Abundance
vs. Scarcity
by Frédéric Bastiat
This essay
is included in The
Bastiat Collection (2011).
Which is best
for man and for society, abundance or scarcity? What! you exclaim,
can that be a question? Has anyone ever asserted, or is it possible
to maintain, that at the foundation of human well-being?
Yes, this has
been asserted, and is maintained every day; and I do not hesitate
to affirm that the theory of scarcity is the most popular by far.
It is the life of conversation, of the newspapers, of books, and
of political oratory; and, strange as it may seem, it is certain
that political economy will have fulfilled its practical mission
when it has established beyond question, and widely disseminated,
this very simple proposition: "The wealth of men consists in
the abundance of commodities."
Do we not hear
it said every day: "The foreigner is about to inundate us with
his products?" Then we fear abundance.
Did not Mr.
Saint-Cricq exclaim: "Production is excessive"? Then he
feared abundance.
Do workmen
break machines? Then they fear an excess of production, or abundance.
Has not Mr.
Bugeaud pronounced these words: "Let bread be dear, and agriculturists
will get rich"? Now, bread can only be dear because it is scarce.
Therefore Mr. Bugeaud extols scarcity.
Does not Mr.
d'Argout urge as an argument against sugar-growing the very productiveness
of that industry? Does he not say: "Beetroot has no future,
and its culture cannot be extended, because a few acres devoted
to its culture in each department would supply the whole consumption
of France"? Then, in his eyes, good lies in sterility, in dearth,
and evil in fertility and abundance.
La Presse,
Le Commerce, and the greater part of the daily papers, have one
or more articles every morning to demonstrate to the legislative
chamber and the government that it is sound policy to raise legislatively
the price of all things by means of tariffs. And do the chamber
and the government not obey the injunction? Now tariffs can raise
prices only by diminishing the supply of commodities in the market!
Then the journals, the chamber, and the minister put into practice
the theory of scarcity, and I am justified in saying that this theory
is by far the most popular.
How does it
happen that in the eyes of workmen, of publicists, and statesmen
abundance should appear a thing to be dreaded and scarcity advantageous?
I propose to trace this illusion to its source.
We remark that
a man grows richer in proportion to the return yielded by his exertions,
that is to say, in proportion as he sells his commodity at a higher
price. He sells at a higher price in proportion to the rarity, to
the scarcity, of the article he produces. We conclude from this
that, as far as he is concerned at least, scarcity enriches him.
Applying successively the same reasoning to all other producers,
we construct the theory of scarcity. We next proceed to apply this
theory and, in order to favor producers generally, we raise prices
artificially, and cause a scarcity of all commodities, by prohibition,
by intervention, by the suppression of machinery, and other analogous
means.
The same thing
holds of abundance. We observe that when a product is plentiful,
it sells at a lower price, and the producer gains less. If all producers
are in the same situation, they are all poor. Therefore it is abundance
that ruins society. And as theories are soon reduced to practice,
we see the law struggling against the abundance of commodities.
This fallacy
in its more general form may make little impression, but applied
to a particular order of facts, to a certain branch of industry,
to a given class of producers, it is extremely specious; and this
is easily explained. It forms a syllogism that is not false, but
incomplete. Now, what is true in a syllogism is always and necessarily
present to the mind. But incompleteness is a negative quality, an
absent datum, which it is very possible, and indeed very easy, to
leave out of account.
Man produces
in order to consume. He is at once producer and consumer. The reasoning
I have just explained considers him only in the first of these points
of view. Had the second been taken into account, it would have led
to an opposite conclusion. In effect, may it not be said:
The consumer
is richer in proportion as he purchases all things cheaper; and
he purchases things cheaper in proportion to their abundance; therefore
it is abundance that enriches him. This reasoning, extended to all
consumers, leads to the theory of plenty.
It is the notion
of exchange imperfectly understood that leads to these illusions.
If we consider our personal interest, we recognize distinctly that
it is two-sided. As sellers we have an interest in dearness, and
consequently in scarcity; as buyers, in cheapness, or what amounts
to the same thing, in the abundance of commodities. We cannot, then,
found our reasoning on one or the other of these interests before
inquiring which of the two coincides and is identified with the
general and permanent interest of mankind at large.
If man were
a solitary animal, if he labored exclusively for himself, if he
consumed directly the fruit of his labor in a word, if he
did not exchange the theory of scarcity would never have
appeared in the world. It is too evident that in that case, abundance
would be advantageous, from whatever quarter it came, whether from
the result of his industry, from ingenious tools, from powerful
machinery of his invention, or whether due to the fertility of the
soil, the liberality of nature, or even to a mysterious invasion
of products brought by the waves and left by them upon the shore.
