Commodities cannot go to market or exchange themselves. So we have to look at their guardians, the commodity owners. Commodities are things, and things cannot resist people. If a thing will not come along, a person can use force; in plain words, he can take it.
For these things to relate to one another as commodities, their guardians have to relate to one another as persons. Each owner's will lives in the thing he owns, so one can take the other's commodity only with the other's will — through one act of will common to both — and gives up his own in taking it. So they have to recognize one another as private proprietors.
This legal relation takes the form of a contract, whether or not law has been developed into a full system. It is a relation between wills, and the economic relation is reflected in it. But the content of this legal or will-relation is given by the economic relation itself.
Here the persons exist for one another only as representatives of commodities, and therefore as commodity owners. As the development goes on, we will find this in general: the economic character-masks people wear here are only personifications of economic relations. The people who wear them face one another as the bearers of those relations.
What especially separates a commodity from its owner is this: for the commodity, every other commodity body counts only as a form of appearance of its own value. A born leveller and cynic, it stands ready to swap itself — soul and body — with any other commodity, however unappealing that one may be.
The commodity has no senses for the concrete body of another commodity. Its owner makes up for that lack with his own five senses — and more. His own commodity has no direct use-value for him. Otherwise he would not bring it to market. It has use-value for others. For him, its direct use-value is only that it bears exchange-value and so serves as a means of exchange. That is why he wants to part with it for a commodity whose use-value satisfies him.
All commodities are non-use-values for their owners and use-values for their non-owners. So they must change hands all around. But this change of hands is their exchange, and exchange relates them to one another as values and realizes them as values. Therefore commodities must be realized as values before they can be realized as use-values.
On the other hand, commodities must prove themselves as use-values before they can be realized as values. The human labour spent on them counts only if it was spent in a form useful to others. But whether it is useful for others, and whether its product satisfies someone else's needs, can be proved only by exchange.
Every commodity owner wants to give up his commodity only for another commodity whose use-value satisfies his need. In that respect, exchange is only an individual process for him.
On the other hand, he wants to realize his commodity as value. So he wants to turn it into any other commodity he chooses, as long as it has the same value, whether or not his own commodity has use-value for the owner of the other one. In that respect, exchange is a generally social process for him.
But for all commodity owners at once, the same process cannot be only individual and, at the same time, only generally social.
Let's look more closely. For every commodity owner, every other commodity counts as a particular equivalent of his own. So his own commodity counts as the universal equivalent of all the others.
But because all commodity owners do the same thing, no commodity is the universal equivalent. So the commodities also share no general value-form — no common form in which they could equate themselves as values and compare how much value each holds. So they do not face one another as commodities at all, but only as products or use-values.
Stuck in this bind, our commodity owners think like Faust. Goethe's Faust says: "In the beginning was the deed." So they have already acted before they have thought. The laws of commodity nature worked themselves out through the owners' natural instinct.
They can relate their commodities to one another as values, and therefore as commodities, only by setting them all against some other commodity as universal equivalent. The analysis of the commodity already showed this. But only a social deed can make a definite commodity the universal equivalent.
The social action of all the other commodities therefore excludes one definite commodity, in which they all present their values. By this, the bodily form of that commodity becomes the socially valid equivalent form. Through the social process, being the universal equivalent becomes the specific social function of the excluded commodity. Thus it becomes money.
"They have one mind, and they give their strength and power to the beast. And no one can buy or sell unless he has the mark: the beast's name, or the number of its name." (Revelation/Apocalypse)
Money is a necessary product of the exchange process — a crystal that forms inside it. In that process, different products of labour are actually equated with one another and therefore actually turned into commodities.
As exchange widens historically and reaches deeper, it develops the opposition sleeping inside the commodity: use-value and value. Trade needs this opposition to be shown outwardly. That need drives toward an independent form of commodity-value, and it does not rest until the commodity has doubled: ordinary commodity on one side, money on the other.
So, in the same measure as products of labour become commodities, a commodity becomes money.
Direct barter of products has the form of the simple expression of value in one respect — and does not yet have it in another. That form was: x commodity A = y commodity B. The form of direct barter is: x use-value A = y use-value B. Here A and B are not commodities before the exchange. They become commodities only through it.
A useful object first becomes a possible exchange-value by being a non-use-value for its owner — more of something than he immediately needs. Things stand outside human beings, and so people can alienate them, or part with them. For this alienation to be mutual, people need only tacitly face one another as private owners of those alienable things, and therefore as independent persons.
But this relation of mutual strangeness does not exist among the members of a naturally grown community, whether it is a patriarchal family, an old Indian community, an Inca state, and so on. Commodity exchange begins where communities end: at their points of contact with foreign communities or with members of foreign communities. Once things have become commodities in a community's external dealings, they also become commodities, by reaction, inside its common life.
