Stromberg's argument, to which we are heavily indebted, is based on Murray Rothbard's Austrian theory of regulatory cartelization. Economists of the Austrian school, especially Rothbard and his followers on the Rothbardian left, have taken a view of state capitalism in many respects resembling that of the New Left. That is, both groups portray it as a movement of large-scale, organized capital to obtain its profits through state intervention into the economy, although the regulations entailed in this project are usually sold to the public as "progressive" restraints on big business. This parallelism between the analyses of the New Left and the libertarian Right was capitalized upon by Rothbard in his own overtures to the Left. In such projects as his journal Left and Right, and in the anthology A New History of Leviathan (co-edited with New Leftist Ronald Radosh), he sought an alliance of the libertarian Left and Right against the corporate state.

Rothbard treated the "war collectivism" of World War I as a prototype for twentieth century state capitalism. He described it as

This view of state capitalism, shared by New Leftists and Rothbardians alike, flies in the face of the dominant American ideological framework. Before we can analyze the monopoly capitalism of the twentieth century, we must rid ourselves of this pernicious conventional wisdom, common to mainstream left and right. Both mainline "conservatives" and "liberals" share the same mirror-imaged view of the world (but with "good guys" and "bad guys" reversed), in which the growth of the welfare and regulatory state reflected a desire to restrain the power of big business. According to this commonly accepted version of history, the Progressive and New Deal programs were forced on corporate interests from outside, and against their will. In this picture of the world, big government is a populist "countervailing power" against the "economic royalists." This picture of the world is shared by Randroids and Chicago boys on the right, who fulminate against "looting" by "anti-capitalist" collectivists; and by NPR liberals who confuse the New Deal with the Second Advent. It is the official ideology of the publick skool establishment, whose history texts recount heroic legends of "trust buster" TR combating the "malefactors of great wealth," and Upton Sinclair's crusade against the meat packers. It is expressed in almost identical terms in right-wing home school texts bemoaning the defeat of business at the hands of the collectivist state, or describing the New Deal as an example of the masses voting themselves largesse from the public treasury.

The conventional understanding of government regulation was succinctly stated by Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., the foremost spokesman for corporate liberalism: "Liberalism in America has ordinarily been the movement on the part of the other sections of society to restrain the power of the business community."⁷ Mainstream liberals and conservatives may disagree on who the "bad guy" is in this scenario, but they are largely in agreement on the anti-business motivation. For example, Theodore Levitt of the Harvard Business Review lamented in 1968: "Business has not really won or had its way in connection with even a single piece of proposed regulatory or social legislation in the last three-quarters of a century."⁸

The problem with these conventional assessments is that they are an almost exact reverse of the truth. The New Left has produced massive amounts of evidence to the contrary, virtually demolishing the official version of American history. (The problem, as in most cases of "paradigm shift," is that the consensus reality doesn't know it's dead yet). Scholars like James Weinstein, Gabriel Kolko and William Appleman Williams, in their historical analyses of "corporate liberalism," have demonstrated that the main forces behind both Progressive and New Deal "reforms" were powerful corporate interests. The following is intended only as a brief survey of the development of the corporate liberal regime, and an introduction to the New Left (and Austrian) analysis of it.

Despite Schlesinger's aura of "idealism" surrounding the twentieth century welfare/regulatory state, it was in fact pioneered by the Junker Socialism of Prussia--the work of that renowned New Age tree-hugger, Bismarck. The mainline socialist movement at the turn of the century (i.e., the part still controlled by actual workers, and not coopted by Fabian intellectuals) denounced the tendency to equate such measures with socialism, instead calling it "state socialism"--state intervention in the economy on behalf of the capitalists. The International Socialist Review in 1912, for example, warned workers not to be fooled into identifying social insurance or the nationalization of industry with "socialism." Such state programs as workers' compensation, old age and health insurance, were only measures to strengthen and stabilize capitalism. And nationalization simply reflected the capitalist's realization "that he can carry on certain portions of the production process more efficiently through his government than through private corporations..... Some muddleheads find that will be Socialism, but the capitalist knows better."⁹ Friedrich Engels had taken the same view of public ownership:

The rise of "corporate liberalism" as an ideology at the turn of the twentieth century was brilliantly detailed in James Weinstein's The Corporate Ideal in the Liberal State.¹¹ It was reflected in the so-called "Progressive" movement in the U.S., and by Fabianism, the closest British parallel. The ideology was in many ways an expression of the world view of "New Class" apparatchiks, whose chief values were planning and the cult of "professionalism," and who saw the lower orders as human raw material to be managed for their own good. This class is quite close to the social base of the Insoc movement that Orwell described in 1984:

The key to efficiency, for the New Class, was to remove as much of life as possible from the domain of "politics" (that is, interference by non-professionals) and to place it under the control of competent authorities. "Democracy" was recast as a periodic legitimation ritual, with the individual returning between elections to his proper role of sitting down and shutting up. In virtually every area of life, the average citizen was to be transformed from Jefferson's self-sufficient and resourceful yeoman into a client of some bureaucracy or other. The educational system was designed to render him a passive and easily managed recipient of the "services" of one institution after another. In every area of life, as Ivan Illich wrote, the citizen/subject/resource was taught to "confuse process and substance."

