The archive.

Defending free enterprise once meant, for many European economists, opposing patents. Fritz Machlup and Edith Penrose recover this nineteenth-century dispute to ask what can justify granting exclusive rights over knowledge others might independently discover. Their 1950 article combines the history of abolitionist campaigns—including the Netherlands’ abolition of patents in 1869—with a careful separation of claims too often treated as interchangeable: property, fair reward, incentives, and disclosure. Rewarding inventors, they show, does not by itself establish patents as the right instrument; stimulating invention does not prove that protection is necessary or worth its social costs. By distinguishing the political victory of patent advocates from the unresolved economic debate, the article gives readers concrete grounds for questioning what exclusive rights accomplish—and at whose expense.

A country’s need for imports is not the same as its demand for dollars—and foreign aid does not, by itself, prove a foreign-exchange market deficit. In this 1950 article, Fritz Machlup makes these distinctions central to his diagnosis of the postwar dollar shortage. He separates effective demand at a given exchange rate from planners’ desired imports and accountants’ records of past financing. His criticism of the IMF’s treatment of relief and reconstruction aid gives the analysis a concrete edge: assistance may pay for purchases that would never otherwise have occurred. Readers can discover why apparently similar deficits call for different responses, and why the case for productive foreign assistance must be distinguished from the case for exchange-rate adjustment.

Two rival redrawings of the φ-surface, one by J. Mars and one by H. G. Johnson, prompt this comparison, though the stakes are conceptual rather than merely graphical. Shackle defends a deliberate division of labour: the φ-surface locates the standardized focus-values of a venture, while a separate indifference-map registers the chooser's temperament toward possible gain and loss. Mars's version, by making φ algebraically summable across gains and losses, would let the surface rank ventures on its own and render that map redundant, dissolving the independent representation of an individual's attitude to uncertainty. Through profiles, translated lines, and 'crank-handle' constructions Shackle exposes the cost, and defends his 'subliminal' region, where tiny gains under extreme potential surprise command no attention. Johnson's wooden three-dimensional model he treats more warmly, as suggestive but not decisive.

By abandoning, or drastically circumscribing the role of, the gambler indifference-map, Mr Mars loses an essential ‘degree of freedom’ which my system possesses.

Does unified income taxation threaten federalism, or does that objection leave the costs of fragmented taxation unexamined? In this 1950 reply to Theo Keller’s criticism of his Bundesstaatliche Finanzordnung, Alfred Amonn demands concrete grounds for resisting Swiss fiscal reform. His perspective is conditional rather than categorical: a debt sustainable today may constrain tomorrow’s borrowing, while a one-time levy on existing wealth may permit relief from recurring taxes. The article’s interest lies in how Amonn separates these claims from the political labels attached to them. Readers encounter a pointed dispute over what would count as evidence against reform—and where constitutional loyalties require an argument about practical consequences rather than an appeal to attachment.

Choosing a course of action is not like selecting between two objects already on a table. In this article, Alfred Schütz asks how alternatives themselves take shape during deliberation, as both the imagined projects and the person considering them change. His distinctive starting point is that we envisage an act as already accomplished, then work back towards the means of achieving it. Such anticipation depends on present knowledge that the action itself may alter. Bringing phenomenology to ordinary practical reasoning, Schütz shows how biography and interests give possibilities their weight, and how doubt becomes a decision without yielding final certainty. The analysis gives readers a precise way to question social-scientific models that treat actors’ alternatives as fixed and their motives as fully transparent.

Only the foreign, Richard Thurnwald insists, first opens a path to knowledge of ourselves — and from that premise unfolds a vast comparative anthropology of the human mind, tracing its awakening, growth, and errancy from the earliest Naturvölker through the archaic civilizations of Egypt, Peru, and Babylon. Against the older evolutionism that ranked cultures on a single ladder toward European reason, Thurnwald reconstructs a paleopsychology of participation, in which surrounding reality is lived personally rather than confronted as impersonal object. He works through Mittelpunktgefühl, mana, totemism, projection, sacrifice, and the slow emergence of high gods, arguing that error is no accident but built into the very symbolic powers — naming, analogy, projection — that make understanding possible. Rationalization of life, he warns, will never be complete.

Die Welt ist für sie ein erweitertes Selbst.

English translation: “For them the world is an extended self.”

The failures of American foreign lending in the 1920s had been blamed on the depression and the transfer problem of the 1930s, on conditions arising after the loans were made. Ilse Mintz relocates the fault to the moment of issue. Building a default index from the share of each year's foreign-government dollar bonds that later defaulted, she shows that loans floated early in the decade performed far better than those floated late, as lending shifted from sound areas toward Latin America and eastern Europe, and from cautious houses toward reckless ones. Risk premiums, meanwhile, fell just as quality collapsed. The mechanism she names is not dollar scarcity but investor delusion during a speculative expansion, and she ties it to business-cycle theories of over-optimism in Burns, Mitchell, Haberler, and Schumpeter.

