I was born in Windsor, Ontario on 25 May 1943, the first child of William Robert Moggridge and Doris Livingston Moggridge. The surname Moggridge comes from Celtic Devon. Add in Livingston and my maternal grandmother's Lennox, the Celtic tinge gets stronger. The Hulls on my paternal grandmother's side reduce it, but there were Camerons in that gene pool. Both of my parents were University of Toronto graduates: my father in Metallurgical Engineering (1934) and my mother in Honours Philosophy and English (1933) and Library Science (1934).

Historians of economics rarely consider textbooks as more than passive receptacles of previously validated knowledge. Therefore, their active role in shaping the discipline and its image is seldom addressed. In this paper, I study the making of Paul Samuelson’s successive editions of Economics from 1967 to 1973 as an instance of how textbooks stand at the crossroads between disciplinary knowledge, pedagogy, and larger political and societal concerns. In the mid-1960s, Economics, now at its sixth edition, was at the height of its success. Considered one cornerstone of modern economics, it was also at the center of a number of criticisms dealing with the current state of the economic discipline and its teaching in the universities. While the profession expressed its concern over the lack of relevance of economics to address the pressing issues of the day and pleaded for a new “problem-solving” approach to economic education, the late 1960s witnessed the emergence of a new generation of “radical” economists criticizing the economics orthodoxy. Their contention that mainstream theory had neglected the issues of class struggle and capitalist exploitation found a favorable echo among an increasingly politicized population. Using archival materials, I show how Samuelson, helped by his editorial team at McGraw-Hill, attempted to take into account these changes in order to ensure the continuing success of subsequent editions of his text in an increasingly competitive market. This study emphasizes Samuelson’s ambiguous attitude toward his contenders, revealing, on the one hand, his apparent openness to discussion and outsiders’ suggestions, and, on the other hand, his firm attachment to mildly liberal politics and aversion to Marxism, unchanged through revisions. It also helps refine a notion that is often invoked but never fully expounded in textbook studies: that of the audience.

The manuscript collection of the National Library of Scotland contains two undergraduate essays in “political economy” written for the Rev. Thomas Chalmers while he was Professor of Moral Philosophy at St Andrews University from 1823 to 1828. The first is signed “Pat. J. Stirling.” The second is unsigned, but is in the same hand. The Library attributes both manuscripts to Patrick James Stirling (1809–1891). The essays are marked with deletions and insertions, most of which appear to be by Stirling himself, and the summary appraisal at the end of each in Chalmers's own hand is signed “Thomas Chalmers.” In the transcription of the shorter essay printed in section VI below, [bracketed] words are those which have been deleted. Underlined words are those inserted by Stirling or possibly Chalmers. Stirling's erratic capitalization and hyphenation, and the indentation of his first paragraph, have been preserved.

Students of economics no longer study the history of economic thought for the simple reason that it is much too difficult. It requires a lot of reading of books that do not have convenient introductions and summaries, and so it takes up far too much time. As a consequence, most economists are not familiar with the great names of the past and are unable to place modern analyses in historical, or any other, perspective.

Wilhelm Krelle (1916–2004) had two careers: one before 1945 as an officer in the German army (Wehrmacht), and a second after 1945 as an economist in West Germany. After retirement, he was honored as the economist who brought modern modeling techniques, Lawrence Klein’s macroeconometrics in particular, from the US to West Germany. After his engagement in the reform of East German economics, however, he was discredited as his early career became public. This essay reconstructs Krelle’s career in his attempt and struggle to maintain moral integrity in and between the various domains of his troubled life as officer, economist, political adviser, father, and husband.

Richard Jones’s 1831 critique of David Ricardo’s theory of rent is generally viewed as ill-founded. The present paper shows that Jones’s Essay on the Distribution of Wealth contains an important analytical insight: Jones noticed that Ricardo’s treatment of agricultural improvements was seriously incomplete, because it failed to accommodate the historically important case of agricultural improvements that involve the use of fixed capital. More generally, it is suggested that Jones was correct in pointing out that Ricardo had not properly taken into account fixed capital in his analysis of rent and of agricultural improvements.

The aim of this paper is twofold: first, we show that some theoretical continuities exist between the approaches of Bernard Mandeville, Adam Ferguson, and Adam Smith to the division of labor and the contemporary analyses of technical change and economic dynamics, which consider innovation as a process of technological creation. We thus offer a further exploration of the origins of evolutionary ideas in the history of evolutionary economics. Second, despite the existence of these theoretical continuities, we highlight the differences between the Scottish Enlightenment authors and the modern evolutionary economists on the issue of temporality and the place of history in their reflections.

This paper considers the distinction made by David Ricardo between “permanent” and “temporary” causes, which he sometimes refers to also as “stable” and “accidental” causes (see The Works and Correspondence of David Ricardo [hereinafter Works] I: 86, 88, 92; VI: 154), to derive implications useful to distinguish his approach from subsequent developments of the notions of short-period and long-period equilibrium. In particular, I trace the change of focus in the concept of “permanent” forces brought about by Alfred Marshall—from whose insights Alfred Kahn and John Maynard Keynes drew inspiration for their short-period analysis—which paved the way to fundamental changes in the method and theory.