No solitary man would ever have thought that in order to encourage
his labor and render it more productive, it was necessary to break
in pieces the instruments that lessened it, to neutralize the fertility
of the soil, or give back to the sea the good things it had brought
to his door. He would perceive at once that labor is not an end,
but a means; and that it would be absurd to reject the result for
fear of doing injury to the means by which the result was accomplished.
He would perceive that if he devotes two hours a day to providing
for his wants, any circumstance (machinery, fertility, gratuitous
gift, no matter what) that saves him an hour of that labor, the
result remaining the same, puts that hour at his disposal, and that
he can devote it to increasing his enjoyments; in short, he would
see that to save labor is nothing else than progress.
But exchange
disturbs our view of a truth so simple. In the social state, and
with the separation of employments to which it leads, the production
and consumption of a commodity are not mixed up and confounded in
the same individual. Each man comes to see in his labor no longer
a means but an end. In relation to each commodity, exchange creates
two interests, that of the producer and that of the consumer; and
these two interests are always directly opposed to each other.
It is essential
to analyze them and examine their nature.
Take the case
of any producer whatever, what is his immediate interest? It consists
of two things; first, that the fewest possible number of persons
should devote themselves to his branch of industry; second, that
the greatest possible number of persons should be in quest of the
article he produces. Political economy explains it more succinctly
in these terms: Supply very limited, demand very extended; or, in
other words still, Competition limited, demand unlimited.
What is the
immediate interest of the consumer? That the supply of the product
in question should be extended, and the demand restrained.
Seeing, then,
that these two interests are in opposition to each other, one of
them must necessarily coincide with social interests in general,
and the other be antagonistic to them.
But which of
them should legislation favor, as identical with the public good
if, indeed, it should favor either?
To discover
this, we must inquire what would happen if the secret wishes of
men were granted.
In as far as
we are producers, it must be allowed that the desire of every one
of us is antisocial. Are we vinedressers? It would give us no great
regret if hail should shower down on all the vines in the world
except our own: this is the theory of scarcity. Are we iron-masters?
Our wish is that there should be no other iron in the market but
our own, however much the public may be in want of it; and for no
other reason than this want, keenly felt and imperfectly satisfied,
shall ensure us a higher price: this is still the theory of scarcity.
Are we farmers? We say with Mr. Bugeaud: Let bread be dear, that
is to say, scarce, and agriculturists will thrive: always the same
theory, the theory of scarcity.
Are we physicians?
We cannot avoid seeing that certain physical ameliorations, improving
the sanitary state of the country, the development of certain moral
virtues, such as moderation and temperance, the progress of knowledge
tending to enable each man to take better care of his own health,
the discovery of certain simple remedies of easy application, would
be so many blows to our professional success. In so far as we are
physicians, then, our secret wishes would be antisocial. I do not
say that physicians form these secret wishes. On the contrary, I
believe they would hail with joy the discovery of a universal panacea;
but they would not do this as physicians, but as men and as Christians.
By a noble abnegation of self, the physician places himself in the
consumer's point of view. But as practicing a profession, from which
he derives his own and his family's subsistence, his desires, or,
if you will, his interests, are antisocial.
Are we manufacturers
of cotton goods? We desire to sell them at the price most profitable
to ourselves. We should consent willingly to an interdict being
laid on all rival manufactures; and if we could venture to give
this wish public expression, or hope to realize it with some chance
of success, we should attain our end, to some extent by indirect
means; for example, by excluding foreign fabrics in order to diminish
the supply, and thus produce, forcibly and to our profit, a scarcity
of clothing.
In the same
way, we might pass in review all other branches of industry, and
we should always find that the producers, as such, have antisocial
views. "The shopkeeper," says Montaigne, "thrives
only by the irregularities of youth; the farmer by the high price
of corn, the architect by the destruction of houses, the officers
of justice by lawsuits and quarrels. Ministers of religion derive
their distinction and employment from our vices and our death. No
physician rejoices in the health of his friends, nor soldiers in
the peace of their country; and so of the rest."
Hence it follows
that if the secret wishes of each producer were realized, the world
would retrograde rapidly toward barbarism. The sail would supersede
steam, the oar would supersede the sail, and general traffic would
be carried on by the carrier's wagon; the latter would be superseded
by the mule, and the mule by the peddler. Wool would exclude cotton,
cotton in its turn would exclude wool, and so on until the dearth
of all things had caused man himself to disappear from the face
of the earth.
Suppose for
a moment that the legislative power and the public force were placed
at the disposal of Mineral's committee, and that each member of
that association had the privilege of bringing in and sanctioning
a favorite law, is it difficult to divine to what sort of industrial
code the public would be subjected?
