A Forgotten Letter to W.E.B. Du Bois: Monetary Populism and the Scapegoating of Black Political Life

by Will Beaman

In July 1934, W.E.B. Du Bois received a letter from an Atlanta resident named Gus Reich. We are excited to share both Reich’s letter and Du Bois’s short reply below. 

A lay theologian and self-styled monetary reformer, Reich in his letter proposes a spiritual plan for economic renewal. He urges Du Bois to support a vision of Christian financial reform led by the Black church. Condemning the interest-based banking system as “devilish,” Reich calls for a new kind of moral economy—one rooted not in gold or markets, but in collective virtue and spiritual confidence.

Du Bois responds with a single line: “The process of curing ills by printed money has been tried many times but never worked.”

It is a short exchange, but a revealing one. It surfaces a longstanding tension in American political life: Who gets to issue money—and under what terms? Reich’s proposal may seem eccentric, but it reflects something serious. It points toward an alternative to gold-backed or market-driven money, one where credit is issued as a public act, grounded in shared belief and moral purpose. In short, it imagines what many now call endogenous money—money that enters the world not from economic exchange or nature, but from institutional decisions and collective commitments.

But even imaginative ideas can carry baggage. Reich frames the Black church as a vessel for national redemption. In doing so, he risks casting Black communities not as equal participants in public life, but as moral stand-ins—invited to lead only when they can purify a broader system in crisis. In our reading, Du Bois’s response resists this framing. It is not necessarily a rejection of public credit itself (we hope), but of the burden placed on Black leadership to deliver redemption on someone else’s terms.

This moment makes more sense when seen through two overlapping histories. First, the legacy of Black-led fusionist coalitions after the Civil War. And second, the turmoil of Depression-era monetary reform.

In the decades after Reconstruction, Black Americans joined multiracial alliances across the South, including fusionist tickets that brought together Black Republicans and white populists like the Greenback and People’s Parties. These coalitions briefly held real power in states like North Carolina, pushing for land reform, public education, and voting rights. They were met with relentless opposition: not just Jim Crow laws and disenfranchisement, but racist violence like the 1898 Wilmington massacre. The memory of these movements, along with the political backlash they triggered, shaped how Black politics was perceived and enlisted in the decades that followed.

Fast forward to the 1930s: the U.S. had abandoned the gold standard at home and was experimenting with new forms of federal spending. But the role of money itself—how it’s created, who controls it—was still treated as a technical issue. Into that vacuum stepped a range of populist proposals. Some, like Reich’s, drew from moral and religious sources. Others, like those of Father Coughlin and Huey Long, veered into conspiracy and authoritarianism. Still others gestured toward the greenback tradition, but often fell back on old fears of inflation and dependency, sometimes thinly veiled in racial terms.

Reich’s letter reflects this tangle of influences. It combines spiritual populism with economic idealism, yet still relies on tropes about virtue, self-sufficiency, and moral rescue. Du Bois’s reply, we think, is not just about the feasibility of printed money. It is about the weight of these narratives—and who is expected to carry them.

That said, Du Bois’s position is not without its own limits. His skepticism about public credit reflects a broader intellectual tradition—especially among Marxists—that treats government-issued money as risky or false, especially when it is not directly tied to labor or production. While that tradition offers powerful critiques of capitalist violence, it also tends to echo Jacksonian suspicion of credit as unearned or parasitic. In doing so, it often misses how public credit has functioned historically: as a way to coordinate social life, not just to reflect economic output.

Du Bois, as always, is careful. But his reply reveals how even the most perceptive critics can find themselves caught between traditions—rejecting the burden of credit for an oppressor’s redemption without fully seeing the possibilities of credit as enfranchisement. Rather than dismiss his letter or take it at face value, we offer a reparative reading: one that holds Du Bois’s skepticism in tension with the deeper political insight his reply also contains. We interpret his response as shaped by a moral position grounded in historical experience—one that can, and should, be reincorporated into a renewed, critical monetary populism.

We share this exchange not to praise or dismiss Reich’s proposal, but to show why these questions still matter. At Money on the Left, we believe that reimagining how we provision public life is one of the central challenges of our time. That means taking bold monetary ideas seriously. But it also means paying attention to how those ideas are framed, and who is expected to redeem what.

Too often, communities already marginalized by economic crisis are recruited to fix it on someone else’s behalf. That is not enfranchisement, but deputization. And it risks reinforcing the very exclusions it seeks to overcome.

The same dynamics are resurfacing today. As Modern Monetary Theory (MMT) is metabolized across publics, its core insight—that money is issued into existence through political decisions—is being cautiously integrated across the ideological spectrum. But not all uses of this insight are emancipatory. Right-wing populists like Thomas Fazi, Tucker Carlson, and Marjorie Taylor Greene are already experimenting with expansionist monetary rhetoric to serve nationalist and exclusionary agendas. Their message is not that money is public. It is that public money belongs to “us,” not “them.”

This is why we argue that monetary politics needs to be contested from within. It is not enough to point out that the state can spend. We have to ask: for whom, through what institutions, and on what terms? The risk is not just bad spending. It is moralized and conditional spending—credit extended as a reward for loyalty and withdrawn as punishment for dissent. What could be more Trumpian?

In that light, the question is not whether we “support” endogenous money. All money is already issued endogenously before it is moralized as scarce commodities or white tax-dollars. The question is what kind of world it is made to sustain. Who is trusted to issue? Who is seen as creditworthy? Who gets invited in? And who gets blamed when the system cracks?

These are not idle questions. As Carlson and Greene turn toward Christian nationalism, using the state to draw lines between insiders and outsiders, they are improvising on old themes: using money to grant absolution to some and withhold care from others. The MAGA movement’s collapse—exacerbated by scandals like Trump’s attempt to shut down the Epstein scandal—has produced a frantic search for new conspiracies to stop the creeping sense of guilt and responsibility for Trump’s open cruelty. Monetary politics becomes one place to stage that search.

We have seen this play out before. In 1930s Germany, the Social Democrats rejected the WTB Plan for state-backed public credit, clinging to fiscal restraint. That created an opening the Nazis filled with their own vision of nationalist credit. Sound money did not save the Weimar Republic. It helped to end it.

If we want to avoid repeating those mistakes, we need to name what’s already happening. Public money is real. It is already shaping our lives. The only question is how—and for whom. We need credit infrastructures that are open, democratic, and resilient. Not credit as a judgment, but credit as a commitment. Not a test of worthiness, but a project of shared responsibility.

Letter from Gus Reich to W. E. B. Du Bois, July 4, 1934

Dr. W.E.B. Dubois

Editor, The Crisis

Dear Sir:

Enclosed I send you[r] clipping from the Epworth-High road, giving me your address & that of your organ The Crisis; when you find my answer correct, I suggest that you print it in the Crisis for the advancement of colored people & the benefit of all to the glory & honor of our Lord Jesus.

In that article Color Caste in the U.S. the writer adds up all the rights of the white man, which the negro lacks, but he offers no practical solution how to cure the dilemma with benefit to both & harm to none. 

The white man in U.S., especially the Southern planter suffered loss indeed, when they gave up slave labor & the South feels its hardships yet to some degrees; however that was a blessing from the Lord which He gave to Abraham Lincoln & helped him put it through, for without it, our Declaration of Independence would have been a lie indeed & of no lasting power, but for the colored race, this blessing from the Lord brought upon them a new duty which means thankfulness & service; have they found Him today? 

It is a fact that today the white man all over the world is in far greater distress than the negroes were at the time when the civil war started & nobody has offered a solution yet, faithful & true; when my following statements are found correct, I beg to remember that the truth comes from the Lord, thank Him & use it in His name.

Today’s depression which spreads over all countries, is not caused by nature; there is enough to eat & commodities for sale; scarce is only the money in people’s hands & the work with which they acquire it, & yet these people who lack this money today, are really the only ones who actually produce such value, with the work of their hands & the Lord’s blessing, while the other fellow, who keeps it today, has to get it from them first, to get hold of it; has to take eager care of it, that he might not loose it again & has to carefully tend to it, that they may not slowly work it off again & deprive him of it. 

That is the character of our money-foundation, our banking & credit, our interest system; it is all selfish, devilish—the only cure ? make it faithfully truth, brotherly-loving.

It is alltogether ridiculous to expect such a change however from men, who are accustomed to have prospered under the old system; the Lord wouldn’t give truth to them; it has to come from men who know their Lord better, who are willing to serve Him & use Faith & Truth in all their work & give Him the glory & when I propose to the colored mrace today, to announce to the World repentence & reform, faithful & true, it is an opportunity given to them by the Lord to prove to their white brethren their equality & earn their thanks. 

It is impossible to make our finances true, if we are not willing to be true Christians ourselves first; our various denominations do not honor our Saviour but mostly other men; even Martin Luther, though he pronounced his faith in one Holy Christian Church “was done more harm than honor they made that church lutheran.” To give glory to our Saviour, we must re-establish that Holy Christian Church” again, which the first Christians had & where they brought all they made & the church cared for them. 

That is another item our church lacks today & doesn’t exercise control over our banks, to make them work straight-true, but that does not prevent, that we have to suffer today from the consequences of our neglect & that is the cause of our depression; the real cure, the only one,  is to create a perfectly christian banking system, abandon all of the old one, it is devilish from A to Z & if the president & senate refuses, make it privately, it will be even more profitable & it is exceedingly simply, just use bank-cheques instead of gold & silver, accounts for currency; it will give everybody all the money he needs, make abnormal riches a burden instead of a privilege & will make crime & wars unnecessary & undesirable. Being given to me by the Lord, it will receive His blessings also & if put into action by the colored race, will certainly win them the admiration of their white brethren. President Roosevelt has asked already for criticism & suggestions, practically admitting his failure; only the Truth will last eternally & putting it into finances will change our whole life. 

Settling the war-debt question, we should give up our demands for them; wouldn’t need them anymore, but demand from our allies that they in turn give up their colonies & make the world free. We gave up slaves, they must do the same, it is either Christ or the devil!

Further details & information gladly furnished when wanted. 

Yours truly

Gus Reich

Letter from W. E. B. Du Bois to Gus Reich, July 10, 1934

Mr. Gustus Reich,
c/o Heywood Avenue, S.E.,
Atlanta, Georgia.

My dear Sir:

I thank you for your letter of July 4. I regret to say that I am no longer editor of The Crisis and therefore cannot publish your views. If I did, however, I would point out the process of curing ills by printed money has been tried many times but never worked.

Very sincerely yours

It’s Time for Complementary Currencies

By the Money on the Left Editorial Collective

Introduction

Zohran Mamdani’s landslide win was not just a local upset—it was a turning point. It proved that member-led, volunteer-powered campaigns can defeat political dynasties even under conditions of national authoritarian drift. And now, others are lining up behind him. MN state Sen. Omar Fateh—another Democratic Socialist—won the local Democratic Party’s endorsement for Mayor of Minneapolis against three-term Democratic Mayor Jacob Frey. Kat Abughazaleh, a progressive digital commentator formerly affiliated with Media Matters, is winning major party endorsements for her congressional campaign in Illinois’s 9th District. More campaigns are getting ready. 

But the window is narrow, and the threat is clear. Donald Trump is terrified of an insurgent movement rising out of the cities he cannot control. His plan is to withhold federal funds, punish sanctuary cities, and weaponize austerity against local governments that refuse to comply. He wants mayors and city councils too scared to fund anything beyond police. And the Democratic establishment will go along with nearly all of it. The economic establishment will cheer it on in the name of fiscal moderation and pragmatism.

To meet this moment, we need new tactical registers–new tools for organizing local capacities and coordinating them at scale.

What follows is not a singular proposal. It is a framework for coordinating, scaling and financing the work that so many organizers do for free. A shared practice of issuing and receiving credit in solidarity—between campaigns, between cities, between institutions willing to govern together. We do not need to wait for reactionary statehouses or federal financing to tell us what’s possible. We can build systems of solidarity and accountability that scale without sovereignty.

Mamdani’s campaign did not simply win—it ran a logistical operation, coordinated policy development, and cared for people. Fifty thousand volunteers who didn’t beg for permission got organized.

To understand how we can scale up that infrastructure, we need to first understand the tool: complementary currencies.

What Are Complementary Currencies?

Complementary currencies are locally issued forms of credit that supplement and expand the currencies we think of as “official”. When imagined alongside the dollar rather than in opposition to it, complementary currencies do not merely reveal new possibilities. They help us see the dollar differently, too.

Imagine this: a canvasser in Brooklyn earns credits for a weekend of turnout work. Those credits are then accepted by another chapter to help fund a print run. A local labor union recognizes those credits as dues. A food co-op accepts them for groceries. A pilot municipal grocery store, created by a city council aligned with the movement, honors the credits for fresh produce. A sanctuary city program uses them for transit access. Under pressure from organizers, the local government agrees to accept those credits for partial tax payments, fines, or fees. This isn’t “exchange”; it’s organizing. 

Instead of treating money as a scarce resource to be unlocked from the top down, complementary currencies reveal money to be a flexible and inscribable record of solidarity and coordination. They allow communities and coalitions to express their own priorities, provision their own infrastructures, and deliberate what kinds of labor and care should be receivable across shared space. 

There are many historical precedents for complementary currencies in U.S. history—from colonial-era land bank notes and settler-issued paper money to Depression-era scrip, mutual aid societies, time banks, and local exchange trading systems—each reflecting periods when ordinary people experimented with monetary design in the absence of sufficient national currency or in response to systemic exclusion from formal credit systems. Even Lincoln’s greenbacks and FDR’s war bonds grounded new money issuance in real economic capacities rather than abstract pools of tax dollars. Money on the Left proposals like Blue Bonds and the Uni draw on these traditions to reimagine democratic finance as a practice of coordination, not austerity.

