3,673 works, 150 years of economic thought. Each one summarized and searchable, with cited passages inside.
When does an economic theory explain conduct, and when does it merely redescribe the assumptions built into it? Felix Kaufmann’s 1933 essay makes this distinction the test of methodological claims. His central case is subjective value theory: ordering a consumer’s preferences is not yet explaining how those preferences arose. He treats marginal utility as a guide to investigating economic plans, whose usefulness must be demonstrated rather than secured by deduction alone. At the same time, he distinguishes economics’ subject—social exchange—from its explanatory instrument, the individual plan. Readers can discover why accepting preference analysis need not mean defining all purposive action as economic, and how conceptual precision exposes claims of empirical certainty that definitions and formal reasoning cannot support.
Data may feed inquiry, but can they produce theory? Felix Kaufmann turns this methodological dispute into a three-stanza song, here in Arlene Oost-Zinner’s 2010 English translation with an accompanying score. His satire respects the labor of collecting evidence while rejecting its claim to generate theory unaided; an obscure appeal to “natural value” fares no better. Yet the joke also reaches Professor Mises’ seminar, where evening argument promises certainty until dinner asserts a more bodily demand. The song’s distinctive pleasure lies in this double edge: theoretical conviction and affectionate mockery share the same table, allowing readers to encounter methodological loyalties in the lighter register of seminar sociability.
Hard problems melt like chocolate creams, and hungry seminar participants replenish themselves through “Import tariffs”: Felix Kaufmann’s song affectionately brings intellectual ambition down to the dinner table. In Arlene Oost-Zinner’s 2010 English translation, this portrait of the Mises Circle makes debate and conviviality parts of the same pleasure. Yet its confidence briefly falters: why keep questioning when life flows on regardless? The answer—a resolve to take a stand—gives the returning refrain a seriousness its exuberant praise of truth might initially conceal. This small work offers a distinctive glimpse of scholarly fellowship expressed through jokes, shared appetites, and the feeling of being at home in argument.
An economist’s books have no buyers: in Felix Kaufmann’s comic song, even the defence of marginal utility suffers from insufficient demand. A Vienna-trained scholar greets his school’s supposed demise with theatrical despair, turning Menger’s work into a devotional object and his pen into a dagger—until economic polemics summon him back to battle. Set to Schumann’s music with an acknowledged debt to Heine, the song makes scholarly allegiance look at once ridiculous and resilient. Its humour lies in the uneasy overlap between devotion to a theory and concern for one’s own professional survival. Arlene Oost-Zinner’s 2010 English translation and arrangement preserve this small drama of intellectual loyalty, in which economic terminology itself joins the heroic posturing.
An invitation to refute a doctrine becomes comic when the speaker declares in advance that no critic can succeed. Felix Kaufmann’s two-stanza song turns economic conviction into a performance of certainty: marginal utility supplies the recurring answer, while Vienna claims privileged access to liberalism’s reasons. The sharper joke concerns values, which the speaker holds at a distance before insisting that thought cannot proceed without them. In Arlene Oost-Zinner’s 2010 English translation, with music by Gustav Pick, readers encounter a compact satire of theoretical allegiance and methodological self-contradiction. Although the title names Mises and Mayer, the lyrics leave their respective positions unassigned; the interest lies in the confident voice and the tensions it cannot quite conceal.
A scientist writes through the night until a methodologist compares his prose to beer foam and dismisses his a priori assumptions. In Felix Kaufmann’s satirical song, scholarly correction becomes mock-tragic catastrophe: the manuscript turns to ashes, taking its author’s sense of purpose with it. Yet the scientist’s increasingly elaborate “knots” of thought leave his own intellectual pretensions exposed. Presented in Arlene Oost-Zinner’s 2010 English translation, with music by Friedrich Silcher and an acknowledged debt to Heinrich Heine, this miniature stages a pointed tension between critical scrutiny and the confidence inquiry requires. Its comedy lies in the disproportion between a methodological rebuke and the ruin it brings.