now, you could say that ethics is essentially about how we negotiate our own and other people's vulnerabilities. The sort of behaviour we recognise as unethical is very frequently something to do with the misuse of power and the range of wrong or corrupt responses to power – with the ways in which fear or envy or admiration can skew our perception of what the situation truly demands of us. Instead of estimating what it is that we owe to truth or to reality or to God as the source of truth, we calculate what we need to do so as to acquire, retain or at best placate power (and there is of course a style of supposedly religious morality that works in just such an unethical way). But when we begin to think seriously about ethics, about how our life is to reflect truth, we do not consider what is owed to power; indeed, we consider what is owed to weakness, to powerlessness.

 
Our ethical seriousness is tested by how we behave towards those whose goodwill or influence is of no "use" to us. Hence the frequently repeated claim that the moral depth of a society can be assessed by how it treats its children – or, one might add, its disabled, its elderly or its terminally ill. Ethical behaviour is behaviour that respects what is at risk in the life of another and works on behalf of the other's need. To be an ethical agent is thus to be aware of human frailty, material and mental; and so, by extension, it is to be aware of your own frailty. And for a specifically Christian ethic, the duty of care for the neighbour as for oneself is bound up with the injunction to forgive as one hopes to be forgiven; basic to this whole perspective is the recognition both that I may fail or be wounded and that I may be guilty of error and damage to another.


 
It's a bit of a paradox, then, to realise that aspects of capitalism are in their origin very profoundly ethical in the sense I've just outlined. The venture capitalism of the early modern period expressed something of the sense of risk by limiting liability and sharing profit; it sought to give limited but real security in a situation of risk, and it assumed that sharing risk was a basis for sharing wealth. It acknowledged the lack of ultimate human control in a world of complex processes and unpredictable agents and attempted to "negotiate vulnerabilities", in the terms I used a moment ago, by stressing the importance of maintaining trust and offering some protection against unlimited loss. By sharing risk between investor and venturer, it also shared power.

 
The problems begin to arise when the system offers such a level of protection from insecurity that risk comes to be seen as exceptional and unacceptable. We take for granted a high level of guaranteed return and so come to prefer those transactions in which the actual business of time-taking and the limits involved in material labour and scarcity of goods are less involved. It has been persuasively argued that things begin to go astray, morally, in the early and intimate association between capitalism and various colonial projects, in which abundant new natural resources and abundant new reserves of labour (notably in the shape of slavery) could be counted on to minimise some kinds of risk.

 
In the post-colonial climate, it has been the world of financial products that becomes the favoured basis for both personal and social economy. A badly or inadequately regulated market is one in which no one is properly monitoring the scarcity of credit. And this absence of monitoring is especially attractive when governments depend for their electability on a steady expansion of spending power for their citizens. Increasingly, to pick up the central theme of Philip Bobbitt's magisterial works on modern global and military politics, government rests its legitimacy upon its capacity to satisfy consumer demands and maximise choices – its capacity to defer or obscure that element of the uncontrollable which in earlier phases of capitalist production dictated the habits of mutual trust and shared jeopardy, the habits that made sense of the otherwise morally controversial idea that the use of money was itself in some sense a chargeable commodity, something that needed to be paid for.

 
Maximised choice is a form of maximised control. And it presupposes and encourages a basic model of the ideal human agent as an isolated subject confronting a range of options, each of which they are equally free to adopt for their own self-defined purposes. If an economy resting on financial services rather than material production offers more choice, a government will lean in this direction for electoral advantage, since its claim to be taken seriously is now grounded in its ability to enlarge the market in which individuals operate to purchase the raw materials for constructing their identities and projects.

 
As I hope will be clear, this is a deeper matter than just "greed". It is a fairly comprehensive picture of what sort of things human beings are; and to recognise it as a reasonably accurate model of late modern "developed" society, especially in the north Atlantic world, is not to suggest any blanket condemnation of market principles, any nostalgia for pre-modern social sanctions and so forth – only to begin to sketch an analysis of where and how certain quite intractable problems arise.

 
As already indicated, the modern market state, in Bobbitt's sense of the term, the state that promises maximised choice and minimal risk, is in serious danger of encouraging people to forget two fundamentals of economic reality: scarcity as an inexorable truth about a materially limited world, and concrete productivity and added value as the condition for increasing purchasing power or liberty, and thus sustaining any kind of market. The tension between these two things is, of course, at the heart of economic theory, and imbalance in economic reality arises when one or the other dominates for too long, producing an unhealthily controlled economy (scarcity-driven) or an unhealthily hyperactive and ill-regulated economy (based on the simple expansion of purchasing power).

But forget that tension and what happens is not stability but plain confusion and fantasy. We have woken up belatedly to the results of behaving as though scarcity could be indefinitely deferred: the ecological crisis makes this painfully clear. We have woken up less rapidly and definitively to the effects of displacing labour costs to undeveloped economies. The short-term benefits to local employment in these settings and in lower prices elsewhere cannot offset longer-term issues about security of employment (jobs will move when labour is cheaper in other places) and thus also the problematic social changes brought by large-scale movement towards new employment patterns that have no long-term guarantees. One effect of this pattern is the creation not of a new consumer class but of a new group of urban paupers in unstable developing economies – a phenomenon visible in some east Asian contexts.

 
The move away from a realistic focus on scarcity and productivity/added value and towards the virtualised economy of money transactions has been deeply seductive, and, over a limited time-frame, spectacularly successful in generating purchasing power. Given that credit is not something that is naturally 'scarce' in precisely the same sense that material resources are, inadequate regulation can, as already noted, foster the illusion that the money market is effectively risk-free; that money can generate money without constraint.

 
In contrast to an economic model in which the exchange of goods is the basic process being analysed or managed, we have increasingly privileged and encouraged a model in which the process of exchange itself has become the raw material, the motor of profit-making. But, to repeat the point made so many times in the last few months, the problem comes when massively inflated credit is "called in": when the disproportion between actual, measurable material security and what is being claimed and traded on the market is so great that confidence in the institutions involved collapses. The search for impregnable security, independent of the limits of material resource, available labour and the time-consuming securing of trust by working at relationships of transparency and mutual responsibility, has led us to the most radical insecurity imaginable.



 
This is not the only paradox. In a recent essay in Prospect, Robert Skidelsky discusses why it is that a globalised economy has produced a resurgence of protectionism and nationalism, not to mention the political and economic domination of a single state, the US. We have, he suggests, been seduced into thinking that the mere lack of frontiers in global technology means that we accept a common destiny with other societies and are firmly set on the path to integrated economic operations. "Globalisation – the integration of markets in goods, services, capital and labour – must be good because it has raised millions out of poverty in poorer countries faster than would otherwise have been possible (p.39)." But the Whiggish idea that all this represents an irreversible movement towards an undifferentiated global culture and that a world without economic frontiers is natural, inevitable and by definition benign, rests on several very doubtful assumptions, rooted in an era that is passing – an era in which it was taken for granted that we began from a position of grave scarcity and moved towards unimpeded growth. But we are now in a position of "partial abundance" (i.e. a generally higher standard of living globally) which at the same time is more conscious of the limits of our material and environmental resources. As a result, globalisation is less obviously good news for the "developed" world. "The economic benefits of offshoring are far from evident for richer states," says Skidelsky (ibid.): jobs drain away to places where labour costs are cheaper, and we end up paying more to foreign investors than we earn in international markets. And the temptation for such wealthier economies is thus towards protectionism, with all its damaging consequences for a world economy. It is one of the most effective ways to freeze developing economies in a state of perpetual disadvantage; it makes it impossible for poorer economies to trade their way to wealth, as the rhetoric of the global market suggests they should.

 
Skidelsky argues that we need to take steps to reduce the attractions of relocating and "offshoring" in the first place, so that countries can focus afresh on their own processes of production so as to keep both internal and external investment alive. As he says, the present situation favours economic agreements that give little or no leverage to workers and that have minimal reference to social, environmental or even local legal concerns. Learning how to use governmental antitrust legislation to break up the virtually monopolistic powers of large multinationals that have become cuckoos in the nest of a national economy would also be an essential part of a strategy designed to stop the slide from opportunistic outsourcing towards protectionism and monitoring or policing the chaotic flow of capital across boundaries.

 
We have yet to see how much of this is deliverable, but the thrust of the argument is hard to resist, either morally or practically. Morally, protectionism implicitly accepts that wealth maintained at the cost of the neighbour's disadvantage or worse is a tolerable situation – which is a denial of the belief that what is good for humanity is ultimately coherent or convergent. Such a denial is a sinister thing, since it undermines the logic of assuming that what the other finds painful I should find painful too – a basic element of what we generally consider maturely or sanely ethical behaviour. Practically, protectionism is another instance of short-term vision, securing prosperity here by making prosperity impossible somewhere else; in a global context, this is inexorably a factor in ultimately shrinking potential markets.

