When the article “Experimental Confirmation of the Existence of a Giffen Good,” authored by Raymond C. Battalio, John H. Kagel, and Carl A. Kogut, appeared in 1991 in the American Economic Review it represented the culmination of two separate and seemingly unrelated traditions in the economics literature. The first is a now-venerable tradition of attempting to locate Giffen behavior in the real world. The second is a more truncated modern tradition of animal experimentation in economics. In their article, Battalio et al. combine these traditions through setting out to discover Giffen behavior in a laboratory setting using white rats as experimental subjects. The authors (p. 962) describe their experimental procedure:

Subjects were placed in an experimental chamber for approximately three hours each day, during which time they received their entire daily liquid food ration … A rat obtained quinine and root beer by pressing either of two levers mounted on a wall in the experimental chamber … Income was controlled by restricting the number of lever presses that would result in obtaining liquid. Prices were changed by varying the amount of liquid obtained at each lever press.

The question we propose to address is how did economics move from the classical period characterized by the hardest possible doctrine of initial human homogeneityall the observed differences among people arise from incentives, luck, and historyto become comfortable with accounts of human behavior which alleged foundational differences among and within races of people? (Darity 1995) In this paper, we shall argue that early British eugenics thinkers racialized economics in the post-classical period.

I showed a draft of my presidential address to a friend the other day. He read for a few minutes, then looked up at me and said, “Your address will be remembered long after The Wealth of Nations, Ricardo's Principles, and The General Theory are all forgotten, but not until then!”

Remembering is what we who read, write, and teach history of economics are about. Historians preserve memory; we collect historical facts, organize them, and store them in conceptual filing systems. Remembering accurately and fully is hard work. Memory is tricky. It is always incomplete. It is well known that different witnesses to an event such as a traffic accident can remember the event quite differently, so that their accounts of what happened seem incompatible with each other. They may even appear not to be reports of the same event.

John Neville Keynes is best known for being the father of John Maynard Keynes and for writing The Scope and Method of Political Economy (1891). The lesser of these achievements was widely accepted as the definitive methodological tract in the field of political economy in the late-Victorian period. In this publication Keynes shed new light on many of the pressing methodological and epistemological problems of the day; he supplied the methodological underpinnings to Alfred Marshall's majestic synthesis of late-Victorian theoretical opinion, as articulated in his Principles of Economics (1890); and, whatis of paramount concern to me in this paper, he employed some deft rhetoric to hasten the end of the long and acrimonious methodological debate between the orthodox and historical economists that is now generally referred to as the English Methodenstreit or “battle of methods.” Keynes consciously strove to provide a solution to the “battle of methods” that would be acceptable to both the orthodox and historical economists and, for this reason, The Scope and Method is understandably characterized by a conciliatory tone and repeated, almost desperate, attempts to see value in arguments from both sides of the conceptual divide. Keynes nonetheless failed in his quest to be even-handed. He was a logician of the first order who was extremely impressed by the neat logical lines of the orthodox framework, and hence, for all his intellectual honesty and obvious good will, he could not help but interpret the debate through orthodox spectacles. The chief rhetorical ploy he drew upon to achieve this orthodox-leaning settlement between the principal antagonists was the unconscious one of the “passive-aggressive” in which the advocate repeatedly makes the outward motions of conceding ground while, in effect, conceding little. The specific mechanics of this strategy entailed reformulating each precept from the historicist conceptual framework so that it would not be in conflict with its nearest orthodox opposite (itself carefully reinterpreted by Keynes), either by showing that it was identical to this orthodox opposite or by arguing that different precepts were appropriate in different situations, and then dismissing the entire methodological debate—which was then in its third decade—as one long and lamentable misunderstanding. Keynes was ably assisted in executing this strategy by his Cambridge colleagues and, for this reason, the quest to settle the debate by providing orthodox interpretations of the precepts then at stake may be termed the “Cambridge solution.” Marshall and Henry Sidgwick played particularly important roles in carrying this rhetorical assault, as the former's more genuine sympathy for many of the historicist ideas and the latter's celebrated honesty made the Cambridge quest appear sincere.

In the December 1928 issue of the Economic Journal, Frank Ramsey asked the question “how much of its income should a nation save?” Few of the Cambridge economists of the 1930s were convinced by his highly formalized answer. His contribution sank quickly into oblivion, remaining there for about thirty-five years. In the 1960s, the success of the Hamiltonian formalism and the increasing interest for optimal growth led on the contrary to a quasi “natural” use of Ramsey's former intuitions. These mathematical tools became so widespread that, a few years later, new classical macroeconomics uses a new interpretation of the “à la Ramsey” models, within the setting of representative agent models, in order to bypass the Arrow and Sonnenschein-Mantel-Debreu “impossibility results.” The “à la Ramsey” model is the backbone of modern new classical macroeconomics. It is thus not surprising that these successive moves in macro-economic theory came to foster a slanted interpretation of Ramsey's 1928 article. In this respect, Roger E. A. Farmer's point of view is representative of the retrospective tribute sometimes paid to Ramsey's article:

F. Ramsey was one of the first economists to study how an infinitely lived agent should allocate his resources over time. His work was at the forefront of mathematical economics at the time it was written but his approach has now become a standard part of graduate macroeconomic courses. Many applications of Ramsey's work assume that there is only one agent in the economy and that this representative agent can be thought of as a stand-in for the workings of the market mechanism (Farmer 1993, p. 77).

