Earlier, the labour-process was considered in the abstract, apart from its historical forms, as a process between people and nature. From the standpoint of its result, tools and materials are means of production, and labour itself is productive labour. But that definition, drawn from the simple labour-process, is not enough for capitalist production. This must now be developed further.
When the labour-process is individual, one worker performs all the functions that later become divided. In taking natural things for their livelihood, people control themselves; later they are controlled by others. No one works on nature without using their muscles under the control of their brain. Mental and manual work belong together in the labour-process, as head and hand do in the body; later they separate and become hostile opponents. The product then stops being simply the product of one producer. It becomes a social product made in common by a collective labourer: a combined body of workers, whose members stand nearer to or farther from handling the object of work. As labour becomes cooperative, productive labour and the productive labourer must be understood more widely. A person need not personally do manual work; it can be enough to perform one subordinate function of the collective labourer. The original definition from material production remains true of the collective labourer as a whole, but not of every member separately.
At the same time, productive labour becomes a narrower idea. Capitalist production is not merely production of commodities; it is essentially production of surplus-value. The labourer works not for themselves but for capital. Simply producing is no longer enough: they must produce surplus-value. A productive labourer is one who produces it for the capitalist and so serves capital’s self-expansion. A schoolmaster can therefore be a productive labourer when, besides working on the heads of his pupils, he works himself to exhaustion to enrich the school proprietor. It makes no difference to the relation whether that proprietor has invested in a teaching factory or in a sausage factory. A productive labourer is not defined merely by work and useful effect, or by worker and product. The term names a specific, historically formed social relation that stamps the labourer as capital’s direct means of expansion. To be a productive labourer is not good luck but bad luck. A planned fourth book is to examine the history of this theory. Classical political economy made the production of surplus-value the distinguishing mark of the productive labourer, so its definition changed with its view of surplus-value. The Physiocrats, for example, said only agricultural labour was productive because only it yielded surplus-value. For them, surplus-value existed only as ground-rent.
Absolute surplus-value is produced when capital extends the working day beyond the time in which labourers produce an equivalent for the value of their labour-power, and then takes the extra labour. It is the general ground of the capitalist system and the starting-point for relative surplus-value. Relative surplus-value assumes that the day is already divided into necessary labour and surplus-labour. It increases the surplus part by reducing the time needed to produce the equivalent of wages. Absolute surplus-value works on the day’s length; relative surplus-value thoroughly changes the technical processes of labour and its social groupings.
Relative surplus-value therefore requires a specifically capitalist way of producing. Its methods, means, and conditions arise and develop on the basis of formal subsumption of labour under capital. As that development proceeds, formal subsumption is replaced by real subsumption.
Some intermediate forms need only be mentioned. Producers are neither directly compelled to yield surplus-labour nor formally subsumed under capital, and capital has not yet directly controlled their labour-process. Independent artisans and agricultural producers continue in traditional old-fashioned ways while the usurer or merchant, through usury or merchant’s capital, feeds on them like a parasite. The dominance of that form of exploitation excludes the capitalist mode of production, though it may form a transition toward it, as it did toward the close of the Middle Ages. Modern domestic industry can reproduce some such intermediate forms in the background of Modern Industry, but with a completely changed character.
Formal subsumption alone is enough for absolute surplus-value. Artisans who once worked for themselves, or as journeymen of a guild-master, can become wage-labourers under a capitalist’s direct control. Yet methods for producing relative surplus-value are at the same time methods for producing absolute surplus-value. Modern Industry’s own distinctive product was the excessive extension of the working day. Once the specifically capitalist mode of production has taken over an entire branch, and then the decisive branches, it is no longer merely a special means of producing relative surplus-value. It becomes the general, socially dominant form of production. It still works as a special means of producing relative surplus-value when it takes over industries that were previously only formally subsumed and when it repeatedly changes production methods in industries it has already taken over.