As a corollary of this principle, the public was taught to "view doctoring oneself as irresponsible, learning on one's own as unreliable, and community organization, when not paid for by those in authority, as a form of aggression or subversion."¹³

This general phenomenon, in which passive human raw material was managed by "service" bureaucracies, was described by Edgar Friedenberg as the "conscript clientele."

Although Friedenberg treated public schools as the most obvious example of a conscripted clientele, they were by no means the only member of that class: "Ultimately, bureaucracies with conscript clienteles become real clients of one another, mutually dependent for referral of cases. They create conditions in one system that generate clients for another...." For example, the schools process human raw material to be taken over by the "human resources" bureaucracies of private industry (with the transition made as seamless as possible by the school-to-work movement), or by the bureaucracies of the welfare state and prison-industrial complex.¹⁴

Although the corporate liberal ideology is associated with the New Class world view, it intersected in many ways with that of "enlightened" employers who saw paternalism as a way of getting more out of workers. Much of corporate leadership at the turn of the century

The New Class mania for planning and rationality was reflected within the corporation in the Taylorist/Fordist cult of "scientific management," in which the workman was deskilled and control of the production process was shifted upward into the white collar hierarchy of managers and engineers.¹⁶

This new intersection of interests between the progressive social planners and corporate management was reflected, organizationally, in the National Civic Federation, whose purpose was to bring together the most enlightened and socially responsible elements of business, labor, and government.¹⁷ If, as Big Bill Haywood said of the I.W.W.'s founding convention, that body was "the Continental Congress of the working class," then the NCF was surely the Continental Congress of the New Class. The themes of corporate liberalism, as David Noble described them, were "cooperation rather than conflict, the natural harmony of interest between labor and capital, and effective management and administration as the means toward prosperity and general welfare."¹⁸

The New Class intellectuals, despite their prominent role in formulating the ideology, were co-opted as a decidedly junior partner of the corporate elite. As Hilaire Belloc and William English Walling perceived, "Progressives" and Fabians valued regimentation and centralized control much more than their allegedly "socialist" economic projects. They recognized, for the most part, that expropriation of the capitalists was impossible in the real world. The large capitalists, in turn, recognized the value of the welfare and regulatory state for maintaining social stability and control, and for making possible the political extraction of profits in the name of egalitarian values. The result was a devil's bargain by which the working class was guaranteed a minimum level of comfort and security, in return for which the large corporations were enabled to extract profits through the state. Of the "Progressive" intellectual, Belloc wrote:

The New Class, its appetite for power satiated with petty despotisms in the departments of education and human services, was put to work on its primary mission of cartelizing the economy for the profit of the corporate ruling class. Its "populist" rhetoric was harnessed to sell state capitalism to the masses. Those overeducated yahoos admirably served their masters in the capacity of useful idiots.

But whatever the "idealistic" motivations of the social engineers themselves, their program was implemented to the extent that it furthered the material interests of monopoly capital. Kolko used the term "political capitalism" to describe the general objectives big business pursued through the "Progressive" state:

From the turn of the twentieth century on, there was a series of attempts by corporate leaders to create some institutional structure by which price competition could be regulated and their respective market shares stabilized. "It was then," Paul Sweezy wrote,

But merely private attempts at cartelization before the Progressive Era--namely the so-called "trusts"--were miserable failures, according to Kolko. The dominant trend at the turn of the century--despite the effects of tariffs, patents, railroad subsidies, and other existing forms of statism--was competition. The trust movement was an attempt to cartelize the economy through such voluntary and private means as mergers, acquisitions, and price collusion. But the over-leveraged and over-capitalized trusts were even less efficient than before, and steadily lost market share at the hands of their smaller, more efficient competitors. Standard Oil and U.S. Steel, immediately after their formation, began a process of eroding market share. In the face of this resounding failure, big business acted through the state to cartelize itself--hence, the Progressive regulatory agenda. "Ironically, contrary to the consensus of historians, it was not the existence of monopoly that caused the federal government to intervene in the economy, but the lack of it."²²

The FTC and Clayton Acts reversed this long trend toward competition and loss of market share and made stability possible.

