1,549 works, 150 years of economic thought. Each one summarized and searchable, with cited passages inside.
The 'execution' of the 1856 Paris treaty, Engel-Janosi argues, was precisely the process by which the post-Crimean order came apart. Following the Eastern Question from that settlement to the Franco-Sardinian war of 1859, the essay makes Cavour's schemes over Moldavia and Wallachia inseparable from his Italian designs, with Napoleon III—hostile to a merely preserved Ottoman Empire, drawn to Balkan nationality, never wholly clear in plan—as its hinge. The Constantinople chapters read as a prosopography of policy: Stratford de Redcliffe's anti-Russian reformism, Prokesch-Osten's defence of Ottoman individuality, Thouvenel executing a French line he privately distrusted. The manipulated Romanian elections of 1857 and Cuza's double election bind Ottoman decline, Romanian unification, and Italian nationalism into a single crisis of legitimacy—inherited legality hammered by a ruthless new politics.
Wenn dies, wie wir allen Grund haben zu hoffen, das Ende der Welt sein soll, wird alles irgendwie geregelt werden. Wenn dies jedoch nicht das Ende der Welt ist, wird alles noch viel schlechter werden.
English translation: “If this, as we have every reason to hope, is to be the end of the world, then somehow everything will be settled. But if this is not the end of the world, then everything will become much worse.”
Do scientists really inhabit an ivory tower, indifferent to a world their theories now visibly reshape? Kaufmann takes the postwar reproach seriously, made newly awkward by the political engagement of atomic physicists, and sorts it into four charges: impractical topics, excessive abstraction, inaccessible prose, and refusal to judge values. Practical value, he answers, is often indirect: Maxwell's electromagnetism and Einstein's mass-energy formula were merely theoretical before they proved decisive. Abstraction he splits into generalization, idealization, and mediate construction, defending each while insisting on the return to concrete phenomena. On Weber's ethical neutrality he grants that science cannot fix ultimate values, yet argues that value judgments are elliptical only until their standards are named. The essay's closing defense is of veracity itself, the philosopher's task of keeping disagreement clear and discussable, even at the cost of the tower.
To foster the spirit of veracity is the foremost educational task of the philosopher. Should the fulfilment of this task relegate him to the ivory tower, then he need not be ashamed of his abode.
In April 1947, with liberalism discredited by war, nationalism, and totalitarianism and its scholars scattered and out of contact, Hayek opened the founding conference at Mont Pèlerin with a plea for reconstruction over nostalgia. Reviving the liberal ideal, he insists, demands a great intellectual task, not fidelity to an inherited creed—least of all from the old liberal who clings to formulas because they are old. Political philosophy cannot rest on economics alone; the crisis of freedom is equally legal, moral, historical, and religious, and the proposed agenda ranges across the rule of law, competitive order, liberalism's relation to Christianity, Germany's future, and European federation. He conceives the gathering not as a propaganda machine but as a closed learned society, its members admitted by election and bound to candid mutual criticism.
The old liberal who adheres to a traditional creed merely out of tradition, however admirable his views, is not of much use for our purpose.
When defeated Austria's socialists revived their demand for socialization in 1947, Bayer insisted the slogan meant nothing unless productive means were lifted from private hands and bound into one national economic plan. Isolated, firm-by-firm nationalization he dismissed as primitive and doomed, recalling the failed German and Austrian experiments after 1918. The argument then plunges into the socialist calculation debate: he rehearses Mises's claim that without a capital-goods market prices cannot rank higher-order goods, weighs Barone, Lange, and Taylor on trial-and-error pricing, and answers Hayek's Road to Serfdom charge that planning breeds arbitrary coercion. Crucially, he enlists Austrian marginal-utility theory as valid for any economy, socialist ones included, to conclude that a price-guided planned order is both theoretically and practically possible.
Der Ordnung der Wirtschaft kann nur zugrunde liegen, entweder das Prinzip der Selbstregulierung oder der bewußten volkswirtschaftlichen Entscheidung.
English translation: “The ordering of the economy can rest only on one of two principles: that of self-regulation, or that of conscious economic decision.”
Historical outcomes, Schumpeter insists, are never explained by naming conditions such as population, capital, or tariffs, since the same factor acts differently through the mechanisms by which an economy answers it. His governing distinction separates the adaptive response, adjustment within existing practice, from the creative response, action outside that range that reshapes the path irreversibly. The agent is the entrepreneur, defined by function rather than social station: not necessarily capitalist, owner, or inventor, but whoever gets a new thing done. Through the example of producing caviar from sawdust he isolates entrepreneurial profit as a temporary surplus erased by imitation, and argues that innovation destroys old capital rather than reallocating it smoothly. A closing inquiry, whether routine, research teams, and bureaucracy will dissolve the entrepreneurial function as capitalism matures, turns the analysis toward the durability of bourgeois civilization itself.
The competition of the man with a significantly lower cost curve is, in fact, the really effective competition that in the end revolutionizes the industry.
Provisional notes rather than a finished theory, this essay asks how economists and historians should define, measure, and explain long-run change without turning theory into metaphysics. For Schumpeter theory is only an empirical toolbox: growth itself has no all-purpose measure, and he adopts the rise of trend per capita output merely as a working definition. His three theses cut against reductionism, that growth cannot be isolated from politics, institutions, and habit, that no single factor explains it, and that it interacts reciprocally with its supposed causes, while he rejects Marxist determinism outright. Naming a factor like war or the sixteenth-century Spanish precious-metal inflation is worthless, he argues, until its mechanism is specified. Against the automatism of the Smith-Mill-Marshall tradition he sets the creative response and entrepreneurship, the recombination of resources that no prior condition can predict.
