Anyone that has read chunks of Marx’s Capital will know that he often explicitly and not trivially implicitly draws on data and evidence gathered and published in reports by select committees of the British Parliament. Most of these reports he draws on were written before the great expansions of the franchise, and so are effectively produced by the propertied representatives of the propertied classes in what can be fairly called an oligarchic government. Despite the (let’s stipulate) non-trivial class biases built into this reporting structure, the ‘blue books’ or ‘parliamentary papers’ (as they were known) were sufficiently objective and informative to be useful to the great enemy of oligarchy and property.

These nineteenth century oligarchs knew what they were doing. They needed objective information to help structure their internal debates about empire and national governance, and also to shape policy. (Elite bargaining is, of course, still an important function for the publication of public statistics and forecasting.) These reports also shaped the development of the administrative state. For example, the predecessor to the UK’s national statistics office, General Register Office for England and Wales, itself was born from such a select committee report in the first half of the nineteenth century.

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The eminent sociologist Michael Burawoy died on Monday, after being hit by a car while walking near near his home. I’ve found a couple of tributes: this from Marta Soler Gallart which tells a story I didn’t know but surprises me not in the least, and this from Oleg Komlik. There’ll be loads of tributes to his remarkable intellectual contributions, and I’ll have nothing to add to them. So I’ll just say this. I didn’t know Michael that well really, but he was a very close friend of my very close friend Erik Olin Wright, so over many years I saw him briefly, and occasionally, always in the most convivial of circumstances. I discovered very quickly that I adored him and his company. He was generous and kind to treat me as an equal — he probably did that to everyone. I loved that somebody could combine a level of energy even into his seventies that I, personally, have never had, with a commitment and passion for all the right things and still give the sense of being permanently slightly amused with the world. When he and Gay Seidman were preparing the memorial volume for Erik Olin Wright, Michael was determined that I would contribute, despite being a complete outlier intellectually. I was resistant to writing a contribution (because an outlier and not thinking I had much to say), and Michael pressed me to write an essay which, in the end, I was really proud of. I realized after I’d finished it that he knew I’d produce something good, but that the reason he had pressed me was that he predicted (I’m sure correctly) that if I didn’t contribute I would regret it.

A great intellectual, yes, but I hope the tributes place that second to the fact that he was a lovely, generous, man.

One good side-effect of contemporary politics is that a more sober look at the merits and demerits of the US Founders’ legacy is possible again. (Of course, here at CrookedTimber we pride ourselves on our sobriety in such matters; it helps many of us reside in distant shores.) The current US President has contempt for reverence toward the past; and his opponents have no time for reflection.

One defect in the US Founders’ constitution is that while they are very concerned with developing mechanisms against what Machiavelli and his followers called ‘corruption’ — a word frequently used in the Federalist Papers —, but that it leaves too little room for what Machiavelli and his followers would have called ‘renewal’ (or ‘renovation’)—a word almost wholly absent from the Federalist Papers. In the Machiavellian sense, corruption is not just about illegal and legalized bribery, but also and even more about the bending of the rules such that when they function properly the public good is structurally undermined. There is a glimpse of awareness of this lacuna to be found in the historiographic debate(s) over the status of Lincoln as a so-called ‘refounder’ of the constitution, despite the fact that the US civil war conclusively indicates its failure.

Yet, as Machiavelli notes, “those [republics and religions] are best organized and have longest life that through their institutions can often renew themselves or that by some accident outside their organization come to such renewal.” Discourses on Livy (hereafter Discourses; 3.1), translated by Allan Gilbert (Chief Works, Vol. 1) p. 419. So, if you take what one may call, ‘Machiavellian social theory,’ seriously it is not an irrelevant topic.

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If, like me, you follow Ones and Tooze, you will know that Adam recently had heart surgery.

