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).

From the 1880s until after the creation of the Federal Reserve System in 1913 the United States was a hotbed of monetary controversy. The secular price deflation that began in 1865 prompted a host of efforts to increase the money supply, in the belief that more money would check the decline of prices. The agitation for free coinage of silver that arose in the 1870s and carried into the 1880s and 1890s generated a maelstrom of arguments and counterarguments. Such theoretical support as the “cheap money advocates” provided was in the form of a crude application of the quantity theory of money. Not surprisingly, using the quantity theory in such a manner brought the theory itself under fire.

Controversies about capital, its role in the economy, and its claims for reward are still very much with us. Though the exchanges are often heated, all the contestants' are descended from either of two monumental works of about a century ago: Eugen von Bohm-Bawerk's Positive Theory of Capital (1889) and Irving Fisher's The Rate of Interest (1907). This essay inquires: in what respects are these two theories the same? In what respects do they differ? And why?

In its brief history, the relation between game theory and economics has been characterized by phases of feverish elaboration of new contributions followed by periods in which an open skepticism concerning its usefulness prevailed. Moreover, this vaguely cyclical pattern of evolution has affected various research areas. After an initial period in which game theorists focused their attention on competitive market models, in the 1970s and 1980s they turned to the problems of oligopolistic markets and bargaining. Today the latter research areas are going through a phase of sedimentation and selection while other fields of study receive a strong impulse from the application of game theory.

The Austrian School of Economics has long been branded as a sort of radical laissez-faire wing within the economics profession, even much more “right-wing,” in fact, than Milton Friedman, the profession;'s most recognized “preacher” of the free-market. The economic journalist Alfred Malabre, Jr., for example, in his recent critical book on modern economics, Lost Prophets, argues that “the monetarism that Friedman and his followers were preaching was not quite as conservative as advertised. In fact, the University of Chicago professor was treading not far from the middle of the economic road, flanked on the left by the likes of Galbraith and Leontief and on the right by Hayek, along with such other Austrian-school luminaries as Hans Sennholz, chairman of the economics department at Grove City College in western Pennsylvania, and Ludwig von Mises, transplanted from Austria and finishing out a distinguished academic and writing career at New York University” (Malabre 1994, p. 144).

One of the most significant statements in Joseph Schumpeter's discussion of Adam Smith in the History of Economic Analysis highlights the impact of scholastic thought upon Smith's economic analysis. Speaking of The Wealth of Nations, Schumpeter claimed that “the skeleton of Smith's analysis hails from the scholastics and natural-law philosophers” (Schumpeter 1954, p. 182). Though not the first to make this connection, Schumpeter's affirmation, alongside his treatment (ibid., part II, ch. 2) of the literature produced by these two groups, has been a stimulus to further exploration with respect to both the Protestant scholastics Hugo Grotius and Samuel Pufendorf and the medieval theologians (De Roover 1957; Bowley 1973). More recent studies which have followed in this vein have focused on the significance of the scholastic and natural law traditions for Smith's treatment of economic justice (Hont and Ignatieff 1983; Young and Gordon 1992).

Historians of economic thought have long debated about the methodological position adopted by Alfred Marshall (1842–1924) concerning the mathematization of economics. While Francis Y. Edgeworth and Marshall's pupils, most notably A. C. Pigou and J. M. Keynes, agreed that it was mainly through him that mathematical economics has since become respectable (see Pigou 1925, p. 66) and proclaimed him the founder of modern diagrammatic economics (ibid., p. 24), more recent commentators have criticized his failure to give proper credit to mathematics, and have even depicted him as an enemy of such an approach (see, for example, Schumpeter 1951, p. 97; Coase 1975; Brems 1975; Creedy 1986, p. 126; Schabas 1989; Huriot 1994, p. 17).

This article is part of a wider historical research program in which I seek to examine the origins of past methodological debates. It is my opinion that economists ignore methodological and philosophical issues until either the doctrinal conclusions of the school to which they belong are challenged or they themselves contest the doctrinal conclusions of an alternative school. Once this occurs, economists select, reinterpret or construct methodological precepts in order to gain the maximum support for their position. Under this hypothesis the formation and articulation of methodological beliefs are largely endogenous to matters relating to economics; that is, the traditional causal process of methodology to theory to policy is turned on its head and becomes policy to theory to methodology. The aim of what follows is to illustrate this research program by examining the methodological framework expounded by T. E. Cliffe Leslie in the early stages of the English economic Methodenstreit or “battle of methods.”

John Neville Keynes (1852–1949) is best known for fathering one of the most influential economists of our time, John Maynard Keynes (1883–1946). Yet in his own day he was a formidable logician1 and economist himself. Although overshadowed by his colleague Alfred Marshall, his Scope and Method of Political Economy (1891) is still considered a minor classic and read by specialists in the history of economic thought. Maynard Keynes's biographers have portrayed Neville as having a powerful influence on him, even if they have failed to detail the impact of the father's logic and economics on his famous son.

