Capital in the Twenty-First Century
CAPITAL IN THE
TWENTY-FIRST
CENTURY
Thomas Piketty
Translated by Arthur Goldhammer
The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press
CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS LONDON, ENGLAND
2014
Copyright © 2014 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College
All rights reserved
First published as Le capital au XXI siècle, copyright © 2013 Éditions du Seuil
Design by Dean Bornstein
Jacket design by Graciela Galup
The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows
Piketty, Thomas, 1971–
[Capital au XXIe siècle. English]
Capital in the twenty-first century / Thomas Piketty ; translated by Arthur Goldhammer.
pages cm
Translation of the author’s Le capital au XXIe siècle.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-674-43000-6 (alk. paper)
1. Capital. 2. Income distribution. 3. Wealth. 4. Labor economics. I. Goldhammer, Arthur, translator. II. Title.
HB501.P43613 2014
332'.041—dc23
2013036024
Contents
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Part One: Income and Capital
1. Income and Output
2. Growth: Illusions and Realities
Part Two: The Dynamics of the Capital/Income Ratio
3. The Metamorphoses of Capital
4. From Old Europe to the New World
5. The Capital/Income Ratio over the Long Run
6. The Capital-Labor Split in the Twenty-First Century
Part Three: The Structure of Inequality
7. Inequality and Concentration: Preliminary Bearings
8. Two Worlds
9. Inequality of Labor Income
10. Inequality of Capital Ownership
11. Merit and Inheritance in the Long Run
12. Global Inequality of Wealth in the Twenty-First Century
Part Four: Regulating Capital in the Twenty-First Century
13. A Social State for the Twenty-First Century
14. Rethinking the Progressive Income Tax
15. A Global Tax on Capital
16. The Question of the Public Debt
Conclusion
Notes
Contents in Detail
List of Tables and Illustrations
Index
Acknowledgments
This book is based on fifteen years of research (1998–2013) devoted essentially to understanding the historical dynamics of wealth and income. Much of this research was done in collaboration with other scholars.
My earlier work on high-income earners in France, Les hauts revenus en France au 20e siècle (2001), had the extremely good fortune to win the enthusiastic support of Anthony Atkinson and Emmanuel Saez. Without them, my modest Francocentric project would surely never have achieved the international scope it has today. Tony, who was a model for me during my graduate school days, was the first reader of my historical work on inequality in France and immediately took up the British case as well as a number of other countries. Together, we edited two thick volumes that came out in 2007 and 2010, covering twenty countries in all and constituting the most extensive database available in regard to the historical evolution of income inequality. Emmanuel and I dealt with the US case. We discovered the vertiginous growth of income of the top 1 percent since the 1970s and 1980s, and our work enjoyed a certain influence in US political debate. We also worked together on a number of theoretical papers dealing with the optimal taxation of capital and income. This book owes a great deal to these collaborative efforts.
The book was also deeply influenced by my historical work with Gilles Postel-Vinay and Jean-Laurent Rosenthal on Parisian estate records from the French Revolution to the present. This work helped me to understand in a more intimate and vivid way the significance of wealth and capital and the problems associated with measuring them. Above all, Gilles and Jean-Laurent taught me to appreciate the many similarities, as well as differences, between the structure of property around 1900–1910 and the structure of property now.
All of this work is deeply indebted to the doctoral students and young scholars with whom I have been privileged to work over the past fifteen years. Beyond their direct contribution to the research on which this book draws, their enthusiasm and energy fueled the climate of intellectual excitement in which the work matured. I am thinking in particular of Facundo Alvaredo, Laurent Bach, Antoine Bozio, Clément Carbonnier, Fabien Dell, Gabrielle Fack, Nicolas Frémeaux, Lucie Gadenne, Julien Grenet, Elise Huilery, Camille Landais, Ioana Marinescu, Elodie Morival, Nancy Qian, Dorothée Rouzet, Stefanie Stantcheva, Juliana Londono Velez, Guillaume Saint-Jacques, Christoph Schinke, Aurélie Sotura, Mathieu Valdenaire, and Gabriel Zucman. More specifically, without the efficiency, rigor, and talents of Facundo Alvaredo, the World Top Incomes Database, to which I frequently refer in these pages, would not exist. Without the enthusiasm and insistence of Camille Landais, our collaborative project on “the fiscal revolution” would never have been written. Without the careful attention to detail and impressive capacity for work of Gabriel Zucman, I would never have completed the work on the historical evolution of the capital/income ratio in wealthy countries, which plays a key role in this book.
I also want to thank the institutions that made this project possible, starting with the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, where I have served on the faculty since 2000, as well as the École Normale Supérieure and all the other institutions that contributed to the creation of the Paris School of Economics, where I have been a professor since it was founded, and of which I served as founding director from 2005 to 2007. By agreeing to join forces and become minority partners in a project that transcended the sum of their private interests, these institutions helped to create a modest public good, which I hope will continue to contribute to the development of a multipolar political economy in the twenty-first century.