From one standpoint, the difference between absolute and relative surplus-value seems illusory. Relative surplus-value is “absolute” because it requires a working day that extends beyond the labour-time needed for the labourer’s own existence. Absolute surplus-value is “relative” because it requires productive development sufficient to confine necessary labour-time to part of the day. But when we follow the movement of surplus-value, that appearance of identity vanishes. Once the capitalist mode of production is established and general, the difference matters whenever the rate of surplus-value is to be raised. If labour-power is paid at its value, the choice is this: with the productive power of labour and normal intensity given, the rate can rise only through a longer working day. With the day’s length given, it can rise only by changing the relative sizes of necessary and surplus labour; if wages are not to fall below the value of labour-power, that requires a change in the productive power of labour or in intensity.
If the labourer needs all their time to produce the means of subsistence for themselves and their race, no time remains to work without payment for other people. Without a certain productive power of labour, there is no such spare time; without it, no surplus-labour, and therefore no capitalists, slave-owners, feudal lords, or class of large proprietors. [1]
We may speak of a natural basis of surplus-value only in the very general sense that no absolute obstacle prevents one person from unloading the labour needed for their own existence onto another—just as no absolute obstacle prevents one person from eating another’s flesh. A recent calculation places at least 4,000,000 cannibals in explored parts of the earth. [2] No mystical idea belongs to the productivity that grows naturally. Only once people have risen above their first animal condition, and labour has become social to some degree, do relations arise in which one person’s surplus-labour becomes another’s condition of existence. At the beginnings of civilisation, acquired productive powers are small, but so are needs; the part of society living on others’ labour is also tiny beside the mass of direct producers. As the social productive power of labour advances, that part grows both absolutely and relatively. One cited comparison gives labour 99 parts out of 100 among “wild Indians in America,” while in England the labourer may not have even 2/3. [3] The capital relation also grows from an economic ground formed through a long process of development. The productive power from which it begins is not a gift of nature, but the gift of a history embracing thousands of centuries.
Whatever the level of social production, the productive power of labour remains tied to physical conditions. These include the human constitution itself, including race, and the surrounding world. External conditions divide into two economic kinds: wealth in means of subsistence, such as fruitful soil and waters rich in fish; and wealth in means of labour, such as waterfalls, navigable rivers, wood, metals, and coal. At the dawn of civilisation, the first kind carries more weight; at a higher level of development, the second does. England and India, and in antiquity Athens and Corinth compared with the shores of the Black Sea, are examples.
The fewer natural needs that must be met, and the greater the favourableness of the soil and climate, the less labour-time is needed to maintain and reproduce the producer. The excess of labour for others over labour for oneself can therefore be larger. Diodorus already remarks on this in relation to the ancient Egyptians.
Diodorus reports that raising children costs the ancient Egyptians remarkably little trouble and expense. They give children the first simple food at hand: roasted lower papyrus stem, and roots and stalks of marsh plants, raw, boiled, or roasted. Most children go barefoot and unclothed because the air is mild. A child costs its parents no more than twenty drachmas until grown; this, he says, chiefly explains Egypt’s large population and the many great works it could undertake. [4]
Ancient Egypt’s great structures are owed less to the size of its population than to the large proportion of it that was freely disposable. Just as an individual labourer can provide more surplus-labour when necessary labour-time is shorter, so a working population has more people available for other work when fewer are required to produce necessary means of subsistence.
