In
Europe, the Middle Ages were very religious. A lot of time was spent
praying, chanting, following processions, having feast days and going
on pilgrimages. There were also numerous professionals who studied
and practiced religion full-time in monasteries, and begging monks
wandered around as permanent pilgrims. The Protestant Reformation put
a stop to all that, with one full day dedicated to worship and six
full days to labouring, and no more monks, friars and nuns. It was an
austerity aimed at productivity that left no room for fun and games,
and very little for the communion of faith. It laid the foundations
for Saturday night binge drinking and for intensified working
conditions. It set the stage for capital to extract its surplus value
as a regular predictable flow, though there were other factors at
work. In England, common lands began to be fenced off to graze sheep
during the 18th century. And in Scotland whole communities
were forcefully driven from their ancestral homes to make room for
wild game and hunting for sport. This concentrated people in city
slums, where they were in no position to bargain over their working
conditions and pay. Then came steam engines, spinning jennies,
factories, and gas lighting that prolonged the working day beyond the
daylight hours. All was in place for perpetual technological
transformations motivated by capital’s relentless expropriation of
profit for accumulation and interest.
From
its onset, technology has determined the paths of production and
warfare. And for most of history it seems to have favoured the
soldier more than the ploughman and the artisan. This was rebalanced
when the mass production of standard goods spread from supplying an
army to supplying civilians, from denim blue tents to jeans. But
research and development by the military-industrial complex is still
preponderant, and it has frequently adopted primarily civilian
corporations. In its quest for profits, capitalism has pushed
technology in military and civilian production, with numerous
crossovers between the two. New ways of living and killing were
constantly sought after, as long as they were profitable. The
weapons’ department and its sub-contractors have the government as
a captive client and benefit from government’s prodigality in
military spending. Their profits are generally insured before
actually delivering a new murder machine. Making a profit from
civilian consumption is not so simple. People have to be convinced by
advertising that they need whatever is on offer, and they must have
the means to pay. As profit is the monetary value taken out of the
market without having been put in, governments and households must
spend more than their incomes to provide those profits. This means
borrowing. And though reputedly governments can borrow as much as
they like in their own currencies without going bust, that is not the
case for most households. The source of profits for military goods
and services has no limits because governments are perpetual and can
perpetuate their renewed debts, whereas people are mortal and are
supposed settle their debts before dying. This limits their borrowing
capacity and therefore the profit to be made on civilian consumption.
Corporations have long lives and practice long-term renewed
borrowing, but they can go bankrupt because, unlike governments, they
are not allowed to print money for their convenience. This puts
limits on the debts they can accumulate, though in the present
circumstances of free credit those limits have expanded and debt
levels have risen considerably.
Capital
needs profits to accumulate and for interest. So the profit motive
has guided its every step. In the past merchants and bankers have
made profits and taken interest, but the linkup between science,
technology and production in the late 18th century set off
the constant expansion of the surplus value that could be extracted
from labour. Physics, chemistry and mechanics introduced mass
production, which made ancient skills redundant and required an ever
expanding market. During the first century of its existence,
capitalism set about conquering the world’s markets and imposing
the rule of profit. Having done so, the imperial nations tried to
modify the world’s division by going to war. A first one led to a
second, after which the world’s nations split into two opposing
camps. One was based on the private ownership of the means of
production, the other on state or government ownership. Both systems
extracted surplus value from labour’s added value, to accumulate
capital and for the upkeep of a privileged class. But the “West”
was backed by America’s undamaged wealth and industry, and
continued plundering the global south for its produce and its native
labour. The “East” was not as fortunate. Russia had suffered huge
human losses and part of its territory was devastated. Its post-war
recapitalisation and the nuclear/ballistic arms race relied on
minimum mass consumption and convict labour. China was even more
destitute.
Capital
accumulates by extracting surplus value from labour. This surplus
value is in kind and must be exchanged for an investment. This is
easier if it is itself an investment than if it is consumption. When
capital is privately owned, money is the measure of every value, and
all exchanges are for money. Surplus value must be monetised before
it can be invested. As it has not been paid for there is no
equivalent demand and it must rely on credit to fill the gap. Those
who produce investments grant each other credit and everyone ends up
with more investments. Those who produce consumption grant credit to
consumers, and use that to increase their capital. And the whole
process is in the hands of banks that take their percentage share of
it all. When capital is owned by government, the distribution of
surplus value follows a centralised plan. This naturally favours the
production of investments as they accumulate capital, whereas
consumption is just consumed. And, as all production is ultimately
consumed, the military may have precedence over civilians. These two
systems confronted one another during the Cold War, but a centrally
planned economy leaves little or no room for initiatives and
inventiveness, and it was slowly left behind by its private ownership
opponents. And this technological lag became increasingly obvious
when the digital revolution began to accelerate production.
