4,249 works (including 483 books, 3,406 articles and 357 historical documents), 150 years of economic thought. Each one summarized and searchable.
What makes a revised economics treatise worth returning to: newer facts or more fully developed ideas? In this brief 1910 review of the expanded third edition of Part I of Gustav Schmoller’s Grundriß der allgemeinen Volkswirtschaftslehre, Joseph A. Schumpeter gives priority to the latter. He singles out the enlarged treatment of enterprise for particular praise, while observing that Schmoller’s framework remains intact, down to its paragraph numbering. The interest lies in Schumpeter’s criterion of judgment: an edition can offer substantially more without replacing its organizing scheme. His concise assessment identifies where he finds that gain and why, in his view, the volume’s significance cannot be measured by the freshness of its data.
Historical evidence can sharpen a question without settling it. In this brief 1910 review of Hermann Levy’s study of British monopolies, cartels, and trusts, Joseph A. Schumpeter distinguishes the value of collected material from the strength of its explanation. He finds the greatest novelty in Levy’s account of early coal and copper mining combinations; his central analytical interest, however, lies in the obstacles to modern industrial concentration in England. Levy’s discussion, he judges, offers suggestions rather than conclusions. The review shows precisely where Schumpeter locates originality and where he withholds assent, while acknowledging that an imperfect analysis can remain a useful scholarly resource.
What should an economics student learn from statistics without becoming a statistician? In this brief 1910 review of the third, expanded edition of J. Conrad’s textbook, Joseph A. Schumpeter praises a deliberate restriction: demographic findings take precedence over methodological detail and specialist insurance questions. He treats this narrow teaching aim as a strength, not a shortcoming. The review offers a compact statement of his educational priorities: knowledge of population is, in his judgement, indispensable to understanding economic life, while technical instruction must serve rather than overshadow that purpose.
Can abstract economic theory illuminate practical life without dictating a political programme? In this 1910 tribute to Carl Menger, Robert Zuckerkandl connects a portrait of scholarly independence with a defence of theoretical inquiry. His account makes Menger’s reversal of cost-based value explanations concrete: the anticipated value of products explains the value of productive inputs, rather than the reverse. Yet Zuckerkandl’s defence of the Austrian school also acknowledges the achievements of German historical economics. He presents abstraction as a provisional simplification whose exclusions must subsequently be examined, not a licence to ignore institutions, unequal power, or varied motives. The resulting portrait shows how an admirer of Menger could defend theory’s autonomy while refusing to identify its methods with laissez-faire policy.
Cheaper international transit need not entail permanent foreign control over railway policy. That distinction drives Siegmund Feilbogen’s 1910 critique of the proposed Gotthard Convention. Germany and Italy had helped finance the railway; Feilbogen asks whether that contribution entitled them to lasting concessions after its purchase by the Swiss state. He accepts tariff reductions as potentially beneficial through increased traffic, but opposes extending perpetual most-favoured-nation treatment to the entire Swiss network. His objection exposes a paradox: a guarantee of equal treatment could discourage Switzerland from offering concessions to other neighbours, thereby obstructing trade rather than freeing it. This short article offers a concrete examination of where reciprocal commercial advantage ends and an indefinite constraint on national decision-making begins.
In this 1910 obituary, Schumpeter makes remembrance of Léon Walras an argument about what counts as discovery in economics. He locates Walras’s achievement less in particular answers than in a mathematical method capable of showing how prices, production, and consumption determine one another. The contrast between this intellectual ambition and Walras’s frustrated search for recognition gives the tribute its personal tension. Schumpeter explains why equilibrium theory deserves priority over Walras’s policy proposals, while acknowledging shortcomings in his account of capital. Readers encounter both a compact interpretation of economic interdependence and Schumpeter’s own standard of scientific achievement: a connected analytical framework can matter more than immediately useful results.
