The archive.

When does a promise of political improvement become a promise of salvation? In this essay, presented in its 1968 English translation, Eric Voegelin argues that modern ideologies inherit religious expectations while relocating fulfillment from transcendence to history. His category of “gnostic” movements links otherwise opposed doctrines through their claim to possess the knowledge needed to overcome the defects of existence. The distinctive tension lies in his account of their appeal: systems promising mastery may offer imaginary certainty precisely where faith requires endurance of uncertainty. His readings of More, Hobbes, and Hegel ask what a construction of social or historical order must exclude to appear complete. Readers can examine both the force and the demanding premise of his critique: that political action must acknowledge limits it cannot abolish.

A rise in income can reduce demand for a good that conventional consumer theory classifies as superior—not merely by changing purchasing power, but by changing tastes. In this mathematical essay, Gerhard Tintner examines what happens when individual preferences depend on other people’s incomes and consumption. He retains utility maximization and budget constraints while replacing the assumption of socially isolated consumers with explicit relationships among their demands. The result links income responses to substitution effects and shows why market demand may reflect more than the aggregation of independent choices. Readers can discover precisely where social interdependence alters familiar demand formulas, without mistaking the framework for an empirical demonstration of how strongly those influences operate.

Stable money alone does not secure the freedom to act. In this 1960 article, Hans Bayer connects monetary policy to the distribution of practical opportunities: who can obtain an education, start an enterprise, or participate in self-government. His distinction between protecting money’s value and sustaining its broader functions makes concentrated financial power a problem for both democracy and economic management. Large firms’ reliance on self-financing, he argues, can weaken capital-market allocation and the reach of monetary instruments. Yet his answer is not simply to oppose large enterprise. It is to combine monetary and fiscal measures with democratic counterpower built from below. The article offers a concrete account of why economic security and access to resources matter to freedom—and why monetary technique cannot replace them.

Against the socialist promise that collective ownership will deliver both abundance and perfect freedom, this 1960 review of Hayek's The Constitution of Liberty rebuilds the liberal meaning of liberty from the ground up. Freedom, Mises insists, is not escape from scarcity or natural necessity but a social relation: voluntary contractual cooperation set against authoritarian command, in which one will subordinates all others and moral agency decays into obedience. Crediting Hayek's argument that control of the means is control of every end, he concludes that economic direction cannot be quarantined from the rest of life. His sharpest turn is against Hayek himself—the welfare state, Mises argues, is not a stable middle way but a gradual method for transforming the market economy step by step into socialism, ending, like outright nationalization, in the authoritarian state.

Tyranny is the political corollary of socialism, as representative government is the political corollary of the market economy.

Einstein's definition of simultaneity, and Bridgman's attempt to turn it into a general rule that a concept means nothing more than the operations measuring it, set the stage for Machlup's defense of the unobservable. Physics itself, he shows, cannot do without freely invented constructs, from mass and inertial frames to Schrödinger's wave function, and neither can economics. Supply and demand curves, price, output, the industry are idealizations no statistic cleanly captures, muddied by heterogeneous goods, discounts, and quality changes; a model's weak fit with the data often indicts the data, not the model. Drawing on Menger's contrast of exact and empirical-realistic analysis, he defines a mental construct precisely and argues that a theory's concepts need not be realistic to be relevant, only its deduced consequences testable.

A mental construct is a concept designed for purposes of analytical reasoning that cannot be adequately defined or circumscribed in terms of observables or in terms of operations with recorded data derived from observation.

When Cardinal Puzyna pronounced the Habsburg emperor's veto against Rampolla in the conclave of 1903, he closed one era of Catholic great-power rivalry and opened another. This second volume follows Austro-Vatican relations from that Exclusiva through the pontificates of Pius X and Benedict XV to the monarchy's collapse in 1918. Engel-Janosi's paradox is that an "unpolitical" pope, hostile to statecraft, drew the Vatican closer to Vienna than his predecessors ever had—until the First World War exposed the limits of papal mediation. Reconstructed from nuncios, cardinals, and crisis files, the narrative turns on the Roman Question, Italy's demand for the Trentino, Benedict XV's peace note of 1917, and above all Belgium, the moral test the Central Powers let become the war's insoluble knot.

Das Konklave von 1903 erscheint in manchem wie der letzte Nachhall des jahrhundertelangen Ringens zwischen Bourbon und Habsburg, zwischen Frankreich und Österreich, um die Vorherrschaft in Italien, im Kirchenstaate und schließlich an der Kurie.

