The Wall Street crash was still a year away when in 1928 John Maynard Keynes spoke to an audience of Cambridge undergraduates. The great economist told the students that by the time they were old men the big economic problems of the day would be solved. The capitalist system was capable of delivering such a sustained and steady increase in output that workers would eventually have all the material goods they could possibly want. They would need to toil for only 15 hours a week and could then spend the rest of the time enjoying themselves. Capitalism, Keynes argued, was a means – a rather distasteful means – to this end.
- How Much is Enough? The Love of Money, and the Case for the Good Life
- by Robert Skidelsky & Edward Skidelsky
- Buy it from the Guardian bookshop
By the time his essay "Economic Possibilities for Our Grandchildren" was published two years later, the world was sliding towards the great depression, extremism and war, but Keynes saw the crash as merely delaying the day when society would be able to meet all its needs with far less effort. In one respect, Keynes was right. Capitalist economies have become more efficient; indeed, the leaps in productivity have been even greater than he predicted. But he was completely wrong in his belief that workers would ever feel satiated by their material possessions, and devote more of their time to painting, reading or watching ballet.
So what would Keynes make of a world in which lavishly paid investment bankers work from dawn to dusk and then decamp at the weekend to country-house hotels where they are waited on hand and foot by a new servant class paid little more than subsistence wages? Not much, according to his eminent biographer, Robert Skidelsky, and his philosopher son Edward, in a book that draws heavily on Keynes's (rather patrician) views of what constituted the "good life". How Much Is Enough? argues that the modern world is characterised by insatiability, an inability to say enough is enough, and the desire for more and more money. Economics, a narrowly focused discipline in which there is no distinction between wants and needs, has driven to the end of a cul-de-sac. As in 1930, the Skidelskys say, the short-term need to get the global economy moving again should not deflect policy-makers from reforms that will lay the foundations of a saner, more stable world.
The book argues that progress should be measured not by the traditional yardsticks of growth or per capita incomes but by the seven elements of the good life: health; security; respect; personality; harmony with nature; friendship; and leisure. "The overall picture is not encouraging for the advocates of growth at all cost. Despite the doubling of UK per capita income, we possess no more of the basic goods than we did in 1974; in certain respects, we possess less of them."
This is perhaps a tad hyperbolic. To be sure, job security is much weaker than it was at the end of the golden age of postwar prosperity and the pressure on the environment has increased. But fewer people die horrible deaths from lung cancer than they did 40 years ago; the bonds of friendship are as strong as they ever were (if manifested differently in a digital age); people are more aware of the need to live in harmony with nature; and in many ways Britain is a more tolerant, respectful place than it was in an era when the London dockers took to the streets in support of Enoch Powell. There is a danger of getting misty-eyed about a time that was not a golden age if you were poor, black or gay.
That said, the main thrust of the book holds true. There is more to life than gross domestic product and it is only recently that growth at all costs has become enshrined as the goal of economic policy. We live in a country divided into workaholics who have more money than they know what to do with and millions of unemployed and under-employed citizens struggling to make ends meet on the proceeds of work in the informal economy or claiming state benefits. In the middle there are the debt slaves, worried about the mortgage and often one pay packet away from penury. When the Skidelskys say that we ought to be able to do better than this, it is hard to disagree with them. They favour a society influenced rather less by Anglo-Saxon capitalism and rather more by the catholic teachings that inspired Europe's postwar social market economy. Sprinkle in a bit of Keynesian liberalism and a pinch of social democracy and the good society is within reach.
Well, perhaps. How Much Is Enough? is a spirited polemic but it is not without its faults. The book starts and finishes well but has a long central philosophical section in which the disquisitions on Marcuse and Aristotle give the impression that the authors are showing off. They also have quite fixed views on what constitutes the good life. They approve of the opera and wine-tasting but not of watching TV and getting drunk, noting that Keynes's vision of middle-class culture spreading to the masses with the increase of leisure has not been realised.
But the main problem with this book is one of political agency. They make a series of sensible suggestions for how the good life could be attained: a basic citizens income, an expenditure tax and curbs on advertising to rein in consumerism; a Tobin tax on financial transactions. Where they are less convincing is in sketching out how these policies will be effected. "A sustained effort should be made to raise the share of income received by teachers, doctors, nurses and other public service professionals," they say. "This will require a higher rate of taxation and for that reason will encounter more political resistance than in countries which start with more equal income distribution." You bet it will.
• Larry Elliott's Going South: Why Britain Will Have a Third World Economy by 2014 is published by Palgrave Macmillan.