2,793 works, 150 years of economic thought. Each one summarized and searchable, with cited passages inside.
Into a market order that has abolished legal caste, Marx's class-conflict doctrine smuggles the antagonisms of a vanished status society—and exposing that sleight of hand is Mises's aim in this 1961 essay. Caste conflict is intelligible, he grants: one estate's privilege is another's burden. But where citizens stand equal before the law, membership in a 'class' is a fluctuating market outcome, revised continually by consumer choice rather than fixed by inherited rank. Mises then turns textual critic, noting that Marx never defined 'class' and left the chapter bearing that title in Das Kapital unfinished—less an accident of death, he suggests, than a sign the doctrine had collapsed. The ideology doctrine, which dismisses critics by their social origins, he shows to condemn the bourgeois-born Marx by its own rule.
The essential dogma of the Marxian philosophy, the class conflict doctrine which he and his friend Engels had propagated for many decades, was unmasked as a flop.
The iron law of wages—pay must sink to bare subsistence because higher wages breed population growth and lower ones starve the labor supply—carries, in Mises's 1961 reading, Marx's entire indictment of capitalism on its back. Borrowed from earlier writers and already refuted when Marx adopted it, this premise is what makes exploitation theory work: if workers can never gain above subsistence, then reform, unions, and minimum-wage laws are futile and immiseration must deepen until revolution. Ordinary observation overturns it, Mises replies, since capitalism's mark is mass production for the masses, and wage earners spend their surplus on culture and comfort rather than mere reproduction. He drives the contradiction home—Marx cannot hold both that wages already sit at the physiological minimum and that the proletariat grows steadily poorer.
The pith of Marx's economic teachings is his "law" of wages. This alleged law that is at the bottom of his entire criticism of the capitalistic system is, of course, not of Marxian make.
Galbraith's Affluent Society argued that many modern wants are not our own but are manufactured by the very production that satisfies them, so private consumption lacks urgency and resources should flow toward government-supplied services. The inference is a plain non sequitur, Hayek replies in this 1961 essay, and with it the book's whole argument collapses. His counter-move separates the origin of a want from its worth: nearly all civilized desire is culturally acquired, and to dismiss learned wants as trivial is to dismiss the whole cultural achievement of man, music, literature, cultivated taste and all. Producers and advertisers may shape the environment in which preferences form, he concedes, but shaping is not determining. Behind Galbraith's sociology he detects an old socialist strategy in new dress: having failed to deliver abundance, it now declares that abundance does not matter.
To say that a desire is not important because it is not innate is to say that the whole cultural achievement of man is not important.
Public opinion imagines wages as the prize in a tug-of-war between employers and workers; Mises dismantles that picture by placing the consumer at its center. Entrepreneurs, disciplined by profit and loss, can pay only what buyers will indirectly reimburse, so the market becomes a daily plebiscite in which each purchase helps assign incomes—modest for the welder, lavish for the entertainer. Wages rise, in this 1961 essay, only as capital accumulation lifts the marginal productivity of labor; poverty in underdeveloped nations reflects bad policy and insecure property, not natural scarcity. Force wages above the market-clearing level, and employers curtail production until mass unemployment becomes lasting. Keynesian inflation, Mises adds, is merely a disguised cut in real wages that an 'index conscious' public can no longer be fooled by.
The consumers are sovereign and the businessmen are their servants.
Three books at once—Ludwig von Mises on epistemology, a collection of European economic thought, and Richard von Mises's frequency theory of probability—give Rothbard the occasion to argue that purposive action cannot be studied like the motion of unmotivated physical objects. Mises supplies the positive method: economic laws are built by deducing necessarily true conclusions from apodictic axioms, never 'tested' against historical data. The mathematician Paul Painlevé—no innocent of equations—furnishes the critique of mathematical economics, whose proper domain is continuous, unmotivated magnitudes. And the frequency theory confines probability to homogeneous, repeatable classes, blocking its extension to the unique, motivated choices of acting men. Economics, the essay concludes, must study man as he acts, not as a thing to be measured.
It becomes evident from Richard von Mises’s fundamental work that mathematical probability theory can never be applicable to economics, or to any other study of human action.
The suspicion that sound economic conduct must collide with ethical obligation rests, Mahr argues, on a false definition of economy. Against the caricature of homo oeconomicus as pure profit-seeker, he recovers the subjectivist conception: economizing is not a realm of money or goods but the ordering of scarce means toward chosen ends, whatever their moral content. Altruistic, religious, cultural, and political aims become economic the moment they compete for scarce resources; a seller who favors a friend satisfies two needs at once, and unwirtschaftlich conduct means only the irrational use of means, never the refusal to maximize gain. The closing pages defend a qualified Wertfreiheit against Max Weber's shadow: economists may render moral judgments, but derivation and proof must stay free of them.
Es handelt sich eben nur um das Disponieren über die knappen Mittel zwecks maximaler Zielerreichung.
English translation: “What is involved is simply the disposition of scarce means with a view to maximal attainment of ends.”