Something happened to economics in the decade of the 1950s that is little appreciated by most economists and even by professional historians of economic thought. The subject went through an intellectual revolution as profound in its impact as the so-called Keynesian Revolution of pre-war years. I call it the Formalist Revolution after Ward (1972, pp. 40–41), who was the first to recognize the profound intellectual transformation of economics in the years after World War II.

In The Ultimate Resource (1981, 1996), and in many other publications over the last several decades, Julian Simon put forth controversial views regarding the connection between natural resource scarcity, population growth, and economic progress. Simon argued, in contrast to those espousing the limits to growth, that natural resources were not getting scarcer, but more abundant, and that a large and growing population was an asset rather than a liability in the pursuit of economic growth.

The main opponent to the Bank Charter Act of 1844 in the Currency-Banking School debates of the 1840s and 1850s was undoubtedly Thomas Tooke (1774–1858). As is well known, the 1844 Bank Act embodied the Currency School's plan for the institutional separation of the Bank's “public” function of issuing banknotes in exchange for coin (bullion) from its “private” business of banking, consisting of receiving deposits, buying and selling securities in the open market, and discounting bills brought to its door. The objective of this plan was to compel the Bank of England to issue its banknotes pari pasu with changes in its bullion reserves. The Bank Charter Act of 1844 was perhaps the first attempt to introduce central banking “rules.” Tooke's grounds for criticizing the Act are, therefore, of interest to contemporary monetary economists. From 1840 until his last publication in 1857, Tooke engaged in a relentless campaign against the institutional separation of Bank of England functions under the 1844 Act. Before the Act's inception Tooke criticized the Currency School's plan on theoretical, as well as policy grounds. After its inception Tooke mainly criticized the 1844 Bank Act for actually contributing to monetary instability. These criticisms stemmed from Tooke's long-established position on banking policy together with the Banking School theory he largely developed in the early 1840s.

During the period 1871–1918, Sweden was under the in.uence, in many respects, of intellectual currents emanating from the German Empire. On the plane of economic policy many Swedish social scientists and public debaters were in.uenced by German Kathedersozialismus and state socialism. In Sweden, as in other countries, this heritage has long been tucked out of view in historical writings, perhaps because there was not much to boast about after the defeat of the “German model” in the First World War.1 Interest has begun to awaken in recent years, however. Leading economists such as Gustav von Schmoller and Adolph Wagner have attracted attention (see e.g., Backhaus 1997) and their in.uence in the United States has been examined (Carlson 1999, Rodgers 1998, and Senn 1997). In Sweden, too, interest in German Kathedersozialismus and state socialism is rising with respect to its in.uence on social scientists (Wisselgren 2000) and (social democratic) politicians (Karlsson 2001).

Scholars have long been interested in the apparent dichotomy between sympathy and self-interest in Smith. The question of the consistency between The Theory of Moral Sentiments (TMS) and An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations (WN)—the famous Das Adam Smith Problem—is definitely still relevant for anyone attracted to Smith scholarship. Although there is some agreement that the two works are consistent and, furthermore, parts of an incomplete system, it seems that the Problem continues to attract interest, not only for its historical and philosophical appeal, but also perhaps for its implications for the current economics-and-ethics debate.

The developments in macroeconomic theory in the 1930s had far-reaching theoretical implications for the attitude towards fiscal policy. In the following decades numerous articles and books analyzed the effects of fiscal policy on the economic activity. The analyses were often closely related to the Keynesian macroeconomic framework and the multiplier. The object of this paper is to draw attention to a book which analyzed fiscal policy from a different perspective.

It has been almost fifteen years since Arjo Klamer and I published “The Making of an Economist” (1987), which described the graduate school experience of economics students at six top graduate schools. The students who responded to that survey are now in their late thirties and early forties, and hence are in the prime of their careers. This paper follows up on our earlier study; it reports the results of a survey that was sent to those respondents who voluntarily listed their names on the previous survey and said that they would be open to further contact. It is meant to capture the respondents' reflective views of the profession and their graduate school experience, along with how they have changed over the past fifteen years. To encourage participation, the survey was relatively short. To facilitate comparisons, it repeated a number of the questions asked in the previous survey. (Appendix A reproduces the survey.)