The
extraction of surplus value to accumulate capital became the norm
everywhere, and private ownership proved to be the most effective. It
in turn became the norm, but extracting surplus value from labour
means extracting surplus value from the market. The profit in kind
must find a buyer. It must be exchanged for money before it can be
accumulated as capital. This is especially problematic for
consumption. The classic solution has been to exchange surplus
consumption for investments outside the system (arms for oil or shoes
for factories). But, as the system becomes universal, there is less
and less space where this can be done and more and more wanting to do
it. The only other solution is spending future incomes by
generalising credit and debt. Having extracted surplus value from
labour, capital must then extract a profit from the market. It must
take more value out than it has put in. To do this it grants credit
and encourages borrowing. All these promises of future incomes must
be renewed at term to avoid a drop in demand. And new debts must be
constantly incurred to cover new profits. This growing pile of debt
is relatively reduced by inflation that devalues its denomination and
by increasing incomes that lower its proportion. However, over the
past few decades inflation has been very low, and rising incomes have
only benefited the wealthiest ten or twenty per cent. So the vast
majority have increased their borrowing. Governments have contributed
generously to the pile after reducing their incomes by cutting taxes
on profits and wealth. As have corporations by borrowing to cover
their losses or to buy back their shares and thereby increase their
apparent profitability. Both have taken advantage of central bank
policies that have reduced interest rates to next to nothing. But
there has been no trickledown to consumers who are still charged 15%
or more for an overdraft. Only mortgages, backed by property, have
seen a slight drop in interest rates. Capital accumulates profits
while labour and government accumulate debts, and no one seems to
know how far it can go before toppling over.
Nations
have a territory, a population and a government, and they trade with
one another. This can entail exchanging consumption for investments,
but it generally includes all sorts of goods and services,
consumption and investments. The value of these exchanges is supposed
to balance out. When it does not, there is a trade deficit on one
side and a surplus on the other. A nation is indebted to another. As
they have different currencies, this debt can only be paid with a
universal currency. It used to be gold bullion but, since 1971, it
has been replaced by the US dollar, which was a huge advantage for
the emitter of that currency. The US could pay its foreign debts with
its own banknotes. At the time – this was before shale extraction,
and off-shore drilling was in its infancy – the US imported large
quantities of crude oil, mostly from Saudi Arabia and Iran. This flow
of dollars from America – as well as Western Europe and Japan, as
only dollars were accepted by the oil producers – could have played
havoc on the stock market. But it was made clear from the start that
petro-dollars could only be invested in Treasury bonds. And so it was
that the US was able to pay its trade deficits with its budget
deficits, not only to Saudi Arabia but also Japan, Germany and
finally China, as well as some other smaller trading partners. So far
the US dollar’s supremacy has not been seriously contested. The
Euro had hopes that failed, and the Yuan briefly fancied it might,
but the dollar’s dominion remains as absolute as ever, and world
finance is the vassal of Wall Street.
After
1950, world produce grew at about 4% per year, doubling every twenty
years. That growth slowed down after the recession ten years ago, and
has not really picked up since. But then, it is difficult to imagine
a world in 2040 with twice as much of everything as there is today.
Twice as many cars, trucks, planes, ships, trains, houses, factories,
offices, mines, oil wells, etc., just does not seem possible, the
planet is already asphyxiating. So, whether it transits from fossil
fuels to renewables or not, capitalism is condemned to very slow
growth, and probably to contraction. But capitalism needs growth to
function. Always more is its dogma and its obligatory path. If it
stops, like a cyclist it falls. When growth slows, the larger players
can maintain some impetus by buying up or putting out of business
their smaller competitors. Instead of spreading, capital
concentrates. And this concentration centralises decisions and
restrains initiatives and inventiveness. The mega-corporation has the
same failings as government ownership, and being too big to fail it
can count on a government bailout. In its monopolistic stage,
privately owned capital is as dysfunctional as government owned
capital. And monopolies sign the end of a technological growth cycle.
Vast conglomerates that wield power in all domains, but can only
conceive more of the same.
The
capitalism of endless growth is close to its limits, or may have
passed them and is treading on thin air. These are the limits of the
planet’s capacity to absorb its garbage, and the limits of debt’s
capacity to pay its profits. But, even with the best will in the
world, its momentum is so gigantic that it can only change course
very slowly and would have to stop to turn around. As it is obviously
too late for incremental modifications, the whole system must come to
a standstill before it can start off in a different direction. The
nervousness was palpable at Davos, central bankers are visibly
stressed and stock markets are extremely jittery. These are people
who should know how fragile the capitalist structures are, frail
enough to be able to fall apart quite suddenly. They may be beginning
to realise that all their props are cracking and there are no new
ones on hand. Australia is burning and China is in quarantine, and
the scale of these two ongoing events is phenomenal. They could mark
the tipping point into financial and environmental chaos. The
creaking struts may start breaking one after the other. Having
enveloped the world, capital has nowhere left to go and is playing
its final scene, the one where it scrambles around, trying
desperately to keep control. And desperation is not the best state of
mind for reasoned and humane problem solving. But then, those
preoccupations have never been a priority for capital, and it has
crushed people in a care-free way for at least the past two
centuries. It will probably cling on to the end, until land, sea and
air pollution and worthless debts finally terminate its tyranny.