The Ludwig von Mises Institute presents The Libertarian Tradition, an audio series with
Jeff Rigenbach.
It was back in 1962, as I recall, when I was 15 years old and a junior in high school that
I first read something by a French writer on free trade whose name, my friends and I
I thought at first would probably be pronounced Frederic Bastiat.
Since several of us were enrolled in Madame Wall's beginning French class that semester,
it didn't take us too long to discover that his name was probably closer to Frederic Bastiat.
But his ideas fascinated us all the same, as did the organization whose free pamphlets
included Bastiat's arguments against tariffs and other government-imposed impediments to
to Commerce, an organization called the Foundation for Economic Education.
The Foundation for Economic Education, FEE, usually pronounced like the word fee, had
been founded just after the end of World War II by a radicalized former chamber of commerce
executive named Leonard Reed.
The late George Roach III, who spent the last three decades of the last century as president
of Hillsdale College in Michigan, published a very readable and useful biography of Bastiat
back in 1971, in which he writes that Leonard Reed rescued Bastiat from the historical ash
heap.
Reed, according to Roach's account, was among the first to realize the enormous importance
of Frederic Bastiat.
My friends and I, back in 1962, thought Bastiat seemed pretty important.
He was certainly a remarkable writer, uncommonly lucid, extraordinarily clever, a real find.
But we were unable in that pre-internet age to locate much of anything in the way of biographical
information about him.
And the problem wasn't just that there was no internet in 1962.
Nothing much had been published on Bastiat in any form in 1962.
It would be seven more years until 1969, when Dean Russell would publish his book, Frederic
Bastiat, Ideas and Influence, the first book-length treatment of Bastiat ever published in English,
and it was published, unsurprisingly, by Fee.
Roach's book, Frederic Bastiat, A Man Alone, came two years later, in 1971.
Bastiat, as it turned out, was born 210 years ago this week.
Some accounts give his birthdate as June 29, 1801, but Russell and Roach, the most
authoritative sources on Bastiat for an English-speaking audience, both report that his actual date
of birth was the last day of the month, June 30, 1801.
He was born in Bayonne, a seaport in southwestern France near the Bay of Biscay.
His family was prosperous, having enjoyed substantial success as importers and bankers.
He went into the family business himself for a few years in his late teens and early twenties,
but he had no obvious aptitude for it, and when he inherited his grandfather's country
In 1825, at the age of 24, he settled into the routine and the lifestyle of a gentleman farmer.
He devoted himself to scholarship, chiefly in political economy, on account of questions that had been raised in his mind by his own brief experience in business.
He employed others to run his affairs, and prospered by doing so.
For the next 20 years, this is how he lived, reading in political economy in French, English and Italian, the three languages that Bastiat could call his own, thinking, making notes, gradually perfecting his understanding of what Ludwig von Mises would later call praxeology, the principles underlying human action.
Then, one day in the late 1830s, when Bastiat was himself in his late 30s, he began reading
in English newspapers about an extraordinary new organization called the Anti-Corn Law
League.
It was operated by a Manchester businessman turned political activist named Richard Cobden,
and it sought to end protectionist policies in the United Kingdom and replace them with
with fully free trade with all nations.
Cobden believed that this would weave stronger commercial bonds with other states and would
virtually guarantee ongoing peace with those other states.
Bastiat was impressed.
He had reached identical conclusions about the benefits of removing government-imposed
barriers to trade, but he had never considered actually attempting to win implementation
of such ideas.
Bastiat was undertaking just such an attempt, and as Bastiat continued to follow the activities
of the anti-corn law league over the next few years, it became clear to him that Cobden
was enjoying a considerable degree of success with his efforts.
None of this was being covered or discussed at all in the newspapers in France.
Bastiat believed the French public needed to be informed of what was happening in England.
He also believed they should be informed of the reasons tariffs prevented them from enjoying
as high a standard of living as they could enjoy.
To that end, he had become a part-time journalist, writing on economic issues for daily and weekly
papers and for monthly magazines, mostly in Paris.
Now he packed up and went to England and met and befriended Richard Cobden and interviewed
him at length about his ideas and his activities.
He interviewed others as well.
Then he came back to France and wrote a book.
The book was called Cabden et la Ligue, Cabden and the League.
It was published in 1845 when Bastiat was not quite 44 years old.
As Jim Powell tells the tale in the chapter on Bastiat in his book The Triumph of Liberty,
Cabden and the League scooped all other French journalists.
certainly redoubled demand for Bastiat's articles, 22 of which he collected into yet
another book, Economic Sophisms, for publication later that same year, 1845.
By 1846, Bastiat had become editor of his own paper, Le Libre Échange, The Free Exchange.
By then, he had also begun touring France extensively, giving lectures and speeches
and Trying to Raise Money for a New Free Trade Association, patterned after Cobden's Anti-Corn Law League.
George Roach tells us that Bastiat's articles and books had begun to be printed abroad in
several languages, and that he now regularly received invitations to speak across the European
continent.
And by early in 1848, according to Roach, when Bastiat was still only 46 years old,
He was publishing a weekly newspaper, The French Republic, which he had opened virtually
the day after his previous weekly, The Free Exchange, had ceased publication.
He was also speaking at meetings, corresponding with new free trade associations, which were
forming in the provinces, and writing letters and controversial articles in three different
journals.
But the end was in sight.
Bastiat had contracted tuberculosis and could somehow never find the time to do the resting
his physicians told him was essential to any sort of full recovery.
Instead, he gradually wasted away.
Looked at from any point of view outside his own, it was as though he was consumed from
within.