 
And the wider agenda sketched by Skidelsky means also that commercial concerns would be prevented from overturning the social and political priorities of elected governments. The arguments around unrepayable international debt a decade ago repeatedly underlined the destructive effects of imposed regimes of financial stabilisation that derailed governmental programmes in poor countries and effectively confiscated any means of shaping a local economy to local needs. And we hardly need reminding of the distorting effect on a national economy – and public ethics, too - of being seen as a pool of cheap labour and a haven for irresponsible practices.

 
Several writers have said that a reformed and revitalised WTO ought to be able to move us further towards the monitoring I mentioned a moment ago. Some would be more specific and argue that for this to work effectively, there needs also to be some regulation of capital flow and exchange mechanisms, and this is where a variety of commentators from very diverse backgrounds see the "Tobin tax" proposals as having a place taxing currency exchanges in ways that would serve national economies. We should also need some mechanisms by which it could be guaranteed that a recognisable proportion of "savings", locally generated profits in a national economy, could be ploughed back into investment in local infrastructure, so that we should not constantly have to deal with the consequences of new money in a growing economy roaming around looking for a home and ending up fuelling the pressure on banks to lend above their capacity so as to keep the money moving.

 
Most such moves would, of course, require a formidable, perhaps unattainable level of global agreement and global enforceability; short of this, they could be counterproductive. But the debate on what kinds of international convergence are possible and necessary is a crucial one. The basic question that Skidelsky and others are posing, however, is how the market as we know it can be restructured so as to make it do what it is supposed to do – i.e. to offer producers the chance of a fair and competitive context in which to trade what they produce and become in turn effective investors and developers of the potential of their business and their society.

 
The last few months have seen an extraordinary and quite unpredictable shift in the balance, with international financial transactions losing credibility and national governments coming into their own as guarantors of some level of stability. It is a rather ironic mutation of the idea of the market state: when it comes to the (credit) crunch, populations want governments to secure their basic spending power, even if it limits their absolute consumer freedoms. There is also a point, recently underlined in the debate in the Church of England's General Synod on this subject, about securing justice for future generations: any morally and practically credible policy should be looking to guarantee that future generations do not inherit liabilities that will cripple the provision of basic social care, for example. Unregulated 'freedom' in the climate of destructive speculation is not the most attractive prospect, certainly not compared with a guarantee that assets will not be allowed to drop indefinitely in value. The only way of 'maximising choice' is to make sure that it is still possible to choose and to use something, and to secure the possibilities reasonable choice for our children and grandchildren, even at the price of restricting some options. Without that restriction, nothing is solid: we should face a world in which everything flows, melts, dissolves, in a world of constantly shifting and spectral valuations.


 
If we try to draw some of this together into a few governing principles, what might emerge? The non-economist is bound to be intimidated by the complexity of what we confront, but, as has been said, "we are all economists now"; the specialists are not more conspicuously successful than others in mapping the territory, and this at least encourages some tentative proposals from the sidelines, however broad and aspirational. Certainly, over the last century and a half, Anglican theologians have from time to time taken their courage in their hands and attempted to outline what an ethically responsible economy might look like, and I am conscious of standing in the shadow of some very substantial commentators indeed, from F.D.Maurice to William Temple.

In the background too is the formidable legacy of Roman Catholic social teaching, expressed in some powerful statements from the British and American Bishops' Conferences in recent decades. So with this heritage in mind, I shall suggest five elements, in descending order of significance, that might provide the bare bones of an economic culture capable of delivering something like an ethically defensible global policy.

 
(i) Most fundamentally: we need to move away from a model of economics which simply assumes that it is essentially about the mechanics of generating money, and try to restore an acknowledgement of the role of trust as something which needs time to develop; and so also to move away from an idea of wealth or profit which imagines that they can be achieved without risk, and to return to the primitive capitalist idea, as sketched above, of risk-sharing as an essential element in the equitable securing of wealth for all.

 
(ii) As many writers, from Partha Dasgupta to Jonathon Porritt have argued, environmental cost has to be factored into economic calculations as a genuine cost in opportunity, resource and durability – and thus a cost in terms of doing justice to future generations. There needs to be a robust rebuttal of any idea that environmental concerns are somehow a side issue or even a luxury in a time of economic pressure; the questions are inseparably connected.

 
(iii) We need to think harder about the role – actual and potential – of democratically accountable governments in the monitoring and regulation of currency exchange and capital flow. This could involve some international conventions about wages and working conditions, and cooperation between states to try and prevent the indefinite growth of what we might call – on the analogy of tax havens – cheap labour havens. Likewise, it might mean considering the kind of capital controls that prevent a situation where it is advantageous to allow indefinitely large sums of capital out of a country.

 
(iv) The existing international instruments – the IMF and World Bank, the WTO and the G8 and G20 countries – need to be reconceived as both monitors of the global flow of capital and agencies to stimulate local enterprise and provide some safety nets as long as the global playing field is so far from being level. They need to provide some protective sanctions for the disadvantaged – not aimed at undermining market mechanisms but at letting them work as they should, working to allow countries to trade their way out of destitution.

 
(v) Necessary short-term policies to kickstart an economy in crisis – such as we have seen in the UK in recent months – should be balanced by long-term consideration of the levels of material and service production that will provide an anchor of stability against the possible storms of speculative financial practice. This is not simply about "baling out" firms under pressure but about a comprehensive look at national economies with a view to understanding what sort of production levels would act as ballast in times of crisis, and investing accordingly.

 
Aspirational these may be; but what I hope is not vague here is the moral orientation that lies behind all these points. Ethics, I suggested, is about negotiating conditions in which the most vulnerable are not abandoned. And we shall care about this largely to the extent to which we are conscious of our own vulnerability and limitedness. One of the things most fatal to the sustaining of an ethical perspective on any area of human life, not just economics, is the fantasy that we are not really part of a material order – that we are essentially will or craving, for which the body is a useful organ for fulfilling the purposes of the all-powerful will, rather than being the organ of our connection with the rest of the world. It's been said often enough but it bears repeating, that in some ways – so far from being a materialist culture, we are a culture that is resentful about material reality, hungry for anything and everything that distances us from the constraints of being a physical animal subject to temporal processes, to uncontrollable changes and to sheer accident.

 
Implied in what has just been said is a recognition of the dangers of "growth" as an unexamined good. Growth out of poverty, growth towards a degree of intelligent control of one's circumstances, growth towards maturity of perception and sympathy – all these are manifestly good and ethically serious goals, and, as has already been suggested, there are ways of conducting our economic business that could honour and promote these. A goal of growth simply as an indefinite expansion of purchasing power is either vacuous or malign – malign to the extent that it inevitably implies the diminution of the capacity of others in a world of limited resource. Remember the significance of scarcity and vulnerability in shaping a sense of what ethical behaviour looks like.

It is true that modern production creates markets by creating new "needs" – or more properly, new expectations. Human creativity moves on and human ingenuity constantly enlarges the reach of human management of the environment. That isn't in itself an evil; but a mature perspective on this would surely note two things. One is that there is always some choice involved in what is to be developed – and thus some opportunity cost. Not everything can be produced according to the dictates of desire, and so there will still be the need to sort out priorities. Second, we cannot ignore or postpone the question of what we want enlarged management of the environment for. The reduction of pain or of frustration, the augmenting of opportunity for human welfare and joy – again, these are obviously good things. They are good because they connect with a sense of what is properly owing to human beings, a sense of human dignity. And thus if the way in which they are secured for some reduces the opportunities of others, the pursuit of them is not compatible with a serious commitment to human dignity.

 
All this amounts to a belief that pursuing ethical economic growth, while not systematically hostile to new demands and new markets, while indeed acknowledging the way in which new markets can and should help to secure the prosperity of new producers, necessarily means looking critically at our lifestyle. To make it specific, and to use one of the more obvious examples, it has become more and more clear that lifestyles dependent on high levels of fossil fuel consumption reduce the long-term opportunities of basic human flourishing for many people because of their environmental cost – not to mention the various political traps associated with the production and marketing of oil in some parts of the world, with the consequent risks to peace and regional stability. Growth as an infinitely projected process of better and cheaper access to fossil fuel-related goods, including transport, would not be an impressive ethical horizon. The question which present circumstances are forcing rather harshly on our attention is how self-critical we can find it in ourselves to be about our lifestyle in the more affluent parts of the world – not in order to adopt a corporate monastic poverty but in order to arrive at a sense of the acceptable limits to growth in the context of what might be good for the human family overall and the planet itself.