From Command to Coordination

We do not need a movement that controls everything. We need movements that can coordinate across what is already happening, provisioning at scale without turning participation into tactical bottlenecks and zero-sum debates over which “theory of change” is correct. That is already the lesson of the campaigns and organizations that are winning: field ops that trust volunteers to become leaders; member-led organizations that practice deliberative democracy; housing and mutual aid coalitions that prototype new forms of care without waiting for policy permission.

These campaigns are not spontaneous. They are deeply organized. But they are also strategically diverse. What links them is not control or discipline—it is solidarity. We need forms of coordination that let us hold many strategic priorities as valid without collapsing them into a single strategic hierarchy. That is what complementary credit experiments can offer: not a command center or vanguard, but flexible infrastructures of coordination and provision. Built from below, from diverse middles, and even daring city halls that refuse to wait for Albany’s approval.

Money as Credit, Not Scarcity

We are used to thinking of money as something we need to get—from donors, from state budgets, from foundations that never quite agree with our politics. At the heart of a complementary currency strategy is a different understanding of what money is. Money is not a scarce thing to be hoarded or unlocked. Nor is it a capitalist medium of exchange. Money is a flexible infrastructure of recognition, designed through politics. 

Because the truth is, we already can do the things that we supposedly need billionaires and middle class taxpayers to fund. Indeed, we already do extend care, time, labor, risk, translation, food, design, coordination, and protection across every campaign, community org, and institution that we build.

Complementary currencies do not introduce a new kind of value. They enlarge the democratic value systems that already exist—and allow wider scales of recognition and inclusion in the infrastructures we need to live.

In an insurgent democratic politics, no single node of issuance or receivability calls all the shots—but each one takes responsibility to extend trust and good faith as part of a shared infrastructure of democratic provisioning.

Swap Lines as Democratic Pedagogy

The left does not need central discipline from a vanguard of strategists or an idealized mass organization imagined as external to the broader public. We need infrastructures that enact the same solidarity and flexibility we already extend to each other, honoring diverse valuations of what work is important, and agreeing to receive what others provision—even when it comes in unfamiliar forms.

That is the logic of a swap line.

In high finance, a swap line is a mutual agreement to recognize credit across systems without collapsing them into one. Central banks use them to stabilize currencies, but the principle of connecting different currencies to facilitate economic coordination shows up everywhere. It is how bank deposits, paper money, coins, reserve—all forms of money with different institutional histories—come together to make the US dollar feel singular and continuous. What appears as the dollar or imagined as a gold standard has always been an invisible choreography between institutions.

But that invisibility is part of the problem. As Jakob Feinig argues, monetary systems are kept deliberately opaque, a process he calls monetary silencing. The more our systems rely on coordination, the more that coordination is hidden, treated as technical or natural rather than political and participatory.

Complementary currencies make the logic of the swap line public. They give us ways to politicize the agreements we already depend on, to deliberate openly about what kinds of work and care we’re willing to receive—and from whom. They turn financial interoperability into a practice of democratic solidarity.

Monetary Silencing and the Battle for Legibility

This political moment isn’t emerging in a vacuum. For decades, our fiscal and monetary institutions have rehearsed a worldview in which credit is something earned—a borrowing right extended only to the deserving. But “deserving” has never been neutral. Creditworthiness has long stood in for segregation, racism, and exclusion—baked into zoning laws, lending practices, public education funding, and municipal bond markets. Home loans, student debt, and city budgets were more than neutral financial instruments. They rehearsed the ideologies of American racism: who belongs, who can be trusted, who is safe to invest in, and who must be controlled or abandoned?

That regime fractured in 2008. Some responses moved in a hopeful direction: mutual aid networks, debt resistance campaigns, diverse anti-carceral movements from Black Lives Matter to the mainstreaming of abolition and defund, and resurgent interest in public banking and economic democracy. But the collapse also made room for something else. If the 20th century home loan once staged middle-class exceptionalism, Trumpism offered a permission structure for outlaw cruelty. A way to break rules without consequence, to treat others’ suffering as proof of one’s own sovereignty.

But that is not the only story. Mutual aid networks, abolitionist coalitions, and movements like Mamdani’s have rehearsed alternative credit infrastructures—ones grounded not in discipline, but in coordination, care, and lived solidarity. These movements did not necessarily name their practices as monetary, but they began to build the legibilities we need to overcome monetary silence. They have not been able to fully elaborate these unconscious participatory impulses. Still, they have created the conditions to make such impulses visible–and to politicize them.

Complementary credit systems offer a trajectory for elaboration. They do not moralize worthiness. They do not reward obedience. They do not ask who deserves a loan. They rewrite the script, treating credit not as exception, but as infrastructure: a shared capacity to issue and receive trust without hierarchy or purity tests. 

The issue is not whether labor is paid or unpaid—credited or uncredited. Nominally “volunteer” labor builds good faith and trust within a community, but that kind of credit is not usable at a grocery store. What is relevant is where credit is receivable. Today, as campaigns like Mamdani’s promote pilots of municipal grocery stores and other public institutions, we have the opportunity to publicly deliberate receivability itself. We no longer need to maintain the fiction that political labor and public provisioning belong to separate spheres. We can develop new forms of credit—and new institutions that receive them—to bridge the false binary between activism and public works, and to reveal that distinction as something far more messy, lived-in, and democratic than we’ve been taught.

Insurgent campaigns like Mamdani’s are not pausing for Albany’s blessing. They are already rehearsing a creative, coalitional politics—one that provisions capacity across communities, builds trust across organizations, and coordinates across difference. Complementary credit systems do not replace that work. They extend it.

Conclusion: Coordinating What We Already Know How to Do

There is no shortage of capacity on the left. We have organizers, campaigns, coalitions, and institutions already doing the work of governance: feeding people, housing people, translating policy into action, building coalitions across lines of difference. What we lack is the infrastructure to recognize that work as connected.

Complementary credit systems can help us coordinate what we already know how to do. Not by replacing the dollar or disavowing the state, but by recognizing that public trust is not something we must win permission to issue. It is something we are already extending to each other, every time we organize a shift, open our homes, cook a meal, or build a spreadsheet.

This is not a project of exit. It’s a project of refusing to defer. We need not delay unlocking capacity for a future administration. We can name what we are already provisioning—and build systems that make that provisioning visible, receivable, and durable across space and time.

What we’re describing is not a singular plan. It’s a tactical register—one that can help insurgent movements reimagine good government not as control, but as coordination. This is not bureaucracy; it is collective trust. In the face of austerity threats and coercive attacks, we need cities and campaigns willing to issue and receive public credit in solidarity. Not someday, but now.

An insurgent movement of good government connected by local currencies can spread courage and coordination faster than Trump’s tenuous coalition of the fearful and battered ever could.

Accounting Identities or Accounting Analogies?

by Will Beaman

Most people’s first exposure to Modern Monetary Theory (MMT) comes with a gentle promise: It is just accounting. The government’s deficit is the non-government sector’s surplus, by simple double-entry logic. Sectoral balances show it clearly—your fear of public debt is a confusion. Every liability is someone else’s asset. The numbers must sum to zero.

This framing has done enormous work. It has disarmed austerians, reassured the cautious, and made deficits sound boring in the best possible way. If money is just a set of balancing books, then maybe we can stop moralizing it. Maybe we can finally get to the real work of provisioning public life.

But even within MMT, the picture is more complicated than is suggested by the T-account’s clean offsetting lines. One of MMT’s most striking ideas—the proposal for a job guarantee—quietly shows why. At first glance, the job guarantee seems to illustrate a familiar differentiation between obligations and rights: the public commits to spend, creating jobs, while people get to work. Obligations and rights line up, tidily offset on the ledger. Each person’s duty is matched by someone else’s claim. It is a vision of economic life built from clear, reciprocally balanced units. It implies a methodological commitment to difference, where every distinct role is defined precisely by not being its counterpart.

Look a little closer, however, and the job guarantee reveals something more interesting. A right to a job is not simply the opposite of a duty. It mixes together rights and duties. After all, a job in such a program is both a right to work and a duty to fulfill one’s role in that job. The job guarantee thus entangles provision, participation, maintenance, and shared decisions about what kinds of work matter. Who is supporting whom? Who is being guaranteed by whom? It is hard to say, because these functions are detailed and diverse, constantly overlapping and rebalancing. 

The point is not to collapse differences into sameness, or to stage every difference as a kind of isolated disjunction. It is that these differences lean on each other, line up in ways that let us keep building a shared life. We at Money on the Left call this an analogical metaphysics because it describes how unlike contributions and claims can still coordinate, not by forcing them into sameness or opposition, but by letting them participate together in shaping what we owe and receive.

Seen through the prism of analogy, the job guarantee is more than a clever accounting offset. It helps us glimpse how the very categories of rights and obligations stand neither in one place nor wholly still. They are not parceled out among atomized people and perfectly counterweighted. They are always being provisioned and adjusted through systems that rely on many roles at once—linked by analogy, not by strict equivalence or pure contrast.

To recognize the full social power of sectoral balances, we must move beyond seeing them as either reassuring identities or sobering non-identities, and instead approach them as sites of relational coordination. The theory of sectoral balance works by showing that government deficits and private surpluses are equal and opposite. But then, almost inevitably, comes the clarification: yes, they are numerically identical, but experientially and socially they are not the same. Owing is different from being owed. Holding a government bond is not the same as carrying the tax obligations that ultimately sustain it.

This move—from identity to non-identity—has been crucial for demystifying fear around public debt. It has helped people see that when the government spends, it simultaneously creates private savings. That the line from liabilities to assets does not mark a fall from grace, it is just how collective economic life is recorded.

And yet, even this picture can be more limiting than we realize. It rests on the idea that there are discrete obligations and discrete entitlements, held by discrete people, neatly offsetting each other in the social ledger. You can see this logic everywhere, even in critical traditions. Legal realists, for example, did vital work by showing that rights imply obligations—that private property is not really a relationship between you and an object, but between you and everyone else with respect to that object. It is a crucial insight that exposes how social these arrangements always are. But it often still pictures them as static, reciprocal claims: your right is another person’s duty, precisely counterbalanced. It reveals the contingency of property or contract, yet does not quite unsettle the deeper frame of equal-but-opposite units distributed among atomized individuals.

This is broadly characteristic of the methodological commitment to difference that is found across myriad critical traditions from the humanities to legal theory. It proceeds from an image of agency as refusal and non-identity—as a break or departure from whatever has tried to define us. By contrast, Money on the Left’s analogical metaphysics begins from subtly different premises. It sees agency not primarily as an act of refusal, but as a form of non-identical participation: a way of entering into shared systems and relations that never collapse our differences, yet still provision us together.

So maybe what we are seeing here is not a shift from identity to non-identity, but something else entirely—a deeper logic of analogy. An identity tries to equate things, to say they are the same in all the ways that matter. A statement of non-identity unquestioningly insists they are not the same, often leaving them standing apart. But an analogy allows different varieties of contribution, need, and entitlement to resonate with one another—to lean in, adjust, and coordinate without collapsing into sameness. It is a way of linking relationships that are not reducible to a single measure, yet are not altogether unrelated either. Different varieties of participation can still echo across shared infrastructures, sustaining life together even when they do not match or mirror each other exactly.

Yet an analogical view of sectoral balances does not dissolve difference into uniformity or reduce participation to equivalence. A balance sheet, seen this way, does not flatten everything into sameness. It becomes a tool for tracking how these diverse obligations and promises continue to rely on one another, sometimes matching, often overlapping awkwardly, always requiring ongoing attention. At its best, this is what MMT illuminates: that ledgers stage analogies rather than identities. They do not capture a pure equivalence that might later turn out to be false, as in so many liberal or Marxist accounts of money as a failed or mystified sameness. Instead, they set up relationships that were never supposed to be identical — relationships that hold together by analogy, linking what is unlike in ways that still let it provision us.

This matters for how we think about politics across global, national and local registers. Take Zohran Mamdani’s broad coalition in Astoria, which I have written about elsewhere. Mamdani did not win by treating the city as a flat service provider handing out identical benefits. It brought together renters, workers, immigrants, and small business owners, each helping sustain the city in ways that were detailed and diverse without being exactly the same. By that same logic, we could also push back on the common view of free buses as a simple consumer giveaway that drains the city budget. Instead, we might see them as a living asset: building capacities and relationships that far exceed what shows up on a fiscal spreadsheet.

It is not hard to imagine a small pilot in New York that plays this out more explicitly—say, a modest community service program that offers credits for helping at local cleanups, libraries, or tenant meetings. Those credits could be quietly recorded across the ledgers of multiple public benefit corporations that already keep the city going: the MTA, NYCHA, HDC, even the water authority. Each could treat these credits not only as costs or subsidies, but also as partial assets that help sustain their own infrastructures—a way of literally accounting for how participation builds collective capacity. It is one loose idea for how we might use the ledgers we already have, not only to tally expenses, but to reflect all the different ways we help build and maintain the city together.

Which might be the deeper promise hiding inside MMT all along. It is not merely that we can afford more spending, or that debts do not matter the way we were taught. MMT reveals that our lives are already held together by a web of overlapping credits and obligations, none of them exactly the same, all of them linked by analogy. Accounting can still show us how to balance, but only if we let it reveal what we are balancing for: the chance to provision a world that holds us, differently and together.

How to New York Times-Proof Mamdani’s Playbook: Turning Coalition Specifics into Fiscal Possibilities

by Will Beaman

In a recent video recapping his primary victory in Queens, Zohran Mamdani did something almost radical for today’s political landscape: he cut through the usual Beltway euphemisms and mapped out the varied, living elements of the coalition that won.