Once capitalist production is assumed, with other conditions unchanged and the working day given, the quantity of surplus-labour varies with physical conditions of labour, especially the fertility of the soil. But it does not follow that the most fertile soil is best suited to the growth of the capitalist mode of production. Capitalist production presupposes human dominion over nature. Where nature is too lavish, it keeps people in hand like children in leading-strings and does not make their own development a necessity. [5] The tropical climate with luxuriant vegetation is not the mother-country of capital; the temperate zone is. What matters is not mere fertility, but differentiated soil, varied natural products, and changing seasons, which form a basis for the social division of labour and spur the multiplication of needs, capacities, means, and ways of labour. The decisive part in the history of industry is first played by the need to bring a natural force under social control, use it economically, appropriate or subdue it on a large scale through human work. Examples include irrigation works in Egypt, Lombardy, and Holland; and in India and Persia, canals that bring both indispensable water and mineral fertilisers from the hills. The flourishing industry of Spain and Sicily under Arab rule rested on irrigation works. [6] [7]
Favourable natural conditions provide only the possibility, never the reality, of surplus-labour, surplus-value, or a surplus-product. Different conditions mean that the same quantity of labour meets different masses of needs in different countries; under otherwise similar circumstances, necessary labour-time therefore differs. [8] They affect surplus-labour only as natural limits: they set the point at which labour for others can begin. As industry advances, those limits recede. In West European society, where the labourer buys the right to work for their own livelihood by paying in surplus-labour, it can easily seem that producing a surplus-product is an inborn quality of human labour. [9] Consider instead an inhabitant of the eastern islands of the Asiatic Archipelago, where sago grows wild in the forests.
F. Schouw’s quoted account says that, once people have bored into a tree and found its pith ripe, they cut down the trunk, divide it, extract the pith, mix it with water, and filter it into usable sago. One tree commonly gives 300 pounds and sometimes 500–600 pounds. People go into the forest and cut bread for themselves as others cut firewood.
Suppose such an eastern bread-cutter needs 12 working hours a week to satisfy all wants. What favourable conditions give directly is plentiful leisure time. Before that time can be used productively for oneself, a whole series of historical events is required; before it is spent in surplus-labour for strangers, external compulsion is necessary. If capitalist production were introduced, the honest fellow might have to work six days a week in order to appropriate for himself the product of one working day. Favourable conditions do not explain why he then works six days a week or provides five days of surplus-labour. They explain only why necessary labour-time is limited to one day a week. In no case would his surplus-product arise from an occult quality inborn in human labour.
Both historically developed social productive powers and productive powers conditioned by nature appear as productive powers of the capital into which labour has been incorporated.
Ricardo never investigates the origin of surplus-value. He treats it as inherent in capitalist production, which he regards as the natural form of social production. When he discusses productive power, he seeks not the cause of surplus-value’s existence but only what determines its magnitude. Ricardo’s school openly proclaims productive power the originating cause of profit, meaning surplus-value. That is an advance on the mercantilists, who derived the excess of price over costs from exchange and sale above value. Yet the school too evades rather than solves the problem. Marx says these bourgeois economists rightly sensed the danger of probing the burning question too deeply, before asking what to say of Mill, who repeats the poor evasions of Ricardo’s earliest vulgarisers.
Mill says:
“The cause of profit is that labour produces more than is required for its support.”
Marx says that, so far, this is only the old story. Mill now wishes to add something of his own.
Mill varies the formula: capital yields profit, he says, because food, clothing, materials, and tools last longer than the time required to produce them.
Mill confuses the duration of labour-time with the duration of its products. On that view, a baker whose products last one day could never draw the same profit from wage-labourers as a machine-maker whose products last twenty years or more. And if birds’ nests did not last longer than the time needed to build them, birds would have to do without nests.
Having established this fundamental truth, Mill now establishes his superiority over the mercantilists.
Mill says that profit arises not from the incident of exchange but from the productive power of labour; a country’s total profit is always determined by that power, whether exchange takes place or not. Even without a division of employments, buying, or selling, he says, profit would still exist.
For Mill, then, exchange, buying, and selling—the general conditions of capitalist production—are merely an incident, and profit exists even without the purchase and sale of labour-power.
Mill continues:
“If the labourers of a country collectively produce 20% over their wage total, profits will be 20%, whatever the level of commodity prices.”
This is a very successful tautology on one side: if workers produce 20% surplus-value for their capitalists, profit stands to the workers’ total wages as 20:100. On the other side, it is absolutely false that profits “will be 20%.” They must always be smaller, because profit is calculated on the total capital advanced. Suppose a capitalist advances £500 in total: £400 in means of production and £100 in wages. If the rate of surplus-value is 20%, the profit rate is 20:500, that is 4%, not 20%.
Marx now gives what he calls a splendid example of Mill’s way of handling the different historical forms of social production.