It was a big deal. Luckily, America has some of the best surgeons in the world, to whom only a small handful of Americans have access – but Adam Tooze is one of them. In the episode dedicated to the expensive American healthcare system/Adam’s heart surgery, he talks with great (and deserved) admiration about ‘his team’, the ones who will do the surgery.

We really want these surgeons to be good at what they do. The considerable advances in medicine, medical technologies and surgical techniques is what will (we trust) Save Adam’s life, as indeed they did. We want experts.

But we don’t want them to be dickheads about their expertise – meaning, we’d like them to be ‘our team’ who work with us, acknowledging our agency. And not arrogant, bossy, or taking control of our lives.

See, Adam is not only among America’s privileged (as he acknowledges), but he is also a member of the same professional class as his surgical team. As we all know, this doesn’t guarantee an absence of dickheads.

However, chances are higher that we can see other professionals as members of ‘our team’. By recognizing one another as members of the same class, encountering other members of the PMC helps confirm one’s own values and expertise.

What this also shows is that it is possible to be a niche expert but honour other people’s self-determination, our ability to make choices about our own lives.

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The other day I received an email from what might be one the few colleagues still checking into Twitter (most seem to have moved to Bluesky, as have I). The email was just a link with the subject title Did you see? I hadn’t.

Gosh, I wrote in response (which I gather they found a little understated).

My colleague was pointing to this tweet, where Adam Tooze described my fairly recently published book, Virtue Capitalists: The Rise and Fall of the Professional Class in the Anglophone World 1870-2008 as ‘the sort of book that changes how you see the world’.

I mean. Well. Gosh.

https://x.com/adam_tooze/status/1864041896005267954 The link is to Chartbook where Adam quotes from Claire EF Wright’s review of Virtue Capitalists in The Economic History Review.

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One of my Sunday routines is usually to post a photo here. Sometimes that’s easy, since I’ve taken something in the past few days, and sometimes that involves trawling through my archive to select something, sometimes from years ago. One problem with that is that there are just so many photos, and it is hard to keep track of everything I’ve posted here in order to avoid duplicates. It would be easier if I had enough discipline to put each photo selected in my Sunday Photoblogging album at Flickr, but I can neglect doing that for weeks, months, and even years at a time. So I’ve spent much of today going through Crooked Timber and making sure that all those photos are in that album. Well, it turns out there are 467 of them, which is an awful lot of Sundays. Quite an instructive exercise for me: there are some I like a lot, and others where I wonder why I selected it at all. There are influences I can detect such as Kertesz, Leiter, Gruyaert (not that I’m fit to be mentioned in the same sentence) but also E. Chambré Hardman, who use of natural frames I’ve often copied. Anyway: here’s the complete set, assuming I haven’t missed any out, which I probably have.

Last week, I finished reading an advance copy of Cory Doctorow’s Picks and Shovels. No spoilers about plot specifics, but the novel has a lot to say about two things. First, how Silicon Valley used to be a place where exit was possible and a good thing. If you didn’t like your boss, you went out and found somewhere else, or founded a company yourself. California didn’t recognize no-compete agreements, and the foundation myth of Silicon Valley is the Traitorous Eight. Eight engineers found William Shockley, a hateful unpredictable jerk and a pioneer of “racial realism,”  such a horrible person to work for that they all left to do their own thing, founding an engineering culture and start-ups that begat start-ups that begat start-ups.

The second theme of Cory’s novel is how easy it is to get trapped nonetheless. There is a cult-like aspect to many organizations, a quasi religious fervor. Once you get pulled in, you reconstruct your whole identity around a particular set of values. You may start in a place where it seems that there’s a strong alignment between the organizational culture and what you yourself aspire to.  You may discover that you are wrong, or the place may change. The wrong people end up taking over, or becoming influential. You find yourself in workplace conversations that leave you feeling weird and disturbed. But you aren’t sure what to do. Leaving would involve giving up on the values that you thought you shared, giving up, in a sense on your fundamental understanding of who you are.

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“The cemeteries are full of indispensable people.” In one form or another, this observation has been made many times over the last century or more.