The first half of the nineteenth century in Great Britain was one of nearly continuous controversy over monetary issues. The Restriction of Cash Payments and the Bullion Controversy dominated the first two decades. After Resumption in 1821, a series of banking crises kept monetary issues on the front burner, until they boiled over again in the Currency-Banking Controversy of the 1840s. Of the many writers contributing to the monetary literature during the period, few contributed so much as Thomas Tooke. Long recognized as a collector of economic data without peer in his era, Tooke's reputation as an economic theorist has grown in recent years (cf. Laidler 1972; Arnon 1991; M. Smith 2001). Readers of Tooke's works have long known that his views on monetary theory changed radically from the 1820s to the 1840s, when he adopted a starkly anti-quantity theory approach. In his early years as a collector of economic data, Tooke allied himself with David Ricardo in the effort to return Great Britain to the gold standard. But though both subscribed to the quantity-theory/price-specie-flow-mechanism (QT-PSFM) framework for analyzing the economy's adjustment to monetary disturbances, their theoretical approaches differed in important respects. The differences were great enough to lead Arnon (1989, 1991) to conclude that Tooke and Ricardo should be viewed primarily as political, not theoretical, allies and to suggest that Tooke's approach shared greater affinities with the work of moderate bullionists than with Ricardo (Arnon 1991, pp. 48, 58, 108).

Emil Lederer (18821939) was exposed to diverse influences. In Vienna he was a student of Eugen von Bhm-Bawerk, Friedrich von Wieser, and Eugen von Philippovich, but when Hilferding and Otto Bauer spoke in those Viennese seminars Lederer must often have taken the side of the Marxists believe Jakob Marschak et al. (1941, p. 80). In Berlin, Lederer attended Gustav Schmoller's lectures. His supervisor in Munich, where he received a second doctoral degree, was Lujo Brentano. Lederer's habilitation submitted to the University of Heidelberg entailed the first comprehensive analysis of the working conditions and political attitudes of salaried employees (Dickler 1987, p. 157). As much as his last work, on the State of the Masses, published posthumously in 1940, it was an important contribution to sociology.

It is surely Israel M. Kirzner who has promoted the role of the entrepreneur more than any other author in the second half of the twentieth century. His description of the market process and entrepreneurship in his Competition and the Market Process (1973) represents a seminal contribution to Austrian thinking, although it has been slow to catch on in broader circles. As Humberto Barreto argues above, for example, an entrepreneurial role seems to have disappeared from mainstream economics as the theory of the firm progressed (1989, pp. 95–98). The standard core of microeconomics allows little room for entrepreneurial elements, particularly if the latter are defined in terms of uncertainty, intuition, ignorance, and disequilibrium. In light of this intellectual discord and given his recent retirement, it is timely to reconsider Kirzner's unceasing efforts to resurrect the role of the entrepreneur, and especially his effort to reconcile this role with conventional neoclassical approaches.

In economics as in anthropology, old artifacts spur continuing debates. A case in point is Knut Wicksell's 1898 analysis of the cumulative process of price inflation in pure credit, cashless economies. Some economists view Wicksell's model as a milestone in the evolution of quantity-theoretic monetary analysis inasmuch as it constitutes the seminal rigorous explanation of how loan-created stocks of bank money translate interest rate differentials into price level changes. Others, however, dispute this point and instead argue that money plays no role in determining price level changes in Wicksell's model.

In the period of the marginal revolution in England, utility was traditionally defined in reference to either desire or pleasure. William Stanley Jevons, for example, referred to pleasure. According to Jevons, utility was actually identical with the addition made to a person's happiness, that is to say to the sum of the pleasure created and the pain prevented (1871, pp. 5354). Henry Sidgwick, Alfred Marshall's spiritual father and mother, criticized this Benthamist perspective (Sidgwick 1883, p. 63) and introduced another definition at Cambridge. By utility of material things, Sidgwick stated, we mean their capacity tosatisfy men's needs and desires (1883, p. 84, emphasis added). Marshall, for his part, repeatedly moved from one meaning to another. In the first edition of his Principles of Economics, the term utility alternatively designated desire or pleasure. Few commentators have noted this double meaning of utility (Homan 1933, p. 224; Stigler 1950, p. 384; Guillebaud 1961, pp. 23637; Aldrich 1996, p. 211). Only Arthur Cecil Pigou (1903) and Jacob Viner (1925, p. 64749) have actually brought out its theoretical implications. No explanation as to the prevalence of this duality or its status in Marshall's welfare economics seems to have been proposed. Such is the intention of this article.

Through the 1930s, Frank H. Knight engaged the economic profession in a prodigious exchange over the nature and productivity of capital. Knight's efforts here were driven by three significant objectives: first, that capital theory had to be able to explain the broad fact of capital accumulation and growth as actually experienced by progressive societies; second, that existing doctrines had to be purged of the flawed vestiges of the classical-Ricardian theory of production if any progress was to be had in achieving the first objective; third, and last, that an alternative theory of capital needed to provide an explanation of the productivity of capital consistent with the fulfillment of the first two tasks. Knight failed in the third task or, at best, left the task incomplete.