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Decolonization in East Africa was more than a political event: it was a step towards economic self-determination. In this innovative book, historian and anthropologist Kevin Donovan analyses the contradictions of economic sovereignty and citizenship in Tanzania, Kenya and Uganda, placing money, credit, and smuggling at the center of the region's shifting fortunes. Using detailed archival and ethnographic research undertaken across the region, Donovan reframes twentieth century statecraft and argues that self-determination was, at most, partially fulfilled, with state monetary infrastructures doing as much to produce divisions and inequality as they did to produce nations. A range of dissident practices, including smuggling and counterfeiting, arose as people produced value on their own terms. Weaving together discussions of currency controls, bank nationalizations and coffee smuggling with wider conceptual interventions, Money, Value and the State traces the struggles between bankers, bureaucrats, farmers and smugglers that shaped East Africa's postcolonial political economy.
Challenging the myth of non-return, this chapter shows that, by the 1970s, many guest workers did want to return to Turkey. But instead of support, they encountered opposition from the Turkish government. In the 1970s, the link between return migration and financial investments dominated bilateral discussions between Turkey and West Germany. After the Oil Crisis, West Germany devised bilateral policies to promote remigration. Turkey, then mired in unemployment, hyperinflation, and debt, actively resisted those efforts. The Turkish government realized that guest workers played a significant role in mitigating the country’s economic crisis. To repay its foreign debt, Turkey needed guest workers’ remittance payments in high-performing Deutschmarks. If guest workers returned to Turkey, then that stream would dry up. Turkish officials thus strove to prevent mass return migration at all costs – even when it contradicted guest workers’ interests. These tensions also manifested in Turkey’s charging of exorbitant fees for citizens abroad who sought exemptions from mandatory military service, prompting young migrants to create an activist organization that critiqued this policy. The knowledge that they were unwanted in both countries widened the rift between the migrants and their home country, which disparaged them as “Germanized” yet relied on them as “remittance machines.”
In a monetary model based on Lagos and Wright (2005) where unsecured credit and money are used as means-of-payments, we analyze how the cost and quality of the record-keeping technology affect welfare. Specifically, monitoring agents’ debt repayment is costly but is essential to the use of unsecured credit because of limited commitment. To finance this cost, fees on credit transactions are imposed, and the maximum credit limit that is incentive compatible depends on such fees and monitoring level. Alternatively, the use of money avoids such costs. A higher credit limit does not necessarily improve welfare, especially when the limit is high: the benefit from increased trade surpluses from a higher credit limit is offset by the increased cost of monitoring to achieve the improvement. Moreover, under the optimal arrangement, optimal credit limit decreases with the marginal cost of monitoring. When the cost is sufficiently low, a pure credit equilibrium is optimal. When the marginal cost is high, it is optimal to have a pure-currency economy. But when the cost is at an intermediate level, we show that credit is sustainable but not socially optimal. In this range, the implementable credit limit leads to a higher trade surplus than in a pure monetary economy, but owing to the cost of operating the record-keeping system, social welfare in credit equilibrium is lower than the welfare in a pure monetary equilibrium. In addition, we show that there can be a non-monotonic relationship between the optimal record-keeping level and the optimal credit limit.
Rarely accorded the economic perspicacity of his contemporary and sometime antagonist Daniel Defoe, Jonathan Swift nevertheless offers his readers a clear vision of the rise of finance in Britain and Ireland during the first decades of the eighteenth century. This chapter opens with a section outlining the Financial Revolution of the late seventeenth century. The second section looks into Swift’s private finances and his interest in material wealth. The third section focuses on Swift’s responses to the bursting of the South Sea Bubble. And the fourth and final section focuses on the Wood’s Halfpence controversy of 1722–24, which provoked Swift’s most concentrated period of economic writing.
Wagner and money is a cantus firmus of his biography. Notoriously broke, he is often regarded as a ‘pump genius’. He always demanded financial generosity from anyone who wanted to call themselves his friend. His pre-March criticism of capitalism has its origins in his completely underdeveloped economic mind. In King Ludwig II of Bavaria, he gained his most powerful and significant patron from 1864 onwards. But contrary to the widespread prejudice, it was by no means excessive sums that the king spent on Wagner. Moreover, in times without copyright and regulated royalty payments, artists were always dependent on patrons and gainful employment. Under today’s legal conditions, Wagner would have been a millionaire.
This chapter describes the key changes in terms of money, credit and banking in the 1000 to 1500 period within the various kingdoms. It highlights how after a period of late monetization, each Christian kingdom transitioned to centralized models that were well-articulated with their European counterparts while keeping important distinctive traits. Nevertheless, the demand for means of payment on behalf of kings, merchants and other agents stimulated the development of credit. The need for credit spanned the entire Peninsula and the urban/rural divide. Thus, all countries saw the emergence of lively credit markets for (mostly private) borrowers, buttressed by functioning courts and regulations. These markets involved both specialists and non-specialists, but it was only in the Crown of Aragon where financial agents transitioned to institutionalized banks.