 
The five broad principles sketched above could only be fleshed out against a background in which people recognised that talking about the need for growth made no sense except in relation to a world of complex social and political relationships and of limited material resources – a background of willingness to ask not what might be abstractly possible in terms of increasing the range of consumer goods but what might be manageable as part of a balanced global network of forces, basic needs, mutual respect and so on.



 
Basic to everything we might want to say about the financial crisis from the religious point of view is the question, "what for?" What is growth for? For what and for whom is wealth important? If it is essential to invest in certain kinds of productive ventures, how does this relate to the broader and longer-term imperative of securing the funding of social care future by way of sustainable shared resources, accumulated wealth? And so on. But behind such questions as these is the unavoidable issue of what human beings are for; or, to put it less crudely, what the content is of ideas of human dignity and where we look for their foundation or rationale. The principles outlined a moment ago require a context not only of geopolitical and social analysis, not even of pragmatic recognitions of the limits of material resources or the opportunity costs of certain financial decisions, but of a comprehensive sense of belonging in a world – and a world that is neither self-explanatory nor self-sufficient, but is transparent to a deeper level of agency or liberty, that level that is called God by the religious traditions of humanity.

 
In Christian belief, the world exists because of a free act of generous love by the creator. God has made a world in which, by working with the limitations of a material order declared by God to be 'very good', humans may reflect the liberty and generosity of God. And our salvation is the restoration of a broken relationship with this whole created order, through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ and the establishing by the power of his Spirit a community in which mutual service and attention are the basic elements through which the human world becomes transparent to its maker.

 
The realising of that transparency is, for religious believers of whatever tradition, the beginning of happiness – not of a transient feeling of well-being or even euphoria, but of a settled sense of being at home, being absolved from urgent and obsessional desire, from the passion to justify your existence, from the anxieties of rivalry. And so what religious belief has to say in the context of our present crisis is, first, a call to lament the brokenness of the world and invite that change of heart which is so pivotal throughout the Jewish and Christian scriptures; and, second, to declare without ambiguity or qualification that human value rests on God's creative love and not on possession or achievement. It is not for believers to join in the search for scapegoats, because there will always be, for the religious self, an awareness of complicity in social evil. Nor is it for believers to make light of the real suffering that goes with economic uncertainty and loss – no less real for the formerly affluent Westerner faced with redundancy than for the powerless farmer or woman worker enduring yet another change for the worse in a battered and injured African or Asian economy.

But the task is to turn people's eyes back to the vision of a human dignity that is indestructible. This is the vision that will both allow us to retain a hold on our sense of worth even when circumstances are painful or humiliating and sustain the sense of obligation to the needs of others, near at hand or strangers, so that dignity may be made manifest.

 
In conclusion, let me suggest three central aspects of a religious – and more specifically, Christian – contribution to the ongoing debate, which may focus some more detailed reflection:

 
(i) Our faith depends on the action of a God who is to be trusted; God keeps promises. There could hardly be a more central theme in Jewish and Christian scripture, and the notion is present in slightly different form in Islam as well. Thus, to live in proper harmony with God, human beings need to be promise-keepers in all areas of their lives, not least in financial dealings.

 
(ii) As we have noted more than once already, the perspective of faith understands human beings as part of creation – not wholly in control, though gifted with capacities that allow real and significant powers over the environment, bound to material identity and unable to escape material need. Living in faith is living in awareness of this created and limited identity without resentment or fantasy.

 
(iii) Living as part of creation brings with it a sense of the common destiny and common predicament of ­humanity. But more specifically, the scriptural understanding of our calling, especially as set out in the letters of St Paul, sees the ideal human community as one in which the welfare and giftedness of each and the welfare of all are inseparable. What is good in God's eyes for human beings not something that is altered by differences in culture or income; we can't say that what is unwelcome or evil for us is tolerable for others.

 
So: trustworthiness, realism or humility and the clear sense that we must resist polices or practices which accept the welfare of some at the expense of others – there is a back-of-an-envelope idea of where we might start in pressing for a global economic order that has some claim to be just. It can't be too often stressed that we are not talking about simply limiting damage to vulnerable societies far away: the central issues exposed by the financial crisis are everyone's business, and the risks of what some commentators (Timothy Garton Ash and Jonathon Porritt) have called a "barbarising" of western societies as a result of panic and social insecurity are real enough.

 
Equally it can't be too often stressed that it is only the generosity of an ethical approach to these matters that can begin to relate material wealth to human well-being, the happiness that is spiritual and relational and based on the recognition of non-negotiable human worth. There is much to fear at the moment, but, as always, more to hope for – so long as we can turn our backs on the worlds of unreality so seductively opened up by some of our recent financial history. Patience, trust and the acceptance of a world of real limitation are all hard work; yet the only liberation that is truly worth while is the liberation to be where we are and who we are as human beings, to be anchored in the reality that is properly ours. Other less serious and less risky enterprises may appear to promise a power that exceeds our limitations – but it is at the expense of truth, and so, ultimately at the expense of human life itself. Perhaps the very heart of the current challenge is the invitation to discover a little more deeply what is involved in human freedom – not the illusory freedom of some fantasy of control.


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Wednesday 1 October 2008

The Current Crisis: A Socialist Perspective

By Leo Panitch & Sam Gindin

30 September, 2008
Socialistproject.ca

'They say they won't intervene. But they will.' This is how Robert Rubin, Bill Clinton's Treasury Secretary, responded to Paul O'Neill, the first Treasury Secretary under George W. Bush, who openly criticized his predecessor's interventions in the face of what Rubin called 'the messy reality of global financial crises.'[1] The current dramatic conjuncture of financial crisis and state intervention has proven Rubin more correct than he could have imagined. But it also demonstrates why those, whether from the right or the left, who have only understood the era of neoliberalism ideologically – i.e. in terms of a hegemonic ideological determination to free markets from states – have had such a weak handle on discerning what really has been going on over the past quarter century. Clinging to this type of understanding will also get in the way of the thinking necessary to advance a socialist strategy in the wake of this crisis.[2]

Markets, States and American Empire


The fundamental relationship between capitalist states and financial markets cannot be understood in terms of how much or little regulation the former puts upon the latter. It needs to be understood in terms of the guarantee the state provides to property, above all in the form of the promise not to default on its bonds – which are themselves the foundation of financial markets' role in capital accumulation. But not all states are equally able, or trusted as willing (especially since the Russian Revolution), to honour this guarantee. The American state emerged in the 20th century as an entirely new kind of imperial state precisely because it took utmost responsibility for honouring this guarantee itself, while promoting a world order of independent nation states which the new empire would expect to behave as capitalist states. Since World War Two, the American state has been not just the dominant state in the capitalist world but the state responsible for overseeing the expansion of capitalism to its current global dimensions and for organizing the management of its economic contradictions. It has done this not through the displacement but through the penetration and integration of other states. This included their internationalization in the sense of their cooperation in taking responsibility for global accumulation within their borders and their cooperation in setting the international rules for trade and investment.

It was the credibility of the American state's guarantee to property which ensured that, even amidst the Great Depression and business hostility to the New Deal's union and welfare reforms, private funds were readily available as loans to all the new public agencies created in that era. This was also why whatever liquid foreign funds that could escape the capital controls of other states in that decade made their way to New York, and so much of the world's gold filled the vaults of Fort Knox. And it is this which helps explain why it fell to the American state to take responsibility for making international capitalism viable again after 1945, with the fixed exchange rate for its dollar established at Bretton Woods providing the sole global currency intermediary for gold. When it proved by the 1960s that those who held US dollar would have to suffer a devaluation of their funds through inflation, the fiction of a continuing gold standard was abandoned. The world's financial system was now explicitly based on the dollar as American-made 'fiat money', backed by an iron clad guarantee against default of US Treasury bonds which were now treated as 'good as gold'. Today's global financial order has been founded on this; and this is why US Treasury bonds are the fundamental basis from which calculations of value of all forms of financial instruments begin.