If we now proceed
to consider the immediate interest of the consumer, we shall find
that it is in perfect harmony with the general interest, with all
that the welfare of society calls for. When the purchaser goes to
market he desires to find it well stocked. Let the seasons be propitious
for all harvests; let inventions, more and more marvellous, bring
within reach a greater and greater number of products and enjoyments;
let time and labor be saved; let distances be effaced by the perfection
and rapidity of transit; let the spirit of justice and of peace
allow of a diminished weight of taxation; let barriers of every
kind be removed in all this the interest of the consumer
runs parallel with the public interest. The consumer may push his
secret wishes to a chimerical and absurd length, without these wishes
becoming antagonistic to the public welfare. He may desire that
food and shelter, the hearth and the roof, instruction and morality,
security and peace, power and health, should be obtained without
exertion and without measure, like the dust of the highways, the
water of the brook, the air that we breathe; and yet the realization
of his desires would not be at variance with the good of society.
It might be
said that, if these wishes were granted, the work of the producer
would become more and more limited, and would end with being stopped
for want of sustenance. But why? Because on this extreme supposition,
all imaginable wants and desires would be fully satisfied. Man,
like Omnipotence, would create all things by a simple act of volition.
Well, on this hypothesis, what reason should we have to regret the
stoppage of industrial production?
I made the
supposition not long ago of the existence of an assembly composed
of workmen, each member of which, in his capacity of producer, should
have the power of passing a law embodying his secret wish, and I
said that the code that would emanate from that assembly would be
monopoly systematized, the theory of scarcity reduced to practice.
In the same
way, a chamber in which each should consult exclusively his own
immediate interest as a consumer, would tend to systematize liberty,
to suppress all restrictive measures, to overthrow all artificial
barriers in a word, to realize the theory of plenty.
Hence it follows:
That to consult
exclusively the immediate interest of the producer is to consult
an interest that is antisocial;
That to take
for basis exclusively the immediate interest of the consumer would
be to take for basis the general interest.
Let me enlarge
on this view of the subject a little, at the risk of being prolix.
A radical antagonism
exists between seller and buyer.
The former
desires that the subject of the bargain should be scarce, its supply
limited, and its price high.
The latter
desires that it should be abundant, its supply large, and its price
low.
The laws, which
should be at least neutral, take the part of the seller against
the buyer, of the producer against the consumer, of dearness against
cheapness, of scarcity against abundance.
They proceed,
if not intentionally, at least logically, on this datum: a nation
is rich when it is in want of everything.
For they say,
it is the producer that we must favor by securing him a good market
for his product. For this purpose it is necessary to raise the price,
and in order to raise the price we must restrict the supply; and
to restrict the supply is to create scarcity.
Just let us
suppose that at the present moment, when all these laws are in full
force, we make a complete inventory, not in value but in weight,
measure, volume, quantity, of all the commodities existing in the
country, that are fitted to satisfy the wants and tastes of its
inhabitants corn, meat, cloth, fuel, colonial products, etc.
Suppose, again,
that next day all the barriers that oppose the introduction of foreign
products are removed.
Lastly, suppose
that in order to test the result of this reform they proceed three
months afterwards to make a new inventory.
Is it not true
that there will be found in France more corn, cattle, cloth, linen,
iron, coal, sugar, etc., at the date of the second than at the date
of the first inventory?
So true is
this that our protective tariffs have no other purpose than to hinder
all these things from reaching us, to restrict the supply, and prevent
low prices and abundance.
Now I would
ask, Are the people who live under our laws better fed because there
is less bread, meat, and sugar in the country? Are they better clothed
because there is less cloth and linen? Better warmed because there
is less coal? Better assisted in their labor because there are fewer
tools and less iron, copper, and machinery?
But it may
be said, If the foreigner inundates us with his products he will
carry away our money.
And what does
it matter? Men are not fed on money. They do not clothe themselves
with gold, or warm themselves with silver. What does it matter whether
there is more or less money in the country if there is more bread
on our sideboards, more meat in our larders, more linen in our wardrobes,
more firewood in our cellars.
Restrictive
laws always land us in this dilemma: Either you admit that they
produce scarcity, or you do not. If you admit it, you avow by the
admission that you inflict on the people all the injury in your
power. If you do not admit it, you deny having restricted the supply
and raised prices, and consequently you deny having favored the
producer.
What you do
is either hurtful or profitless, injurious or ineffectual. It never
can bring any useful result.
Frédéric
Bastiat was the great French proto-Austrolibertarian whose polemics
and analytics run circles around every statist cliché. His primary
desire as a writer was to reach people in the most practical way
with the message of the moral and material urgency of freedom.
Copyright
© 2012 by the Ludwig von Mises Institute.
Permission to reprint in whole or in part is hereby granted, provided
full credit is given.
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