It is argued that Ricardo’s distinction maintains an heuristic value, in particular vis-à-vis the distinction between short and long period, which is part of the common language in standard economics.

In a world where transitions to democracy are often turbulent, interrupted, and uncertain, it is easy to think of Britain, where an embryonic form of parliamentary democracy emerged in the seventeenth century as an exception because the basic shape of politics has appeared settled for so long. On the contrary, I will argue, since the 1970s Britain has been fundamentally transformed from a consensus-driven, institutionally cohesive, model West European democracy, into a fractious, institutionally rigid, and quite unresponsive political system. I will suggest that these developments in Britain have broader comparative significance for they help identify a critical shift from social democracy or collectivism to what I call a post-collectivist politics of dissonance.

This paper examines the arguments of Colonel Robert Torrens against the hypothetical prospect that rising corn prices might result in higher farmers’ profits by reducing the real costs of manufactured articles used in the crop-growing activity. First, it shows how this idea evolved through time in Malthus’ writings on rent. Next, it scrutinizes Torrens’ approach to the subject of value, from its origins to the more elaborate version built up in some of his early inquiries regarding political economy. The outcome of his effort was a simplified image of the mutual interaction among the productive sectors, similar to modern input–output models, composed of an interdependent system with prices and a uniform profit rate determined simultaneously. Finally, some applications for this innovative analytical device are presented, but with an emphasis on the refutation of Malthus’ proposition. The concluding remarks stress Torrens’ ability to devise a proper quantitative answer to the parson’s theoretical challenge despite the scanty technical resources available to classical economists at that time.

The history of economics, properly read, is very much a history of economics in the public sphere. Sir William Petty developed his most important insights in the process of providing advice on taxation to the monarch. Adam Smith wrote with a view to influencing the habits of thought of both the educated layman and policy makers. Jane Marcet and Harriet Martineau brought early classical political economy to the masses. David Ricardo formulated foundational elements of the nineteenth-century classical system writing policy pamphlets and then entered Parliament with a view to putting policy making on a solid economic footing. Karl Marx’s intended audience was anything but the practitioners of the emerging science of political economy. Alfred Marshall buried his technical analysis in appendices to maximize the exposure of his work. John Maynard Keynes’s influence can be ascribed, without too much injustice, as much to his effectiveness outside the walls of Cambridge as within them and to the use by others of his ideas in that same public realm. Yet, despite this lengthy history of economists’ engagements with various publics, including those pulling the levers of policy, those writing on the history of economics have focused far more intently on the history of theory and the implications for the construction of a body of thought known as “economic analysis” than on the interplay among economists, economic ideas, and the public realm. It is as if the economic conversation went on solely within the space of academic departments of economics, even though those spaces are very recent creations.

In 1954 the American Economic Association held its first session on “The International Flow of Economic Ideas.” As a discussant, the great scholar of Walras, William Jafft said, “The Iron and Bamboo Curtains of today were preceded three-quarters of a century ago by nationalistic, linguistic, and other curtains–all impending the free flow of ideas in the learned world,” (1955, 38–9). A.W. Coats later added some other obstacles, “…the unavailability of modern information retrieval methods, or perhaps a plain ornery human unwillingness to cooperate or personal dislike, all have at times been impediments to the progress of knowledge,” (1987, 66).

The last decade has seen an outburst of growth models designed to replace the conventional Solow growth model, with its exogenous trend of technical progress, by more realistic models that generate increasing returns (to labor, capital and/or scale) as a result of endogenous technical progress. In contrast to the Solow model, the new models suggest that policy interventions can affect the long-run rate of economic growth. Nicholas Kaldor's growth model, designed in the late 1950s and early 1960s to replace the Solow growth model, is a precursor of the new growth models.

In a recent article Luca Fiorito and Cosma Orsi accused John R. Commons of anti-Semitism “within a broad and xenophobic framework.” They rested their indictment on three sources: an interview in which Mark Perlman spoke of his father, Selig; Commons’s report on immigration for the United States Industrial Commission; and Commons’s book Races and Immigrants. This comment, looking at the same sources, finds confusion about the meanings of anti-Semitism and xenophobia as they are applied to Commons.

I do not think that it would serve much of a purpose to answer Hollander and Peart (1999) point by point, to repeat old arguments, and to once again cite long quotations from Mill. Furthermore, I doubt that the Editor of this Journal would give me the space and time to do so. Instead I propose to ask a number of basic questions about Mill's methodology, give my answers to them and show why I find fault with what I take to be Hollander and Peart's answers. I doubt that this will convince my adversaries. But I hope to show our readers what the major issues are in the disagreement and, perhaps, even to get Hollander and Peart to agree that these are the issues that separate us. If I fail in this latter task they will have the opportunity to point this out in their Rejoinder.