To be sure, the end of fixed exchange rates and a dollar nominally tied to gold now meant that it had to be accepted internationally that the returns to those who held US assets would reflect the fluctuating value of US dollars in currency markets. But the commitment by the Federal Reserve and Treasury to an anti-inflation priority via the founding act of neoliberalism – the 'Volcker shock 'of 1979 – assuaged that problem. (This 'defining-moment' of US-state intervention, like the current one, came in the run-up to a presidential election – i.e. before Reagan's election, and with bipartisan support and the support of industrial and well as financial capital in the US and abroad.) As the American state took the lead, by its example and its pressure on other states around the world, to give priority to low inflation as a much stronger and ongoing commitment than before, this bolstered finance capital's confidence in the substantive value of lending; and after the initial astronomical interest rates produced by the Volcker shock, this soon made an era of low interest rates possible. Throughout the neoliberal era, the enormous demand for US bonds and the low interest paid on them has rested on this foundation. This was reinforced by the defeat of American trade unionism; by the intense competition in financial markets domestically and internationally; by financial capital's pressures on firms to lower costs through restructuring if they are to justify more capital investment; by the reallocation of capital across sectors and especially the provision of venture capital to support new technologies in new leading sectors of capital accumulation; and by the 'Americanization of finance' in other states and the consequent access this provided the American state to global savings.

Deregulation was more a consequence than the main cause of the intense competition in financial markets and its attendant effects. By 1990, this competition had already led to banks scheming to escape the reserve requirements of the Basel bank regulations by creating 'Structured Investment Vehicles' to hold these and other risky derivative assets. It also led to the increased blurring of the lines between commercial and investment banking, insurance and real estate in the FIRE sector of the US economy. Competition in the financial sector fostered all kinds of innovations in financial instruments which allowed for high leveraging of the funds that could be accessed via low interest rates. This meant that there was an explosion in the effective money supply (this was highly ironic in terms of the monetarist theories that are usually thought to have founded neoliberalism). The competition to purchase assets with these funds replaced price inflation with the asset inflation that characterized the whole era. This was reinforced by the American state's readiness to throw further liquidity into the financial system whenever a specific asset bubble burst (while imposing austerity on economies in the South as the condition for the liquidity the IMF and World Bank provided to their financial markets at moments of crisis). All this was central to the uneven and often chaotic making of global capitalism over the past quarter century, to the crises that have punctuated it, and to the active role of the US state in containing them.

Meanwhile, the world beat a path to US financial markets not only because of the demand for Treasury bills, and not only because of Wall Street's linkages to US capital more generally, but also because of the depth and breadth of its financial markets – which had much to do with US financial capital's relation to the popular classes. The American Dream has always materially entailed promoting their integration into the circuits of financial capital, whether as independent commodity farmers, as workers whose paychecks were deposited with banks and whose pension savings were invested in the stock market, as consumers reliant on credit, and not least as heavily mortgaged home owners. It is the form that this incorporation of the mass of the American population took in the neoliberal context of competition, inequality and capital mobility, much more than the degree of supposed 'deregulation' of financial markets, that helps explain the dynamism and longevity of the finance-led neoliberal era. But it also helped trigger the current crisis – and the massive state intervention in response to it.

From 'Great Society' to sub-prime mortgages


The scale of the current crisis, which significantly has its roots in housing finance, cannot be understood apart from how the defeat of American trade unionism played out by the first years of the 21st century. Constrained in what they could get from their labour for two decades, workers were drawn into the logic of asset inflation in the age of neoliberal finance not only via the institutional investment of their pensions, but also via the one major asset they held in their own hands (or could aspire to hold) – their family home. It is significant that this went so far as the attempted integration via financial markets of poor African-American communities, so long the Achilles heel of working class integration into the American Dream. The roots of the sub-prime mortgage crisis, triggering the collapse of the mountain of repackaged and resold securitized derivative assets to hedge the risk involved in lending to poor people, lay in the way the anti-inflation commitment had since the 1970s ruled out the massive public expenditures that would have been required to even begin to address the crisis of inadequate housing in US cities.

As the 'Great Society' public expenditure programs of the 1960s ran up against the need to redeem the imperial state's anti-inflationary commitments, financial market became the mechanism for doing this. In 1977, the government sponsored mortgage companies, Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae (the New Deal public housing corporation privatized by Lyndon Johnson in 1968 before the word neoliberalism was invented), were required by the Community Reinvestment Act to sustain home loans by banks in poor communities. This effectively initiated that portion of the open market in mortgage-backed securities that was directed towards securing private financing for housing for low income families. From modest beginnings this only really took off with the inflation of residential real estate values after the recession of the early 1990s and the Clinton Administration's embrace of neoliberalism leading to its reinforcement of a reliance on financial markets rather than public expenditures as the primary means of integrating working class, Black and Hispanic communities. The Bush Republicans' determination to open up competition to sell and trade mortgages and mortgage-backed securities to all comers was in turn reinforced by the Greenspan Fed's dramatic lowering of real interest to almost zero in response to the bursting of the dot.com bubble and to 9/11. But this was a policy that was only sustainable via the flow of global savings to the US, not least to the apparent Treasury-plated safety of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac securities as government sponsored enterprises.

It was this long chain of events that led to the massive funding of mortgages, the hedging and default derivatives based on this, the rating agencies AAA rating of them, and their spread onto the books of many foreign institutions. This included the world's biggest insurance company, AIG, and the great New York investment banks, whose own traditional business of corporate and government finance around the globe was now itself heavily mortgaged to the mortgages that had been sold in poor communities in the US and then resold many times over. The global attraction and strength of American finance was seen to be rooted in its depth and breadth at home, and this meant that when the crisis hit in the sub-prime security market at the heart of the empire, it immediately had implications for the banking systems of many other countries. The scale of the American government's intervention has certainly been a function of the consequent unraveling of the crisis throughout its integrated domestic financial system. Yet it is also important to understand this in terms of its imperial responsibilities as the state of global capital.

This is why it fell to the Fed to repeatedly pump billions of dollars via foreign central banks into inter-bank markets abroad, where banks balance their books through the overnight borrowing of dollars from other banks. And an important factor in the nationalizations of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac was the need to redeem the expectations of foreign investors (including the Japanese and Chinese central banks) that the US government would never default on its debt obligations. It is for this reason that even those foreign leaders who have opportunistically pronounced the end of American 'financial superpower status' have credited the US Treasury for 'acting not just in the US interests but also in the interests of other nations.'[3] The US was not being altruistic in doing this, since not to do it would have risked a run on the dollar. But this is precisely the point. The American state cannot act in the interests of American capitalism without also reflecting the logic of American capitalism's integration with global capitalism both economically and politically. This is why it is always misleading to portray the American state as merely representing its 'national interest' while ignoring the structural role it plays in the making and reproduction of global capitalism.

A century of crises


It might be thought that the exposure of the state's role in today's financial crisis would once and for all rid people of the illusion that capitalists don't want their states involved in their markets, or that capitalist states could ever be neutral and benign regulators in the public interest of markets. Unfortunately, the widespread call today for the American state to 'go back' to playing the role of such a regulator reveals that this illusion remains deeply engrained, and obscures an understanding of both the past and present history of the relationship between the state and finance in the US.

In October 1907, near the beginning of the 'American Century', and exactly a hundred years before the onset of the current financial crisis, the US experienced a financial crisis that for anyone living through it would have seemed as great as today's. Indeed, there were far more suicides in that crisis than in the current one, as 'Wall Street spent a cliff-hanging year' which spanned a stock market crash, an 11 per cent decline in GDP, and accelerating runs on the banks.[4] At the core of the crisis was the practice of trust companies to draw money from banks at exorbitant interest rates and, without the protection of sufficient cash reserves, lend out so much of it against stock and bond speculation that almost half of the bank loans in New York had questionable securities as their only collateral. When the trust companies were forced to call in some of their loans to stock market speculators, even interest rates which zoomed to well over 100 per cent on margin loans could not attract funds. European investors started withdrawing funds from the US.