Scope. Macroeconomic theory determines either an unemployment equilibrium or an inflation equilibrium. Consider an economy producing a single good. Unemployment theory determines the physical output of that good; inflation theory determines its price. Twice in the history of economic thought an unemployment equilibrium reversed itself into an inflation equilibrium. First, in the eighteenth century the unemployment equilibrium of William Petty (1662) and A. Yarranton (1677) reversed itself into the inflation equilibrium of David Hume (1752) and A. R. J. Turgot (1769–1770). Second, in our own century the unemployment equilibrium of J. M. Keynes (1936) reversed itself into the inflation equilibrium of Milton Friedman (1968).

The purpose of this paper is to recover Adam Smith's conception of the appropriate rules of argumentation for the political economist in public policy discussion. Our interest will be in Smith's attempt to model the advisory style which he thought appropriate for an economist writing on public policy issues, advising the legislature and debating constitutional problems. Inferences will be drawn from the scope and tone of Smith's work on some selected issues of economic policy reform discussed in The Wealth of Nations (hereafter WN). Extensive reference will be made to Smith's admission of the vital role of rhetoric in human affairs in his Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres, and to Smith's view of the legislator's perspective on policy as enunciated in the Theory of Moral Sentiments.

I can conceive of few academics presumptuous or foolhardy enough to write an “intellectual autobiography” unless invited to do so. It is no easy assignment. One seeks to protect a core of privacy; there is a residual subjectivity regarding events and persons that cannot be eliminated; one is obliged to tone things down for practical reasons. Even if one can hope to tell the “truth” it will not be the whole truth—certainly not in twenty-two pages. It must also be said that any linkages that might be suggested between character or experience and professional contribution (and an intellectual autobiography of course seeks out such linkages) can never progress beyond the stages of hypothesis; neither necessary nor sufficient causation is at issue. Yet I myself have learned something from this exercise; perhaps my readers will too.

There is an on-going controversy on the interpretation of David Ricardo's wage theory, which has undoubtedly been fueled by the existence of contradictions and difficulties in Ricardo's own treatment of wages. The aim of this paper is to clarify the sources of these difficulties, and to trace their possible historical and analytical reasons. To this end, Ricardo's contribution is put in historical context, and compared with the received doctrine of his time, that is, with Adam Smith's wage theory. This comparison shows that there are many Smithian elements in Ricardo, and that the problems emerge when Ricardo departs from Smith. These problems are essentially the coexistence of Smithian and Ricardian notions of the natural wage in Ricardo's work and the difficulties in reconciling the latter with the distinction drawn by Ricardo between natural and market variables. The reason.for Ricardo's partial departure from Smith, it will be argued, may have been his wish to render more clear-cut his conclusions concerning the tendency of the profit rate to fall in consequence of a rising price of corn. The effort to clarify the difficulties in Ricardo's theory and the comparison with Smith also entail an interpretation that differs in important respects from those found on both the main sides of the controversy over his wage theory.

In a recent paper (1994) in this journal, Elias L. Khalil makes two claims. First, he contends, the law of the tendency of the rate of profit to fall is not unique to the capitalist mode of production but it is equally valid in a socialist economy. Second, a decline in the rate of profit in a socialist economy would engender crises as would be the case in a capitalist economy. Even more, he argues that crises would be necessary in any social form if there is a secular tendency of the organic composition of capital to rise.

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.

Theodore P. Lianos (1995) agrees with the primary thesis of my paper (Khalil 1994), namely, if Karl Marx's theory is correct about the tendency of the rate of profit to fall in capitalist production, it should imply that all modes of production (including socialist production) also suffer from the tendency. Lianos raises two issues. One is secondary and the other is irrelevant.

Murray Rothbard's untimely death has deprived the economics profession of one of its most colorful, iconoclastic and therapeutic personalities. He helped to inspire a legion of dedicated followers to make Austrian economics a significant element in the intellectual and moral spectrum of economics. The Austrians never wavered in their criticism of Soviet-style economic organization, correctly arguing that such systems were working badly. Even so, can a sub-set of economists who eschew mathematics and econometrics win respect from the mainstream? The volumes under review (Rothbard 1995) certainly make a valiant effort in that direction. Rothbard's survey of economic thought extends from “the beginning” to Karl Marx and C. F. Bastiat. Occasional references indicate more was intended. Rothbard is critical of the “Great Man” focus of much of mainstream history of economic thought, and even more critical of the “Whig interpretation,” which sees the evolution of economic thought as progress toward the current near-perfect ideas and practices of our leading graduate schools.