At first, the quantitative exchange-relation is quite accidental. The things are exchangeable because their owners will to alienate them to one another. Meanwhile, the need for foreign useful objects gradually settles in. The steady repetition of exchange makes it a regular social process. In time, therefore, at least part of the products of labour must be produced intentionally for exchange.
From that moment, on one side, the split becomes fixed between a thing's usefulness for direct need and its usefulness for exchange. Its use-value separates from its exchange-value. On the other side, the quantitative relation in which things exchange becomes dependent on their production itself. Custom fixes them as magnitudes of value.
In direct barter, each commodity is directly a means of exchange for its owner, and an equivalent for someone who does not own it, but only if it has use-value for that other person. So the article being exchanged still has no value-form independent of its own use-value or of the individual needs of the exchangers.
The need for such a form grows as more and more kinds of commodities enter exchange. The task arises together with the means to solve it. Owners can compare their own articles with many others only if different owners all exchange their different commodities against one and the same third kind of commodity, and compare them as values in it. By serving as equivalent for several other commodities, this third commodity at once receives a general or social equivalent form — though, at first, only within narrow limits.
This general equivalent form arises and disappears with the momentary social contact that called it into life. It passes briefly, now to this commodity, now to that one. But as commodity exchange develops, the form fixes itself exclusively on particular kinds of commodities, or crystallizes into the money-form.
At first, which kind of commodity it sticks to is accidental. In broad outline, though, two circumstances decide. The money-form attaches either to the chief articles brought in from outside — these are, in fact, the natural forms in which the exchange-value of home products first appears — or to the useful thing that makes up the main part of a people's own transferable wealth, such as cattle.
Nomad peoples develop the money-form first. All their goods are movable, and therefore directly alienable, and their way of life constantly brings them into contact with foreign communities, pressing them toward the exchange of products. People have often made the human being himself, in the form of the slave, into the first money material. They have never made the land so. That idea could arise only in an already developed bourgeois society. It dates from the last third of the 17th century, and its first attempted execution on a national scale came only a century later, in the French bourgeois revolution.
As commodity exchange breaks its merely local bonds, commodity value widens into an embodiment of human labour in general. In the same measure, the money-form passes to commodities whose natural properties fit them for the social function of universal equivalent: the precious metals.
The saying that gold and silver are not money by nature, but money is by nature gold and silver, points to a fit between the metals' natural properties and money's functions.
So far, though, we know only one function of money: to serve as the form of appearance of commodity-value, or as the material in which commodities socially express the magnitudes of their values. Value needs a proper form of appearance — a material body for abstract, and therefore equal, human labour. Only a material whose every sample has the same uniform quality can serve.
And because differences in magnitudes of value are purely quantitative, the money commodity must be able to take purely quantitative differences too. It must be divisible at will and able to be put back together from its parts. Gold and silver have these properties by nature.
The use-value of the money commodity doubles. Alongside its particular use-value as a commodity - gold can fill hollow teeth or supply raw material for luxury articles - it gets a formal use-value that springs from its specific social functions.
All other commodities are only particular equivalents of money, while money is their universal equivalent. So they relate to money, the universal commodity, as particular commodities.
We have seen that the money-form is only the reflection, fixed on one commodity, of the relations among all the other commodities. So it is news that money is a commodity only to someone who starts from money's finished shape and works backward.
The exchange process gives the commodity it turns into money not its value, but its specific value-form. Confusing those two determinations led people to treat the value of gold and silver as imaginary. Because money, in certain functions, can be replaced by mere symbols of itself, another error arose: that money itself is only a symbol.
Yet that error held an inkling of something true. The money-form of the thing is external to the thing itself; it is only the form of appearance of human relations hidden behind it. In this sense, every commodity would be a symbol, because as value it is only the thing-like shell of the human labour spent on it.
Under a definite mode of production, things take on social characters, and the social sides of labour take on thing-like characters. Declare both mere symbols, and you have declared them, in the same breath, arbitrary products of human reflection. That was a favorite Enlightenment style of the 18th century: when it could not decipher how puzzling forms of human relations came into being, it stripped away their strange look, at least for the time being, by treating them as conventions.
We noted earlier that a commodity's equivalent form does not tell us how much value the commodity has. If we know that gold is money, and therefore directly exchangeable with all other commodities, we still do not know how much, for example, 10 pounds of gold is worth.
Like every commodity, money can express its own magnitude of value only relatively, in other commodities. Its own value is determined by the labour-time needed to produce it. It is expressed in the quantity of any other commodity in which the same amount of labour-time has congealed.
This fixing of money's relative magnitude of value takes place at its source of production, in direct barter. Once money enters circulation as money, its value is already given.
By the last decades of the 17th century, knowing that money is a commodity was already more than a fresh discovery in the analysis of money. But it was still only the beginning. The difficulty is not to grasp that money is a commodity. The difficulty is to grasp how, why, and through what a commodity is money.