What is true of people is true of nations. In the past 25 years or so it was often claimed (and , admittedly, often denied) that, in the modern world, the United States was the “indispensable nation”. Whatever the rights and wrong of this claim, it has become obvious that, whether we like it or not, the rest of the world will now have to dispense with the US as a defender of democracy, guarantor of global order, or even (as in Margaret Thatcher’s words about Gorbachev) a state we can do business with.

Anyone whose experience of the US began in the last eleven days would have no trouble recognising an archetypal kleptocracy, like Putin’s Russia or Mobutu’s Zaire (with a touch of Mao madness). The boss rakes off billions in tribute while his cronies scramble to please him, put each other down and collect their share of the loot. Regime supporters commit all sorts of crimes with impunity, while opponents are subject to both legal victimisation and threats of extra-legal terror against which they can expect no protection.

In dealing with such a regime, the only strategy is to buy off the boss, or a powerful underling, and hope that they stay bought long enough to deliver on their side of the bargain This approach is politely described as “transactional”, but without the implication that the transaction will necessarily be honoured. Dealing with kleptocrats can be highly profitable, as long as you get in and out quickly enough, but there’s no possibility of “doing business”, either commercial or political, in the ordinary sense of the word.

The problem is that for nearly everyone who matters, the last eleven days seem like an aberration. For decades, the US has been seen as the central pillar of a “rules-based order”, on which assumptions about the world were largely based. That’as true even for critics who pointed out that the rules were drawn up to favor the US, and that the US often breached them without any real consequences. And it’s true even though you can point to precedents for everything Trump had done.

But all that is over, and can’t be restored.

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(Hi all, wonderful to become part of this great blog! But now, directly on to some content!)

Imagine that you have a toothache, and a visit at the dentist reveals that a major operation is needed. You phone your health insurance. You listen to the voice of the chatbot, press the buttons to go through the menu. And then you hear: “We have evaluated your profile based on the data you have agreed to share with us. Your dental health behavior scores 6 out of 10. The suggested treatment plan therefore requires a co-payment of [insert some large sum of money here].”

This may sound like science fiction. But many other insurances, e.g. car insurances, already build on automated data being shared with them. If they were allowed, health insurers would certainly like to access our data as well – not only those from smart toothbrushes, but also credit card data, behavioral data (e.g. from step counting apps), or genetic data. If they were allowed to use them, they could move towards segmented insurance plans for specific target groups. As two commentators, on whose research I come back below, recently wrote about health insurance: “Today, public plans and nondiscrimination clauses, not lack of information, are what stands between integration and segmentation.”

If, like me, you’re interested in the relation between knowledge and institutional design, insurance is a fascinating topic. The basic idea of insurance is centuries old – here is a brief summary (skip a few paragraphs if you know this stuff). Because we cannot know what might happen to us in the future, but we can know that on an aggregate level, things will happen to people, it can make sense to enter an insurance contract, creating a pool that a group jointly contributes to. Those for whom the risks in question materialize get support from the pool. Those for whom it does not materialize may go through life without receiving any money, but they still know that they could get support if something happened to them. As such, insurance combines solidarity within a group with individual pre-caution.

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Politics has returned to Europe’s wealthy protectorates, which, after the phone-call on Jan. 20, 2025, between the then-President-elect and the Danish prime minister, suddenly find themselves faced with an open-ended era of shakedowns by its guardians and an unreliable big neighbor to the East. Neither its political class nor its aging, nostalgic population is prepared for this.