Most postmortems stay tangled in polite code. We get anxious talk of “electability,” “swing voters,” whether the left is “too extreme.” It’s what my Money on the Left colleague Billy Saas calls “rhetorical red tape” — language that sounds prudent while quietly narrowing what’s imaginable.

Mamdani’s video blew right past that. Instead of treating voters like abstract blocs, he named them: South Asian neighborhoods in City Line, Ozone Park, and Jamaica Hills; Latino communities in Corona, Washington Heights, and Woodhaven; many of the same Chinese voters who had turned out for Trump in Flushing, Chinatown, and Bensonhurst; and young Black New Yorkers in places like Harlem and Flatbush. It wasn’t just sharper. It was an inviting kind of specificity — the sort that gives others something to riff on, remix, and grow. A coalition rendered in flexible detail, practically begging for more hands to join and expand it.

He even zoomed in on remarkable local swings: Brighton Beach, which had gone for Trump by 44 points, flipped to Mamdani by 16. College Point, a plus-11 Trump neighborhood, swung eight points to his campaign. They flipped Crown Heights by 45 points, North Corona by 33, and Jamaica by a staggering 57. It all added up to a mosaic that conventional wisdom — and most turnout models — completely missed.

The fiscal conversation needs this same generosity

So why do our fiscal debates still drown in stale, cautious language? We hear more red tape: “How will you pay for it?” “What if taxpayers flee?” “Is this fiscally responsible?” It’s all carefully coded to sound like common sense while discouraging deeper questions or bolder plans.

But what if we approached local financing like Mamdani approached his voter coalition? What if, instead of defaulting to old tropes about budgets and bond markets, we laid out the city’s diverse, adaptable capacities — in vivid, participatory detail?

Imagine short videos or posts that show:

  • The 30 million square feet of city-owned buildings that could be reshaped into clinics, childcare centers, or climate hubs.
  • Parks Department crews and gear, already skilled, open to new kinds of neighborhood care.
  • The Health + Hospitals system, sturdy yet brimming with potential under local fiscal tools.
  • Thousands of underemployed youth who could be hired to green roofs, retrofit apartments, care for elders — whatever we dream up together.

Once you see it, the question stops being “Can we afford it?” and becomes “Why aren’t we weaving this into something more ambitious?” It shifts from a cage of prudence to a field of possibilities. It arms neighbors, tenants, unions — anyone paying attention — with the raw materials to start sketching their own expansions.

Meanwhile, the right is already doing this — in covert, coercive ways

Look at Trump’s ICE expansion plan. It’s not some hazy threat; it’s meticulously mapped out: $50 billion to build detention centers, hire new agents, embed local economies in raids and removals. But notice — it’s never presented that way. There’s no campaign video laying out who stands to benefit or inviting communities to shape how these resources will be used.

Instead, it’s done by stealth and indirection, quietly tying economic relief for some to the growth of a modern gestapo. It manipulates public opinion not by openly building coalitional power, but by splintering it — making certain towns materially reliant on policing and detention, so that backlash fractures into local self-interest.

It’s a deeply demobilizing and disempowering use of fiscal power, designed precisely to prevent the kind of open, participatory strategizing that Mamdani’s coalition breakdown encourages. Where his approach lays out possibilities that anyone can join and reshape, Trump’s operates by backdoor compulsion — binding jobs and budgets to cruelty, without ever saying so outright.

A blueprint for Trump-proofing — and New York Times-proofing — New York City

That’s why Mamdani’s style of vivid coalition storytelling hints at something urgent. Imagine if his next video did for the city’s fiscal fabric what he just did for his voter base: named it, mapped it, showed how easily it could be recombined into new forms of shared work and care.

So when Albany, billionaires, or Trump try to choke off funds, New Yorkers don’t flinch. They’ve already seen what’s abundantly available in their neighborhoods — and they’re halfway to figuring out how to link it up through Blue Bonds, local payroll guarantees, or municipal swap lines.

It’s a way to Trump-proof the city, by showing we’re not stuck waiting on federal mercy to pay ourselves to do work we’re more than capable of staging together in countless ways. And it’s a way to NYT-proof the city, undercutting the familiar hand-wringing that usually sets in when local projects run up against manufactured crises.
This is what Money on the Left has argued all along: money isn’t some distant pool of permission. It’s a means of weaving together the diverse, often overlooked capacities we already provision for each other. But that’s not just a technical point. It’s an invitation to cut through the old cautious scripts and replace them with stories so textured, so flexible, so participatory, they practically insist we jump in and try something new.

(Un)conditional Openness: Towards a Neochartalist Theory of Money and Trust

In this special episode, Rob Hawkes joins Scott Ferguson and Will Beaman to discuss his new article “(Un)conditional Openness: Towards a Neochartalist Theory of Money and Trust,” which was recently published in Money on the Left: History, Theory, Practice. The conversation traces the development of Rob’s long-standing interest in theories of trust from his doctoral research in literary studies towards an increasing fascination with the topic of money which eventually led him to MMT, neochartalism and the Money on the Left project. Rob recalls a jarring moment when, having become excited by the possibility of bringing MMT into his research on literature and trust, he realised that some neochartalists reject the idea that money is trust-based. Determined to think this relationship through in greater depth, Rob’s article reaches the conclusion that neochartalism demands a re-theorisation of the concept of trust itself. In this wide-ranging conversation, Rob, Scott, and Will work through some of the key moves the article makes, including the problematisation of barter-like theories of “calculative trust,” its consideration of the connection between trust and vulnerability, and the way trusting blurs the distinction between conditionality and unconditionality (as alluded to in the article’s title). Finally, the discussion addresses links between trust, the university (as an institution), and the uni currency proposal, and situates Rob’s work within the heterodox and heterogeneous interdisciplinary academic, para-academic, and extra-academic field that is contemporary neochartalism.

Visit our Patreon page here: https://www.patreon.com/MoLsuperstructure

Music by Nahneen Kula: www.nahneenkula.com

Legal & Political Foundations of Capitalism with Jamee K. Moudud

Heterodox economist Jamee K. Moudud returns to Money on the Left to discuss his new book, Legal and Political Foundations of Capitalism: The End of Laissez-Faire? (Routledge, 2025).

The phrase “institutions matter” is a common refrain among economists, including many who have proposed progressive alternatives to free market fundamentalism. For Moudud, however, this proposition doesn’t go far enough, leaving a host of problematic assumptions unquestioned. To remedy this, Moudud draws on the Original Institutional Economics and American Legal Realist traditions to propose a robust theory of legal institutionalism or institutional political economy.

At its core, Moudud argues, society is a political community founded on property rights, money, credit, constitutional law, and legally-endowed corporations. From this premise, he concludes that laissez-faire has never truly existed and that seemingly natural dichotomies between “state intervention” and “deregulation” or “free markets” and “market failures” are as baseless as they are false. Moudud’s book, by contrast, urges us to engage with legal-economic theory and history to understand what institutions are and what economic regulation truly means. He asks: How does law order the economy? How does money shape power relations?

Legal and Political Foundations of Capitalism should be of interest to readers of economics, law, and public policy, as well as those in international and development studies or anyone seeking to explore progressive alternatives in this period of multiple crises.

Visit our Patreon page here: https://www.patreon.com/MoLsuperstructure

Music by Nahneen Kula: www.nahneenkula.com

Transcript

This transcript has been edited for readability.

Scott Ferguson 

Jamee Moudud, welcome to Money on the Left. I should say, welcome back to Money on the Left

Jamee Moudud 

Thank you so much for the invitation. It’ll be a lot of fun talking to the two of you. 

Scott Ferguson 

We’ve invited you to speak with us yet again. I think you were first on Money on the Left in our inaugural first year. I think it was back in 2018.  

Jamee Moudud 

I think it was ages ago. 

Scott Ferguson 

At the time we spoke to you about the law and political economy and modern monetary theory nexus with a special concentration on questions of power. At the time, I believe that you told us you were working on a book which, as for those of us who write books, we know these are a long time in the making. 

Finally, you’ve written the book. The book has been recently published with Routledge. The title of the book is Legal and Political Foundations of Capitalism and the subtitle provocative poses the question, The End of Laissez Faire? Welcome to Money on the Left, and I’m going to love to talk to you about your book.

Do you want to tell our listeners who were not familiar with your first interview, which everybody should go back and listen to, a little bit about your background and how you came to write this book. 

Jamee Moudud 

The background is, depending on how far you want to go, but in a previous life, I used to be an engineer. As an engineer, my politics changed. That was at Cornell. Then there was a professor there who suggested in the Department of City and Regional Planning that I go to the New School for Social Research to get my PhD in Economics. 

I had taken my first course in the government department on Marx with Susan Buck-Morss. That was an inspirational course for me. I was introduced to the Frankfurt School and Marx and all this. I went to the New School to get my PhD in Economics and became very interested in Marx. 

I joined Sarah Lawrence College once I finished my doctorate. That’s been an incredible journey for me because I was really enmeshed in this culture, which is interdisciplinary. There’s no disciplinary boundaries, entering into conversations with students and colleagues about Economics, but in conversation with history or politics. 

That kind of shaped the way I think about these issues. Then at some point, I think it had to do with the question of taxation, because I’ve been teaching courses on fiscal sociology. That tradition at Sarah Lawrence, I realized that I really don’t understand taxation, and economists, including heterodox economists. I was a heterodox economist. 

I don’t really like this term, but I use the term critical political economy. In my book, I realized that I just didn’t know what taxation means. We just take the small “t” in these equations, and we just run with that, whether we are in the classical or in the critical tradition. 

That was the rabbit hole for me. Once you understand that taxation falls on property and property rights and all this, like stocks and flows. Taxation is a flow, but it falls on a stock which is property. Then I said, well, I don’t know anything about property and the rest is history. 

Then I said, okay, I really need to understand this. I understood vaguely that, of course, property is a legal category, but what’s the relationship between law and economics? Then I realized, to my horror, as I started studying this stuff that there is an established law and economics tradition which dominates global and national policymaking and critical political economists have nothing as a rebuttal to New Institutional Economics, in particular Douglass North. This is the dominant paradigm, as we know, but I didn’t find any useful critique from the left, except in very broad strokes. They support austerity and central bank independence, but that’s not enough. 

Scott Ferguson 

Those are epiphenomenal in a certain way. 

Jamee Moudud 

Exactly. Also, and you must be knowing this too, Scott, that ever since Alice Amsden’s  book came out in the late 1980s on South Korean industrialization, there’s been huge literature, like Alice Amsden and then Robert Wade  and Ha-Joon Chang about the role of the state in in terms of industrialization. 

This was a challenge to the Washington Consensus. Everybody in the critical political economy tradition, that’s like your baby econ in graduate school. After a while, I became a little tired of listening to the same thing because it was the same incantation about the role of the state. I just started to think that now there’s something incomplete here. 

I mean, I get it, but there are variants of public policies with regard to economic and social development. A lot of this was literature focused on East Asia and this authoritarian period, which, needless to say, I’m not very sympathetic to. But virtually nobody really spoke much to the social democratic versions of these kinds of policies and especially in the postwar period: 50s and 60s. 

This is a time where you have a powerful labor movement and social democratic parties with at least some kind of a commitment to social justice. I felt like there’s something over here that needs to be understood analytically. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what that was. By this stroke of luck 

I came across Martha  McCluskey, whom we all know and admire and Christine Desan. 

Scott Ferguson 

We’ve interviewed her on the show. 

Jamee Moudud 

They really played such an important role in helping me think about the integral role of law with respect to the economy, not just the sideshow aspects of it. Every time I tell a critical political economist that law is kind of important, they say, “yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s important,  but let’s all first of all deal with the economy. Then we deal with law and politics.” I’m like, “no, I don’t think that’s the way to go.” 

Scott Ferguson 

From the point of view of somebody who is trained as a film and media studies scholar, the way you articulate this commitment to law as being constitutive reminds me of certain ways in media studies that scholars will make similar moves. 

They want to imagine that media are constitutive of social reality. So often it’s treated, to use this term again, as epiphenomenal.  

Jamee Moudud 

That’s so interesting. That is fascinating 

Scott Ferguson 

Too often it’s like, what happens when individuals encounter media, rather than how is media shaping and constituting social reality in the first place? Right. Between economics and law, and especially in the orthodox model, you have this kind of premediated origin story where things begin from a place of pre mediation and that’s the economy. Later you can have interventions of the state or law or the legal system. 

Jamee Moudud 

Absolutely. I just found that for myself. If you think about three broad intellectual traditions in critical political economy. One would be the Marxist tradition, the other would be the post-Keynesian tradition, and the third would be feminist economics. With the honorable exception of the feminists, the other two really articulate this kind of epiphenomenal view.  

Certainly in the Marxist tradition and Marxist economics, law and politics is part of the base superstructure argument. For the Post-Keynesian (PK) tradition, it’s not that they necessarily say that, but the whole story of the New Deal, for example, which the PK tradition relies so much on and I think in critical political economy, the New Deal plays a very important role both for the Marxists and for the Post Keynesians in that the post Keynesians kind of emphasize all that the state did and for the Marxists, what the state could not do. This is the seesaw effect on both sides. In the meantime, neither side talks about President Roosevelt’s “Brains Trust,” and the fact that these scholars in the brains trust were all lawyers and institutional economists trained in this tradition that I talk about in this book. They were thinking about markets very in a very thoughtful way. It was not just about state intervention or nonintervention, but it was something different. I really, for the life of me, couldn’t figure out why there was this blindness to this way of thinking about politics and economics. The exceptions in critical political economists were the feminists, because, in talking to them, it’s not that they would necessarily deal with this tradition, but they really understood that institutions and the cultures that shape institutions and are shaped by them, play a really central role in market relations. For example, there is this false dichotomy between the market and what happens in the household. 

