Despite the transnational character of the Great Depression, there are few works in the interwar literature that deal with the propagation of business cycles across national borders and systemic risks of depression in the world economy. Two notable exceptions are Hans Neisser’s Some International Aspects of the Business Cycle (1936) and chapter 12 in Gottfried Haberler’s Prosperity and Depression ([1937] 1964), which carries the heading “International Aspects of Business Cycles.” Both works differ substantially from each other and from the modern way of thinking about international business cycles in open economy macroeconomics. Haberler’s and Neisser’s approaches help to identify relevant issues that have been lost from sight in modern open economy macroeconomics.

Human capital theory has suffered much criticism. The filter theory of education (Arrow 1973), the theory of education as a “signal” (Spence 1973), and the theory of “screening” (Stiglitz 1975), for instance, have seriously challenged it from within mainstream economics, and heavy criticism has also come from other paradigms, with Franck Bailly (2016) recently documenting the critique from the radical school. Within this set of ideas that flourished in the post-WW II period and challenged human capital theory, John Kenneth Galbraith’s analysis of the dynamics of the education process is often neglected. In his original institutionalist and firm-based approach to the evolution of education, Galbraith placed great emphasis on the issue of the requirements of the planning system when he tackled the issue of human capital investment. More surprisingly—since he is unanimously recognized as the “founding father” of the “human capital revolution”—Theodore Schultz himself developed a substantial critique of human capital theory that shares some ground with Galbraith’s. The aim of this contribution is to provide new insights into the history of post-WW II ideas in the field of economics of education by reviewing Schultz’s and Galbraith’s respective analyses of education and highlighting their proximities. Both authors raise doubts regarding the idea that the aggregation of individual choices must be regarded as the relevant generative mechanism of the dynamic of education and the basis of the allocation of education resources. Consequently, both question the equivocal concept of student sovereignty.

When William Stanley Jevons first presented his theory of exchange, he used the example of two trading bodies (A and B) holding stocks of corn and beef (goods X and Y), but he was eager to show how the basic results could be applied to a variety of situations. After considering the relatively simple introduction of transport costs, Jevons added three subsections (Jevons 1957, pp. 111–19) which demonstrated his confident handling of his approach. There have been many critical comments on Jevons's handling of mathematics, including those of Alfred Marshall in his review of the Theory of Political Economy (Jevons 1872; see Black 1981). However, these examples show that Jevons produced a clear and succinct statement of the mathematical structure of the theory of exchange.

Most historians know Robert Lowe (1811–1892) as W. E. Gladstone's first Chancellor (1868–73) and the leading orator against the Reform Bill of 1867. Educationists to this day criticize or praise his Revised Code of 1862, which introduced payment by results in schools. Historians of economic thought add Lowe's critique of relativism (evinced by his views on Ireland) and his stridently classical statements of the role of political economy from his later dispute with the English historical school.

Among the most controversial of David Ricardo's contributions to policy debate was his scheme for the redemption of the public debt by means of a “capital levy,” a one-time tax on the property of the nation. Public debt policy had been the subject of sporadic debate throughout the eighteenth century, but faced increased scrutiny by the time Ricardo came to address the subject. While government revenues were suffering from the repeal of the temporary income tax which had been imposed during the Napoleonic Wars, revenue requirements remained high, as the savings in terms of military expenditures were being offset by the need to make interest payments on a debt which had grown during the latter years of the war. Ricardo's analysis of public debt was not novel; nor was the proposal for a capital levy to achieve its redemption.

In 1951, Nobel Laureate Wassily Leontief put his finger on what was wrong with economics. It had remained a “deductive system resting upon a static set of premises,” when what was needed was an economics that would “combine economic facts and theory.” The new economics would be called “interindustry” or “input-output” analysis (Leontief 1966, p. 14). According to Leontief it is easy to “compute the complete table of input requirements at any given level of output, provided we know its input ratios.” These input ratios could be calculated from “engineering data on process design and operating procedure” (ibid., pp. 24–26). For Leontief and, I suspect, a large number of economists in 1951, the technological facts dependent only on the chemical and physical laws of nature—what I shall call “Leontief coefficients”—were indisputable. It would take so many units of coke to produce a ton of pig iron whether or not there was a human being alive on earth to witness that transformation. The Leontief coefficients were the bedrock of subsequent economic analysis. They were analogous to what the philosopher John R. Searle has termed “brute facts” (Searle 1995, p. 27).

I wrote this address during the first weeks of the murderous and devastating invasion of Russia in Ukraine, in a fluctuating mood of anger and sadness. My aim was addressing the issue of the use of history to legitimize ideology, and I was contemplating how I could convince you of the urgency of this issue, and then this war broke out.

Everyone has to eat, so agriculturalists must produce enough to feed themselves and the rest of the population. This statement is trivially obvious but making it explicit mattered to the early development of economic thinking. Many important economic writers of the period (Petty, Cantillon, Hutcheson, Hume, Steuart, Mirabeau, Smith, and others) used a specific notion of agricultural surplus of the form: x men can feed y, where y > x. A series of questions about the relation between agriculture and the rest of the economy naturally follows. Will the surplus be produced? How does it reach those who consume it? What are the “superfluous hands” (in Hume’s terms) to do? This paper points out this neglected theme in early economics.