“I assume throughout the present state of things, which, with few exceptions, prevails everywhere: the capitalist makes all the advances, including payment of the worker.”
Marx calls it a strange optical illusion to see everywhere a state which, so far, exists only exceptionally on earth. He continues that Mill is good enough to concede that this need not be an absolute necessity. The printed text then opens a bracket: in a letter to N. F. Danielson of 28 November 1878, Marx proposed the following replacement wording for the paragraph. [11]
Inside that bracket, the proposed wording keeps Mill’s historical-forms example but restores the condition absent from the original quotation: the arrangement prevails where workers and capitalists confront one another as separate classes. It then says that Mill is willing to believe the arrangement is not an absolute necessity even in that economic system. The bracket closes; the main text resumes with: “On the contrary.” The editorial note records that earlier editions had omitted the separate-class clause from Mill’s quotation, and that Marx identified the omission in his Danielson letter. It also gives Mill’s bibliographical source.
Mill says that a worker could wait for full payment until production is complete if they had the means needed for their maintenance in the meantime. In that case, he says, the worker is to some extent a capitalist, putting capital into the business and supplying part of the funds needed to carry it on.
Marx says Mill could just as well call the worker who advances to themself not only means of subsistence but also means of production their own wage-labourer. Or the American peasant proprietor would be their own serf, performing forced labour for themself instead of for a lord.
Mill has thus, Marx says, clearly proved that capitalist production would always exist even if it did not exist. He is now consistent enough to prove that it does not exist even when it does exist.
Mill says that even where the capitalist advances all the wage-worker’s means of subsistence, the worker may be viewed as a capitalist. By supplying labour below its market price, Mill says, the worker can be regarded as advancing the difference to the employer, and so on. [12]
In actual reality, the labourer advances labour gratuitously to the capitalist during, say, one week, in order to receive its market price at the end of the week; according to Mill, this transforms the labourer into a capitalist. On the level plain, simple mounds look like hills; and the imbecile flatness of the present bourgeoisie is to be measured by the altitude of its great intellects.
Earlier, the labour-process was considered in the abstract, apart from its historical forms, as a process between people and nature. From the standpoint of its result, tools and materials are means of production, and labour itself is productive labour. But that definition, drawn from the simple labour-process, is not enough for capitalist production. This must now be developed further.
When the labour-process is individual, one worker performs all the functions that later become divided. In taking natural things for their livelihood, people control themselves; later they are controlled by others. No one works on nature without using their muscles under the control of their brain. Mental and manual work belong together in the labour-process, as head and hand do in the body; later they separate and become hostile opponents. The product then stops being simply the product of one producer. It becomes a social product made in common by a collective labourer: a combined body of workers, whose members stand nearer to or farther from handling the object of work. As labour becomes cooperative, productive labour and the productive labourer must be understood more widely. A person need not personally do manual work; it can be enough to perform one subordinate function of the collective labourer. The original definition from material production remains true of the collective labourer as a whole, but not of every member separately.
At the same time, productive labour becomes a narrower idea. Capitalist production is not merely production of commodities; it is essentially production of surplus-value. The labourer works not for themselves but for capital. Simply producing is no longer enough: they must produce surplus-value. A productive labourer is one who produces it for the capitalist and so serves capital’s self-expansion. A schoolmaster can therefore be a productive labourer when, besides working on the heads of his pupils, he works himself to exhaustion to enrich the school proprietor. It makes no difference to the relation whether that proprietor has invested in a teaching factory or in a sausage factory. A productive labourer is not defined merely by work and useful effect, or by worker and product. The term names a specific, historically formed social relation that stamps the labourer as capital’s direct means of expansion. To be a productive labourer is not good luck but bad luck. A planned fourth book is to examine the history of this theory. Classical political economy made the production of surplus-value the distinguishing mark of the productive labourer, so its definition changed with its view of surplus-value. The Physiocrats, for example, said only agricultural labour was productive because only it yielded surplus-value. For them, surplus-value existed only as ground-rent.