There was this classic article by…who was it? It was about the unhappy marriage between Marxism and feminism. I think there was an article like that. I think that’s the point, where we focus on class but who are we talking about? Women? Are we talking about black people or are we talking about black women? I mean, like, what are we talking about here? 

It’s very odd. What is determining class, what is determining class’s intersection with race and gender. Then we’re talking about other forms of inequalities. That’s left under theorized. It’s more descriptive. “Oh yeah. We know that there’s racial or gender discrimination, but first of all, let’s deal with the economy and class relations.” 

Scott Ferguson 

Can I ask you – I guess it’s sort of personal – but I think it picks up on the history and the sociology of knowledge and collaboration. How did you stumble upon McCluskey’s work – and you are good friends now. How did this even happen in the first place? 

I will say that, in many ways, I was in my field and subfields for years yearning for – it’s easy for me to say in retrospect – the kinds of things I’m doing now but didn’t really have access. I didn’t even know where to go. It just so happens that some contingent circumstance led to another. 

So how did you make connections? 

Jamee Moudud 

Yeah, that’s an interesting one. It happened through an interlinked series of issues. One was I had co-organized with a colleague a conference at Sarah Lawrence on the Global South with the focus on South Asia, Pakistan, India, and so on. 

Scott Ferguson 

What year was this? 

Jamee Moudud 

This was in 2014. Spring of 2014. We raised some money. It was a really great three-day conference. One of the issues that came up in that conference was the question of taxation on land and property. This came up over and over again. I’m driving home at the end of this conference one night on the highway, and I’m thinking about exactly this question of taxation, which I talked about earlier.  I don’t really get it. 

Property, land and property, do I know property? So, there’s that. That was already getting the mind thinking. I came home and then I had to take my younger daughter, who was little at the time, to dance. I took her to the dance academy, and I’m waiting outside to pick her up, and I’m on my phone and I’m really intrigued. 

My brain is like that line from Dylan, “I’ve got a head full of ideas that’s driving me insane.” Yeah, that’s me. I’m sitting there on my phone. I’m thinking, law…capitalism. Has this been written about? Is this a thing? Chris Desan had been running our program at Harvard Law School on law and capitalism, something like this. 

Her name popped up. When I got to my laptop at home, I just wrote to her and I said, “I don’t think this person will respond.” These people are busy. Who has time to respond? This was late spring. Which professor has time in late spring to respond to a stranger? 

She, very graciously, responded to me within like two days. That was so nice to hear, and I was just really touched. She said, “well, this is really interesting that you’re interested” because I told her a little bit about my interests. She said, “Have you read Robert Hale?” I said, “never heard of him.” 

See, that’s the thing. Never heard of Robert Hale. She sent me Robert Gordon’s “Critical Legal Histories.” This classic paper. She said, “have you read this stuff?” I sat myself down and read it and when I read Hale, there’s that classic article on coercion under a non – coercive state, the 1923 article, “Coercion and Distribution in a Supposedly Non-coercive State”. 

I said, “Jeez, this is Adam Smith, this is Marx, this is classical political economy.” We have the formal trappings of equality in a bourgeois democracy, but we have inequality. I said, “oh, but there must be like a gazillion people who’ve written about this.”  So, then I had to go search.  

I studied Sraffa in graduate school, of course, which every self-respecting heterodox economist or critical political columnist does. I said, “oh, there must be literature on Sraffa and Hale or Smith and Hale,” and found nothing. What? So then, through one thing or the other, in my search, I came across the name of David Grewal. Oh, I’m sorry, one more thing. 

We can talk about this later on, I don’t know if you guys have heard about the Cambridge Capital Controversy and the capital critique. Yeah, you’ve heard of that. Okay. I won’t go into that right now, but John Robinson’s classic critique of marginal productivity theory and the production function, and there was this whole debate in which finally, Paul Samuelson in 1966, in a symposium on the Quarterly Journal of Economics, said that John Robinson, you’re right. 

Marginal productivity theory doesn’t work, which raised the question, “Okay, so if the distribution of income between wages and profits is not determined by supply and demand, or “market forces,” then what? Heterodox economics kind of stops there. Right? So, yeah, it’s the institutions. Okay. But that’s fine. So, I said, maybe there’s some law person who’s written about the capital critique. 

It turned out that David Grewal had. He was at Yale Law School at the time. I wrote to him, again, as a totally unknown person. He responded almost immediately, and he put me in touch – he cc’d, I think – Martha McCluskey in that. Then Martha McCluskey wrote to me. 

She wrote to me and she said, “would you like to come to this APPEAL (Association for the Promotion of Political Economy and the Law) workshop,” it’s a two-day workshop at Suny Buffalo Law School. 

“Would you like to come to it and talk about income distribution?” I said, “I’d love to.” I went up there and then Christine Desan  had invited me to, 2- or 3-day event at Harvard. This was around summer of 2014, summer of 2015, this time period, maybe 2015. 

That was when I started to understand law. I understood that this is unexplored, and the law is playing this constitutive role and that law is not neutral, something apolitical, but instead profound. It’s political at its core. I met with Duncan Kennedy. I reached out to him. He reached back. We had coffee together when I went up to Harvard for the first time in 2015. He said, “would you like to have coffee?” I met him at a cafe. It was pouring outside, and he was so gracious. He said afterwards, “Can I drop you to your hotel?” and I said, “no, no, no, I can make it back.”  I make it back in the pouring rain to my hotel. 

He then emailed to say, “Are you okay?” This is so, so kind. In talking to Duncan and to Chris and to Martha and all these other folks, I realized how important politics is to law. Not just important, but it’s integral. It’s the entry point to culture because, whose politics are we talking about? 

I mean, it’s an obvious point, right?  So again, that’s when I began to be very skeptical of the word “state,” because state, used by everybody, implies this monolithic, brooding, omnipotent institution that just barks out orders and does this, that and the other. Of course, that’s not true. 

I mean, I wouldn’t want that to be true anyways, but it’s not even true even in an authoritarian capitalist country. There’s something else going on, which is not about the state. We use that as a shorthand in politics. Then the question is: whose politics? It should be pretty obvious here that we’re talking about a contextually changing political framework which creates the basis of the legal framework of society and that ultimately the economy is – I think it was Roberto Unger and also Abba Lerner who actually talked about institutions as frozen politics in the sense that they are the outcomes of what happens before and that those institutions’ property rights and contracts are an autonomous arena whereby people interact with each other and markets and firms compete and this, that and the other. This is the domain where all economists focus on modeling that economy. 

Whether it be Minsky or Marx’s falling rate of profit or whatever it is. They’re trying to find regularities within or in that economy. That’s the whole story, I think, more or less in the broad Marxist tradition, trying to find patterns within capitalism, which is fine. I’m not disrespecting that, but I think it’s incomplete because they recognize that there are institutional variants of capitalism, but they will also say, “yeah, but there are these patterns that are common.” 

Whether you’re talking about the United States now or 100 years ago or Germany or South Africa or whatever, there are these variants, obviously, but here are these common patterns. Let’s say equalization of profit rates or recurrence of general economic crises. My response comes from that tradition because I was trained as a Marxist economist, but when I started getting into this area of study, I realized I could easily turn that argument around. I could say, “yeah, there are these common patterns, but there are also these variations. And how do you theorize that it’s not just a question of recognizing there are institutional variants of capitalism but analytically understanding this is the question?

That’s where I began to sort of break away from that sort of way of thinking. Move away from that sort of the econo-speak, as it were, to the kind of work that I’ve been doing for the last ten years, which is what we’re talking about right now. That’s a kind of a long-winded response to you, but I think that’s the way I think about this. 

William Saas 

Thank you for sharing your experience. It can be a pretty vertiginous experience to come to those questions the way that you did. The way that you narrate it is so lovely to listen to and then also to kind of identify with because I think that’s the story of a lot of us in this space. We all have been coming to questions that there are no clear disciplinary answers for and having to look into others. 

Once you do, you realize that there is no alternative to interdisciplinarity when it comes to the kinds of questions that we’re asking. 

Jamee Moudud 

Absolutely. That’s for sure.  

William Saas 

I identify with you as well, finding ready conversation and camaraderie with a few folks, enough to sustain you into the line of inquiry that you started on. This brings us nicely to your book. I wonder if you could, for our audience, walk us through the kind of big picture moves that you’re making here. 

What’s that story? We’ll probably stop you and chat about different portions throughout, but what’s the story of your book? 

Jamee Moudud 

Okay. First of all, let’s start with the title, which you already gave, but the first part of the title is a play on John R. Commons’ book, Legal Foundational Capitalism. My book’s title is Legal and Political Foundations of Capitalism, which is for reasons that we just talked about and as I point out in the intro to the book in the subtitle The End of Laissez Faire? followed by a  question mark, that question mark is probably the most important part of this title and it represents the whole book. 

When I read Keynes’ classic article The End of Laissez Faire with no question mark, in which he said that following the slump of the 1920s we don’t want this 19th century Laissez Faire, we want state intervention. I read it and I said, “no, I don’t agree with you.” 

I’m sorry John Maynard Keynes; I don’t agree with you because it was a heroic rewriting of British economic history. That was really the path forward to the question mark, basically saying that there is no question of ending Laissez Faire either then or now. 

It never existed. It’s like the foundational myth of capitalism. Even the authors on the left will invoke it. 

Scott Ferguson 

Can I quickly interject, I had this kind of moment of revelation. It’s very similar when reading Adorno and Horkheimer for the millionth time over, and they have passages in their work in which they suggest that 19th century European economy was legitimately laissez faire and that, even though it was capitalistic, in a dialectical way there was nevertheless some commitment to individual freedom. 

We have since lost that in the age of monopoly capitalism and I think when I was like 22 years old and reading this in grad school, I would just nod along, right? But at a certain point when I got to these passages, they stuck out and I thought to myself, “no, no, no way, you’re taking the bait.” It was never this way. 

Jamee Moudud 

Absolutely. When you were talking, Scott, I was just thinking this is also a heroic rewriting of history by white men. We’re talking about slavery till 1863. What are we talking about over here? Women did not have the right to vote until 1919 in the United States, and I believe 1927 in the UK. 

What are we talking about? Like, are we talking about here? These are authors on the left broadly and they’re arguing like a John Locke saying this is the realm of freedom and then along comes a big bad state.  I decided in writing this book that what I want to do is pursue a method. 

The question of methodology is very important. That method is the bread and butter of all training in programs like the New School, where I got my PhD, or UMass-Amherst or any of these places, which is that theory is constructed in dialog with evidence, including historical evidence, history of economic thought and economic history. This is very different from the deductivist approach of neoclassical economics. I follow that same way of thinking about the engagement of theory with history, but for me, it was legal economic theory and legal economic history. I understood very clearly that you can’t really talk about theory without doing so. I should also mention another person who I owe a lot to, although he’s probably forgotten me. That is Morton Horwitz. I met him. He’s a lovely man. He gave me his folder on a course of economic regulation that he taught for a long time at Harvard Law School. 

I said, “I just can’t figure out where I’m going intellectually” and he said, “Well, take a look at this.” In reading Horwitz was really important for me because you understood going back to the early years of the Republic, property was not discovered, but it was constructed, reconstructed, fought over, and that the judges were not neutral. 

The judges were making policy, as he pointed out over and over again, and thereby distributing power relations within society. In this book, I focus on, first of all, the original institutional economists and the American legal realists as the theoretical launching off point. We can come back to that in a little bit, but I wanted to focus on money, property, as the core aspects of the economy and the business corporation. 

I thought to myself, I want to construct a theory which would weave through the theme of power, because that was what I took away as one of the most important aspects of Hale and all these folks. It’s about the question of power. Then, I wanted to also write about authoritarianism and Hayek. I’d been obsessed with Hayek for a long time. I teach Hayek, yeah. I think you’re smiling.  

Scott Ferguson 

Know your enemy. 

Jamee Moudud 

I totally agree. I teach Hayek in every course, and everybody would think that I’m some sort of a closeted libertarian. I connected that tradition of liberalism to authoritarianism. What I wanted to do was really make this book about an analysis of power in different contexts. In regard to money, for example, one of the first questions I asked myself when I read Desan’s book was, “How does this connect to the endogenous money tradition?”

The endogenous money tradition is what we cut our teeth on. How do you reckon with that? Then it struck me. Hayek really helped me here. Reading Hayek made it very clear that that strand of liberalism conceptualizes a society in pre political terms. 

He says very explicitly that society comes first and that’s where you have law. To his credit, all his writings were on law, but law itself arises spontaneously through some bizarre process that I’m still trying to figure out right after having written this book. It arises through some spontaneous order and the monetary system just arises in that particular way. 

Menger and Hayek come in this tradition. You can situate endogenous money in that approach too because you could just say just “yeah, Banks just figured it out with credit.” I believe there’s a French tradition, in the way that there was this classic debate between the Currency School and the Banking School in England, there was obviously a French equivalent to that. The French authors who were sort of more in line with the banking school were libertarians because they actually saw money just arising.  I said, “no, this can’t be right. This is obviously not true. It’s not even historically true.” 

I argued that, in fact, society is a political community. That changes the story completely because in a society, you can’t really have a society without an institutional framework. You have formal institutions, which is law, and informal institutions, which is language and culture that enmesh with each other. 

On that basis, you have the construction and reconstruction of any society distributing gradations of power within it across race and class and gender and all this and of course, its monetary system. If you come back to the endogenous money tradition, endogenous money is really about profit seeking behavior by banks. All profits seeking behavior, all market behavior, are embedded in this political community. 

Here, Karl Polanyi really helped me a lot also because, money, land and labor are all fictitious, as he puts it, and that laissez faire was planned, as he famously said. Then I understood money is a legal institution that has a political basis.This is shaped by its governance. Is it white folks? Is it colonial power? Is it a so-called neutral set of technocrats sitting in a central bank in a democracy? Whatever it is. That’s really the basis of the institutional hardwiring of the system. That is the basis of rethinking the relationship between economics and politics, which is very different from the libertarian view. 