Whereas European central banking had its roots in 'haute finance' far removed from the popular classes, US small farmers' dependence on credit had made them hostile to a central bank that they recognized would serve bankers' interests. In the absence of a central bank, both the US Treasury and Wall Street relied on JP Morgan to organize the bailout of 1907. As Henry Paulson did with Lehman's a century later, Morgan let the giant Knickerbocker Trust go under in spite of its holding $50 million of deposits for 17,000 depositors ('I've got to stop somewhere', Morgan said). This only fuelled the panic and triggered runs on other financial firms including the Trust Company of America (leading Morgan to pronounce that 'this is the place to stop the trouble'). Using $25 million put at his disposal by the Treasury, and calling together Wall Street's bank presidents to demand they put up another $25 million 'within ten or twelve minutes' (which they did), Morgan dispensed the liquidity that began to calm the markets.[5]

When the Federal Reserve was finally established in 1913, this was seen as Wilson's great Progressive victory over the unaccountable big financiers. (As Chernow's monumental biography of Morgan put it, 'From the ashes of 1907 arose the Federal Reserve System: everyone saw that thrilling rescues by corpulent old tycoons were a tenuous prop for the banking system.'[6] ) Yet the main elements of the Federal Reserve Bill had already been drafted by the Morgan and Rockefeller interests during the previous Taft administration; and although the Fed's corporatist and decentralized structure of regional federal reserve boards reflected the compromise the final Act made with populist pressures, its immediate effect was actually to cement the 'fusion of financial and government power.'[7] This was so both in the sense of the Fed's remit as the 'banker's bank' (that is, a largely passive regulator of bank credit and a lender of last resort) and also by virtue of the close ties between the Federal Reserve Bank of New York and the House of Morgan. William McAdoo, Wilson's Treasury Secretary, saw the Federal Reserve Act's provisions allowing US banks to establish foreign branches in terms of laying the basis for the US 'to become the dominant financial power of the world and to extend our trade to every part of the world.'[8]

In fact, in its early decades, the Fed actually was 'a loose and inexperienced body with minimal effectiveness even in its domestic functions.'[9] This was an important factor in the crash of 1929 and in the Fed's perverse role in contributing to the Great Depression. It was class pressures from below that produced FDR's union and welfare reforms. But the New Deal is misunderstood if it is simply seen in terms of a dichotomy of purpose and function between state and capitalist actors. The strongest evidence of this was in the area of financial regulation, which established a corporatist 'network of public and semi-public bodies, individual firms and professional groups' that existed in a symbiotic relationship with one another distanced from democratic pressures.[10] While the Morgan empire was brought low by an alliance of new financial competitors and the state, the New Deal's financial reforms, which were introduced before the union and welfare ones, protected the banks as a whole from hostile popular sentiments. They restrained competition and excesses of speculation not so much by curbing the power of finance but rather through the fortification of key financial institutions, especially the New York investment banks that were to grow ever more powerful through the remainder of the century. Despite the hostility of capitalists to FDR's union and welfare reforms, by the time World War Two began, the New Dealers had struck what they themselves called their 'grand truce' with business.[11] And even though the Treasury's Keynesian economists took the lead in rewriting the rules of international finance during World War Two (producing no little tension with Wall Street), a resilient US financial capital was not external to the constitution of the Bretton Woods order: it was embedded within it and determined its particular character.

In the postwar period, the New Deal regulatory structure acted an incubator for financial capital's growth and development. The strong position of Wall Street was institutionally crystallized via the 1951 Accord reached between the Federal Reserve and the Treasury. Whereas during the War the Fed 'had run the market for government securities with an iron fist' in terms of controlling bond prices that were set by the Treasury, the Fed now took up the position long advocated by University of Chicago economists and set to work successfully organizing Wall Street's bond dealers into a self-governing association that would ensure they had 'sufficient depth and breadth' to make 'a free market in government securities', and thus allow market forces to determine bond prices.[12] The Fed's Open Market Committee would then only intervene by 'leaning against the wind' to correct 'a disorderly situation' through its buying and selling Treasury bills. Lingering concerns that Keynesian commitments to the priority of full employment and fiscal deficits might prevail in the Treasury were thus allayed: the Accord was designed to ensure that 'forces seen as more radical' within any administration would find it difficult, at least without creating a crisis, to implement inflationary monetary policies.[13]

Profits in the financial sector were already growing faster than in industry in the 1950s. By the early 1960s, the securitization of commercial banking (selling saving certificates rather than relying on deposits) and the enormous expansion of investment banking (including Morgan Stanley's creation of the first viable computer model for analyzing financial risk) were already in train. With the development of the unregulated Euromarket in dollars and the international expansion of US MNCs, the playing field for American finance was far larger than New Deal regulations could contain. Both domestically and internationally, the baby had outgrown the incubator, which was in any case being buffeted by inflationary pressures stemming from union militancy and public expenditures on the Great Society programs and the Vietnam War. The bank crisis of 1966, the complaints by pension funds that fixed brokerage fees discriminated against workers' savings, the series of scandals that beset Wall Street, all foretold the end of the corporatist structure of brokers, investment banks and corporate managers that had dominated domestic capital markets since the New Deal, culminating in Wall Street's 'Big Bang' of 1975. Meanwhile, the collapse of the Bretton Woods fixed exchange rate system, due to inflationary pressures on the dollar as well as the massive growth in international trade and investment, laid the foundation for the derivatives revolution by leading to a massive demand for hedging risk by trading futures and options in exchange and interest rates. The newly created Commodity Futures Trading Commission was quickly created less to regulate this new market than to facilitate its development.[14] It was not so much neoliberal ideology that broke the old system of financial regulations as it was the contradictions that had emerged within that system.

If there was going to be any serious alternative to giving financial capital its head by the 1970s, this would have required going well beyond the old regulations and capital controls, and introducing qualitatively new policies to undermine the social power of finance. This was recognized by those pushing for the more radical aspects of the 1977 Community Reinvestment Act, and who could have never foretold where the compromises struck with the banks to secure their loans would lead. Where the socialist politics were stronger, the nationalization of the financial system was being forcefully advanced as a demand by the mid 1970s. The left of the British Labour Party were able to secure the passage of a conference resolution to nationalize the big banks and insurance companies in the City of London, albeit with no effect on a Labour Government that embraced one of the IMF's first structural adjustment programs. In France, the Programme Commun of the late 1970s led to the Mitterand Government's bank nationalizations, but this was carried through in a way that ensured that the structure and function of the banks were not changed in the process. In Canada, the directly elected local planning boards we proposed, which would draw on the surplus from a nationalized financial system to create jobs, were seen as the first step in a new strategy to get labour movements to think in ways that were not so cramped and defensive.[15] Such alternatives – strongly opposed by social democratic politicians who soon accommodated themselves to the dynamics of finance-led neoliberalism and the ideology of efficient free markets – were soon forgotten amidst the general defeat of labour movements and socialist politics that characterized the new era.

Financial capitalists took the lead as a social force in demanding the defeat of those domestic social forces they blamed for creating the inflationary pressures which undermined the value of their assets. The further growth of financial markets, increasingly characterized by competition, innovation and flexibility, was central to the resolution of the crisis of the 1970s. Perhaps the most important aspect of the new age of finance was the central role it played in disciplining and integrating labour. The industrial and political pressures from below that characterized the crisis of the 1970s could not have been countered and defeated without the discipline that a financial order built upon the mobility of capital placed upon firms. 'Shareholder value' was in many respects a euphemism for how the discipline imposed by the competition for global investment funds was transferred to the high wage proletariat of the advanced capitalist countries. New York and London's access to global savings simultaneously came to depend on the surplus extracted through the high rates of exploitation of the new working classes in 'emerging markets'. At the same time, the very constraints that the mobility of capital had on working class incomes in the rich countries had the effect of further integrating these workers into the realm of finance. This was most obvious in terms of their increasing debt loads amidst the universalization of the credit card. But it also pertained to how workers grew more attuned to financial markets, as they followed the stock exchanges and mutual funds that their pension funds were invested in, often cheered by rising stocks as firms were restructured without much thought to the layoffs involved in this.

Both the explosion of finance and the disciplining of labour were a necessary condition for the dramatic productive transformations that took place in the 'real economy' in this era. The leading role that finance came to play over the past quarter century, including the financialization of industrial corporations and the greatest growth in profits taking place in the financial sector, has often been viewed as undermining production and representing little else than speculation and a source of unsustainable bubbles. But this fails to account for why this era – a period that was longer than the 'golden age' – lasted so long. It also ignores the fact that this has been a period of remarkable capitalist dynamism, involving the deepening and expansion of capital, capitalist social relations and capitalist culture in general, including significant technological revolutions. This was especially the case for the US itself, where financial competition, innovation, flexibility and volatility accompanied the reconstitution of the American material base at home and its expansion abroad. Overall, the era of finance-led neoliberalism experienced a rate of growth of global GDP that compares favourably with most earlier periods over the last two centuries.[16]

It is, in any case, impossible to imagine the globalization of production without the type of financial intermediation in the circuits of capital that provides the means for hedging the kinds of risks associated with flexible exchange rates, interest rates variations across borders, uncertain transportation and commodity costs, etc. Moreover, as competition to access more mobile finance intensified, this imposed discipline on firms (and states) which forced restructuring within firms and reallocated capital across sectors, including via the provision of venture capital to the new information and bio-medical sectors which have become leading arenas of accumulation. At the same time, the very investment banks which have now been undone in the current crisis spread their tentacles abroad for three decades through their global role in M&A and IPO activity, during the course of which relationships between finance and production, including their legal and accounting frameworks, were radically changed around the world in ways that increasingly resembled American patterns. This was reinforced by the bilateral and multilateral international trade and investment treaties which were increasingly concerned with opening other societies up to New York's and London's financial, legal and accounting services.