Absolute surplus-value is produced when capital extends the working day beyond the time in which labourers produce an equivalent for the value of their labour-power, and then takes the extra labour. It is the general ground of the capitalist system and the starting-point for relative surplus-value. Relative surplus-value assumes that the day is already divided into necessary labour and surplus-labour. It increases the surplus part by reducing the time needed to produce the equivalent of wages. Absolute surplus-value works on the day’s length; relative surplus-value thoroughly changes the technical processes of labour and its social groupings.
Relative surplus-value therefore requires a specifically capitalist way of producing. Its methods, means, and conditions arise and develop on the basis of formal subsumption of labour under capital. As that development proceeds, formal subsumption is replaced by real subsumption.
Some intermediate forms need only be mentioned. Producers are neither directly compelled to yield surplus-labour nor formally subsumed under capital, and capital has not yet directly controlled their labour-process. Independent artisans and agricultural producers continue in traditional old-fashioned ways while the usurer or merchant, through usury or merchant’s capital, feeds on them like a parasite. The dominance of that form of exploitation excludes the capitalist mode of production, though it may form a transition toward it, as it did toward the close of the Middle Ages. Modern domestic industry can reproduce some such intermediate forms in the background of Modern Industry, but with a completely changed character.
Formal subsumption alone is enough for absolute surplus-value. Artisans who once worked for themselves, or as journeymen of a guild-master, can become wage-labourers under a capitalist’s direct control. Yet methods for producing relative surplus-value are at the same time methods for producing absolute surplus-value. Modern Industry’s own distinctive product was the excessive extension of the working day. Once the specifically capitalist mode of production has taken over an entire branch, and then the decisive branches, it is no longer merely a special means of producing relative surplus-value. It becomes the general, socially dominant form of production. It still works as a special means of producing relative surplus-value when it takes over industries that were previously only formally subsumed and when it repeatedly changes production methods in industries it has already taken over.
From one standpoint, the difference between absolute and relative surplus-value seems illusory. Relative surplus-value is “absolute” because it requires a working day that extends beyond the labour-time needed for the labourer’s own existence. Absolute surplus-value is “relative” because it requires productive development sufficient to confine necessary labour-time to part of the day. But when we follow the movement of surplus-value, that appearance of identity vanishes. Once the capitalist mode of production is established and general, the difference matters whenever the rate of surplus-value is to be raised. If labour-power is paid at its value, the choice is this: with the productive power of labour and normal intensity given, the rate can rise only through a longer working day. With the day’s length given, it can rise only by changing the relative sizes of necessary and surplus labour; if wages are not to fall below the value of labour-power, that requires a change in the productive power of labour or in intensity.
If the labourer needs all their time to produce the means of subsistence for themselves and their race, no time remains to work without payment for other people. Without a certain productive power of labour, there is no such spare time; without it, no surplus-labour, and therefore no capitalists, slave-owners, feudal lords, or class of large proprietors. [1]
We may speak of a natural basis of surplus-value only in the very general sense that no absolute obstacle prevents one person from unloading the labour needed for their own existence onto another—just as no absolute obstacle prevents one person from eating another’s flesh. A recent calculation places at least 4,000,000 cannibals in explored parts of the earth. [2] No mystical idea belongs to the productivity that grows naturally. Only once people have risen above their first animal condition, and labour has become social to some degree, do relations arise in which one person’s surplus-labour becomes another’s condition of existence. At the beginnings of civilisation, acquired productive powers are small, but so are needs; the part of society living on others’ labour is also tiny beside the mass of direct producers. As the social productive power of labour advances, that part grows both absolutely and relatively. One cited comparison gives labour 99 parts out of 100 among “wild Indians in America,” while in England the labourer may not have even 2/3. [3] The capital relation also grows from an economic ground formed through a long process of development. The productive power from which it begins is not a gift of nature, but the gift of a history embracing thousands of centuries.