Chapter 1 uses the Middle English Charters of Christ to outline a medieval theory of money as debt. The charter lyrics pretend to be deeds, grants, or writs by which Christ cancels the debt owed to God by sinners, or, alternatively, bequeaths the kingdom of heaven to the faithful. In exchange for the remission or the inheritance, the charter stipulates that humankind owes a “rent” to Christ of love and the regular observance of the sacrament of penance. The form of the charter lyrics imitates the form of legal documents, using the verbal formulae and visual markers designed to ensure legal and documentary authenticity as a kind of spiritual guarantee: the lyrics are sincere forgeries. I argue that the kind of belief at work in this act of forgery is a monetary belief. The lyrics function as close analogues to money in that they measure debt and depend for their value on the creditor’s right to repayment. At the same time, like money, they depend for their operation on the community’s active willingness to participate in a shared fiction.
This response gives me the opportunity to clarify, extend, and complement several aspects of my conceptual and historical argument in The Currency of Politics. I do so primarily by situating my account more explicitly within debates over European monetary politics, by expanding on my use of history, and by articulating what differentiates my concern with the political theory of money and the politics of depoliticisation from complementary accounts. In doing so I elaborate on the ways in which engagement with the thought of John Maynard Keynes helped to structure my approach. While there are important limits to the politics of money under contemporary capitalism, these limits are not fixed economic ones but are better seen as political limits of monetary politics that nonetheless leave considerable space for articulating alternative demands for more democratic forms of money. This framing allows me to extend my argument in order to address contemporary struggles over credit policy, monetary reform, and climate change in Europe. I thus end with a set of critical reflections on the constitutional status of money in the European project and beyond.
This chapter introduces the study, setting, argument, and plan of progression of Bankrolling Empire. In particular, I introduce the Jhaveri family of Ahmedabad and identify how the Mughal state provided new opportunities and challenges for the family by the early seventeenth century. The reader is left with the idea that traditional explanations of Mughal collapse such as bigotry of emperors, superior fighting power of rival warlords, and communal distrust between Muslim rulers and Hindu subjects are not adequate. Instead, I suggest financial crises were the chief cause that tipped Mughal administration beyond recovery. Such transformations in state and locality in Mughal Gujarat are highlighted by focusing on four generations of a remarkable business family, the Jhaveris of Ahmedabad, and their relations with political elites. The Jhaveris were deeply involved in political intrigue, courtly life, and the finances of Mughal officials and their rivals across two centuries.
Returning to the Jhaveri family, Chapter 5 explores the climax of full-blown antagonism between key financial agents and sources of Mughal authority in what I am calling a phase of expedient extortion. I focus on the life and activities of Khushalchand (1680–1748), a third generation Jhaveri brought into the whirlwind of financing gubernatorial rivalries to the point of being violently extorted and forced into exile. In contrast to his forefathers, whose personal security was safeguarded and whose loans were repaid, Khushalchand experienced grotesque violence at the hands of Mughal officials. As a reaction and response, he sought protection by gambling capital on political futures. Given that multiple groups were vying for power as the Mughal state atrophied, Khushalchand reoriented his business towards raising finance for political elites, and brokered deals between armed groups who aspired control of Ahmedabad and its environs. In the process, he faced both criticism and praise from local residents and members of the business fraternity.
Chapter 1, a prelude, provides necessary background about the Mughal Empire, and details about its conquest of Gujarat beginning in 1572. Standard histories portray conquest as swift and decisive. The picture I present is somewhat different. Akbar’s annexation of Gujarat was a slow and protracted effort requiring the astute balancing of military force and the pacification and absorption of local political elites into Mughal administration. A successful campaign, as we shall see, absorbed local elites into the Mughal idiom of hierarchy, privileges, duties, and system of wealth distribution. The arranging of tribute payments and indemnities was a core feature of this system. Money over the course of the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries became central to Mughal political dispensation. This background chapter concludes by laying out key opportunities Mughal rule provided for the Jhaveri family as they built their influence.
By the 1660s, the mighty Mughal Empire controlled the Indian subcontinent and impressed the world with its strength and opulence. Yet hardly two decades would pass before fortunes would turn, Mughal kings and governors losing influence to rival warlords and foreign powers. How could leaders of one of the most dominant early modern polities lose their grip over empire? Sudev Sheth proposes a new point of departure, focusing on diverse local and hitherto unexplored evidence about a prominent financier family entrenched in bankrolling Mughal elites and their successors. Analyzing how four generations of the Jhaveri family of Gujarat financed politics, he offers a fresh take on the dissolution of the Mughal empire, the birth of princely successor states, and the nature of economic life in the days leading up to the colonial domination of India.