The Federal Trade Commission created a hospitable atmosphere for trade associations and their efforts to prevent price cutting.²⁴ The two pieces of legislation accomplished what the trusts had been unable to: it enabled a handful of firms in each industry to stabilize their market share and to maintain an oligopoly structure between them. This oligopoly pattern has remained stable ever since.

In addition, the various safety and quality regulations introduced during this period also had the effect of cartelizing the market. They served essentially the same purpose as the later attempts in the Wilson war economy to reduce the variety of styles and features available in product lines, in the name of "efficiency." Any action by the state to impose a uniform standard of quality (e.g. safety), across the board, necessarily eliminates safety as a competitive issue between firms. Thus, the industry is partially cartelized, to the very same extent that would have happened had all the firms in it adopted a uniform level of quality standards, and agreed to stop competing in that area. A regulation, in essence, is a state-enforced cartel in which the members agree to cease competing in a particular area of quality or safety, and instead agree on a uniform standard. And unlike non-state-enforced cartels, which are unstable, no member can seek an advantage by defecting. Similarly, the provision of services by the state (R&D funding, for example) removes them as components of price in cost competition between firms, and places them in the realm of guaranteed income to all firms in a market alike. Whether through regulations or direct state subsidies to various forms of accumulation, the corporations act through the state to carry out some activities jointly, and to restrict competition to selected areas.

And Kolko provided abundant evidence that the main force behind this entire legislative agenda was big business. The Meat Inspection Act, for instance, was passed primarily at the behest of the big meat packers. In the 1880s, repeated scandals involving tainted meat had resulted in U.S. firms being shut out of several European markets. The big packers had turned to the U.S. government to conduct inspections on exported meat. By carrying out this function jointly, through the state, they removed quality inspection as a competitive issue between them, and the U.S. government provided a seal of approval in much the same way a trade association would--but at public expense. The problem with this early inspection regime was that only the largest packers were involved in the export trade; mandatory inspections therefore gave a competitive advantage to the small firms that supplied only the domestic market. The main effect of Roosevelt's Meat Inspection Act was to bring the small packers into the inspection regime, and thereby end the competitive disability it imposed on large firms. Upton Sinclair simply served as an unwitting shill for the meat-packing industry.²⁶ This pattern was repeated, in its essential form, in virtually every component of the "Progressive" regulatory agenda.

The same leitmotif reappears in the New Deal. The core of business support for the New Deal was, as Ronald Radosh described it, "leading moderate big businessmen and liberal-minded lawyers from large corporate enterprises."²⁷ Thomas Ferguson and Joel Rogers described them more specifically as "a new power bloc of capital-intensive industries, investment banks, and internationally oriented commercial banks."²⁸

Labor was a relatively minor part of the total cost package of such businesses; at the same time, capital-intensive industry, as Galbraith pointed out in his analysis of the "technostructure," depended on long-term stability and predictability for planning high-tech production. Therefore, this segment of big business was willing to trade higher wages for social peace in the workplace.²⁹ The roots of this faction can be traced to the relatively "progressive" employers described by James Weinstein in his account of the National Civic Federation at the turn of the century, who were willing to engage in collective bargaining over wages and working conditions in return for uncontested management control of the workplace.³⁰

This attitude was at the root of the Taylorist/Fordist social contract, in which the labor bureaucrats agreed to let management manage, so long as labor got an adequate share of the pie.³¹ Such an understanding was most emphatically in the interests of large corporations. The sitdown movement in the auto industry and the organizing strikes among West coast longshoremen were virtual revolutions among rank and file workers on the shop floor. In many cases, they were turning into regional general strikes. The Wagner Act domesticated this revolution and brought it under the control of professional labor bureaucrats.

Industrial unionism, from the employer's viewpoint, had the advantage over craft unionism of providing a single bargaining agent with which management could deal. One of the reasons for the popularity of "company unions" among large corporations, besides the obvious advantages in pliability, was the fact that they were an alternative to the host of separate craft unions of the AFL. Even in terms of pliability, the industrial unions of the Thirties had some of the advantages of company unions. By bringing collective bargaining under the aegis of federal labor law, corporate management was able to use union leadership to discipline their own rank and file, and to use the federal courts as a mechanism of enforcement.