One final issue was, which you see in the forward to the book by Desan, I have actually conjoined money and property rights. You’ve got property rights people who don’t deal with money and with money, you have people who don’t deal with property rights. 

As a store of wealth, money is property. It’s a particular kind of property that we can exchange. It’s a universal equivalent, but in a particular jurisdiction. If you say that it is property then can you apply Hohfeld to study property, then you can apply Hohfeld to money. 

Scott Ferguson 

They’re both permission structures. 

Jamee Moudud 

Absolutely. Permissions and prohibitions and whatever that may be. It will have regressive consequences. It’ll have progressive consequences, whatever that is. Then you get the variations of capitalism in terms of its monetary system and its property rights across space and time or different national contexts across history. I thought to myself, I don’t want to make this a book just about theory, because, you know, that’s not the way I do things. 

I’m going to give tons and tons of examples to say, “here is a way of rethinking capitalism.” I can give you evidence from not just the United States. I deliberately chose a comparative international historical framework. One of the chapters deals with three constitutions; the US, German and South African constitutions, as a way of thinking about property rights in constitutions. 

Thinking about how constitutional property rights interlink with other aspects of these constitutions and the systems of public finance. I argue that even if you have an elastic supply of public finance, if you’ve got a first-generation constitution, then it’s very hard. There are no economic, social, or environmental rights in the constitutional framework. You can have an elastic public finance, but who is benefiting? On the other hand, if you do have a progressive constitution, but you don’t have an elastic system of public finance, we’re talking about Europe here, then you see there’s a conflict right there. South Africa is a really great case in point. It’s a great constitution and an independent central bank, which is in fact in the constitution of that country. You all know about the discontent in that country for the black majority, 30 years after liberation. There’s this massive amount of inequality where you have a constitutionally protected right to public housing. 

That right by itself means very little if the state’s hands are legally tied in terms of actually creating public housing. Both of these two things are important. Coming back to your question about the themes, this question of monetary hardwiring also constrains policymaking, which also then provides the basis of authoritarianism. Once you say that you can go and just elect whoever you want to, you really cannot do anything about economic and social policies that tends to create, ultimately, the space for far-right politics. It’s easy to scapegoat and all that. One of the chapters deals with this sort of supposedly odd bedfellows, liberal realism, which is extolling the virtues of freedom and liberty, and fascism. What we’re seeing in our current moment is the flip side. I argue in one of the chapters that this seeming innocence of liberalism, of free markets plus democracy, you get where we are today in our current moment, where the Washington Consensus formula has collapsed in some sense. 

Scott Ferguson 

I want to flag some macro stakes that have become clear to me in reading the book and listening to you try to characterize your main moves. Coming back to what most economists and even heterodox economists do, they take, what I would call, a reified vision of the so-called economy as autonomous or quasi autonomous and then try to find what you call patterns. 

We can use the Marxist language of the laws of motion. You’re saying that – and I think we fully agree on this show – you’re missing this whole underlying layer. That whole underlying layer isn’t just a kind of locus of causality that has been foreclosed, but it’s also a locus of contestation and opening that up anew has powerful consequences. 

In my experience, and again, I’m not a heterodox economist, so I can’t fully speak to the field from within it, but I increasingly feel I am not convinced that it is okay to just kind of keep tracking the laws of motion in that rarefied realm, even from a radical leftist point of view, because it because it really is distorting and false. It mischaracterizes tensions and contradictions. It misconstrues what those contradictions are. I think you gave a great example. I think a fundamental contradiction in the constitutional construction of modern nation states is the various ways that literal constitutions construct property and money and the public purse, versus the seemingly progressive or regressive kind of social aims of that Constitution. 

That is a fundamental contradiction that is not legible, certainly not through neoclassical economics, but it’s not really legible in Marxism and it’s not even legible in Keynesianism, at least as it’s normally practiced. This, to me, just cracks open causal foundations, the analysis of phenomena like contradictions and their reverberating effects. Suddenly the so-called economy looks very different because you’re not you’re not approaching it from the same point of view. It opens up new possibilities for transformation. I’m not throwing any particular person under the bus, but I’ve been to several heterodox economics conferences and even critical legal studies conferences and even some of these great money conferences put on by Desan and others. 

Very often a trope will come up when you start bringing up big progressive policies like a federal job guarantee and inevitably, somebody will raise their hand in the audience and say, like, “but is that possible under capitalism?” What does that imply? First of all, we’re not saying it’s easy or that it’ll ever come to pass without a lot of hard fighting and work. 

What that implies is that the hard wiring, so to speak, is so hard wired that the laws of motion might as well be Newtonian and absolute. 

You can’t even, from the left, imagine or fight for or theorize or culturally explore what a job guarantee might even look or feel like or how it might be implemented. You’re not even allowed because we have to self-censor. We have to self-censor because, sorry, the laws of motion do not permit it. 

I think this is one of the central obstacles of left analysis and praxis that your book is opening up. 

Jamee Moudud 

Yeah, I totally agree. It’s interesting that you mentioned Newtonian analysis because I’m working on a new project – this probably is going to be another book – which is about visions of the market. That’s another whole conversation to have. I do think that coming back to that issue, as I point out in the book and I think you said it exactly right, saying that things could be changed for the better doesn’t mean that you just wave a magic wand and boom, it’s going to happen. 

Nobody’s saying that. In terms of theory, I draw a connection between Hohfeld, K. William Kapp , and John Maurice Clark, who actually wrote about social cost theory, that is to say, how corporations and businesses inflict social cost. I argue that, in fact, the extent to which corporations inflict social costs, such as environmental destruction or greenhouse gases, etc., etc., that that’s a function of the bundle of rights that they have. 

What kind of rights are encoded in what a corporation can do? Can it steal your and my data? This next book is going to be on, partly, on artificial intelligence. This conversation that we’re having in this platform, to what extent is a software actually taking our data, etc., that’s not just some neutral market forces. 

The law is enabling certain kinds of actions, which are legal. Saying that social costs could be reduced, that one could constrain tech or one could constrain industry from pumping out greenhouse gases and so on, it’s not that nobody’s going to say that’s easy. In fact, this is where historical analysis was very important. Look at the National Environmental Policy Act of 1969. 

Before that, industry had a free hand in dumping as much chemical waste as they wanted. There’s no question that the environmental movement of the 1960s and maybe earlier, too, eventually changed the politics and the culture so that even the Republicans understood that. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to drink contaminated water and smoke and inhale smoke filled air. 

Thanks to landmark environmental policies or the consumer rights movement of the 1970s, we now take seat belts for granted. I always joke to my students, have you ever seen those old cars of the 1950s and 60s? They were death traps and the only safety measures were brakes and doors. How did seatbelts become mandatory? 

Or airbags later on? It came through this massive consumer rights movement, which industry fought tooth and nail against like it fought tooth and nail against environmental policy through the 1970s and 80s. None of these changes really just came about. They came about through a long struggle. You could always say, did they change the laws of motion of capitalism? Maybe not, but did they make the lives of people better? You would not be subject to crippling neck and facial injuries from a car accident like you would be in the 1950s? If you think about global healthcare systems, the fact that we do have universal health care in so many industrialized countries, and the fact that this is possible in the global South also, this is where the question of money comes in. 

Does that make a real difference to people’s lives? I think it would be kind of absurd to evoke the laws of motion of capitalism to get it. Just one more thing that struck me too, many of these changes in a progressive direction, if you look through the factory acts of the 19th century all the way to the 1970s, they happened in good and bad times. Capital was constrained to reduce social costs even when the economy at times was in crises, like the 1970s. 

It’s not quite correct to say that somehow in the final instance, politics has got to obey the laws of motion when the rate of profit has collapsed, there’s really nothing that one can do. That begs the question, how did these important environmental and consumer rights policies get implemented in the 1970s, when, by all accounts, the global economy was in a slump? 

In the case of Germany, the Co-Determination Act of 1976 was enacted, in the case of Italy, I think that they had this very important public health care legislation put in place in ‘78. You see all these anomalies coming up in different contexts in tough times, which I think raises the question. 

How are you thinking about the relationship between politics and economics? Oh, one final one. You remember the East Asian financial crisis of the late 1990s, and Thailand was the epicenter. That was 1998. But in 2002, I believe they actually created – I don’t know what the political circumstances were – the national health insurance system. This is a country in the global South. I think it was 2002. I think it was called the “30 Baht program” or Universal Coverage Scheme (UCS)Universal Coverage Scheme (UCS). I think that’s a big deal. I think we need to be cognizant of that as we’re desperately searching for alternatives. 

There are these instances that we need to understand. What are those ways that we can think about these issues? 

Scott Ferguson 

It’s really reminding me of another critical preoccupation I have, which is with critical and left theories of crisis that emerge from this dedication to a certain set of laws of motion. I find that most theories of crisis – it’s not to say that crises don’t occur, of course they occur, they occur all the time – but there’s a kind of necessary mechanical thinking that often creeps in that makes me want to just throw them all out. To come back to this theme, they’re so disabling. I think all these historical examples show us that. 

In the midst of these so-called crises, that’s when you can innovate and rewire the hard wiring toward beneficial ends. 

Jamee Moudud 

One thing that I’ve thought of doing in the book and ran out of space to do, but it would have been a fun thing to do. I think I might do this. Just take one country for which we have a lot of evidence. I don’t know, let’s just take the UK and sort of map various Factory Acts and their social acts. Map them against what Marxists call phases of accumulation and upturns and downturns. It would be a great way to sort of push back at this argument that many of these Factory Acts actually happen with no correlation.  

That’s my basic point. It’s pretty easy to show this. I’ve sort of casually looked at some of this information, but there’s no correlation here. The way one phrases the critique is important, it doesn’t mean that it’s an easy process that you just wave your wand and all that, but there’s a kind of reductionism that somehow in the final instance is the economy. 

In the current moment, when we are facing an existential threat as a civilization because of global heating. I don’t even call it climate change, which is a euphemism. It’s a global heating, an extreme weather. You’ve got powerful sectors of the capitalist class, not just the fossil fuel industry, but all those that benefit from it, like the financial sector, this, that and the other. There’s this interlocked web of power that is preventing what is an existential question now. What are we then as theorists going to say? “Well, okay, let the planet just destroy itself.”  

Scott Ferguson 

It’s the laws of motion! 

Jamee Moudud 

The laws of motion. I kid you not, I’ve actually seen articles coming out by various people about our current crisis and the deep structural problems of capitalist accumulation. I’m going, seriously? I mean, is this where we’re going with the deep structural problem? 

Scott Ferguson 

One of my pet peeves is that when Marxists start citing Larry Summers on secular stagnation, like, come on. 

Jamee Moudud 

Come on. I mean, I don’t know if this is the space to talk about this, but I do think that there is a contradiction in volume one of Capital

Scott Ferguson 

Go for it. Where else are you going to talk about it? 

Jamee Moudud 

I didn’t do this in the book. This is the first time that I’m going to do this. I think that Marx contradicts himself. Yeah, I studied Capital and taught it for many years. The contradiction is the following and I think it relates to actually our broader conversation. The first part of volume one, money just comes up. It just arises. 

Scott Ferguson 

Like Hayek, right? 

Jamee Moudud 

Exactly. Hayek and Menger. If you scoot forward in volume one too, I think chapter 31, he sounds like an LPE person. In fact, the bulk of Capital Volume One from bloody legislation to the Factory Acts, which comes earlier on. Then he talks explicitly about money in chapter 31, where he talks about the national debt, remember? There’s a really great passage on the Bank of England and the state’s role and all this kind of stuff. 

There’s a contradiction over what the theory of money is here. I thought, am I going crazy or am I missing something because, does money come up organically or is it the product of politics? I reached out to some Marxist economists, and I will not mention their names here, and I said, is there a contradiction here? 

They said, “Jamee, thank you so much for your email. No, I don’t see the problem.”  

“Why not?”  

“In the beginning of volume one, there is no state. There’s value creation, there’s value theory and then he brings in the state later on. It’s like a level of abstraction story.  

So, I said, “Wait a second. How can you have value creation without property rights? Contracts.” How can you be abstracting from the state in the beginning, you’re basically saying that class relations occur before politics, is that where you are going? Well, what does that even mean? I would much rather go then to the neoclassical side, because to their credit, the distribution of income is determined in the pre political space and marginal productivity theory. Okay fine. We don’t agree with it. I mean it’s a nonsense theory, I agree, but it’s at least consistent. But with Marx, you’re talking about an explicitly class-based analysis of the distribution of income. In which case, how are you possibly then abstracting from politics and law at the beginning of volume one? 

If you’re abstracting from politics and if you bring in politics and law, then that completely changes the theory of money at the beginning of Volume 1. 

Scott Ferguson 

I would say in response, this makes a lot of sense to me. I will also say that, to me, this is a symptom of Marx’s liberalism. You can say that he’s making an immanent critique of liberalism, but I’m not convinced that he achieves escape velocity. 

Jamee Moudud 

With any kind of theorist from the 19th century who’s written in a different language there’s always a question of translation into English. Again, the base superstructure model, which I critique in the book, he didn’t discuss that in his later works in volume one and two and three, but there’s an explicit discussion of that in the earlier Marx. Now, the question is, maybe he changed his mind, whatever it is, but I don’t know. In any case, there’s a clear contradiction that I see here in Volume One. I thought to myself, “I’m going to land myself in such trouble over here,” because he repeats the same trope that competition occurs before Leviathan, as he puts it. Leviathan, being the state. What? Are you saying business competition occurs pre-politically? This idea, as you’re quite right, it actually filters into contemporary economics and on the Marxist side. Not Marxist social and political theorists or historians like E.P. Thompson, who famously debunked the base superstructure. It’s the economists that are the problem. 