The American state in crisis


The era of neoliberalism has been one long history of financial volatility with the American state leading the world's states in intervening in a series of financial crises. Almost as soon as he was appointed to succeed Volcker as head of the Fed, Greenspan immediately dropped buckets of liquidity on Wall Street in response to the 1987 stock market crash. In the wake of the Savings and Loan crisis, the public Resolution Trust Corporation was established to buy up bad real estate debt (this is the model being used for today's bail-out). In Clinton's first term Wall Street was saved from the consequences of bond defaults during the Mexican financial crisis in 1995 by Rubin's use of the Stabilization Exchange Fund (this Treasury kitty, established during the New Deal, has once again been called into service in today's crisis). During the Asian crisis two years later, Rubin and his Under-Secretary Summers flew to Seoul to dictate the terms of the IMF loan. And in 1998 (not long after the Japanese government nationalized one of the world's biggest banks), the head of the New York Federal Reserve summoned the CEO's of Wall Street's leading financial firms and told them they would not be allowed to leave the room (reminiscent of Morgan in 1907) until they agreed to take over the insolvent hedge fund, Long-Term Capital Management. These quick interventions by the Fed and Treasury, most of them without waiting upon Congressional pressures or approval, showed they were aware of the disastrous consequences which the failure to act quickly to contain each crisis could have on both the domestic and global financial system.

When the current financial crisis broke out in the summer of 2007, the newly appointed Chairman of the Fed, Ben Bernanke, could draw on his academic work as an economist at Princeton University on how the 1929 crash could have been prevented,[17] and Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson could draw on his own illustrious career (like Rubin's) as a senior executive at Goldman Sachs. Both the Treasury and Federal Reserve staff worked closely with the Securities Exchange Commission and Commodity Futures Trading Commission under the rubric of the President's Working Group on Financial Markets that had been set up in 1988, and known on Wall Street as the 'Plunge Protection Team'. Through the fall of 2007 and into 2008, the US Treasury would organize, first, a consortium of international banks and investment funds, and then an overlapping consortium of mortgage companies, financial securitizers and investment funds, to try to get them to take concrete measures to calm the markets. The Federal Reserve acted as the world's central bank by repeatedly supplying other central banks with dollars to provide liquidity to their banking systems, while doing the same for Wall Street. In March 2008 the Treasury – after guaranteeing to the tune of $30 billion J.P Morgan Chase's takeover of Bear Stearns – issued its Blueprint for a Modernized Financial Regulatory Structure especially designed to extend the Fed's oversight powers over investment banks.

Most serious analysts thought the worst was over, but by the summer of 2008, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, whose reserve requirements had been lowered in the previous years to a quarter of that of the banks, were also being undone by the crisis. And by September so were the great New York investment banks. The problem they all faced was that there was no market for a great proportion of the mortgage-backed assets on their books. When the sub-prime mortgage phenomenon was reaching its peak in 2005 Greenspan was claiming that 'where once more-marginal applicants would simply have been denied credit, lenders are now able to quite efficiently judge the risk posed by individual applicants and to price that risk appropriately.'[18] But financial capital's risk evaluation equations unraveled in the crisis of 2007-8. And as they did, so did financial markets' ability to judge the worth of financial institutions balance sheets. Banks became very reluctant to give each other even the shortest term credits. Without such inter-bank credit, any financial system will collapse. The unprecedented scale of interventions in September 2008 can only be understood in this context. They have involved pumping additional hundred of billions of dollars into the world's inter-bank markets; the nationalizations of Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac and AIG (the world largest insurance company); the seizure and fire sale of Washington Mutual (to prevent the largest bank failure in US history); a blanket guarantee on the $3.4 trillion in mutual funds deposits; a ban on short-selling of financial stocks; and Paulson's $700 billion TARP ('troubled asset relief program') bailout to take on toxic mortgage assets.

Amidst the transformation in the course of a week of New York's investment banks through a dramatic series of bankruptcies and takeovers, the Treasury undertook to buy virtually all the illiquid assets on the balance sheets of financial institutions in the US, including those of foreign owned firms. We now know that Bernanke had warned Paulson a year before that this might be necessary, and Paulson had agreed: “I knew he was right theoretically,” he said. “But I also had, and we both did, some hope that, with all the liquidity out there from investors, that after a certain decline that we would reach a bottom.”[19] Yet the private market has no secure bottom without the state. The Fed and Treasury needed to act not only as lender of last resort, but also, by taking responsibility for buying and trying to sell all those securities that couldn't find a value or market in the current crisis, as market maker of last resort.[20]

Is it over? This is the question on most people's minds today. But what does this question mean? The way this question is posed, especially on the left, usually conflates three distinct questions. First, is the Paulson program going to end the crisis? Second, does this crisis, and both the state and the popular reaction to it, spell the end of neoliberalism? Third, are we witnessing the end of US hegemony?

There is no way of knowing how far this most severe financial crisis since the Great Depression might still have to go. On the one hand, despite the condition of the (no longer) 'Big Three' in the US auto sector, the overall health of US non-financial corporations going into the crisis – as seen in their relatively strong profits, cash flow and low debt – has been an important stabilizing factor, not least in limiting the fall in the stock market. The growth of US exports at close to double-digit levels annually over the past five years reflects not only the decline in the dollar but the capacity of American corporations to take advantage of this. That said, the seizing up of inter-bank and commercial paper markets even after Paulson's program was announced leaves big questions about whether it will work. And even if it does, unwinding such a deep financial and housing crisis is going to take a long time. As of now, foreclosures are still rising, housing starts and house prices are still falling, and the financial markets have not yet calmed. Moreover, it is has been clear for over a year that the US economy will fall into – or already is in – a recession.

The immediate problem in this respect is where consumer demand will come from. Credit is obviously going to be harder to obtain, especially for low income groups, and with the end of housing price inflation closing off the possibility of secondary mortgages, and especially reinforcing concerns about retirement alongside the devaluation of pension assets and even company cutbacks of benefits, most workers will be not only less able to spend, but also inclined to try to save rather than spend. To the extent that a great deal of US consumption in the neoliberal era was also spurred on by the enormous appetites of the rich, this is obviously also going to now be restrained. Fiscal stimulus programs are unlikely to be enough to compensate for this, especially given the nervousness over the impact of the bailouts on the fiscal deficit, the size of the US public debt and the value of dollar, and hence over whether low interest rates can be maintained. To the extent that global growth through the neoliberal era was dependent on credit-based mass consumption in the US, the impact of this being cut back will have global implications, including on US exports. This is why the current recession is likely to be deeper and longer than the last significant one in the early 1990s, and maybe even than the severe recession with which neoliberalism was launched in the early 1980s.

Yet when it comes to the question of whether this crisis spells the end of neoliberalism, it is more important than ever to distinguish between the understanding of neoliberalism as an ideologically-driven strategy to free markets from states on the one hand, and on the other a materially-driven form of social rule which has involved the liberalization of markets through state intervention and management. While it will now be hard politicians and even economists to uncritically defend free markets and further deregulation, it is not obvious – as exemplified by the concentration by both candidates on tax and spending cuts in the first presidential debate of 2008 – that the essence of neoliberal ideology has been decisively undermined, as it was not by the Savings and Loan crisis at the end of the 1980s, the Asian and LCTM crises at the end of the 1990s, or the post-dot.com Enron and other scandals at the beginning of the century. On the more substantive definition of neoliberalism as a form of social rule, there clearly is going to be more regulation. But it is by no means yet clear how different it will be from the Sarbanes-Oxley type of corporate regulation passed at the beginning of the century to deal with 'Enronitis'.[21] Nevertheless, it is possible that a new form of social rule within capitalism may emerge to succeed neoliberalism. But given how far subordinate social forces need to go to reorganize effectively, it is most likely that the proximate alternatives to neoliberalism will either be a form of authoritarian capitalism or a new form of reformist social rule that would reflect only a weak class realignment.