Moderate members of the corporate elite also gained reassurance from the earlier British experience in accepting collective bargaining. Collective bargaining did not affect the distribution of wealth, for one thing: "Labor gains were made due to the general growth in wealth and at the expense of the consumer, which would mean small businessmen, pensioners, farmers, and nonunionized white collar employees." (Not to mention a large contingent of unskilled laborers and lumpenproles without bargaining leverage against the employing classes). And the British found that firms in a position of oligopoly, with a relatively inelastic demand, were able to pass increased labor costs on to the consumer at virtually no cost to themselves.³³

The Wagner Act served the central purposes of the corporate elite. To some extent it was a response to mass pressure from below. But the decision on whether and how to respond, the form of the response, and the implementation of the response, were all firmly in the hands of the corporate elite. According to Domhoff (writing in The Higher Circles), "The benefits to capital were several: greater efficiency and productivity from labor, less labor turnover, the disciplining of the labor force by labor unions, the possibility of planning labor costs over the long run, and the dampening of radical doctrines."³⁴ James O'Connor described it this way: "From the standpoint of monopoly capital the main function of unions was... to inhibit disruptive, spontaneous rank-and-file activity (e.g., wildcat strikes and slowdowns) and to maintain labor discipline in general. In other words, unions were... the guarantors of 'managerial prerogatives.'"³⁵ The objectives of stability and productivity were more likely to be met by such a limited Taylorist social compact than by a return to the labor violence and state repression of the late nineteenth century.

In The Power Elite and the State, Domhoff put forth a slightly more nuanced thesis.³⁶ It was true, he admitted, that a majority of large corporations opposed the Wagner Act as it was actually presented. But the basic principles of collective bargaining embodied in it had been the outcome of decades of corporate liberal theory and practice, worked out through policy networks in which "progressive" large corporations had played a leading role; the National Civic Federation, as Weinstein described its career, was a typical example of such networks. The motives of those in the Roosevelt administration who framed the Wagner Act were very much in the mainstream of corporate liberalism. Although they may have been ambivalent about the specific form of FDR's labor legislation, Swope and his corporate fellow travelers had played the major role in formulating the principles behind it. Whatever individual business leaders thought of Wagner, it was drafted by mainstream corporate lawyers who were products of the ideological climate created by those same business leaders; and it was drafted with a view to their interests. Although it was not accepted by big business as a whole, it was largely the creation of representatives of big business interests whose understanding of the act's purpose was largely the same as those outlined in Domhoff's quote above from The Higher Circles. And although it was designed to contain the threat of working class power, it enjoyed broad working class support as the best deal they were likely to get. Finally, the southern segment of the ruling class was willing to go along with it because it specifically exempted agricultural laborers.

Among the other benefits of labor legislation, corporate interests are able to rely on the state's police powers to impose an authoritarian character on labor relations. In the increasingly statist system, Bukharin pointed out in his analysis of state capitalism almost a century ago,

The relevance of this line of analysis to America can be seen with a cursory look at Cleveland's response to the Pullman strike, the Railway Labor Relations Act and Taft-Hartley (which, in James O'Connor's words, "included a ban on secondary boycotts and hence tried to 'illegalize' class solidarity..."³⁸), and Truman's and Bush's threats to use soldiers as scabs in, respectively, the steelworkers' and longshoremen's strikes.

The Social Security Act was the other major part of the New Deal agenda. In The Higher Circles, Domhoff described its functioning in language much like his characterization of the Wagner Act. Its most important result

In his later work The Power Elite and the State, Domhoff undertook a much more thorough analysis, with a literature review of his structuralist Marxists critics, that essentially verified his earlier position.⁴⁰

The New Deal and Great Society welfare state, according to Frances Piven and Richard Cloward, served a similar function to that of Social Security: it blunted the danger of mass political radicalism resulting from widespread homelessness and starvation. In addition, it also provided social control by bringing the underclass under the supervision of an army of intrusive, paternalistic social workers and welfare case workers.⁴¹ And like Social Security, it put a floor on aggregate demand.

To the extent that the welfare and labor provisions of FDR's New Deal have benefited average people, the situation resembles a parable of Tolstoy's:

The capitalist supporters of the welfare state are like an enlightened farmer who understands that his livestock will produce more for him, in the long run, if they are well treated.