Scott Ferguson 

It also informs the humanities as well. 

Jamee Moudud 

You mean the base superstructure? 

Scott Ferguson 

Yeah. I would say that for most humanists, they do not accept a naive base superstructure model. I think they would claim that it’s much more complicated in Marxist texts. Whether they’re thinking this through Althusser or any number of others like the British Cultural Studies School and Stuart Hall. There’s lots of ways of complicating base superstructure. 

I don’t think the humanities has a self-consciously naive base superstructure model, but I would nevertheless say that the problems that we are diagnosed facing are rampant. Even if it’s not a straightforward, naive, binary opposition, top down, it’s nevertheless still operative. 

Jamee Moudud 

Which I think is so strange because some of these cultural theorists have also written about colonialism. When you look at the colonial enterprise, you can clearly see this constitutive role of law. I mean, you can see it everywhere, but I’m just saying that as a way by which common law systems were actually state created and imposed in India and elsewhere. 

These were policies of the state. It’s not that the state came in afterwards. They’re aware of all of this.  I think the strength of engaging with these critical traditions in law is that you really begin to understand that this hardwiring cannot just need to happen and the question about who’s the agent behind the hardwiring and who’s contesting it and how is it contested. 

So, then you sort of change the story around and the analysis around. I think most of these authors, and I guess humanities would have the same issues. They don’t really deal with this critical tradition in law. 

William Saas 

I just keep thinking about Kalecki’s “Political Aspects of Full Employment” in the context of this conversation. I’m wondering if we can figure something out where we come up with a critical thinker quiz that we have people take. Read Kalecki’s “Political Aspects of Full Employment” and tell us what your conclusion is at the end. 

There’s an example of not too many years ago of a popular left magazine publishing something on that; about and around that article that draws the conclusion that political full employment is just not possible. That’s not the lesson. I’m thinking about that because this conversation in your book makes me think a lot about the kind of prescriptions that follow from accepting and inheriting, uncritically, some of these baseline assumptions. 

I would, as an aside, wonder if even accepting them uncritically is too charitable but rather accepting them as a condition of their continued scholarly existence and relevance. So much has been built on the foundations that we’re talking about here that to get to the bottom is a threatening and kind of, again, vertiginous experience. 

Not all of us are into that. Some of the prescriptions or sort of affective attitudes that I think we see flowing from this on the outcomes side is accelerationism. Accelerationism has been implied in some of the things that we’re talking about. 

We’re talking about laws of motion and defeatism and a kind of throwing your hands up precisely in moments of crisis when you need to sort of ditch the realism and get on with something else. Something affirmative and something more in the idealistic space, which is also may be uncomfortable for people who have been steeped in this kind of defeatist political realism. 

I want to put in a word for them, though. Is it not the case we’ve evoked – and this is going exactly the opposite way, maybe it doesn’t work and maybe I’ll edit it out. But the forces that are – and I’m saying forces in quotation scare quotes – are arrayed by law currently so aggressively and are so entrenched. 

Scott Ferguson 

And invisible. 

William Saas 

And invisible and omnipresent that one could forgive them for proceeding in this kind of realist – that isn’t quite so realist, because it’s not attending to things that we’re talking about here, but… 

01;08;09;23 – 01;08;16;27 

Scott Ferguson 

Can you be an LPE pessimist? Is there a place for the LPE pessimism? 

William Saas 

Is there a space? Where does the worst pessimism exist? Yeah. I mean, is pessimism permissible in this space? 

Jamee Moudud 

Okay. All right. That’s a really great question. One of the things that I really struggled with in this book, and I think I did a fairly decent job, is that I didn’t want to say that. I wanted to sort of break away from either an unambiguous, optimistic view – which I don’t believe in – and also this pessimistic view. 

I always tell my students that as a student or a scholar of history, I’m neither a pessimist or an optimist, but I’m a realist. What does that mean? That means that change is possible, but it is hard. It is really hard and it may take a long time. I don’t know where that puts me, but I think I’ve been influenced a lot in my thinking by Wolfgang Streeck, the German sociologist’s really great book Re-forming Capitalism. There’s a dash between Re and forming. In which he talks about the fact that progressive labor legislation, which is what he focuses on in that book, has been pushed back by employers over many decades in favor of them. Kathleen Thelen, a political scientist at MIT, talks about institutional variations and that that’s where the power dynamic shifts in different ways. 

My point here is to simply say that whether or not social costs can be of different kinds and can be reduced, social costs created by capital can be reduced. It’s not obvious that they can be reduced easily. One way to think about this article is to say, well, look at globalization. There’s always this threat of capital flight. That’s real. I think we have to face up to that coming on the left, which doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t struggle for these important social rights. But it’s an important issue, right? It’s an important constraint or an important impediment to change. We need to be aware of this and how do we then think about this issue in countries lower down in the international and monetary hierarchy. That’s a real issue. I do think that, for me, the pessimistic part is the threat of capital flight. But then I say to myself, yeah, but that’s always been the case. Capital, even if it doesn’t actually go to some other jurisdiction, can always just invest at home and it can invest in financialization and all the rest of it, which doesn’t create good jobs and such. 

That’s always there. I don’t like to use the word middle ground, because I know that as a connotations built into it, but I’m trying to swim away from either pessimism, which one version of that comes from a kind of an economic reductionism, and the other one is a kind of a Pollyannaish view that you just need the good guys in power and that’s the end of the story. This is something that we haven’t talked so much about in this conversation, but I think it’s sort of popped up a few times. We’ve talked about power, but one of the issues that I’ve dealt with in the book, and I want to explore this more, is language and how that informs the way we think and our belief systems. You could be on the receiving end of this factory dumping chemical waste into the river, but you still believe that there’s something called a free market and that that’s the notion of efficiency. That word “efficiency” is a trope, but it’s a very powerful cultural trope. 

Everybody will talk about market efficiency, even to those who are on the receiving end of the ravages of the market. As long as that belief system remains then the power remains invisible. If you look at the cover of the book, that cover symbolizes something that I’m trying to do over here, that in fact power comes from the invisible ways by which politics has structured economic and social life. We need to, first of all, bring it out of the shadows. Make the invisible hand visible. The visible hand of politics was always behind the so-called invisible. I feel like that’s one important step towards a progressive alternative to sort of break away from state intervention versus nonintervention. The liberals and the progressives will say, “we want more regulation.” Remember, in the wake of, let’s say, the global financial crisis, this was the same standard line. “We need more regulation.” The conservatives would say the opposite. The point is that, leaving aside certain illegalities, the global financial crisis and the subprime mortgage framework was built on the Commodity Futures Modernization Act, an act of Congress, the Gramm-Leach-Bliley Act (GLBA), 

The Depository Institutions Deregulation and Monetary Control Act of 1980. These were political decisions that created a legal basis for the growth of markets. I feel like people are not aware of something which is staring them in the face and that’s the power and the way by which power is exercised. 

Repeating that is, I think, very important. It’s a key piece of the puzzle. We don’t talk about it enough, this way of thinking about power, at least certainly not in economics. You can’t really talk about economic and social transformation, without, first of all, dealing with this crucial element of power. 

I’m very grateful that I’m having this conversation in this podcast because so much of the work that I see resonates with what I’ve seen my interest go into in this sort of cultural political economy. 

I don’t know if anybody is doing it, but culture is what’s behind the politics, which is behind the law, which is behind the economy. 

Scott Ferguson 

Yeah, and they’re always mixed up together. 

Jamee Moudud 

They are and they always have been. This current moment is nothing exceptional. It’s not at all exceptional. I think the power part is also something which has been around for a long time and has naturalized. You don’t think you can change it. 

Scott Ferguson 

I was going to ask you to speak in a little bit more detail about your analysis of colonial and imperial relations and developments specifically around constitutionality and public finance. This is one of those areas, not that there hasn’t been work done and you quote a lot of important work, and we’ve engaged with some of these authors on our own podcast, but I think this is another one of these areas of blindness, especially in the West. What are the political and legal conditions of possibility for the Global South debt crises, for example. You work through several different examples in the book, and I wanted to give you a platform to just talk a little bit more about that. 

Jamee Moudud 

Just a clarification, are you talking about the colonial period or are you talking about the post-colonial period? 

Scott Ferguson 

Both, but it’s up to you what you want to focus on here. 

Jamee Moudud 

I can do both. In terms of the colonial period, one of the things that I wanted to do was to say, there is this literature, Ha-Joon Chang’s classic book, Kicking Away the Ladder. Then you have Mehrsa Baradaran’s book about money and property.

I forget the book title exactly. She writes about banking and black banking. I thought to myself, when you look at the history of colonialism, one key issue is the way monetary systems were hardwired.I focused on England’s colonies of color versus the dominions such as Australia, New Zealand and South Africa. 

What I argued was that the way in which colonial systems of finance, public finance, central banking including, were promoted by the British in Australia, for example, or New Zealand, which were also very poor in the 19th century, gave legislatures far greater autonomy to promote economic, social and political development. By the time they become formally independent – I forget if it was the 1940s or whatever – they’re already in a place where, while much poorer compared to European countries, like New Zealand for example, they still have the basis of a pretty decent welfare state and a national health care system in the early 20th century. This freedom was not granted to the colonies of color. South Africa was different because there the South African Reserve Bank was created under the umbrella of the British Empire. Sir Henry Strakosch headed it. Strakosch pointed out that we need an elastic supply of credit to promote industrialization. Of course, that was for white folks, the white minority. The point here is that the design of monetary systems in the colonial period had two different logics and that, I argue, already set the stage for global inequalities way before the 1980s because a lot of the sort of issues of the Washington Consensus and so on tends to focus in the 1980s and 1990s and the debt crisis. But the roots of the problem lay much earlier, so that when many of these countries in the global South gained independence in the 1950s and 60s, they were already in a place, because of the prior way by which their monetary systems were hardwired, that put them way behind other colonies that were granted a better deal by England. 

There you get to at least one important aspect of what causes these roots. I don’t know if it’s an irony or if it is just one of these blindfolds, but when these European countries are industrializing after the Second World War, they pursue pretty sensible policies, including progressive constitutions, progressive use of monetary systems, the Bank of France and such, and the role of public banking of various kinds. 

In the case of Germany, it was this publicly owned bank which is very huge now. The KfW ( Kreditanstalt für Wiederaufbau or Credit Institute for Reconstruction) played a very important role in German reconstruction. This was not an opportunity that existed or was allowed or even in the consciousness of the newly decolonized countries in the global South. 

Part of it may be because many of these – and I’m just speculating over here because this is not something that I studied – leaders or movements that were genuinely popular nonetheless, in the global South, still swung towards being either free market or state socialism. 

These were ill equipped states. You had the same logic of corruption and all the rest of it, which ultimately leads to payments crises and swings towards the so-called free market in the IMF. But what is written out of history is the really crucial ways by which monetary systems were structured in the case of Europe, including the smaller countries in northern Europe, like Sweden and Finland, which have powerful labor movements. 

They pursued industrial and social policies that actually did a pretty good job. Why was this not even in the framework to think about? I think that’s the missing story. 

Scott Ferguson 

There’s so much to say. It affects me even just teaching canonical film studies. When I get to the topic of what’s called third cinema, which is a kind of counter cinema, revolutionary cinema of the 60s and 70s that still has influence today, but its heyday was in the 60s and 70s all across the global South and Latin America and Africa and elsewhere. 

The scholarly framing, but also the polemical framing within the films themselves tells a story of global domination, exploitation and indebtedness without touching this underlying layer and, from my point of view, even from a critical point of view, it naturalizes that underlying layer. 

I’m here to introduce this topic to a film studies class and humanities context. I find myself constantly weighing how much do I want to go down this rabbit hole and how much do I not? Ultimately, we’re here today to learn about film, which is, of course, social and historical and political, but sometimes I do go too far. I start citing alternative work in monetary scholarship, but sometimes it’s not appropriate. I feel really torn even in my own pedagogy that this is such a crucial question that’s just totally ignored. 

Jamee Moudud 

I think part of the problem also, Scott, is that money is a mystery. Money is not something people even think about because it’s just liquid, right? Whereas Desan says it’s blood and it’s always been blood, and it’s created and recreated in different ways, in different contexts with different consequences. 

So that is part of the deeper problem, which is the opacity of economics itself. When you think that the economy and economics is this black box, then it’s easy to say it doesn’t really answer the questions that I’m interested in. I can think of the film studies student in one of their classes saying that “I’m really interested in global inequalities after the Second World War, but I then need to go do something else.” This is opposed to saying you can go into these other things, but here’s the way by which that economic structure was constructed at the end of the Second World War. The nice thing about endogenous money is that you don’t actually have to argue for it, everybody understands that money is integral to the economy. 

The fact that this monetary system was constructed in a particular way that had all these consequences for these countries as opposed to the global north, it can be done but I don’t think it’s necessarily in the consciousness of the way people think about money and economy and inequality. Then it becomes about other issues.  

William Saas 

Well, fantastic. If you had to boil down, as we so often do in blurb form today in our oppressive, omnipresent capitalist system, what’s the central lesson you hope that folks in LPE and in cultural studies and across disciplines, take away from this book? 

Jamee Moudud 

That’s a difficult question, but as you were asking the question, I was thinking, what’s been motivating me in writing this book? In fact, once I fell into this rabbit hole ten years ago, my career has been about understanding power in its different dimensions. I think that’s been an abiding interest of mine. 

This is where you can actually get people or cultural theorists into conversation with other scholars. That’s the connective tissue of the system itself. In the book, I think that theme of power weaves its way through this entire book, at every step of the way. 

