“In order to create a value, we must have the conjunction of these
three circumstances:—‹1st›, That man experiences or conceives a want;
‹2d›, That there exists something calculated to satisfy that want;
and, ‹3d›, That a judgment is pronounced in favour of the ‹utility of
the thing›. Then the value of things is their relative ‹utility›.”
During the day I experience the want of seeing clearly. There exists
one thing calculated to satisfy that want—namely, the light of the
sun. My judgment pronounces in favour of the utility of that thing,
and . . . it has no value. Why? Because I enjoy it without calling
for the services of any one.
At night I experience the same want. There exists one thing capable
of satisfying it very imperfectly, a wax candle. My judgment
pronounces in favour of the utility, but far inferior utility, of
that thing—and it ‹has value›. Why? Because the man who has taken
the trouble to make the candle will not give it to me except upon
condition of my rendering him an equivalent service.
What we have, then, to compare and to judge of, in order to determine
Value, is not the ‹relative utility› of things, but the relation of
two services.
On these terms, I do not reject Storch’s definition.
Permit me to recapitulate a little, in order to show clearly that
my definition contains all that is true in the definitions of my
predecessors, and eliminates everything in them which is erroneous
either through excess or defect.
The principle of Value, we have seen, resides in a human ‹service›,
and results from the appreciation of two services compared.
Value must have relation to Effort. ‹Service› implies a certain
Effort.
Value supposes a comparison of Efforts exchanged, at least
exchangeable. ‹Service› implies the terms to give and to receive.
[p169]
Value is not, however, in fact proportional to the intensity of the
Efforts. ‹Service› does not necessarily imply that proportion.
A multitude of external circumstances influence value without
constituting value itself. The word ‹service› takes all these
circumstances in due measure into account.
‹Materiality.›—When the service consists in transferring a material
thing, nothing hinders us from saying, by metonymy, that it is the
thing which ‹has value›. But we must not forget that this is a figure
of speech, by which we attribute to things themselves the value of
the services which produced them.
‹Conservability.›—Without reference to the consideration of
materiality, value endures until the satisfaction is obtained, and
no longer. Whether the satisfaction follows the effort more or less
nearly—whether the service is personal or real, makes no change in
the nature of value.
‹Capability of Accumulation.›—In a social point of view, what is
accumulated by saving is not matter, but value or services.[35]
‹Utility.›—I admit, with M. Say, that Utility is the foundation of
Value, provided it is granted me that we have no concern with the
utility which resides in commodities, but with the relative utility
of services.
‹Labour.›—I admit, with Ricardo, that Labour is the foundation
of Value, provided, first of all, the word labour is taken in
the most general sense, and that you do not afterwards assert a
proportionality which is contrary to fact; in other words, provided
you substitute for the word ‹labour› the word ‹service›.
‹Rarity.›—I admit, with Senior, that rarity influences ‹value›. But
why? Because it renders the ‹service› so much more precious.
‹Judgment.›—I admit, with Storch, that value results from a judgment
formed, provided it is granted me that the judgment so formed is not
upon the utility of things, but on the utility of ‹services›.
Thus I hope to satisfy Economists of all shades of opinion. I [p170]
admit them all to be right, because all have had a glimpse of the
truth in one of its aspects. Error is no doubt on the reverse of
the medal; and it is for the reader to decide whether my definition
includes all that is true, and rejects all that is false.
I cannot conclude without saying a word on that ‹quadrature› of
Political Economy—‹the measure of value›; and here I shall repeat,
and with still more force, the observation with which I terminated
the preceding chapters.
I said that our wants, our desires, our tastes, have neither limit
nor exact measure.
I said also that our means of providing for our wants—the gifts
of nature, our faculties, activity, discernment, foresight—had no
precise measure. Each of these elements is variable in itself—it
differs in different men—it varies from hour to hour in the same
individual,—so that the whole forms an aggregate which is mobility
itself.
If, again, we consider what the circumstances are which influence
value—utility, labour, rarity, judgment—and reflect that there is not
one of these circumstances which does not vary ‹ad infinitum›, we may
well ask why men should set themselves so pertinaciously to try to
discover a fixed measure of Value?
It would be singular, indeed, if we were to find fixity in a mean
term composed of variable elements, and which is nothing else than a
Relation between two extreme terms more variable still!
The Economists, then, who go in pursuit of an ‹absolute measure of
value› are pursuing a chimera; and, what is more, a thing which, if
found, would be positively useless. Universal practice has adopted
gold and silver as standards, although practical men are not ignorant
how variable is the value of these metals. But of what importance
is the variability of the measure, if, affecting equally and in
the same manner the two objects which are exchanged, it does not
interfere with the fairness and equity of the exchange? It is a ‹mean
proportional›, which may rise or fall, without, on that account,
failing to perform its office, which is to show the ‹Relation› of two
extremes.
The design of the science is not, like that of exchange, to
discover the ‹present Relation of two services›, for, in that case,
money would answer the purpose in view. What the science aims at
discovering is ‹the Relation between Effort and Satisfaction›; and
for this purpose, a measure of value, did it exist, would teach us
nothing, for the effort brings always to the satisfaction a varying
proportion of gratuitous utility which has no value. It is because
this element of our well-being has been lost sight of that the
[p171] majority of writers have deplored the absence of a measure
of Value. They have not reflected that it would not enable them
to answer the question proposed—What is the comparative Wealth or
prosperity of two classes, of two countries, of two generations?
In order to resolve that question, the science would require a
measure which should reveal to it not only ‹the relation of two
services›, which might be the vehicle of very different amounts
of gratuitous utility, but the relation ‹of the Effort to the
Satisfaction›, and that measure could be no other than the effort
itself, or labour.
But how can labour serve as a measure? Is it not itself a most
variable element? Is it not more or less skilful, laborious,
precarious, dangerous, repugnant? Does it not require, more or less,
the intervention of certain intellectual faculties, of certain moral
virtues? and, according as it is influenced by these circumstances,
is it not rewarded by a remuneration which is in the highest degree
variable?
There is one species of labour which, at all times, and in all
places, is identically the same, and it is that which must serve as a
type. I mean labour the most simple, rude, primitive, muscular,—that
which is freest from all natural co-operation—that which every man
can execute—that which renders services of a kind which one can
render to himself—that which exacts no exceptional force or skill,
and requires no apprenticeship,—industry such as is found in the
very earliest stages of society: the work, in short, of the simple
day-labourer. That kind of labour is everywhere the most abundantly
supplied, the least special, the most homogeneous, and the worst
remunerated. Wages in all other departments are proportioned and
graduated on this basis, and increase with every circumstance which
adds to its importance.
If, then, we wish to compare two social states with each other, we
cannot have recourse to a ‹standard of value›, and for two reasons,
the one as logical as the other—first, because there is none; and,
secondly, because, if there were, it would give a wrong answer to
our question, neglecting, as it must, a considerable and progressive
element in human prosperity—gratuitous utility.
What we must do, on the contrary, is to put Value altogether out of
sight, particularly the consideration of money; and ask the question,
What, in such and such a country, and, at such and such an epoch, is
the amount of each kind of special utility, and the sum total of all
utilities, which correspond to a given amount of unskilled labour? In
other words, what amount of material comfort and prosperity can an
unskilled workman earn as the reward of his daily toil? [p172]
We may affirm that the natural social order is harmonious, and goes
on improving, if, on the one hand, the number of unskilled labours,
receiving the smallest possible remuneration, continues to diminish;
and if, on the other, that remuneration, measured not in value or
in money, but in real satisfactions, continues constantly on the
increase.[36]