“The rich man glories in his riches, because he feels that they naturally draw upon him the attention of the world....At the thought of this, his heart seems to swell and dilate itself within him, and he is fonder of his wealth, upon this account, than for all the other advantages it procures him.” — Adam Smith, Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759)
In certain obvious respects, the Trump presidency reaffirms long-hardening polarities of class warfare in the United States. Accordingly, America’s glibly Edenic myth of “equality” has continued to unravel before the relentless economic assaults of this provocative presidency. At the same time, because these grievous assaults are potentially ruinous for the rich as well as the poor —especially when they take their current form of irrational trade wars—the net effect could include a more generally injurious leavening of American well-being.
In other words, the disjointed Trump tariff policies and policy correlates will be “egalitarian” in the sum total of their inflicted harms, but this egalitarianism will also mean that rich and poor must somehow “share” in the inevitable suffering.
For both scholars and policymakers, such an evident irony should bring to mind Adam Smith and his Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations. Long ago, Smith had already understood the manifestly complex nuances of international trade, and was quick to point out that trade policy outcomes were often unexpected and markedly counterintuitive. Published in 1776, “the Wealth of Nations” was indeed a revolutionary book; yet, quite conspicuously and purposefully, it did not expressly favor the monetary or social interests of any one particular economic/social class over another.
For the most part, Adam Smith sought an optimal market of goods and services that would suitably promote the wealth of all competing classes, simultaneously.
Understandably, what he did not seek, above all, was a system of production and exchange that could quickly become corrosive and deleterious “across the board.” In this connection, he had expressly highlighted the numerous prospective errors of any baseless protectionist strategies, most notably any unilateral imposition of tariffs that could plausibly be reciprocated. Famously, in such classical assessments, Smith had identified an “invisible hand,” in essence, a foreseeable “convergence of satisfactions” whereby the unstoppable compulsions of individual self-interest and the equally insistent needs of entire nations could somehow be reconciled.
But what might this seemingly quaint eighteenth-century stance have to do with our present and increasingly uncertain American economic moment? To begin a proper answer, the commendably seamless arguments of Adam Smith remain a reflexive mainstay of modern political conservatives. Never a plutocrat, Smith reasoned persuasively that various arrangements of private wealth maximization could still permit the poor to live tolerably. Rejecting his contemporary Jean Jacques Rousseau’s very contrary position —that is, that “the privileged few . . . gorge themselves with superfluities, while the starving multitude are in want of the bare necessities of life”—he foresaw in capitalism not just an enviably rising productivity, but also the indispensable foundations for ensuing political liberty.
Later, of course, Karl Marx offered a distinctly alternate view. Marx, for his part, had seen in these virtually identical and allegedly harmonious dynamics of economic competition a veritable font of personal and collective self-destruction. Moreover, it was, for him, a deeply regrettable and execrable font.
There is more. In his own time, Adam Smith was undaunted by any determinedly specious political arguments that were grievously detached from intellect. By applying various capitalistic modes of production and exchange, he had reasoned, an inextinguishable social inequality might still be cheerfully reconciled with certain measurable increments of human progress. In those troubling cases where the prevailing facts could have taken him in different directions, we may presently assume, he would have felt compelled to make aptly reciprocal modifications of his core theories.
Most assuredly, among Donald Trump’s most senior economic advisors, there is no Adam Smith. Indeed, enchanted by conceptual simplifications, which always appeal to “the base,” self-declared supporters of Adam Smith wittingly ignore the admirable depth and complexity of his conceptual thought. For example, they disregard that Smith’s presumed system of “perfect liberty” can never be consistent with robust encouragements of an endlessly needless consumption.
Adam Smith had understood what Trump trade policies disregard: certain inexorable laws of the marketplace, driven by a natural competition, always demand principled disdain for vanity-driven consumption.
Adam Smith could never have abided “conspicuous consumption,” a phrase that would later be used more popularly and more effectively by sociologist Thorsten Veblen. This particular species of consumption, driven in the final analysis by variously recalcitrant cravings related to individual self-worth, could never expect to become a rational engine for economic or social improvement. Today, this still crucial point should resonate instructively with all who would heap gratuitous praise upon a White House that blatantly equates personal success with the conspicuous envy of mostly anonymous others.