I first read the following paragraph as a
nerdy college student sometime between 1966 and 1968.
“In a much quoted passage in his inaugural
address, President Kennedy said, ‘Ask not what your country can do for you –
ask what you can do for your country’. It is a striking sign of the temper of
our times that the controversy about this passage centered on its origin and
not on its content. Neither half of the statement expresses a relation
between citizen and his government that worthy of the ideals of free men in a
free society.”
This is the first paragraph of chapter 1 of
Milton Friedman’s classic little book Capitalism and Freedom (C&F),
first published by the University of Chicago Press in 1962, and since
republished numerous times unaltered. The italics are mine.
I can still recall, after half a century, the
shock that this paragraph produced in me as I read it. I could scarcely believe
that Friedman had the temerity to so brazenly criticize that most admirable and
dynamic of world leaders, the young, charismatic prince of the free world, the
prophet of a new tolerant age, John Fitzgerald Kennedy. What could he possibly
mean?
I had to read the book to find out. It was a
uniquely transformative experience. I credit this book, more than any other
work, with transforming my thinking about the meaning of freedom and the
character of a free society. It was the beginning of my life’s journey as an
economist dedicated to the mission of spreading the essential message that
Friedman articulated in this work.
Fifty years later, in preparation for a new
academic program to engage a select group of undergraduate business students, I
am rereading Friedman's C&F. at the same time I am dipping into F. A. Hayek's
The Road to Serfdom (RS) by way of comparison. Hayek’s work was first
published in England in March of 1944 and in America by the University of
Chicago Press in September of that same year. The two books are historically
and philosophically connected.
Perhaps not surprisingly, rereading C&F, I
see so many things now that I did not see as a young reader that add to my
immense appreciation of the book - especially the introductory foundational
chapters (this notwithstanding that I take issue with some of its claims – as
Friedman himself would certainly appreciate). Clearly Friedman, by his own
admission, was much influenced by Hayek (as evidenced by his forwards to the
1976 and 1994 editions of RS and his numerous references to it in C&F). Looking at the two books together one gets a sense of
how the "climate of opinion" changed over the years. Both works help
the reader to understand the nature of the classical western liberal tradition
and the development of ideas marshalled against it. But for Friedman’s readers
these ideas are different from those faced by Hayek’s readers. For example, the
meaning of 'socialism' changed from one focused on central planning to one
dealing with the role of government in redistributing income and micromanaging
commerce by way of regulation. And reading C&F in 2017 I realize how, once
again, the nature of the anti-capitalist arguments have changed to suit the
contemporary intellectual anxieties and agendas. This makes the book a valuable
source for discerning the history of ideas in relation to contemporary policies,
over the broad sweep of Western civilization, in addition to whatever enduring
value it retains as both a tract for evaluation of the policies of its time and
today’s.
Indeed, it is
amazing how relevant much of the book still reads. For example, it contains
chapters dealing with, and anticipating much of the developments in, public
education (Friedman being the originator of the idea), a volunteer army,
privatization of social security (his idea), occupational licensing, inequality
of income and wealth and more.
Something else I noticed was Friedman's
careful choice of words. He speaks not so much of 'capitalism' as of 'competitive
capitalism' - this distinguishing it from 'crony capitalism' – which should be
referred to simply as 'cronyism' - but given its reliance on the alliance
between big business and government, is naturally confused with capitalism.
Of course the two works are very different. Friedman's
book is much more accessible to intelligent undergraduates than Hayek's (which
was intentionally addressed to intellectuals). Friedman's book underscores his
talent as perhaps the best communicator of the political-economic ideas of the
classical liberal tradition of the last century. We may never know the full
extent of his achievements in spreading the cause of liberty and helping to
lift untold millions out of the grip of poverty and deprivation. He travelled
the globe talking to important people wherever he went, uncompromisingly
articulating his message. This book is but a glimpse of the force for change
that he was to become. Certainly, Friedman could not be accused affecting a
humble tone or a retiring demeanor, yet there is nothing in this book, or in
his work on political-economy generally to suggest that he claimed any
originality in this area. He was an economist not a political-philosopher, but
he arguably did as much good in advancing an understanding of the latter than
of the former. Reading the text carefully provides one a very useful
springboard for the discussion of Hayek's deeper RS and of other important works.
I plan to use it that way.