Polly Hill spent her long, productive, and at times controversial career crossing and contesting disciplinary boundaries. She graduated in economics at Cambridge, but her doctorate was in social anthropology—with economist Joan Robinson as dissertation supervisor. Her thirteen years at the University of Ghana were initially in economics, then in African studies, and her readership at Cambridge was in Commonwealth studies. As a woman in several male-dominated academic disciplines without a secure base in any (and with distinctive, unorthodox opinions in each), she never obtained a tenure-track appointment despite ten books and fifty scholarly articles. Her books drew attention to the underrecognized agency of indigenous entrepreneurs while her Development Economics on Trial: The Anthropological Case for the Prosecution (1986) critiqued a discipline, disciplinary boundaries, and outside experts, both mainstream and radical.

Before the publication of Ronald Coase’s “The Nature of the Firm,” new developments in the theory of the firm were under way in the works of Arnold Plant at the LSE, and Dennis Robertson, Frederick Lavington, and Austin Robinson among the Cambridge Marshallians. Although in disagreement on industrial policy, these economists shared the belief that the common view that bigger firms are always more efficient—a very popular view within the movement for industrial ‘rationalization’—was untenable from a theoretical point of view. In the works of these economists the ‘make or buy’ scheme is sometimes employed, and Coase’s idea of a cost for using the market can be found, in implicit form, in some writings of Plant that appeared before Coase’s article. But the fundamental principle that we now call “transaction costs” was hardly of any help to any of those who, at Cambridge as well as at the LSE, were insisting on the costs of coordination as a limit to the growth of the firm.

In eighteenth-century Italy a number of interesting efforts were made to apply mathematical methods to economic analysis. Scholars living in the Milan area were especially keen on mathematizing economic issues. R. D. Theocharis identified a common current of thought, which he called the Milanese School, in his pioneering research on early mathematical economics (Theocharis 1983, p. 2).

Although James Mill considered production and education to be two objectives of global welfare, he claimed that the former was not always consistent with the latter. On the one hand, production is necessary to provide humankind with the means of subsistence; on the other hand, if individuals allocate all their time to labor to the detriment of their own education, “neither intellect, virtue nor happiness can flourish upon the earth” (Mill [1819] 1825, p. 30). Mill argued that this problem might be solved by finding what he called “the precious middle point.” This point deserves special consideration: it acknowledges that there is a way in which education and production might be distributed in society in order to promote the greatest global welfare. The aim of this paper is to explain the relation between production and education through the working of the precious middle point.

Some years ago, George J. Stigler reminded the community of historians of economic thought that a great thinker of the last century, Adolphe Quetelet, had made a real methodological breakthrough in the social sciences by opening the door to quantification. Stigler himself tried to implement this method in the history of economic thought.

As with most papers written for occasions of this kind, this one has elements of self-indulgence. In this Society, at least, one has a captive audience, some (or most?) of whom may have come for another purpose. At the same time, one has no prescribed theme: if one had one, one organised last year's meeting around it. True, there are constraints: it is after all the History of Economics Society, which constrains the subject somewhat–but only a little; it is an after dinner speech at the end of two long days of meetings, which limits the heaviness of the contents; and it will appear in the Bulletin, which prevents complete absurdities. Yet these constraints are fairly minimal.

Roger Backhouse (Backhouse 2004) has provided both an insightful deconstruction of dissent and a suggested terminology to deal with subtle distinctions within the domain of dissent, especially regarding the status of heterodoxy. There is more to be said, largely in expansion of his analyses—placing his analyses in a larger context. Section I summarizes Backhouse's position and Section II presents my own thoughts.

It is not every literary novice, blushing diffidently over her first manuscript, who easily finds a publisher, still less one prepared to pay an advance of several million pounds. But not every first author has such a story to tell as Margaret Thatcher, the longest-serving British prime minister of the twentieth century. It was the previous record holder, Asquith, who first established the notion that retired prime ministers write their memoirs, and he did so under a twin motivation which was not peculiar to himself. He sought vindication and he was after the money.

In the late nineteenth century, Eugen von Böhm-Bawerk's magisterial work (1881) or capital and interest provided the foundation upon which virtually all modern theories are built. In his first volume, History and Critique of Interest Theories, Böhm-Bawerk classified and (in his mind) refuted all previous explanations. Böhm-Bawerk thought a proper theory of interest must explain the apparent undervaluation of future goods For example, if a machine is expected to yield annual rents of $1,000 for ten years why does it sell now for less than $10,000? To answer this question was to provide a theory of interest, for only with such an undervaluation would it be possible for a capitalist to invest in machines, for example, and reap a flow of returns, over time greater than his initial investment.

As is well-known, Karl Marx distinguished three types of rent. In addition to two categories of differential rent, closely related to the Ricardian extensive and intensive margins, he argued (against David Ricardo) that rent was paid on the least fertile land. For Marx this so-called “absolute rent” resulted from the barrier posed by landed property to the free movement of capital into agricultural production. Since the organic composition of capital was relatively low in agriculture, the prices of production of farm products were lower than their labor values. The existence of private property in land prevented the reduction of agricultural prices to these prices of production, and allowed the payment of rent even on what could be described, in Ricardian terms, as marginal land. There exists a sizeable literature on Marx's theory of absolute rent,1 but there is no systematic account of its gestation and development. In this paper we explain how Marx's critique of Ricardian rent theory evolved between his first doubts early in 1851 and the articulation of a distinctive alternative analysis in the manuscripts of 1862–63. We also assess the influence exerted on Marx by Richard Jones and Johann Karl Rodbertus, and briefly discuss the significance of Marx's theory of absolute rent for his political economy as a whole.