Finally, thanks to Juliette, Déborah, and Hélène, my three precious daughters, for all the love and strength they give me. And thanks to Julia, who shares my life and is also my best reader. Her influence and support at every stage in the writing of this book have been essential. Without them, I would not have had the energy to see this project through to completion.
Introduction
“Social distinctions can be based only on common utility.”
—Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen, article 1, 1789
The distribution of wealth is one of today’s most widely discussed and controversial issues. But what do we really know about its evolution over the long term? Do the dynamics of private capital accumulation inevitably lead to the concentration of wealth in ever fewer hands, as Karl Marx believed in the nineteenth century? Or do the balancing forces of growth, competition, and technological progress lead in later stages of development to reduced inequality and greater harmony among the classes, as Simon Kuznets thought in the twentieth century? What do we really know about how wealth and income have evolved since the eighteenth century, and what lessons can we derive from that knowledge for the century now under way?
These are the questions I attempt to answer in this book. Let me say at once that the answers contained herein are imperfect and incomplete. But they are based on much more extensive historical and comparative data than were available to previous researchers, data covering three centuries and more than twenty countries, as well as on a new theoretical frame
work that affords a deeper understanding of the underlying mechanisms. Modern economic growth and the diffusion of knowledge have made it possible to avoid the Marxist apocalypse but have not modified the deep structures of capital and inequality—or in any case not as much as one might have imagined in the optimistic decades following World War II. When the rate of return on capital exceeds the rate of growth of output and income, as it did in the nineteenth century and seems quite likely to do again in the twenty-first, capitalism automatically generates arbitrary and unsustainable inequalities that radically undermine the meritocratic values on which democratic societies are based. There are nevertheless ways democracy can regain control over capitalism and ensure that the general interest takes precedence over private interests, while preserving economic openness and avoiding protectionist and nationalist reactions. The policy recommendations I propose later in the book tend in this direction. They are based on lessons derived from historical experience, of which what follows is essentially a narrative.
A Debate without Data?
Intellectual and political debate about the distribution of wealth has long been based on an abundance of prejudice and a paucity of fact.
To be sure, it would be a mistake to underestimate the importance of the intuitive knowledge that everyone acquires about contemporary wealth and income levels, even in the absence of any theoretical framework or statistical analysis. Film and literature, nineteenth-century novels especially, are full of detailed information about the relative wealth and living standards of different social groups, and especially about the deep structure of inequality, the way it is justified, and its impact on individual lives. Indeed, the novels of Jane Austen and Honoré de Balzac paint striking portraits of the distribution of wealth in Britain and France between 1790 and 1830. Both novelists were intimately acquainted with the hierarchy of wealth in their respective societies. They grasped the hidden contours of wealth and its inevitable implications for the lives of men and women, including their marital strategies and personal hopes and disappointments. These and other novelists depicted the effects of inequality with a verisimilitude and evocative power that no statistical or theoretical analysis can match.
Indeed, the distribution of wealth is too important an issue to be left to economists, sociologists, historians, and philosophers. It is of interest to everyone, and that is a good thing. The concrete, physical reality of inequality is visible to the naked eye and naturally inspires sharp but contradictory political judgments. Peasant and noble, worker and factory owner, waiter and banker: each has his or her own unique vantage point and sees important aspects of how other people live and what relations of power and domination exist between social groups, and these observations shape each person’s judgment of what is and is not just. Hence there will always be a fundamentally subjective and psychological dimension to inequality, which inevitably gives rise to political conflict that no purportedly scientific analysis can alleviate. Democracy will never be supplanted by a republic of experts—and that is a very good thing.
Nevertheless, the distribution question also deserves to be studied in a systematic and methodical fashion. Without precisely defined sources, methods, and concepts, it is possible to see everything and its opposite. Some people believe that inequality is always increasing and that the world is by definition always becoming more unjust. Others believe that inequality is naturally decreasing, or that harmony comes about automatically, and that in any case nothing should be done that might risk disturbing this happy equilibrium. Given this dialogue of the deaf, in which each camp justifies its own intellectual laziness by pointing to the laziness of the other, there is a role for research that is at least systematic and methodical if not fully scientific. Expert analysis will never put an end to the violent political conflict that inequality inevitably instigates. Social scientific research is and always will be tentative and imperfect. It does not claim to transform economics, sociology, and history into exact sciences. But by patiently searching for facts and patterns and calmly analyzing the economic, social, and political mechanisms that might explain them, it can inform democratic debate and focus attention on the right questions. It can help to redefine the terms of debate, unmask certain preconceived or fraudulent notions, and subject all positions to constant critical scrutiny. In my view, this is the role that intellectuals, including social scientists, should play, as citizens like any other but with the good fortune to have more time than others to devote themselves to study (and even to be paid for it—a signal privilege).