English translation: “The Conclave of 1903 appears in many respects like the last echo of the centuries-long struggle between Bourbon and Habsburg, between France and Austria, for supremacy in Italy, in the Papal States, and ultimately at the Curia.”

The gravest danger to American freedom, this 1960 essay warns, is neither military conquest nor open revolution but the interventionist policies embraced by mainstream parties that denounce communism while cherishing planning. Mises collapses the distinction between socialism, communism, and planning—each substitutes one government plan for the plans of individual citizens—and insists economic control cannot be walled off from press, employment, and assembly. Inflation is planning's most insidious ally: the expansion of money and money substitutes creates no wealth, only a hidden redistribution toward first receivers. Its subtlest victim is the thrifty householder, whom capitalism had deproletarianized into a creditor through savings, insurance, and pensions, and whom inflation reproletarianizes by dissolving those very claims. Sound money thus becomes a constitutional safeguard—and, Mises argues, a frontline defense against the appeal of communism.

If somebody says he is opposed to communism, but cherishes socialism, he is no more consistent or logical than a man who declares that he is opposed to murder but cherishes assassination.

Confine the corporation to a single task, the profitable use of the capital its stockholders entrust to management, and you limit its power to where it does good; license it to pursue 'social responsibility,' and you create centres of uncontrollable authority never intended by those who supplied the funds. That is the thesis Hayek presses in this 1960 essay, testing in turn each rival claimant to corporate purpose: management, labour, stockholders, and the public. A firm run for its existing employees becomes a closed interest against consumers; a management spending on culture or politics becomes an unaccountable ruler. Because limited liability is a privilege granted by law, he argues, democratic society may redesign corporate rules, letting stockholders decide annually whether to reinvest and stripping voting rights from corporate-held shares. He closes with Milton Friedman's warning that managerial social responsibility is fundamentally subversive.

Power, in the objectionable sense of the word, is the capacity to direct the energy and resources of others to the service of values which those others do not share.

A moral command means nothing addressed to a slave: this premise opens Mises's 1960 argument that freedom is a postulate not only of politics but of every morality, since only an agent who can weigh alternatives and restrain impulse can be held responsible. From moral anthropology the essay builds outward to the market, where the consumer is sovereign and private property functions as a revocable public mandate rather than feudal privilege. Its decisive claim is the indivisibility of freedom: because every human act requires material means, a state that controls production also controls the paper, presses, halls, and broadcasting through which conscience and dissent must speak. Constitutional liberties, Mises warns, become empty once economic independence from government disappears.

He who monopolizes all media of communication has full power to keep a tight hand on the individuals' minds and souls.

Borrowing the prestige of physics to study human beings is, for Rothbard, not science but scientism—the uncritical transfer of methods fit for stones to creatures who choose. Reprinted from Scientism and Values, this essay grounds a science of man in the axiom of volition: because people possess consciousness and free will, praxeology, psychology, technology, and ethics are intelligible where mechanistic determinism would render them absurd. Rothbard dismantles two families of false analogy—the mechanical, which reduces persons to servomechanisms, equations, and equilibria, and the organismic, which inflates "society" and "the public" into living wholes with purposes of their own. Against Weberian Wertfreiheit he charges that claimed neutrality often smuggles in majority values, and defends an axiomatic-deductive method over positivist experiment.

Scientism is the profoundly unscientific attempt to transfer uncritically the methodology of the physical sciences to the study of human action.

Does closer knowledge of an economy’s complexity discourage intervention—or equip governments to intervene? In this comment on George Stigler, Murray N. Rothbard argues that statistical inquiry and administrative power can grow together, even when researchers have no political program. His laissez-faire perspective centres on a distinction between entrepreneurs’ knowledge of prices, costs, and profits and the aggregate information required by economic planners. Examples ranging from social surveys to input-output analysis give concrete form to his contention that methods of observation can become instruments of control. The comment also exposes a methodological dispute: whether empirical attention to particular problems sufficiently disciplines policy, or whether deductive theory is needed to reveal resource constraints and opportunity costs.

Can social science be objective without discarding what actions mean to the people performing them? In this essay, Schütz argues that subjective meaning belongs to the evidence social scientists must explain. A question and its anticipated answer show why observable sequences alone cannot account for interaction: participants act through expectations about one another’s purposes. Yet understanding them does not require access to their entire inner lives. Schütz connects everyday reliance on typical motives with the investigator’s construction of ideal types—selective model actors whose conduct must remain intelligible to ordinary people. His distinction between intended outcomes and the past experiences behind a project gives readers a precise way to separate purpose from retrospective explanation, while testing where scientific abstraction clarifies social action and where it loses its subject.