It is not chauvinism or instinctive egocentrism that leads Americans to believe they have evolved a beneficent form of economic organization. For despite all its shortcomings, and, alas, they are all too many, our volitional economy has demonstrated a capacity to stimulate human effort, increase investment, improve productivity, and gradually erode diat greatest evil of all commonwealths, perceived since Plato's days: the coexistence of great wealth and abject poverty. It is therefore entirely appropriate this year, when we are commemorating two great experiments in democratic public policy, that we should examine once again the origins of our polity, for I am convinced that it was the conscious and unashamed acceptance of a system of politico-economic pluralism that made possible the vigor and the catholicity of our developing institutions. The play of these pluralistic forces again and again has saved us from hardened dogma, so that the real virtue of our history—political, economic, and intellectual—has been our flexibility, our capacity to adapt ideas and instrumentalities to tasks of high social urgency. In the process we have created an economy so complex that it almost defies description, but one so tolerant ideologically that it can be called essentially private by those who find happiness in that ascription although there can be no burking the very obvious fact that it is today inherently socialistic. For whereas one can demonstrate statistically that two thirds of all capital formation is private, by an equally plausible demonstration it can be shown that, adding corporate and personal income taxes only, more than two thirds of the revenues of American enterprise are socialized. This mixed economy is, therefore, the great, ever-improving American invention, based on the quintessential content of our variant of democracy whose trinitarian elements have been well defined as shared respect, shared power, and shared knowledge.

If by land policy we mean a comprehensive, well-thought-out plan that made for an efficient long-range use of our agricultural resources, we are reasonably safe in saying we had none. If we had anything that came close to resembling a policy, it was that of throwing open vast quantities of public and private lands to cultivation which resulted in maladjustments that made it difficult, if not impossible, for many farmers to adjust themselves to capitalistic methods of production and distribution. The extent of these maladjustments may be gauged in part by observing the status of agriculture on the eve of the New Deal. Shrinking foreign markets, world-wide competition, rising tariff walls, poor farm management practices, and excessive production and distribution costs were accompanied by sharp increases in indebtedness, farm foreclosures, and tenancy. Agriculture was receiving a dwindling share of the national income, capital formation was being discouraged, and farming had been relegated to a subordinate position within the economy.

Contemporary reaction to the Homestead Act was complex in the United States, and the judgment of posterity has included much negative criticism. Whatever the real merits and defects of the Act, its impact on public opinion in Europe was not necessarily in keeping with the facts as they unfolded in America. European reactions to the famous Act are much less known than is the case with American public and expert opinion on the same subject. Standard literature on emigration and on the American image in Europe invariably stresses political freedom and economic opportunity as main motives for emigration. The Homestead Act is in most cases mentioned only in passing, as one among several factors in the motivation of prospective emigrants. In some cases it is claimed to have been a major motive but without evidence to bear out how important it was.

Before 1850, American farms were cut from the forest, and the work of forming a farm took time. The clearing of a few acres for first crops was followed by the endless labors of improvement—fencing, building, ditching, and the ambitions of a farmer for land could load him down for life with acres to clear and keep up. Five acres of forest clearing in a year in addition to current crops was about the limit for a farm family. Improved land could be a cash crop like any other, its yield no more risky than wheat or cotton, and only a little more remote. But even farmers who specialized in clearing land for sale might count on two hundred acres or so of forest clearing as the labor of a lifetime. The work of clearing forest was extremely hard, but it could be done in off-season, and deprived a settler not of cash income but only of hours of idleness. Nearly all the tasks could be done by the little labor force under a farmer's control—by sons, or on southern plantations by slaves; and the work converted otherwise half-idle labor into an important form of farm capital.

In Choosing to discuss land policy in that part of the Spanish Southwest which comprises present central and northern New Mexico and most of southern Colorado, I would appear to be using a model area of the West to demonstrate once again that the Homestead Act and principle were unworkable. In actuality the purpose is to note generally what can happen when an American land system runs into an older and highly different Spanish-Mexican one. As Howard W. Odum has observed, “Here two great culture systems have met and clashed and fused and are still in process of clashing and fusing.”

Mauriac, and probably several thousand other Frenchmen, have remarked that what worried them most about the United States and Russia was not the respects in which these countries differed but rather that they were fundamentally so much alike. If Mauriac had studied the history of the land-grant colleges and universities, he might have concluded that they were both the most Russian-like and the most thoroughly American sector of our education. Where else could one find schools so materialistically oriented or so (almost) successfully Jacksonian? To look at their history and their impact on American economic life over the past century is to examine a roaringly optimistic and an almost frighteningly successful endeavor to create the men—and the women—for a mass economy.

It is the thesis of this paper that any educational system or institution, whatever its specific purpose, must be studied as a part of its people's total pattern of life. Agricultural education in any country can be understood and improved only in terms of the country's stage of development, not only in agriculture but also in all the other main enterprises of the people.

Recent studies into technological change in the American economy have stressed the importance of economic conditions that operate through the market mechanism on both the direction of the inventive activity which has generally provided the basis for this change and on the rate at which newly developed techniques are commercially adopted. Schmookler has argued the former point persuasively in several articles, while North, for the latter, has asserted that “productivity changes stemming from technological innovations are, in part at least, a nearly automatic response to successful expansion of industries in an acquisitive society under competitive market conditions.” With respect to American agriculture in the nineteenth century, our knowledge of the level of investment which incorporated new production techniques, and of the effects these techniques had on productivity and output has been greatly enhanced by the recent work of Kendrick, Gallman, and Towne and Rasmussen. Our account of inventive activity in agriculture, however, is still limited to mentioning and tracing through the effects of some of the more famous inventions in this field and to fragmentary patent citations. Accessibility to patent statistics since 1837 now makes possible a fuller treatment of agricultural inventions. In Part II of this paper I present a description of the level and composition of agricultural inventions between 1837–1890. In Part III, I attempt to test the importance of certain market conditions as determinants of this inventive activity.

Two revolutions in American agriculture reflect the impact of technological change on farming during the past century. The first revolution saw the change from manpower to animal power, and centered about the Civil War. The second revolution saw the change from animal power to mechanical power and the adaptation of chemistry to agricultural production. It centered around the post-World War II period. The transition from animal power to mechanical power is virtually complete. In 1962, the Statistical Reporting Service of the United States Department of Agriculture discontinued reporting the number of horses and mules on farms. They were no longer of significance to farm production.