Hilaire Belloc speculated that the industrial serfdom in his Servile State would only be stable if the State subjected the unemployable underclass to "corrective" treatment in forced labor camps, and forced everyone even marginally employable into a job, as a deterrent to deliberate parasitism or malingering. Society would "find itself" under the "necessity,"

This society would be organized on the pattern of Anthony Burgess' squalid and decaying welfare state, in which "everyone not a child, or with child, must be employed." But Belloc's speculation was not idle; since Fabians like the Webbs and H.G. Wells had proposed just such labor camps for the underclass in their paternalistic utopia.⁴⁴

Although we are still far from a formal requirement to be either employed or subjected to remedial labor by the State, a number of intersecting State policies have that tendency. For example, the imposition of compulsory unemployment insurance, with the State as arbiter of when one qualifies to collect:

Still another measure with this tendency is "workfare," coupled with subsidies to employers who hire the underclass as peon labor. Vagrancy laws and legal restrictions on jitney services, self-built temporary shelters, etc., serve to reduce the range of options for independent subsistence. And finally, the prison-industrial complex, as "employer" for the nearly half of its "clients" guilty of only consensual market transactions, is in effect a forced labor camp absorbing a major segment of the underclass.

The culmination of FDR's state capitalism was (of course) the military-industrial complex which arose from World War II, and has continued ever since. It has since been described as "military Keynesianism," or a "perpetual war economy." A first step in realizing the monumental scale of the war economy's effect is to consider that the total value of plant and equipment in the United States increased by about two-thirds (from $40 to $66 billion) between 1939 and 1945, most of it a taxpayer "gift" of forced investment funds provided to the country's largest corporations.⁴⁶ Profit was virtually guaranteed on war production through "cost-plus" contracts.⁴⁷ In addition, 67% of federal R&D spending was channeled through the 68 largest private laborotories (40% of it to the ten largest), with the resulting patents being given away to the companies that carried out the research under government contract.⁴⁸

Demobilization of the war economy after 1945 very nearly threw the overbuilt and government-dependent industrial sector into a renewed depression. For example, in Harry Truman and the War Scare of 1948, Frank Kofsky described the aircraft industry as spiraling into red ink after the end of the war, and on the verge of bankruptcy when it was rescued by Truman's new bout of Cold War spending on heavy bombers.⁴⁹

The Cold War restored the corporate economy's heavy reliance on the state as a source of guaranteed sales. Charles Nathanson argued that "one conclusion is inescapable: major firms with huge aggregations of corporate capital owe their survival after World War II to the Cold War...."⁵⁰ For example, David Noble pointed out that civilian jumbo jets would never have existed without the government's heavy bomber contracts. The production runs for the civilian market alone were too small to pay for the complex and expensive machine tools. The 747 is essentially a spinoff of military production.⁵¹

The heavy industrial and high tech sectors were given a virtually guaranteed outlet, not only by U.S. military procurement, but by grants and loan guarantees for foreign military sales under the Military Assistance Program. Although apologists for the military-industrial complex have tried to stress the relatively small fraction of total production represented by military goods, it makes more sense to compare the volume of military procurement to the amount of idle capacity. Military production runs amounting to a minor percentage of total production might absorb a major part of total excess production capacity, and have a huge effect on reducing unit costs. Besides, the rate of profit on military contracts tends to be quite a bit higher, given the fact that military goods have no "standard" market price, and the fact that prices are set by political means (as periodic Pentagon budget scandals should tell us).⁵²

But the importance of the state as a purchaser was eclipsed by its relationship to the producers themselves, as Charles Nathanson pointed out. The research and development process was heavily militarized by the Cold War "military-R&D complex." Military R&D often results in basic, general use technologies with broad civilian applications. Technologies originally developed for the Pentagon have often become the basis for entire categories of consumer goods.⁵³ The general effect has been to "substantially [eliminate] the major risk area of capitalism: the development of and experimentation with new processes of production and new products."⁵⁴

This is the case in electronics especially, where many products originally developed by military R&D "have become the new commercial growth areas of the economy."⁵⁵ Transistors and other forms of miniaturized circuitry were developed primarily with Pentagon research money. The federal government was the primary market for large mainframe computers in the early days of the industry; without government contracts, the industry might never have had sufficient production runs to adopt mass production and reduce unit costs low enough to enter the private market. And the infrastructure for the worldwide web itself was created by the Pentagon's DARPA, originally as a redundant global communications system that could survive a nuclear war. Any implied commentary on the career of Bill Gates is, of course, unintended.

Overall, Nathanson estimated, industry depended on military funding for around 60% of its research and development spending; but this figure is considerably understated by the fact that a significant part of nominally civilian R&D spending is aimed at developing civilian applications for military technology.⁵⁶ It is also understated by the fact that military R&D is often used for developing production technologies (like automated control systems in the machine tool industry) that become the basis for production methods throughout the civilian sector.

Seymour Melman described the "permanent war economy" as a privately-owned, centrally-planned economy that included most heavy manufacturing and high tech industry. This "state-controlled economy" was based on the principles of "maximization of costs and of government subsidies."⁵⁷