Why did I actually deal with property rights and constitutional property rights and colonialism and the far right and Hayek? All these topics have an underlying thread running through them. I think that’s really one key point, which sort of brings you back to the title of the book; both the main title and the subtitle. The theme is understanding inequality, not just narrowly as the distribution of income, but social inequity. 

One thing I do think would be kind of interesting to point out: when I teach my students “Project 2025” I have them read that 900-page mandate, one thing that I want to draw their attention to is how interdisciplinary it is. 

One thing that the far right has revealed to us is that it is profoundly interdisciplinary. From attacks against LGBTQ+ rights to very technocratic discussions about trade policy to labor to environment, this, that and the other, you can see that the way they’re thinking about and the unitary executive theory, which goes back to the physiocrats, that these are enmeshed with each other. 

So, from that standpoint, I think a new left, if you want to put it in that way, has to think about alternatives, challenges and solutions in those interdisciplinary terms and to take those arguments on their own terms. There’s a need to pose these fundamental questions around power because that framework is creating in place a kind of a neo-Victorianism. 

That’s where the conversation for this new, new left has to go. Going back to foundational questions in economics, money and property rights and business cooperation and constitutions and these kinds of things, I think it would be a good place to start. Also, language and culture, and how they are interweaving with each other is where we need to go. 

That’s what I try to do in this book. In the final chapter, which is, towards a political, political economy, like reconstructing economics, I wanted to say that all economics is political economy, including neoclassical economics, because all economics or economic schools of thought have some theory of politics relative to economics. This is as true of Milton Friedman as it is a Friedrich Hayek as it is of anybody that’s Marxist and Post-Keynesian.  A political, political economy asks, “how is that institutional framework even constructed and reconstructed toward emphasizing the politics part to it?” I do think that that’s the way the conversation has to go and sort of try my best to do that in this book. 

Scott Ferguson 

I think that’s a beautiful place to end. Jamee, thanks so much for joining us once again. Everyone should go out and purchase at their favorite retailer The Legal and Political Foundations of Capitalism: The End of Laissez Faire? 

Jamee Moudud 

With the question mark! 

Scott Ferguson 

Yes, with a question mark! This was great. 

Jamee Moudud 

Thank you so much. This was a lot of fun, such a lot of fun having this conversation.

* Thank you to Robert Rusch for the episode graphic, Nahneen Kula for the theme tune, and Thomas Chaplin for the transcript. 

JAWS at 50: Birth of the Neoliberal Blockbuster

In honor of the 50th anniversary of JAWS (1975), we are proud to publish a 2020 lecture about Steven Spielberg’s film by Scott Ferguson. Far from a simple celebration, the lecture critically situates JAWS as the first genuine New Hollywood blockbuster and the originator of a distinctly neoliberal aesthetic that would come to dominate Hollywood for the next five decades. Ferguson explores the film’s influence on Hollywood, its innovative use of television advertising, and its role in establishing the high-concept blockbuster. The majority of the lecture, however, teases out the film’s profound aesthetic reorganization of Hollywood cinema. 

JAWS, Ferguson shows, employs a wide range of techniques, such as the “Spielberg face,” “God lights,” and what he calls the “quasi-diegetic” camera, which work together to create a sublime, immersive experience grounded in immediate physical relations. In this new aesthetic regime, abstraction is repressed, physics reigns supreme, and cinematic movement is reduced to zero-sum displacements of material forces and entities. Ferguson connects this immersive aesthetic to JAWS‘s narrative treatment of money as an essentially private, scarce, and politically unanswerable thing. In all, the lecture demonstrates how JAWS both expresses and contributes to a broader turn toward neoliberalism in 1970s America, revealing cinema’s role in shaping the economic and political imagination of an era.

Assignment Prompt: A Classroom Currency Experiment

Adapted from a prompt by Professor Benjamin Wilson (SUNY Cortland, Spring 2025), this assignment encourages students to perceive money and the labor it mobilizes as social forms that we can collectively remake. We share it here for educators and organizers invested in expanding the democratic imagination.

Introduction

Traditional economics defines and models money as a commodity like all other commodities—a modeling choice that renders money neutral or irrelevant to economic functions. This theoretical invisibility of money stands in stark contrast to lived experience, where virtually nothing occurs without monetary circuits connecting issuance to redemption, from securing food to maintaining shelter.

While orthodox economics treats money as merely facilitating trade, other schools of thought often characterize money as extractive or harmful, encouraging selfish behavior and decisions that may harm others. Even Modern Monetary Theory (MMT), which centers money in its analysis, incorporates undertones of state violence and coercion in explaining money’s value.

Margaret Atwood offers a provocative alternative perspective in her 2008 work Payback, where she examines debt’s literary history and the stories used to justify extractive social relations. She argues:

“Like all our financial arrangements, and like all our rules of moral conduct—in fact, like language itself—notions about debt form part of the elaborate imaginative construct that is human society. What is true of each part of mental construct is also true of debt, in all its many variations: because it is a mental construct, how we think about it changes how it works.”

This observation raises compelling questions: How can we change how we think about credit/debt relations? Is it possible to change how money actually works?

The Experiment

Hypothesis: If money is a designed human construct, then we can design experiments that test various design elements to yield alternative outcomes.

Theoretical Framework

Our classroom monetary model incorporates two fundamental design elements that establish money as a public project:

  1. The Tax Circuit: Following the model used by currency-issuing governments, taxation creates demand for the currency. The tax doesn’t fund government activity but establishes need for the currency, making it receivable throughout the economic system. This creates a circuit from issuance to redemption that gives money its social power.
  2. Real Resource Constraints: While the currency issuer faces no financial constraints (except socially constructed ones), real resource constraints remain. If no people are available to do work, you cannot mobilize them through monetary payment. That said, real resources are also socially constructed, which means that such constraints are mutable over the long term. 

Implementation

Currency Creation as Governance: Students will earn classroom currency ([insert your currency name]) through productive activities. As the monetary authority, the instructor can issue unlimited currency but cannot create additional real resources (time, labor, expertise). This demonstrates money as a creature of law and governance, not alleged “market forces.”

Tax Obligation as Demand Creation: Each student enterprise faces a tax of [X amount] in classroom currency. This tax obligation creates demand for the currency and establishes its circulation within the classroom economy, completing the circuit from issuance to redemption.

Monetary Philosophy: Rather than treating money as a commodity or medium of dyadic trade, we define it as a collective relation and accounting tool. Money represents both credit and debit, asset and liability—an IOU or promise to pay. When students earn currency, they hold an asset while the instructor holds a corresponding liability, creating the collective relationship that gives money meaning.

Enterprise Structure and Goals

Organization

Students form social enterprises of [3-5] members. Each enterprise must collectively earn sufficient currency to meet all members’ tax obligations ([X × number of members]).

Objectives

The primary goal extends beyond mere tax settlement to achieving the highest level of public good production, including enhanced student learning outcomes. Enterprises may organize efforts in various ways:

  • Collective action with shared responsibilities
  • Individual optimization with separate efforts
  • Hybrid approaches combining cooperation and specialization

Earning Opportunities Through Public Purpose

Students can earn classroom currency through activities designed to serve public purposes while providing personal development:

  1. Community Service: Volunteer work with non-profit organizations, mobilizing underutilized labor for social benefit
  2. Academic Engagement: Attendance and participation in approved campus cultural and intellectual events
  3. Research Participation: Data collection exercises supporting academic research
  4. Enhanced Class Participation: Above-and-beyond contributions to class discussions and peer learning support

[Instructors should customize these categories based on institutional resources and learning objectives]

Strategic Considerations

Enterprises should consider these questions when organizing their efforts:

Impact Assessment:

  • Can your enterprise create impact across all earning categories?
  • Will you specialize in particular areas?
  • How will you measure and assess your impact?
  • What quantitative measures will you track (people reached, events attended, meaningful contributions?

Organizational Design:

  • What institutional parameters will you establish to generate collective success?
  • How will these parameters evolve during the semester?
  • Will leaders emerge naturally or be formally designated?
  • How will you resolve conflicts and make decisions?

Learning Outcomes

This experiment illuminates several key concepts about money as a public project:

  • How monetary circuits from issuance to redemption create social relationships
  • Money as a creature of governance and law rather than so-called “market forces”
  • Alternative values and motives beyond profit maximization
  • Non-zero-sum approaches to production through public purpose
  • The interplay between competition and cooperation in productive activity
  • Benefits of effort and work outside traditional wage relationships
  • How different monetary designs generate different forms of production and returns
  • Money’s role in mobilizing underutilized resources for public benefit

Assessment and Data Collection

Qualitative Assessment

Students submit reflection essays addressing:

  • Enterprise impact and innovation strategies
  • Leadership emergence and conflict resolution
  • Changes in understanding of money’s function as a public project
  • Implications for real-world monetary systems
  • Comparative experiences (e.g., non-profit vs. retail work)
  • Collaborative work satisfaction and challenges

Quantitative Metrics

  • Hours of community service and resource mobilization
  • Data collection contributions
  • Campus event attendance
  • Course assignment performance
  • Comparative class performance (if applicable)

Timeline and Payment Schedule

Tax Day: [Insert date – typically end of semester] Payment Opportunities: Regular class sessions and approved events Documentation: Students must complete effort verification forms and obtain appropriate signatures for currency payment

[Instructors should establish specific procedures for currency distribution and verification]

Research Questions

This experiment helps verify or reject our central hypothesis while exploring broader questions:

  • Can monetary systems be designed as public projects to improve human happiness and well-being?
  • How do circuits of issuance and redemption create different social relationships?
  • Are such improvements subject to diminishing returns?
  • Does this demonstrate money’s potential as a tool for mobilizing underutilized resources?

Adaptation Guidelines for Instructors

Customization Considerations:

  • Adjust currency amounts based on class size and semester length
  • Modify earning categories to reflect available institutional resources
  • Adapt enterprise size to accommodate class enrollment
  • Establish verification procedures appropriate to your context
  • Consider incentive structures that align with your learning objectives

Implementation Tips:

  • Clearly communicate the experimental nature and learning goals
  • Establish partnerships with campus organizations for earning opportunities
  • Create simple tracking systems for currency distribution
  • Plan regular check-ins to monitor enterprise progress
  • Prepare discussion prompts to connect experiences to theoretical concepts
  • Emphasize money’s role as governance tool rather than market mechanism

This experiment transforms abstract monetary theory into lived experience, helping students understand money as a social technology and public project that can be redesigned to serve different purposes and values through circuits of issuance and redemption.

Care After Structure

by Scott Ferguson

This essay accompanies After Structure, an exhibition curated by Mark Fredricks for University of South Florida’s Contemporary Art Museum, June 13 – August 2, 2025.

After Structure brings together works by Richard Tuttle and Mike Cloud to reconsider a notion that is central to modern visual art: structure.

The question of structure has long divided critics and art historians. Art is autonomous, says one tradition; its structure must be bounded, self-sufficient, and free from external contamination.1 Think Mondrian, Pollack, and Hirschhorn. Art should be integrated into everyday life, retorts the opposition. They point to Duchamp, Warhol, and Bruguera for whom structures are open, participatory, and receptive.2

After Structure transcends the terms of the dispute by foregrounding far-flung riddles of care.3 In doing so, it challenges what both sides unwittingly share: an attachment to the artwork’s physical location in the here-and-now. Commencing from the here-and-now compels art to choose: autonomy or integration, containment or exposure?4 Care, however, is omnipresent. Unlike structure, it concerns everything and anything, admitting no necessary trade-offs between inside and outside, near and far.

What, then, comes after structure? The exhibition answers this query by way of seemingly opposed strategies. At first glance, Tuttle’s series of encaustic monotype paintings on muslin appear woefully under-structured. Colorful splotches, smudges, streaks, and drips on white are delicately pinned to the wall, forgoing the solidity and support afforded by customary framing. On closer inspection, the apparent fragility of this arrangement reveals a highly structured configuration sculpted by precise drapings, curls, creases, and folds. Conversely, Cloud’s pieces give an initial impression of over-structuring. Painted mottles, figures, signs, and symbols spread across multiple strata of paper, photographs, cloth, and wood. In several works, Cloud deploys a superabundance of irregularly cut or broken stretcher bars to create criss-crossing patterns, borders, and frames-within-frames. With time, however, structural profusion gives way to systemic precarity, as compounding instances of overlap, mismatch, and imbalance imperil the art’s material and semantic integrity.

Richard Tuttle, Renaissance Unframed #21, 1994.
Mike Cloud, Body Builder Paper Quilt, 2010.

Through these inversions, Tuttle’s and Cloud’s works enfold structural insufficiency and excess into a single dynamic that construes aesthetic form as a problem of boundless care. Breaking with dominant models of structure, care circumvents eternal oscillations between openness and closure, unity and dissolution. It denies hard ontological boundaries, on one hand, and radical lawlessness, on the other hand. In After Structure, aesthetic saliencies, fissures, and edges admit no primordial exclusion. Smudges, crumples, and shards show little tendency toward disintegration. When Tuttle forsakes traditional framing, we discover quickly that any attempt to flee care’s responsibilities routes us back to fresh aesthetic quandaries and needs. In this deliberate destabilization, Tuttle compels us to consider: How else might we buttress social forms when customary supports become inadequate? When Cloud’s contributions multiply structure to the point of bewilderment, dozens of fresh vulnerabilities and hazards emerge that even the utmost care cannot master. In this labyrinthine complexity, Cloud poses a vital question: How to heed exigencies and complications that develop from fervid organization?

In this, care after structure demands a commitment to what might be called remote co-presence. Care is irreducible to proximity. Its forms do not merely circulate from one place to another. Its causal horizon requires no immediate displacements. To the contrary, care convenes meaning in disparate locales at once. Its forms engage non-adjacent events and concerns. Its causality encompasses the whole of collectivity. The mysteries of belonging–of joy as well as suffering–remain inescapably ubiquitous. Why should art proceed any differently?