Whatever the level of social production, the productive power of labour remains tied to physical conditions. These include the human constitution itself, including race, and the surrounding world. External conditions divide into two economic kinds: wealth in means of subsistence, such as fruitful soil and waters rich in fish; and wealth in means of labour, such as waterfalls, navigable rivers, wood, metals, and coal. At the dawn of civilisation, the first kind carries more weight; at a higher level of development, the second does. England and India, and in antiquity Athens and Corinth compared with the shores of the Black Sea, are examples.
The fewer natural needs that must be met, and the greater the favourableness of the soil and climate, the less labour-time is needed to maintain and reproduce the producer. The excess of labour for others over labour for oneself can therefore be larger. Diodorus already remarks on this in relation to the ancient Egyptians.
Diodorus reports that raising children costs the ancient Egyptians remarkably little trouble and expense. They give children the first simple food at hand: roasted lower papyrus stem, and roots and stalks of marsh plants, raw, boiled, or roasted. Most children go barefoot and unclothed because the air is mild. A child costs its parents no more than twenty drachmas until grown; this, he says, chiefly explains Egypt’s large population and the many great works it could undertake. [4]
Ancient Egypt’s great structures are owed less to the size of its population than to the large proportion of it that was freely disposable. Just as an individual labourer can provide more surplus-labour when necessary labour-time is shorter, so a working population has more people available for other work when fewer are required to produce necessary means of subsistence.
Once capitalist production is assumed, with other conditions unchanged and the working day given, the quantity of surplus-labour varies with physical conditions of labour, especially the fertility of the soil. But it does not follow that the most fertile soil is best suited to the growth of the capitalist mode of production. Capitalist production presupposes human dominion over nature. Where nature is too lavish, it keeps people in hand like children in leading-strings and does not make their own development a necessity. [5] The tropical climate with luxuriant vegetation is not the mother-country of capital; the temperate zone is. What matters is not mere fertility, but differentiated soil, varied natural products, and changing seasons, which form a basis for the social division of labour and spur the multiplication of needs, capacities, means, and ways of labour. The decisive part in the history of industry is first played by the need to bring a natural force under social control, use it economically, appropriate or subdue it on a large scale through human work. Examples include irrigation works in Egypt, Lombardy, and Holland; and in India and Persia, canals that bring both indispensable water and mineral fertilisers from the hills. The flourishing industry of Spain and Sicily under Arab rule rested on irrigation works. [6] [7]
Favourable natural conditions provide only the possibility, never the reality, of surplus-labour, surplus-value, or a surplus-product. Different conditions mean that the same quantity of labour meets different masses of needs in different countries; under otherwise similar circumstances, necessary labour-time therefore differs. [8] They affect surplus-labour only as natural limits: they set the point at which labour for others can begin. As industry advances, those limits recede. In West European society, where the labourer buys the right to work for their own livelihood by paying in surplus-labour, it can easily seem that producing a surplus-product is an inborn quality of human labour. [9] Consider instead an inhabitant of the eastern islands of the Asiatic Archipelago, where sago grows wild in the forests.
F. Schouw’s quoted account says that, once people have bored into a tree and found its pith ripe, they cut down the trunk, divide it, extract the pith, mix it with water, and filter it into usable sago. One tree commonly gives 300 pounds and sometimes 500–600 pounds. People go into the forest and cut bread for themselves as others cut firewood.
Suppose such an eastern bread-cutter needs 12 working hours a week to satisfy all wants. What favourable conditions give directly is plentiful leisure time. Before that time can be used productively for oneself, a whole series of historical events is required; before it is spent in surplus-labour for strangers, external compulsion is necessary. If capitalist production were introduced, the honest fellow might have to work six days a week in order to appropriate for himself the product of one working day. Favourable conditions do not explain why he then works six days a week or provides five days of surplus-labour. They explain only why necessary labour-time is limited to one day a week. In no case would his surplus-product arise from an occult quality inborn in human labour.
Both historically developed social productive powers and productive powers conditioned by nature appear as productive powers of the capital into which labour has been incorporated.