Paris was said to offer little to the social sciences; Feilbogen replies by mapping a landscape crowded with rival schools. He tracks liberal individualism across three generations—Passy, Molinari, Levasseur, and then the systematic Leroy-Beaulieu—and the socialism that Guesde and Lafargue imported from German Marxism before it fractured into reformism and revolutionary syndicalism. Georges Sorel draws the sharpest scrutiny as the theorist of violence and the general strike, whose cult of myth the author judges barbarizing and historically naive. Between the extremes stand the mediating currents—academic economics, the Le Play school, Catholic social thought, Durkheim's sociology, and above all Léon Bourgeois's solidarism, which grounds each individual's debt to society in a quasi-contract while preserving liberty and property.
Ein Mythos ist ein Volksmotiv. Er braucht nicht klar, er braucht nicht wahr zu sein, wenn er nur begeistert.
English translation: “A myth is a popular motive force. It need not be clear, it need not be true, so long as it inspires.”
Legal definitions can classify money without explaining its purchasing power; bank balance sheets can record assets without showing how readily depositors can recover their funds. These gaps animate Ludwig von Mises’s 1910 literature report on money and banking. Reviewing monetary histories and institutional studies, he asks what their descriptions explain—and what they leave concealed. His criticism of Knapp’s state theory turns on its neglect of monetary value and the purposes behind currency reform. His attention to small banks and insurers brings a parallel concern into view: apparently reassuring institutions may hold funds in forms ill suited to sudden withdrawals. The report offers a concrete encounter with Mises as a critic, testing scholarship against historical motives, economic explanation, and the practical risks of financial arrangements.
Lectures and specialized seminars do not, Schumpeter argues, give beginners all the technique or breadth that economics requires. In this brief 1910 review of Otto Neurath and Anna Schapire-Neurath’s Lesebuch der Volkswirtschaftslehre, he judges elementary teaching aids by their contribution to scholarly competence, rather than dismissing them as schoolmasterly. The reader’s selections from twenty-five authors, presented in German with short introductions, offer practical help where economics competes with other subjects—particularly in law faculties. His qualified endorsement reveals a concrete pedagogical concern: demanding serious economic study means supplying the means to begin it, including for students unable to undertake extensive independent reading.
Salaried employees could defend their middle-class standing while making demands that brought them closer to trade unionism. In this 1910 article, Emil Lederer examines that tension through commercial and technical employees’ associations, salary evidence, and pension disputes. His focus is on what organizations do rather than what their programmes profess: benefit funds can sustain loyalty despite political contradictions, while minimum-salary campaigns expose interests shared across status divisions. Nationalist and antisemitic exclusions, meanwhile, obstruct the solidarity effective bargaining requires. Lederer argues that efforts to recover security and independence can acquire consequences their initially conservative supporters did not intend. The article offers a concrete account of class formation through employment practices and social legislation, without assuming that economic dependence simply erases inherited loyalties.
Whose interests are reconciled when agriculture and industry reach an “equilibrium”? In this short 1910 review of A. G. Raunig, Emil Lederer argues that the apparent compromise serves Austrian heavy industry and agriculture at the expense of consumers and manufacturers of finished goods. His distinction is concrete: tariffs and cartels sustain high domestic prices, while dearer agricultural products raise costs for producers whose interests Raunig neglects. Lederer tests the language of sectoral harmony against the distribution of profits, costs and wage pressures. Yet he also credits Raunig’s statistical material and its reliable sources. The review offers a compact example of criticism that separates a publication’s documentary usefulness from its claim to represent shared economic interests.
Legal recognition could leave Russian trade unions scarcely able to act, while employers were permitted to organize across the empire. This asymmetry anchors Emil Lederer’s 1910 review of A. von Witte’s study of the Russian trade-union movement. Praising Witte’s evidence, Lederer draws attention to restrictive legalization, suppressed union newspapers, and lockouts that forced workers to accept harsh terms. His distinctive intervention is to locate the initiative in class struggle with the stronger party—here, the employers—rather than with militant workers. The review offers a compact encounter with Lederer’s argument that employer organization takes an autocratic turn where effective worker organization cannot restrain it, and shows why formal permission to associate need not confer meaningful collective power.