But whatever the answers to the questions concerning the extent of the crisis or the future of neoliberalism, this does not resolve the question of 'is it over?' as it pertains to the end of US hegemony. Just how deeply integrated global capitalism has become by the 21st century has been obvious from the way the crisis in the heartland of empire has affected the rest of the globe, quickly putting facile notions of decoupling to rest. The financial ministries, central banks and regulatory bodies of the advanced capitalist states at the centre of the system have cooperated very closely in the current crisis. That said, the tensions that earlier existed in this decade over Iraq have obviously been brought back to mind by this crisis. European criticisms of the Bush administration's inadequate supervision of finance, including that US leaders ignored their pleas for more regulation during the last G8 meetings, may seem hypocritical in light of how far they opened their economies to the Americanization of their financial systems. But it is nevertheless significant in terms of their expectation that the US play its imperial role in a less irresponsible or incompetent manner.

This is reminiscent of the criticisms that were raised during the 1970s, which was an important factor in producing the policy turn in Washington that led to the Volcker shock as the founding moment of neoliberalism. US hegemony was not really challenged then; the US was being asked to act responsibly to defeat inflation and validate the dollar as the global currency and thus live up to its role as global leader. With the economic integration and expansion of the EU and the emergence of the Euro, many would like to think that Europe has the capacity to replace the US in this respect. But, as Peter Gowan insightfully puts it, 'this is not realistic. Much of the European financial system is itself in a mess, having followed the Wall Street lead towards the cliff of insolvency. The Eurozone government bond markets remain fragmented and there is no cohesive financial or political direction for the Eurozone, leave alone a consensus for rebuilding the Eurozone as a challenger to the dollar through a political confrontation with the United States.'[22]

If and when the Chinese state will develop such capacities to assume the mantle of hegemonic leadership of the capitalist world, remains to be seen. But for the interim, a sober article in China's business newspaper, the Oriental Morning Post, reflects a better understanding of the real world than some of those among who look to China as an alternative hegemon:

Bad news keeps coming from Wall Street. Again, the decline of U.S. hegemony became a hot topic of debate. Complaining or even cursing a world of hegemony brings excitement to us. However, faced with a decline of U.S.hegemony, the power vacuum could also be painful. We do not like hegemony, but have we ever thought about this problem when we mocked its decline... at present the world's financial system does not exist in isolation. It is the result of long-term historical evolution, closely associated with a country's strength, its openness, the development of globalization, and the existing global economic, political patterns. The relationship can be described as 'the whole body moving when pulling one hair'... The subprime crisis has affected many foreign enterprises, banks, and individuals which in itself is again a true portrayal of the power of the United States... Therefore, the world's problems are not merely whether or not the United States are declining, but whether any other country, including those seemingly solid allies of the United States , will help bear the load the U.S. would lighten.[23]

For the time being, what is clear is that no other state in the world – not only today, but perhaps ever – could have experienced such a profound financial crisis, and such a enormous increase in the public debt without an immediate outflow of capital, a run on its currency and the collapse of its stock market. That this has not happened reflects the widespread appreciation among capitalists that they sink or swim with Wall Street and Washington. D.C. But it also reflects the continuing material underpinnings of the empire. Those who dwell on the fact the American share of global GDP has been halved since World War Two not only underplay the continuing global weight of the American economy in the world economy, but fail to understand, as American policy makers certainly did at the time, that the diffusion of capitalism was an essential condition for the health of the American economy itself. Had the US tried to hold on to its postwar share of global GNP, this would have stopped capitalism's globalizing tendencies in its tracks. This remains the case today. Not only is the US economy still the largest by far, it also hosts the most important new high-tech arenas of capital accumulation, and leads the world by far in research and development, while American MNCs directly and indirectly account for so large a proportion of world-wide employment, production and trade.

Moreover, in spite of the New York investment banks having come undone in this crisis, the functions of American investment banking are going to continue. Philip Augar (the author of the perceptive inside account of the investment banking industry, The Greed Merchants), while affirming that 'the eight days between Sunday September 14 and Sunday September 21, 2008... [were] part of the most catastrophic shift among investment banks since the event that created them, the Glass Steagall Act of 1933', goes on to argue that

...it is likely that investment banks will exist as recognisable entities within their new organisations and investment banking as an industry will emerge with enhanced validity... While they are licking their wounds, the investment banks may well eschew some of the more esoteric structured finance products that have caused them such problems and refocus on what they used to regard as their core business. While we may have seen the death of the investment bank I would be very surprised if we have seen the death of investment banking as an industry.[24]

Indeed, the financial restructuring and re-regulation that is already going on as a result of the crisis is in good part a matter of establishing the institutional conditions for this, above all through the further concentration of financial capital via completing the integration of commercial and investment banking. The repeal of Glass-Steagall at the end of the last century was more a recognition of how far this had already gone than an initiation of it; and the Treasury's Blueprint for a Modernized Financial Regulatory Structure, announced in March 2008 but two years in preparation, was designed to create the regulatory framework for seeing that integration through. There is no little irony in the fact that whereas the crisis of the 1930s led to the distancing of investment banking from access to common bank deposits, the long-term solutions being advanced to the insolvencies of investment bankers today is to give them exactly this access.

It ain't over until it's made over


The massive outrage against bailing out Wall Street today is rooted in a tradition of populist resentment against New York bankers which has persisted alongside the ever increasing integration of the 'common man' into capitalist financial relationships. American political and economic elites have had to accommodate to – and at the same time overcome – this populist political culture. This could be seen at work this September when Henry Paulson declared before the House Financial Services Committee, as he tried to get his TARP plan through Congress, that 'the American people are angry about executive compensation and rightfully so.'[25] This was rather rich given that he had been Wall Street's highest paid CEO, receiving $38.3m in salary, stock and options in the year before joining the Treasury, plus a mid-year $18.7 bonus on his departure as well as an estimated $200 million tax break against the sale of his almost $500 million share holding in Goldman Sachs (as was required to avoid conflict of interest in his new job).[26] The accommodation to the culture of populism is also seen at work in both McCain's and Obama's campaign rhetoric against greed and speculation, while Wall Street investment banks are among their largest campaign contributors and supply some of their key advisers.

This should not be reduced to hypocrisy. In the absence of a traditional bureaucracy in the American state, leading corporate lawyers and financiers have moved between Wall Street and Washington ever since the age of the 'robber barons' in the late 19th century. Taking time off from the private firm to engage in public service has been called the 'institutional schizophrenia' that links these Wall Street figures as 'double agents' to the state. While acting in one sphere to squeeze through every regulatory loophole, they act in the other to introduce new regulations as 'a tool for the efficient management of the social order in the public interest.'[27] It is partly for this reason that the long history of popular protest and discontent triggered by financial scandals and crises in the US, far from undermining the institutional and regulatory basis of financial expansion, have repeatedly been pacified through the processes of further 'codification, institutionalization and juridification.'[28] And far from buckling under the pressure of popular disapproval, financial elites have proved very adept at not only responding to these pressures but also using them to create new regulatory frameworks that have laid the foundations for the further growth of financial capital as a class fraction and as a lucrative business.

This is not a matter of simple manipulation of the masses. Most people have a (however contradictory) interest in the daily functioning and reproduction of financial capitalism because of their current dependence on it: from access to their wages and salaries via their bank accounts, to buying goods and services on credit, to paying their bills, to realizing their savings – and even to keeping the roofs over their heads. This is why, in acknowledging before the Congressional hearings on his TARP plan to save the financial system that Wall Street's exorbitant compensation schemes are 'a serious problem', Paulson is also appealing to people's sense of their own immediate interests when he adds that 'we must find a way to address this in legislation without undermining the effectiveness of the program.'[29] Significantly, both the criticisms and the reform proposals now coming from outside the Wall Street-Washington elite reflect this contradiction. The attacks on the Fed's irresponsibility in allowing sub-prime mortgages to flourish poses the question of what should have been said to those who wanted access to the home-ownership dream given that the possibility of adequate public housing was (and remains) nowhere on the political agenda. No less problematic, especially in terms of the kind of funding that would be required for this, is the opposition to Paulson's TARP program in terms of protecting the taxpayer, presented in a pervasive populist language with neoliberal overtones. It was this definition of the problem in the wake of Enron that led to the shaming and convictions of the usual suspects, while Bush and Republican congressmen were elected and reelected.