Ricardo never investigates the origin of surplus-value. He treats it as inherent in capitalist production, which he regards as the natural form of social production. When he discusses productive power, he seeks not the cause of surplus-value’s existence but only what determines its magnitude. Ricardo’s school openly proclaims productive power the originating cause of profit, meaning surplus-value. That is an advance on the mercantilists, who derived the excess of price over costs from exchange and sale above value. Yet the school too evades rather than solves the problem. Marx says these bourgeois economists rightly sensed the danger of probing the burning question too deeply, before asking what to say of Mill, who repeats the poor evasions of Ricardo’s earliest vulgarisers.
Mill says:
“The cause of profit is that labour produces more than is required for its support.”
Marx says that, so far, this is only the old story. Mill now wishes to add something of his own.
Mill varies the formula: capital yields profit, he says, because food, clothing, materials, and tools last longer than the time required to produce them.
Mill confuses the duration of labour-time with the duration of its products. On that view, a baker whose products last one day could never draw the same profit from wage-labourers as a machine-maker whose products last twenty years or more. And if birds’ nests did not last longer than the time needed to build them, birds would have to do without nests.
Having established this fundamental truth, Mill now establishes his superiority over the mercantilists.
Mill says that profit arises not from the incident of exchange but from the productive power of labour; a country’s total profit is always determined by that power, whether exchange takes place or not. Even without a division of employments, buying, or selling, he says, profit would still exist.
For Mill, then, exchange, buying, and selling—the general conditions of capitalist production—are merely an incident, and profit exists even without the purchase and sale of labour-power.
Mill continues:
“If the labourers of a country collectively produce 20% over their wage total, profits will be 20%, whatever the level of commodity prices.”
This is a very successful tautology on one side: if workers produce 20% surplus-value for their capitalists, profit stands to the workers’ total wages as 20:100. On the other side, it is absolutely false that profits “will be 20%.” They must always be smaller, because profit is calculated on the total capital advanced. Suppose a capitalist advances £500 in total: £400 in means of production and £100 in wages. If the rate of surplus-value is 20%, the profit rate is 20:500, that is 4%, not 20%.
Marx now gives what he calls a splendid example of Mill’s way of handling the different historical forms of social production.
“I assume throughout the present state of things, which, with few exceptions, prevails everywhere: the capitalist makes all the advances, including payment of the worker.”
Marx calls it a strange optical illusion to see everywhere a state which, so far, exists only exceptionally on earth. He continues that Mill is good enough to concede that this need not be an absolute necessity. The printed text then opens a bracket: in a letter to N. F. Danielson of 28 November 1878, Marx proposed the following replacement wording for the paragraph. [11]
Inside that bracket, the proposed wording keeps Mill’s historical-forms example but restores the condition absent from the original quotation: the arrangement prevails where workers and capitalists confront one another as separate classes. It then says that Mill is willing to believe the arrangement is not an absolute necessity even in that economic system. The bracket closes; the main text resumes with: “On the contrary.” The editorial note records that earlier editions had omitted the separate-class clause from Mill’s quotation, and that Marx identified the omission in his Danielson letter. It also gives Mill’s bibliographical source.
Mill says that a worker could wait for full payment until production is complete if they had the means needed for their maintenance in the meantime. In that case, he says, the worker is to some extent a capitalist, putting capital into the business and supplying part of the funds needed to carry it on.
Marx says Mill could just as well call the worker who advances to themself not only means of subsistence but also means of production their own wage-labourer. Or the American peasant proprietor would be their own serf, performing forced labour for themself instead of for a lord.
Mill has thus, Marx says, clearly proved that capitalist production would always exist even if it did not exist. He is now consistent enough to prove that it does not exist even when it does exist.
Mill says that even where the capitalist advances all the wage-worker’s means of subsistence, the worker may be viewed as a capitalist. By supplying labour below its market price, Mill says, the worker can be regarded as advancing the difference to the employer, and so on. [12]
In actual reality, the labourer advances labour gratuitously to the capitalist during, say, one week, in order to receive its market price at the end of the week; according to Mill, this transforms the labourer into a capitalist. On the level plain, simple mounds look like hills; and the imbecile flatness of the present bourgeoisie is to be measured by the altitude of its great intellects.