Economic growth is not an autonomous phenomenon, that is to say, it is not a phenomenon that can be satisfactorily analyzed in purely economic terms alone.
Scare quotes do deliberate work in this programmatic restatement of liberalism: the pretended defenders of 'free enterprise' are often, Hayek charges, defenders of tariffs, cartels, and privilege who fear real rivalry as much as any socialist. A genuine competitive order, he insists, is no natural growth that appears wherever the state withdraws; it depends on law—property rules, contract, monetary stability, limits on coercive private power—deliberately built to keep rivalry effective. From this juridical liberalism he attacks the mechanical extension of property to patents and trademarks as a manufacture of monopoly, criticizes steep progressive taxation for eroding the social mobility and independent means that sustain free opinion, and refuses to demand discipline of trade unions before employers have surrendered their own protections. The long-run battle, he argues, is over beliefs, not present political feasibility.
The purpose of a competitive order is to make competition work; that of so-called “ordered competition,” almost always to restrict the effectiveness of competition.
How might the institutional discipline of the gold standard survive once gold itself is abandoned as the monetary anchor? Written amid wartime and postwar quarrels over managed currency, this essay separates gold the metal from gold the mechanism, crediting the old standard with three rule-like virtues—an international money without an international authority, automatic and predictable policy, and roughly self-correcting supply—while blaming its slow adjustment to shifts in liquidity demand for recurrent price instability. Hayek then takes up Benjamin and Frank Graham's commodity-reserve plan: money issued against and redeemable in a fixed bundle of storable raw materials, its aggregate price pegged, its components left free. Governed by a buying-and-selling rule rather than administrative discretion, such a currency would accumulate useful inventories in slump and release them in boom, dampening the cycle it once amplified.
The hoarding of money, instead of causing resources to run to waste, would act as if it were an order to keep raw commodities for the hoarder’s account.
Thurnwald divides his science in two: ethnography gathers the facts, ethnology interprets their tangled connections of time, people, thing, and place. Writing in 1948, he defends German ethnology against the charge of having been mere colonial propaganda, then lays out the fieldworker's discipline—long residence, repeated checking, no suggestive questions smuggling in high-gods or the Oedipus complex. He weighs evolutionism, the Kulturkreislehre of Frobenius, Gräbner and Schmidt, and Malinowski's functionalism, and settles on two leading factors: the procurement of food and contact between cultures. The unilinear march from hunter to herder to farmer is rejected; cases such as the Iramba plateau and the colonial dissolution of Ngoni order show culture as an uneven, accretive process rather than a ladder of stages.
Der Weg des Fortschritts ist holperig.
English translation: “The path of progress is bumpy.”
Six and a half centuries of Swiss survival amount, in Rappard's reading, to one sustained experiment in mutual defense—and thus to a rehearsal of the problem the League of Nations and the United Nations inherited: how sovereign units, unequal in wealth and divided by creed, can shield one another without a common command. Prepared in English at Lionel Curtis's urging as an abridgment of his French Cinq siècles de sécurité collective, the book separates the law of the Swiss alliances—from the 1291 pact of Uri, Schwyz, and Unterwalden through the Covenant of Stans and the Defensional of Wyl—from the messier facts of Morat, the Musso War, and the Catholic secession of 1680. Federalism, he concludes, reconciles unity with diversity, and stands as the alternative to anarchy.
It might delight the patriot to believe, but it would discredit the historian to assert, that the present Swiss federal state was born of the love of the Swiss cantons for each other.
The consumer faces a problem no equilibrium diagram quite states: how to bring an unrechenbarer Nutzen, a utility that cannot be counted, into the arithmetic of money. Schönfeld-Illy's answer reconstructs Wieser's marginal law, stripping away its accretions until the value it names turns out to be not an inner quantum of feeling but the consumer's demand price. Marginal utility becomes a rule of economical simplification: a disposition found admissible at the margin can be carried over to a whole stock without appraising each unit. From there the book turns on static equilibrium theory, rejecting the Walrasian Universalrechner that would solve prices and demand from outside the economy — whoever manages an economy calculates for himself — and substitutes a dynamic account built on expected data and forward-looking plans.
Die Preise werden durch die Nachfrage determiniert, die Nachfrage wird durch die Preise determiniert!
English translation: “Prices are determined by demand; demand is determined by prices!”
The transformation of a loose league of sovereign cantons into a modern federal state in 1848 is the pivot of this centenary study, commissioned by Pro Helvetia and read here in A. Lätt's German translation of Rappard's French original of the same year. He works backward from the French invasion of 1798 through the Helvetic Republic, Napoleon's Act of Mediation, the restorationist Pact of 1815, the Regeneration, and the Sonderbund War, then dissects the charter the revision commission assembled in six weeks—the American-inspired bicameral Assembly, the collegial Federal Council, the deliberately weak Federal Court. Three forces, he argues, made the federal state: the need for national security, for free economic development, and for political liberty and equality. It was, he insists, no foreign import but the act of a nation.
Die Einheit ohne Glieder ist eine leere Masse, die Glieder ohne Einheit sind ohnmächtig.
English translation: “Unity without members is an empty mass; members without unity are powerless.”