There is no escaping the fact, however, that social science research on the distribution of wealth was for a long time based on a relatively limited set of firmly established facts together with a wide variety of purely theoretical speculations. Before turning in greater detail to the sources I tried to assemble in preparation for writing this book, I want to give a quick historical overview of previous thinking about these issues.
Malthus, Young, and the French Revolution
When classical political economy was born in England and France in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, the issue of distribution was already one of the key questions. Everyone realized that radical transformations were under way, precipitated by sustained demographic growth—a previously unknown phenomenon—coupled with a rural exodus and the advent of the Industrial Revolution. How would these upheavals affect the distribution of wealth, the social structure, and the political equilibrium of European society?
For Thomas Malthus, who in 1798 published his Essay on the Principle of Population, there could be no doubt: the primary threat was overpopulation.1 Although his sources were thin, he made the best he could of them. One particularly important influence was the travel diary published by Arthur Young, an English agronomist who traveled extensively in France, from Calais to the Pyrenees and from Brittany to Franche-Comté, in 1787–1788, on the eve of the Revolution. Young wrote of the poverty of the French countryside.
His vivid essay was by no means totally inaccurate. France at that time was by far the most populous country in Europe and therefore an ideal place to observe. The kingdom could already boast of a population of 20 million in 1700, compared to only 8 million for Great Britain (and 5 million for England alone). The French population increased steadily throughout the eighteenth century, from the end of Louis XIV’s reign to the demise of Louis XVI, and by 1780 was close to 30 million. There is every reason to believe that this unprecedentedly rapid population growth contributed to a stagnation of agricultural wages and an increase in land rents in the decades prior to the explosion of 1789. Although this demographic shift was not the sole cause of the French Revolution, it clearly contributed to the growing unpopularity of the aristocracy and the existing political regime.
Nevertheless, Young’s account, published in 1792, also bears the traces of nationalist prejudice and misleading comparison. The great agronomist found the inns in which he stayed thoroughly disagreeable and disliked the manners of the women who waited on him. Although many of his observations were banal and anecdotal, he believed he could derive universal consequences from them. He was mainly worried that the mass poverty he witnessed would lead to political upheaval. In particular, he was convinced that only the English political system, with separate houses of Parliament for aristocrats and commoners and veto power for the nobility, could allow for harmonious and peaceful development led by responsible people. He was convinced that France was headed for ruin when it decided in 1789–1790 to allow both aristocrats and commoners to sit in a single legislative body. It is no exaggeration to say that his whole account was overdetermined by his fear of revolution in France. Whenever one speaks about the distribution of wealth, politics is never very far behind, and it is difficult for anyone to escape contemporary class prejudices and interests.
When Reverend Malthus published his famous Essay in 1798, he reached conclusions even more radical than Young’s. Like his compatriot, he was very afraid of the new political ideas ema
nating from France, and to reassure himself that there would be no comparable upheaval in Great Britain he argued that all welfare assistance to the poor must be halted at once and that reproduction by the poor should be severely scrutinized lest the world succumb to overpopulation leading to chaos and misery. It is impossible to understand Malthus’s exaggeratedly somber predictions without recognizing the way fear gripped much of the European elite in the 1790s.
Ricardo: The Principle of Scarcity
In retrospect, it is obviously easy to make fun of these prophecies of doom. It is important to realize, however, that the economic and social transformations of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries were objectively quite impressive, not to say traumatic, for those who witnessed them. Indeed, most contemporary observers—and not only Malthus and Young—shared relatively dark or even apocalyptic views of the long-run evolution of the distribution of wealth and class structure of society. This was true in particular of David Ricardo and Karl Marx, who were surely the two most influential economists of the nineteenth century and who both believed that a small social group—landowners for Ricardo, industrial capitalists for Marx—would inevitably claim a steadily increasing share of output and income.2
For Ricardo, who published his Principles of Political Economy and Taxation in 1817, the chief concern was the long-term evolution of land prices and land rents. Like Malthus, he had virtually no genuine statistics at his disposal. He nevertheless had intimate knowledge of the capitalism of his time. Born into a family of Jewish financiers with Portuguese roots, he also seems to have had fewer political prejudices than Malthus, Young, or Smith. He was influenced by the Malthusian model but pushed the argument farther. He was above all interested in the following logical paradox. Once both population and output begin to grow steadily, land tends to become increasingly scarce relative to other goods. The law of supply and demand then implies that the price of land will rise continuously, as will the rents paid to landlords. The landlords will therefore claim a growing share of national income, as the share available to the rest of the population decreases, thus upsetting the social equilibrium. For Ricardo, the only logically and politically acceptable answer was to impose a steadily increasing tax on land rents.
Capital in the Twenty-First Century Page 1