Qua democratic politician, it’s one thing to have skill at facilitating distributional bargaining among competing and shifting interest groups; it’s quite another to do so while simultaneously having to think through geopolitical alliances while relying on undermanned and underfunded militaries. Interestingly enough, with a shift toward new populist leaders Europe’s political class is also quite inexperienced in politics. It seems all but certain that during next month’s federal election, the most important European country and the only one that can provide political leadership, Germany, is itself facing a massive shift toward a political class inexperienced playing intra-European and global political chess at the same time.*

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Europeans have been behaving in defiance of Machiavellian classical social theory, which teaches that “The chief foundations of all states, new as well as old or composite, are good laws and good arms; and as there cannot be good laws where the state is not well armed, it follows that where they are well armed they have good laws.” (The Prince, Ch. 12) More bluntly (and more unpopular): a regime oriented toward protecting human rights presuppose good arms, too. The Europeans assumed that in an age of soft-power, a giant internal market, and win-win international/trade rules, they didn’t need good arms and could perfect their laws—even extend those through intra-European/EU expansion.

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Crooked Timber has survived more than 20 years by continuously refreshing our group. Members have left because they have said what they want to say, or just because life happens, and others have joined to add to the conversation. Today, we are welcoming Hannah Forsyth and Lisa Herzog.

Hannah is an Australian historian of capitalism, work and education. Her Substack newsletter, F*cking Capitalism covers these topics and more. She describes herself as a recovering work ethic junkie, but that hasn’t stopped her signing up to join the crew here at Crooked Timber.

Lisa is a German philosopher who works as a professor in political philosophy at the Faculty of Philosophy of Groningen University. She writes in particular on topics at the intersection of political philosophy and economic thought. Her most recent book is Citizen Knowledge: Markets, Experts, and the Infrastructure of Democracy. She has previously been on the team of the Justice-Everywhere blog, and is interested in all things related to workplace democracy and economic democracy.

We are all looking forward to the new perspectives Hannah and Lisa will bring.

At some indeterminate point in the fairly recent past, citizens and leaders of most liberal democracies probably looked forward to a condition to be realized in the imaginable future that we can, for the sake of a convenient label, call Universal Scandinavia. The basic features ought to be obvious: employment and decent housing for all, lots of leisure time and paid holidays, universal healthcare generous maternity provision, inclusion for people with disabilities, free education and universal childcare, freedom to form a relationship and maybe a family with the person of your choice (straight or gay), a woman’s right to choose, tolerance of everyone regardless of faith or race, political freedom and democratic elections under fair conditions, concern for the natural environment and so on. A vision of prosperity for all, even if some degree of inequality might be tolerated to provide incentives and so forth. This wasn’t particularly an ideal limited to the left (in fact parts of the left would have rejected it for something more robustly socialist) but could have been embraced, in its rough outlines, by everyone from the centre-left to people on the centre right such as, for example, Simone Veil.

Some parts of this radiant future even got built, to varying degrees, across parts of Europe other than Scandinavia, in places like Canada, Australia, New Zealand. A realistic utopia, in fact.

But

Today, alas, that happy crowded floor
Looks very different: many are in tears:
Some have retired to bed and locked the door;
And some swing madly from the chandeliers;
Some have passed out entirely in the rears;
Some have been sick in corners; the sobering few
Are trying hard to think of something new.¹

Nobody currently thinks our future looks like Universal Scandinavia – and even in places where social democratic parties are in power, such as the UK – nobody thinks that they will advance even the tiniest step towards it. Rather, the likelihood is that even they will retreat. "Nice idea, but unaffordable."

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The Australian parliament has legislated what’s commonly described as as “social media ban” for people under 16. More precisely, it will require selected social media platforms to implement (unspecified) age verification technology for people wishing to create accounts. This measure was rushed through at the end of last year, at the expense of proposed legislation to limit advertising for online gambling.

I wrote a series of posts on my Substack blog looking at various aspects of the “ban” (TL;DR I don’t like it).

There’s too much for a CT post, so I’ll link to the posts instead
Part 1 dealt with the feasibility of a ban
Part 2 dealt with the evidence for and against
Part 3 pointed out the ban will do little or nothing to fix most of the harms attributed to social media
Part 4 suggested better responses to the problems young people are facing
Part 5 offered broader responses to the harm being done by platforms like X and Facebook

Feel free to comment here or there.