The 1920’s were the defaultless era in foreign lending.

In May 1895 Kálnoky could describe Austria-Hungary's foreign relations as orderly while an American envoy judged the monarchy's future exceptionally bleak—and Engel-Janosi shows the two verdicts need not contradict each other. Reconstructing the foreign minister's resignation as a constitutional rather than merely personal crisis, he traces its trigger to the Agliardi affair, in which the papal nuncio's politically charged Hungarian visitation let Premier Bánffy turn a conditional diplomatic protest into a public fait accompli. Behind the rupture lay a structural defect of the 1867 Ausgleich: a common foreign ministry obliged to act for the Dual Monarchy without any command able to restrain Vienna and Budapest at once. Agliardi's later recall partly vindicated Kálnoky, but his fall came as European politics dissolved into a wider world crisis, Russia's gaze turning eastward after Japan's defeat of China.

Zwei Leistungen bestimmen die geschichtliche Rolle des Grafen Kálnoky: seine Politik des Abschlusses und der zweimaligen Erneuerung des Dreibundvertrages und seine Politik gegenüber Rußland, in der die Balkanfrage das Zentralproblem darstellte.

English translation: “Two achievements determine the historical role of Count Kálnoky: his policy of concluding and twice renewing the Triple Alliance treaty, and his policy toward Russia, in which the Balkan question was the central problem.”

Rename a cause as its effect, and blame for it dissolves: this, Mises charges, is the semantic trick by which governments escape responsibility for inflation. Properly understood, inflation is not the rise in prices but the state's expansion of money and bank credit—here to finance rearmament—which adds government demand to undiminished civilian demand and drives prices upward. Officials then claim to fight inflation while sustaining its cause, attacking only the visible symptom through price control. But ceilings cannot repeal scarcity: fixed below market-clearing levels, they force high-cost producers out and empty the shelves, as American experience under the Office of Price Administration showed. The one remedy, he insists, is to stop creating money for the Treasury; the cost of spending must fall somewhere, and inflation merely hides who pays.

This is a classical case of the thief crying “catch the thief.”

Reprinted from a 1951 newspaper column, this brief polemic reads the postwar boom as an artificial episode conjured by paper money, bank credit, cheap interest, and deficit finance rather than as genuine prosperity. Mises presses the Austrian distinction between real capital accumulation and its monetary substitutes: rising prices prove not new wealth but falsified entrepreneurial calculation, so every credit-driven boom carries its own reversal. His deeper warning is ideological. When the inevitable slump arrives, a public that blames capitalism instead of inflationary public finance—the New Deal, the Fair Deal—will convert the failure of intervention into an argument for central planning. Avoiding depressions therefore means refusing artificial booms beforehand, though Mises doubts that politicians, who reap present popularity and leave the crash to their successors, will ever exercise such restraint.

Worse than the crisis itself could prove the psychological and ideological consequences of an erroneous interpretation of its causes.

The era of financing government by taxing wealthy minorities has ended, Mises told a 1951 conference on the economics of mobilization; henceforth the masses must foot the bill. His target is the comforting belief that inflation offers a painless alternative to taxation. It works, he shows, only on public ignorance: while people expect prices to fall they hold cash, but once they grasp that depreciation is deliberate they rush to buy—the flight into real values that wrecks the currency. War means diverting real goods from civilian to military use, a cost no printing press can conjure away; the honest methods are taxation and genuine borrowing from savings. Inflation, by hiding costs and shifting popular anger onto merchants and 'profiteers,' is at bottom an antidemocratic evasion, not democratic generosity.

At the breakfast table of every citizen in wartime sits an invisible guest, as it were, a GI who shares his meal.

For a century, Mill's exalted tributes to Harriet Taylor were dismissed as the delusion of a besotted logician. Assembling letters, family testimony, and a scrupulous chronology, Hayek sets out to replace legend with evidence, tracing the friendship from Harriet's radical circle around W. J. Fox through scandal, chronic illness, concealed journeys to Italy, the 1851 marriage, and her death at Avignon in 1858. The documents present the bond as moral and intellectual discipline rather than romance: Harriet emerges as collaborator on the Principles of Political Economy and on the essays toward On Liberty, a judgment that reshaped Mill's rationalism. Hayek's method is his argument, letting dates and manuscripts do the work where gossip once ruled. What begins as archival restraint ends in bereavement, the edition closing on the widower's grief.

The spring of my life is broken.