At the same time, many of the criticisms and proposed reforms today often display an astonishing naiveté about the systemic nature of the relationship between state and capital. This was seen when an otherwise excellent and informative article in the New Labour Forum founded its case for reform on the claim that 'Government is necessary to make business act responsibly. Without it, capitalism becomes anarchy. In the case of the financial industry, government failed to do its job, for two reasons – ideology and influence-peddling.'[30] It is this perspective that also perhaps explains why most of the reform proposals being advanced are so modest, in spite of the extent of the crisis and the popular outrage. This is exemplified by those proposals advanced by one of the US left's leading analysts of financial markets:

The first target for reform should be the outrageous salaries drawn by the top executives at financial firms... While we don't want a chain reaction of banking collapses on Wall Street, the public should get something in exchange for Bernanke's generosity. Specifically, he can demand a cap on executive compensation (all compensation) of $2 million a year, in exchange for getting bailed out... The financial sector performs an incredibly important function in allocating savings to those who want to invest in businesses, buy homes or borrow money for other purposes... The best way to bring the sector into line is with a modest financial transactions tax... [on] options, futures, credit default swaps, etc...[31]

This is a perfect example of thinking inside the box: explicitly endorsing two million dollar salaries and the practices of deriving state revenues from the very things that are identified as the problem. Indeed, even proposals for stringent regulations to prohibit financial imprudence mostly fail to identify the problem as systemic within capitalism. At best, the problem is reduced to the system of neoliberal thought, as though it was nothing but Hayek or Friedman, rather than a long history of contradictory, uneven and contested capitalist development that led the world to 21st century Wall Street.

The scale of the crisis and the popular outrage today provide a historic opening for the renewal of the kind of radical politics that advances a systemic alternative to capitalism. It would be a tragedy if a far more ambitious goal than making financial capital more prudent did not now come back on the agenda. In terms of immediate reforms and the mobilizations needed to win them – and given that we are in a situation when public debt is the only safe debt – this should start with demands for vast programs to provide for collective services and infrastructures that not only compensate for those that have atrophied but meet new definitions of basic human needs and come to terms with today's ecological challenges.

Such reforms would soon come up against the limits posed by the reproduction of capitalism. This is why it is so important to raise not merely the regulation of finance but the transformation and democratization of the whole financial system. This would have to involve not only capital controls in relation to international finance but also controls over domestic investment, since the point of taking control over finance is to transform the uses to which it is now put. And it would also require much more than this in terms of the democratization of both the broader economy and the state. It is highly significant that the last time the nationalization of the financial system was seriously raised, at least in the advanced capitalist countries, was in response to the 1970s crisis by those elements on the left who recognized that the only way to overcome the contradictions of the Keynesian welfare state in a positive manner was to take the financial system into public control.[32] Their proposals were derided as Neanderthal not only by neoliberals but also by social democrats and post-modernists.

We are still paying for their defeat. It is now necessary to build on their proposals and make them relevant in the current conjuncture. Of course, without rebuilding popular class forces through new movements and parties this will fall on empty ground. But crucial to this rebuilding is to get people to think ambitiously again. However deep the crisis and however widespread the outrage, this will require hard and committed work by a great many activists. The type of facile analysis that focuses on 'it's all over' – whether in terms of the end of neoliberalism, the decline of the American empire, or even the next great crisis of capitalism – is not much use here insofar as it is offered without any clear socialist strategic implications. It ain't over till it's made over.

Leo Panitch and Sam Gindin teach political economy at York University.


Notes

1. Robert Rubin, In an Uncertain World: Tough Choices from Washington to Wall Street, New York, 2003, p. 297.

2. Some the main themes in this paper are also taken up in M. Konings and L. Panitch, 'US Financial Power in Crisis', forthcoming Historical Materialism, 16, 2008, esp. pp. 31-2, and even more fully in many of the chapters in L. Panitch and M. Konings, eds., American Empire and the Political Economy of International Finance, London, Palgrave, 2008.

3. German Finance Minister Peer Sienbrück, in Bertrand Benoit, 'US "will lose financial superpower status"', Financial Times, Sept. 25, 2008.

4. Ron Chernow, The House of Morgan, New York: Simon & Schuster 1990, p. 121; C.A.E. Goodhart, The New York Money Market and the Finance of Trade, 1969, p. 116; Paul Studenski and Herman E. Krooss, Financial History of the United States, 1965, p. 252; and Milton Friedman and Anna J. Schwartz, A Monetary History of the United States, 1867-1960, p. 159.

5. Chernow, pp. 123-5.

6. Ibid, p.128.

7. Murray N. Rothbard, 'The Origins of the Federal Reserve', The Quarterly Journal of Austrian Economics, 2:3, Fall 1999. See also J. Livingston, Origins of the Federal Reserve System. Money, class and corporate capitalism, 1890-1913, Ithaca,: Cornell University Press, 1986.

8. Cited in John J. Broesamle, William Gibbs McAdoo: A Passion for Change, 1863-1917, Port Washington, N.Y: Kennikat Press, 1973, p. 129.

9. Giovanni Arrighi, The Long Twentieth Century, London: Verso, 1994, p. 272.

10. Michael Moran, The Politics of the Financial Services Revolution, New York: Macmillan, 1991, p. 29.

11. Alan Brinkley, The End of Reform: New Deal liberalism in recession and war, New York: Alfred A. Knopf.1995), pp. 89-90.

12. This and the following quotation are from Robert Herzel and Ralph F. Leach, 'After the Accord: Reminiscences on the Birth of the Modern Fed' in Federal Reserve Bank of Richmond, Economic Quraterly, 87:1, Winter 2001, pp. 57-63. Leach, who later became a leading J.P. Morgan executive, was at the time of the Accord the Chief of the Government Planning Section at the Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System.

13. Gerald A. Epstein and Juliet B. Schor, 'The Federal Reserve-Treasury Accord and the Construction of the Postwar Monetary Regime in the United States', Social Concept 1995, p. 27. See also, Edwin Dickens 'US Monetary Policy in the 1950s: A Radical Political Economy Approach', Review of Radical Political Economics, 27:4, 1995, and his 'Bank Influence and the Failure of US Monetary Policy during the 1953-54 Recession', International review of Applied Economics, 12:2, 1998.

14. Dick Bryan and Michael Rafferty, Capitalism with Derivatives: A Political Economy of Financial Derivatives, Capital and Class, London, Palgrave, 2006. See also Leo Melamed on the markets: twenty years of financial history as seen by the man who revolutionized the markets, New York: Wiley, 1992, esp. pp. 43, 77-8.

15. 'A Socialist Alternative to Unemployment', Canadian Dimension, 20:1, March 1986.

16. Angus Maddison, The World Economy: A Millennial Perspective Paris: OECD, 2001, p. 265.

17. See Ben Bernanke, Essays on the Great Depression, Princeton, N. J.: Princeton University Press. 2000.

18. Speech by Alan Greenspan at the Federal Reserve System's Fourth Annual Community Affairs Research Conference, Washington, D.C. April 8, 2005.

19. 'A Professor and a Banker Bury Old Dogma on Markets', New York Times, Sept. 20, 2008.

20. Willem Buiter, 'The Fed as the Market Maker of Last Resort: better late than never', Financial Times, March 12, 2008.

21. See Susanne Soederberg, 'A Critique of the Diagnosis and Cure for "Enronitis": The Sarbanes-Oxley Act and Neoliberal Governance of Coporate America', Critical Sociology, 34:5, 2008.

22. Peter Gowan, 'The Dollar Wall Street Regime and the Crisis in its Heartland', forthcoming.in the Austrian Journal of Development Studies, Special Edition, 1/2009.

23. Ding Gang, 'Who Is to Carry the Burden of the U.S.?' (Translated by Warren Wang) Oriental Morning Post, September 19, 2008.

24. Philip Augar, 'Do not exaggerate investment banking's death' Financial Times, Sept. 22, 2008. See also The Greed Merchants: How the Investment Banks Played the Free Market Game, London, Penguin 2006.

25. 'Paulson Gives Way on CEO Pay', New York Times, Sept. 24, 2008.

26. 'Wall Street man', The Guardian, Sept, 26, 2008.

27. Robert G. Gordon, '“The Ideal and the Actual in the Law”: Fantasies and Practices of New York City Lawyers, 1870-1910', in Gerard W. Gawalt, The New High Priests: Lawyers in Post-Civil War America, Westport, Ct.: Greenwood Press, 1984, esp. pp.53, 58, 65-66.

28. Moran. The Politics of the Financial Services Revolution, p. 13.

29. 'Paulson Gives Way on CEO Pay', New York Times, Sept. 24, 2008, italics added.

30. John Atlas, Peter Dreier and Gregory Squires, 'Foreclosing on the Free Market: How to Remedy the Subprime Catastrophe', New Labour Forum, Fall 2008.

31. Dean Baker, 'Big Banks Go Bust: Time to Reform Wall Street', truthout, Sept. 15, 2008, www.truthout.org/article/big-banks-
go-bust-time-reform-wall-street.

32. The best popularly written example of this, and still worth reading today, is Richard Minns, Take over the City: The case for public ownership of financial institutions, London, Pluto 1982.