Little wonder that in the 19th century tuberculosis was commonly referred to as consumption.
Bastiat was entirely consumed by Christmas 1850.
He passed away on December 24th of that year, at the age of 49.
He left behind him enough journalism to fill seven volumes.
Much of it, like all the best intellectual journalism, timeless, as relevant today as
it was in the Paris of more than 150 years ago.
This is the way an opinion gains acceptance in France, Bastiat wrote.
Fifty ignoramuses repeat in chorus some absurd libel that has been thought up by an even bigger ignoramus.
And if only it happens to coincide to some slight degree with prevailing attitudes and passions, it becomes a self-evident truth.
Truth.
Could any other description fit more precisely with the way in which it quickly became a
self-evident truth that our current economic crisis here in the United States was caused
by insufficient regulation of the financial sector?
Talk about absurd libels and chorusing ignoramuses.
We know, Bastiat wrote, that the number of government jobs has been increasing steadily,
Is this scourge about to come to an end?
How can we believe it when we see that public opinion itself wants to have everything done
by that fictitious being, the state, which signifies a collection of salaried bureaucrats?
Very soon there will be two or three of these bureaucrats around every Frenchman, one to
to prevent him from working too much, another to give him an education, a third to furnish
him credit, a fourth to interfere with his business transactions, etc., etc.
Where will we be led by the illusion that impels us to believe that the state is a person
who has an inexhaustible fortune independent of ours?
These words were written early in 1850.
With only one small change, the substitution of the word American for the word Frenchman,
they might have been written any time in the last couple of years.
And Bastiat knew back in 1850 the answer to his question, where will we be led by the
illusion that the state is a person who has an inexhaustible fortune independent of ours.
He wrote that, under the name of the state, the citizens taken collectively are considered
Bastiat thundered as a real being, having its own life, its own wealth, independently
of the lives and the wealth of the citizens themselves.
And then each addresses this fictitious being, some to obtain from it education, others employment,
others credit, others food, etc., etc.
Now the state can give nothing to the citizens that it has not first taken from them.
Yet, Bastiat thundered, what class does not solicit the favors of the state?
It would seem as if the principle of life resided in it.
Aside from the innumerable horde of its own agents, agriculture, manufacturing, commerce,
the arts, the theater, the colonies and the shipping industry expect everything from it.
They want it to clear and irrigate land, to colonize, to teach and even to amuse.
Each begs a bounty, a subsidy, an incentive, and especially the gratuitous gift of certain
services, such as education and credit.
And why not ask the state for the gratuitous gift of all services?
Why not require the state to provide all the citizens with food, drink, clothing, and shelter,
free of charge?
Bastiat famously said that the state is that great fiction by which everyone tries to live
and for this situation, he maintained, there is only one remedy, time.
People have to learn, through hard experience, the enormous disadvantage there is in plundering
one another.
In another place, he wrote that the only remedy is in the progressive enlightenment of public
opinion.
Bastiat did much himself to enlighten public opinion.
Thanks to Leonard Reed, he continues to do so. He was, as Friedrich Hayek once put it,
a publicist of genius. He had that rarest of talents, the talent for high-quality popularization.
He could write clearly and persuasively about complex ideas in such a way that beginners
could follow him, yet those who were more expert in their knowledge could find nothing
in his presentation to criticize or dislike.
And there have long been those who have believed that this early 19th century French liberal
was not merely a popularizer, but also did much to advance human understanding of economic
truth.
Ludwig von Mises opined in the 20s that Bastiat's critique of all protectionist and related
tendencies is even today unsurpassed.
The protectionists and interventionists have not been able to advance a single word in pertinent and objective rejoinder.
Mises' biographer, Jürg Guido Hülsmann, considers Bastiat an important forerunner of today's academics who have married law and economics into a new discipline.
and Murray Rothbard in his Austrian perspective on the history of economic thought calls Bastiat a perceptive political or politico-economic theorist who has been systematically derided and undervalued despite the fact that he made more than one important contribution to economic theory.
One of these, Rothbard suggests, was his famous Fable of the Broken Window, which brilliantly refuted Keynesianism nearly a century before its birth.
Here Bastiat outlines three levels of economic analysis.
A mischievous boy hurls a rock at a plate glass store window and breaks the glass.
As a crowd gathers round, the first level analysis, Common Sense, comments on the event.
Event.
Common Sense deplores the destruction of property in breaking the window and sympathizes with
the storekeeper for having to spend his money repairing the window.
But then, says Bastiat, comes the second level, sophisticated analyst, or what we might call
a proto-Keynesian.
The Keynesian says, Oh, but you people don't realize that the breaking of the window is
is really an economic blessing, for in having to repair the window, the storekeeper invigorates
the economy by his spending, and gives welcome employment to glaciers and their workers.
Destruction of property by compelling spending therefore stimulates the economy, and has
an invigorating multiplier effect on production and employment.
But then in steps Bastiat, the third level analyst, and points out the grievous fallacy
in the destructionist proto-Keynesian position.
The alleged sophisticated critic, says Bastiat, concentrates on what is seen and neglects
what is not seen.
The sophisticate sees that the storekeeper must give employment to glaciers by spending
The Theory of Money and Credit
In this way, the economist, Bastiat's third level observer, vindicates common sense and refutes the apologia for destruction of the pseudo-sophisticate.
He considers what is not seen as well as what is seen. Bastiat, the economist, is the truly sophisticated analyst.
So he is, or was, 210 years old he may be this week, but his ideas are forever young.
This is Jeff Rigenbach.
www.fieggen.com