Recent decades of financialisation have seen a significant growth in art that mobilises various forms of money as artistic media. These range from the integration of material money (coins, bills, credit cards) into aesthetic processes, such as sculpture, painting, performance, and so on, to a preoccupation with more ephemeral thematics including debt, economics, and the dynamics of the art market. This article explores three (and a half) strategies that artists use to engage with money: crass opportunism; a stark revelation of money's power; a coy play with art's subjugation to money; and a more profound attempt to reveal the shared labour at the heart of both money and art's aesthetic-political power. Money's perennial appeal to artists stems from the irony of its tantalising capacity to almost represent capitalist totality. At their core, both money and art are animated by a certain creative labour, a suspension of disbelief, and a politics of representation. Artistic practices that use money can provide critical resources for studying, understanding, and seeing beyond the rule of speculative capital.
This article explores some aspects of money as a social relation. Starting from Polanyi, it explores the nature of money as a non-commodity, real commodity, quasi-commodity, and fictitious commodity. The development of credit-debt relations is important in the last respect, especially in market economies where money in the form of coins and banknotes plays a minor role. This argument is developed through some key concepts from Marx concerning money as a fetishised and contradictory social relation, especially his crucial distinction, absent from Polanyi, between money as money and money as capital, each with its own form of fetishism. Attention then turns to Minsky's work on Ponzi finance and what one might describe as cycles of the expansion of easy credit and the scramble for hard cash. This analysis is re-contextualised in terms of financialisation and finance-dominated accumulation, which promote securitisation and the autonomisation of credit money, interest-bearing capital. The article ends with brief reflections on the role of easy credit and hard cash in the surprising survival of neo-liberal economic and political regimes since the North Atlantic Financial Crisis became evident.
Recently parallels have been drawn between Bitcoin and Yapese stone money. This article focuses on Fitzpatrick and McKeon's (2019) exploration of similarities and differences. The analogy between Bitcoin and Yapese stone money is based on proposed commonalities that are inaccurate, ill-defined, and/or trivial. However, this does not signal a need to refine the comparison, but rather a need to reconsider the rationale for attempting it in the first place. Recent attempts to redefine Yapese stone money using terminology from the field of cryptocurrency reproduces a longer textual history in which writers from the Global North have misrepresented Yap for pedagogic or polemic convenience. Examples include works by William Furness III, John Maynard Keynes, Milton Friedman, and influential macroeconomics textbooks, such as N. Gregory Mankiw's Macroeconomics. This history features frequent colonialist tropes of Yap as well as the erasure of histories of colonial violence and power. More caution should be exercised in the study and pedagogic use of Yapese economic cultures, and greater effort should be made to center Yapese voices, acknowledge colonial contexts, and reflect positionality and uncertainty.
Stephen Dunne recently sat down with Ole Bjerg to chair a discussion about his new book Making Money: The Philosophy of Crisis Capitalism (Verso, 2014). We publish an elaborated version of the book's concluding chapter - ‘Life after Debt’ - within this special issue. This interview and question and answer session puts Ole's argument there, as well as the arguments of his book more generally, into a broader context.
Traditional societies were defined by a prevalence of the past in the definition of the present. United States (US) society seems to show the opposite trend: the present is defined as the preparation of the future. Financial temporality can be seen as an example of the present use of the future, transforming future possibilities into available wealth. As the financial crisis has shown, however, the temporality of the future is more complex and circular. This article deals with quantitative easing (QE) as a financial instrument with an essentially temporal nature (in the sense that it uses time and acts on the future and on expectations). The success of QE in the US economy reveals essential aspects of US temporality, but also raises questions as to how it may differ from European temporality. The analysis of QE measures and their impact also offers ways to assess whether and by which means politics can intervene into finance, as well as what consequences and uncertainties are created in the process.
What happens to classic Marxist notions of revolution, exploitation and class struggle under the premise that we live in the age of financial rather than industrial capitalism? In this essay I argue that the logic of finance is the main structuring principle of the circulation of value, capital, and money today. Accordingly, we should no longer just think of class struggle in terms of workers and capitalists but also in terms of debtors and creditors. In financial capitalism class is determined by one's position relative to the production of money. This also means that a contemporary idea of revolution is a matter of radical change in the way that money comes into being.
This article argues that the problematic nature of money's ‘location’ is important to opening up its more fundamental ontology. Using examples from recent financial crises, I explore the (temporary) historical relationship between money and the nation state, the changing nature of money, and the paradoxes these produce in a world convinced that money is real and material. I conclude that whilst we cannot resolve these ingrained paradoxes, we should at the very least take account of them as we try to explain the vagaries of our money economies.
This essay makes the case that current debates about the ‘moneyness’ of Bitcoin and other cryptocurrencies are occurring at the incorrect scale. Rather than being some form of transnational digital money to be used alongside or compete with national fiat currencies, I argue that, instead, each cryptocurrency represents its own self-contained ‘money-world’. Put differently, a cryptocurrency is the uniquely specified unit of account and medium of exchange within the socio-technical bounds of its own blockchain. This new perspective can open new lines of intellectual dialogue and inform better policy choices for regulating cryptocurrencies.