In After Structure, care’s remote co-presence turns the conventional image of structure on its head. Take Tuttle’s series of twenty-five monotype paintings, tellingly titled Renaissance Unframed, which was completed at Graphicstudio in 1995. Visibly indebted to both Minimalism and Conceptualism, Tuttle’s frameless canvases lend painting’s surfaces palpable, even sculptural, qualities. Yet the works’ conceptual gesture is hardly unidirectional; it does not advance from flatness to volume à la Minimalism. From start to finish, surface markings diversely shape the muslin’s perceived texture, pliability, and weight. Reciprocally, each sculpted pleat, bend, and crinkle communicates from afar no less than Tuttle’s painterly inscriptions. It is not simply that the hand of the artist is forever absent. By relying on museum or gallery officials to carry out the artists’ detailed instructions for pinning, hanging, and folding, Tuttle’s canvases indicate that art depends on constant mediation at a remove.

It is tempting to read the heavy bronze floor sculptures that accompany Renaissance Unframed as stabilizing perceptual anchors for viewers faced with the uncanny origami of Tuttle’s painted fabric. It turns out, however, that these ponderous elements participate in mediations that are no less remote and playful. The sculptures are cast from a Styrofoam carving then coated with a jet black patina. Their contours recall the roughness of basalt, the igneous rock that Robert Smithson arranged en masse in his monumental land art sculpture, Spiral Jetty (1970). Yet the impenetrable density and smooth inner faces of Tuttle’s sculptures maintain the trappings of highly manufactured artifacts. The sculptures come in pairs, each half giving the appearance of having been sliced neatly in two. Although circumstances vary, installation guidelines instruct exhibitors to fit the two parts together and place them on the floor precisely one foot in front of each wall hanging. Positioned this way, Tuttle’s bronze sculptures at once activate and whimsically undermine minimalist phenomenology. With Minimalism, what Robert Morris once characterized as “the autonomous and literal nature of sculpture” puts into question the corporeal orientation and movement of artist and viewer in a manner that trades painterly illusionism for direct reckonings with a universal gravity.5 Minimalism, at least on this account, achieves art’s elusive dream of autonomy by contracting gravity’s all-consuming pull into a circumscribed arena—one where freedom emerges by leveraging inner balance against outward resistance.

Richard Tuttle, Renaissance Unframed #10, 1994.
Richard Tuttle, Renaissance Unframed #26, 1994.

When it comes to Tuttle’s floor sculptures, however, Morris’s “obdurate, literal mass[es]” become optical and signifying riddles, which mediate physical things and forces from the jump.6 The sculptures present a tripping hazard to viewers engrossed by the wall hangings—a subtle challenge to museum officials striving to balance aesthetics with safety. One wonders: Is litigation merely another medium in the artist’s toolbox? Tuttle’s instructions recommend the use of a compass to align the two pieces along the north-south axis of the exhibition space and, of course, the planet. In this sense, the pieces function as geometric points that, together, form a line that wraps around the globe. As a consequence, Tuttle’s sculptures simultaneously satirize and profoundly amplify routine museum safeguards—floor demarcations, signage, and vigilant personnel—employed to preserve artistic works. Where exactly does the essence of the artwork reside? When, if ever, does concern end?

With Cloud’s ultra-structured fabrications, After Structure turns care’s ambit toward persons, domains, and events that one will likely never know or experience in any direct sense. In contemporary parlance, the established term for such phenomena is “parasocial,” defined as one-sided and ostensibly imaginary relations with celebrities, influencers, or fictional characters with whom one has no immediate or mutual interactions. Social scientists and cultural commentators regularly evaluate the costs and benefits of parasocial relations. Parasocial investments can be beneficial in moderate doses, they claim. Yet because this discourse fundamentally pathologizes physical separation and unreciprocated feelings, purveyors of such reasoning fret that inordinate parasocial devotion is damaging to psychological well-being.7

Cloud’s work weighs questions of remote association from a more salutary vantage. Cloud does not assume an atomized subject, whose flirtations with real and make-believe strangers teeters dangerously between health and illness. Instead, his art affirms sociality’s wide breadth at the outset. From here, Cloud deploys what he describes as “a wide range of marks, symbols, motifs, palettes and forms” to query traumas and ecstasies, fascinations and repulsions. The resulting lexicon is singular, heterogeneously shared, and thoroughly social. Cloud reports that he is frequently inspired by contemporary news stories. Sometimes, he includes URL addresses for news sources within the compositions of works themselves. When Cloud variously problematizes and hyperbolizes structure, it is this captivating realm of parasociality that commands our attention.

Take Rabbit Quilt (2008), which treats mismatched pajamas as canvas and make-shift frame. The pajama bottoms display the queer children’s television character SpongeBob SquarePants in pirate paraphernalia. The tank top comes from U. S. illustrator Jim Benton’s cynical novelty brand, It’s Happy Bunny. It features a pink, smiling bunny flanked below by a less-than-clever slogan: “You are perfect–except for 9 or 10 things.” (More acerbic quips from the same line of merchandise include, “Hi Loser” and “You suck, and that’s sad.”) Here, Cloud joins top and bottom in a roughly hewn fashion to construct something like a quilt of 1990’s pop juvenilia, a cross-section of high-neoliberal commodity culture.

Mike Cloud, Rabbit Quilt, 2008.

Significantly, Rabbit Quilt’s central seam draws attention to micro-generational rifts between the inclusive zaniness of SpongeBob and the misanthropic irony of Benton’s black-pilled cutesiness. As a result, “tops” and “bottoms” (in multiple senses) bristle uneasily side by side. Across the textiles, Cloud paints an impressionistic calico rabbit in mid-sprint, which enmeshes the aforementioned rift in ‘90’s youth culture in wider historical thickets. Is this a primordial cave painting of a totemic animal that is spellbound by movement? Is it roadkill flattened pajamas-and-all by a careless semi-truck? Is it Br’er Rabbit, the anti-authoritarian trickster from the Afro-American oral tradition, later white-washed by Walt Disney’s offensive mixed-animation feature, Song of the South (1948)? The answer, of course, is an all-encompassing yes. Rabbit Quilt thickens parasociality’s historical dimensions. It ensconces us in intimate and ongoing entanglements from which no person is exempt. The artwork tenders no stock judgments. It intensifies ethical evaluation and political accountability as it stages a wide-ranging aesthetic inquiry into seemingly unrelated pasts.

Cloud’s most disquieting entries are his so-called “hanging paintings.” The hanging paintings comprise a series of triangular constructions from which dangle several off-the-rack belts that serve as nooses. These works include S of B (2016), Ames 2017 (2019), Uehara 2011 (2019), and Khan 2013 (2019). Cloud deems them portraits because they represent persons who died by means of hanging–though the works show only hand-written names rather than visual likenesses. Some of the paintings are group portraits, including multiple names dispersed across several wooden stretcher bars. As a consequence, the hanging paintings foster unlikely and sometimes unnerving associations among strangers, including museum attendees. Exemplary is S of B, which names Sandra Bland, the 28-year-old Black woman whose alleged 2015 suicide in a Texas jail was fiercely contested by protestors opposed to racialized police brutality. Yet it also identifies actor David Carradine, rumored to suffocate from auto-erotic asphyxiation, and model Cheyenne Brando, daughter of Marlon Brando, who took her own life after suffering years of neglect, abuse, and mental illness.

Mike Cloud, S of B, 2016.

The point, it seems, is not to flatten differences between heterogeneous social conditions. Surely Cloud, a contemporary Black artist, has little interest in forcing equivalences between Bland, Carridine, and Brando. The idea, rather, is to play up resonances across differences, such that what counts as death’s proper context is socially defamiliarized and reconfigured. With this, the social loss of Bland accrues a cryptic communal importance beyond the confines of an isolated Black history. It would require many more pages to do justice to S of B’s polysemic title, painted cubes and swirls, tottering rocket-like architecture, and uncanny correspondences, not to mention the manifold aesthetic and social connotations at stake in Cloud’s references to “hanging.” Even so, my sense is that none of this dilutes the singularity of death; rather, it deepens and transmogrifies hanging’s collective implications.

I would be remiss if, by way of conclusion, I did not draw out After Structure’s relevance for the present moment. Since January 20, 2025, punishing fiscal austerity and lawless state violence have lacerated communities, destroyed vital infrastructures, and undermined public trust both across the United States and around the world. The current administration operates under a fiercely zero-sum conception of structure. Because they presume that there is never enough to go around, the powers that be fortify structure to protect a chosen minority. Everyone else is forsaken as internal parasites or expelled as external threats. Alternatively, After Structure teaches that there is no outside; collectivity is replete with untold riches; and nobody can exhaust the unending enigmas of care.

Notes

  1. A contemporary defense of autonomy can be found in Nicholas Brown, Autonomy: The Social Ontology of Art under Capitalism (Durham: Duke University Press, 2019). ↩︎
  2. For a recent affirmation of the integrative approach, see Grant Kester, Beyond the Sovereign Self: Aesthetic Autonomy from the Avant-Garde to Socially Engaged Art (Durham: Duke University Press, 2024).
    ↩︎
  3. Scott Ferguson, Declarations of Dependence: Money, Aesthetics & the Politics of Care (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2018). ↩︎
  4. To be sure, aesthetic theory has articulated the central binary between autonomy and integration (or “heteronomy”) in complex ways. For Theodor Adorno, autonomy involves a contradictory gambit wherein art’s utopian impulse toward freedom is only realized when its aesthetic structure fails to perfectly cohere. Jacques Derrida taught us to deconstruct the “truth in painting” by unleashing unsettling interdependencies between inside and outside that frames of all kinds are called upon to contain. Philosophers of process and difference such as Gilles Deleuze prioritize flows of becoming that at once undercut and overwhelm structural boundaries. Still, even when avowing the porous, intertwined, and unstable, such discourses constrain structure within a restricted and zero-sum model of art that is grounded in the here-and-now. See, Theodor W. Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, trans. Robert Hullot-Kentor (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2020); Jacques Derrida, The Truth in Painting, trans. Thomas F.H. Meck (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987), Gilles Deleuze, Difference & Repetition, trans. Paul Patton (New York: Columbia University Press, 1995). ↩︎
  5. Robert Morris, “Notes on Sculpture,” Artforum 4, no. 6 (Feb. 1966): 42 – 44. ↩︎
  6. Robert Morris, “Notes of Sculpture.” ↩︎
  7. Thanks to Will Beaman for educating me about the anti-social assumptions inherent in the discourse of parasociality. ↩︎

Blue Bonds Can Stop Trump’s Fiscal Authoritarianism

By the Money on the Left Editorial Collective

Less than a year into his second term, Donald Trump has launched an illegal and (as now) unfeasible mass deportation campaign—one that is tearing apart families, destabilize communities, and provoke mass resistance across the country.

He’s already begun deploying military force to enforce it.

The California National Guard has been deputized. Several Democrat-controlled cities are under threat of military occupation. And Trump’s administration is moving quickly to consolidate control over federal spending—using public money to reward allies, punish opposition, and fund his growing network of coercive agencies.

We think he’s overplayed his hand.

Authoritarian rule depends on fear, but fear alone can’t stabilize a society. To function, authoritarianism needs infrastructure. It needs jobs, logistics, paperwork, coordination. It needs people to show up and participate—to carry out orders, to staff the programs, to help make the unthinkable look routine.

Trump is relying on a kind of fiscal austerity—a politics of negative space—to suppress the alternatives and starve local capacity. But this strategy is weak and vulnerable. His agenda only works if there’s nothing else on offer.

Blue Bonds are the counter-offer.

Blue Bonds are routine municipal bonds, paired with a bold, public campaign to provision care, public employment, and reconstruction directly without waiting for permission from Washington. Jobs that communities want. Projects that rebuild trust. Wages that sustain families. A future in which people want to participate.

Instead of asking if these bonds are “creditworthy,” we flip the script. We demand that the Federal Reserve receive them—just like it already receives Treasury bonds and backs coercive public infrastructure without blinking.

This is not a financial trick. It’s a political strategy.

Blue Bonds make visible what austerity tries to hide: we already have the people, the projects, and the know-how to build a better world. What we lack is federal recognition and support. By demanding that recognition—not as a favor, but as a public right—we expose just how hollow Trump’s grip on power really is.

Authoritarians rule through fear, but they can’t govern that way forever. You don’t build loyalty or legitimacy by threatening people. You build it by showing up with care, with resources, and with good public work.

Blue Bonds do that—and they do it in a way that no speech or protest alone can.

Leaders in California such as Governor Gavin Newsom and Assembly Speaker Robert Rivas have recently floated the idea of withholding tens of billions in annual federal tax dollars as a means of resisting Trump’s executive tyranny and austerity. We affirm the impulse to vociferously politicize state money. Democrat-controlled states should be thinking big.

A California-led tax revolt, however, is a misguided half-measure. The Federal government hardly needs California’s tax dollars in order to spend and legal and operational realities would very likely obstruct such an action. Ultimately, California ought to utilize Blue Bonds to create a legal and genuinely productive circuit of credit in order take care of its communities and environs.

In the face of mass deportation, military overreach, and illegal fiscal retaliation against cities and states, Blue Bonds offer a peaceful, legal way to shift the balance of power. They don’t fight authoritarianism on its terms. They show that the emperor has no clothes—that authoritarians cannot actually sustain the work of public life without consent, participation, and public provision.

We are in a test of coordination. Trump is betting that he can consolidate power by cutting off air to everyone else.

Let’s prove him wrong. Let’s fund jobs, not jails. Let’s rebuild communities, not tear them apart. Let’s issue Blue Bonds to save the union once more.

Let’s make democratic public life irresistible.