'Plan or no plan?' is the wrong question, Hazlitt argues in this 1962 Mont Pelerin Society address; the real one is whose plan. Consumers, workers and entrepreneurs plan ceaselessly, and a government's master design becomes meaningful only when it coerces different outcomes than free choice would yield. From this premise he dismantles two cases for planning: Galbraith's claim that markets make the wrong goods, and the growth planners' faith that merely announcing a four or five percent target can produce it. His sharpest reversal renames the debate, since Galbraith's 'private sector' is really the voluntary sector and his 'public sector' the coercive one. Real growth, Hazlitt maintains, follows from sound money, secure property and rewarded production, not from bureaucratic command dressed up as statistics.
The welfare state, as Bastiat put it with uncanny clairvoyance more than a century ago, is the great fiction by which everybody tries to live at the expense of everybody else.
A 1961 task force report on how American high schools teach economics, sponsored by the Committee for Economic Development and the American Economic Association, is the target of this short, close-reading polemic. Mises accepts that instruction is inadequate but rejects the proposed cure, which he reads as progressive interventionism dressed up as neutral civic pedagogy. His sharpest objection is to the report's comparative-systems method, which lists the merits and defects of capitalism, communism, and other arrangements as though they were symmetrical, obscuring the decisive gap between coordination through prices and production by command. He picks at softening qualifiers about Soviet planning, dismisses dictatorship statistics gathered without a free press, and denies that a large firm wields coercive power merely because customers freely choose to buy from it. To adopt the report, he warns, would institutionalize indoctrination.
It provides virtually a résumé of the ideas held by "progressives"—men who have been most influential in this country's movement away from the free market economy.
The annotated books Menger left at his death—his own Grundsätze, his copy of Rau, his Mill—traveled to Tokyo, where they entered the library of Hitotsubashi University and preserved a Menger the published works conceal. From these marginalia Kauder reconstructs an Aristotelian realist rather than a Kantian, a theorist of rational freedom, and a social liberal far from Manchester dogma. The Rau notes of 1867 already reject labor value, assert individual and immeasurable value, and sketch imputation, dismantling the charge that Menger plagiarized Gossen, whom he read only later and rejected. Menger emerges as a critic of luxury and aristocratic idleness who treated poverty itself as a form of bondage, and whose unfinished program—reaching into capital, money, overproduction, and price—passed to Böhm-Bawerk, Wieser, Mises, and Hayek. The Nachlass, Kauder insists, bequeathed far more than a value theory.
Aber die Armen sind durch die Ungunst der Verhältnisse bedrückt, sie sind noch nicht vollständig frei, sie sind »halbe Sklaven, ihre Kette ist länger«.
English translation: “But the poor are oppressed by the adversity of circumstances; they are not yet fully free, they are "half-slaves, their chain is only longer.”
Two economic orders frame this account of how wages are actually set. In an approximately free market, where employers hold positions of equal strength, wage formation follows the general laws of price, structure stays purely functional, and productivity gains reach workers as falling prices, real wages rising with no nominal increase at all. Under the organized market economy of concentration and monopoly, wage structure bends instead to market power and profitability, so real gains now require nominal raises and price pass-through varies between free competition, pure monopoly, and monopolistic competition. Bilateral monopoly, Bayer shows, leaves the wage level indeterminate. His verdict is that automatic wage formation must yield to conscious wage design, and that design can succeed only within a broader economic policy directed against entrenched market power.
Die letzte Verantwortung nimmt uns niemand ab. Gerade darin kommt die Würde des Menschen im wirtschaftlich gesellschaftlichen Geschehen zum Ausdruck; gerade darin liegt eine Chance der Menschlichkeit.
English translation: “No one relieves us of ultimate responsibility. It is precisely in this that the dignity of man in economic and social life finds expression; precisely in this lies a chance for humanity.”
Railroad share battles, the advertising war between Lestoil and Procter & Gamble, Coca-Cola against Pepsi, European cartel threats and compensations — business life, this essay argues, is a tissue of strategic situations that ordinary maximization cannot describe. Conceding that game theory stands as an autonomous branch of mathematics, Morgenstern presses the harder claim that economic reality is itself frequently a game: the moment a rival controls a decisive variable and reacts, the normal maximum assumptions fail. Walrasian equilibrium and the crossing of demand and supply curves become special constructions that hide number, timing, and coalition. His strongest preference is for cooperative n-person theory, which can model mergers, wage bargains, proxy fights, and above all 'Macht' — power that marginal-productivity theory has no place for. Where power exists, he concludes, the prevailing theory must give way.
Es gibt kein Geschäft ohne Geschäftsgeheimnis.
English translation: “There is no business without a business secret.”
Can a reviewer reject an economist’s politics without confronting his method? In this short comment on C. E. Ayres’s review of Ludwig von Mises’s Epistemological Problems of Economics, Rothbard argues that hostility to laissez-faire has displaced accurate exposition. He foregrounds Mises’s praxeology: deductive economic theory that, on this account, helps explain historical events but cannot be tested by them. Rothbard’s own radical laissez-faire commitments sharpen rather than conceal the stakes. He distinguishes professional consensus from proof, and criticism of the mixed economy from failure to recognize its existence. The exchange offers a concentrated view of how Rothbard links methodological defence to political dissent—and why he insists that explaining government intervention does not entail endorsing it.