We saw this already in the simplest expression of value: x commodity A = y commodity B. The thing whose body displays another thing's value seems to possess that equivalent form on its own, apart from the relation — as a social property given by nature. We followed the fixing of this false appearance. It is complete as soon as the general equivalent form has grown together with the natural form of one particular kind of commodity, or has crystallized into the money-form.
Then a commodity does not seem first to become money because all the other commodities present their values in it. It seems the reverse: the others seem to present their values in it because it is money. The mediating movement disappears in its own result and leaves no trace.
Without any action of their own, commodities find their form of value lying there already finished, in another commodity's body outside them. These things, gold and silver, just as they come out of the bowels of the earth, are at the same time the direct incarnation of all human labour. Hence the magic of money.
People behave as separate atoms in their social process of production. Because of that, their own production relations take on a thing-like shape — one they do not control and never consciously chose. This first appears in the general fact that the products of labour take the commodity-form. The riddle of the money fetish is therefore only the riddle of the commodity fetish made visible, dazzling the eyes.
Commodities cannot go to market or exchange themselves. So we have to look at their guardians, the commodity owners. Commodities are things, and things cannot resist people. If a thing will not come along, a person can use force; in plain words, he can take it.
For these things to relate to one another as commodities, their guardians have to relate to one another as persons. Each owner's will lives in the thing he owns, so one can take the other's commodity only with the other's will — through one act of will common to both — and gives up his own in taking it. So they have to recognize one another as private proprietors.
This legal relation takes the form of a contract, whether or not law has been developed into a full system. It is a relation between wills, and the economic relation is reflected in it. But the content of this legal or will-relation is given by the economic relation itself.
Here the persons exist for one another only as representatives of commodities, and therefore as commodity owners. As the development goes on, we will find this in general: the economic character-masks people wear here are only personifications of economic relations. The people who wear them face one another as the bearers of those relations.
What especially separates a commodity from its owner is this: for the commodity, every other commodity body counts only as a form of appearance of its own value. A born leveller and cynic, it stands ready to swap itself — soul and body — with any other commodity, however unappealing that one may be.
The commodity has no senses for the concrete body of another commodity. Its owner makes up for that lack with his own five senses — and more. His own commodity has no direct use-value for him. Otherwise he would not bring it to market. It has use-value for others. For him, its direct use-value is only that it bears exchange-value and so serves as a means of exchange. That is why he wants to part with it for a commodity whose use-value satisfies him.
All commodities are non-use-values for their owners and use-values for their non-owners. So they must change hands all around. But this change of hands is their exchange, and exchange relates them to one another as values and realizes them as values. Therefore commodities must be realized as values before they can be realized as use-values.
On the other hand, commodities must prove themselves as use-values before they can be realized as values. The human labour spent on them counts only if it was spent in a form useful to others. But whether it is useful for others, and whether its product satisfies someone else's needs, can be proved only by exchange.
Every commodity owner wants to give up his commodity only for another commodity whose use-value satisfies his need. In that respect, exchange is only an individual process for him.
On the other hand, he wants to realize his commodity as value. So he wants to turn it into any other commodity he chooses, as long as it has the same value, whether or not his own commodity has use-value for the owner of the other one. In that respect, exchange is a generally social process for him.
But for all commodity owners at once, the same process cannot be only individual and, at the same time, only generally social.
Let's look more closely. For every commodity owner, every other commodity counts as a particular equivalent of his own. So his own commodity counts as the universal equivalent of all the others.
But because all commodity owners do the same thing, no commodity is the universal equivalent. So the commodities also share no general value-form — no common form in which they could equate themselves as values and compare how much value each holds. So they do not face one another as commodities at all, but only as products or use-values.
Stuck in this bind, our commodity owners think like Faust. Goethe's Faust says: "In the beginning was the deed." So they have already acted before they have thought. The laws of commodity nature worked themselves out through the owners' natural instinct.
They can relate their commodities to one another as values, and therefore as commodities, only by setting them all against some other commodity as universal equivalent. The analysis of the commodity already showed this. But only a social deed can make a definite commodity the universal equivalent.
The social action of all the other commodities therefore excludes one definite commodity, in which they all present their values. By this, the bodily form of that commodity becomes the socially valid equivalent form. Through the social process, being the universal equivalent becomes the specific social function of the excluded commodity. Thus it becomes money.
"They have one mind, and they give their strength and power to the beast. And no one can buy or sell unless he has the mark: the beast's name, or the number of its name." (Revelation/Apocalypse)
Money is a necessary product of the exchange process — a crystal that forms inside it. In that process, different products of labour are actually equated with one another and therefore actually turned into commodities.
As exchange widens historically and reaches deeper, it develops the opposition sleeping inside the commodity: use-value and value. Trade needs this opposition to be shown outwardly. That need drives toward an independent form of commodity-value, and it does not rest until the commodity has doubled: ordinary commodity on one side, money on the other.
So, in the same measure as products of labour become commodities, a commodity becomes money.
Direct barter of products has the form of the simple expression of value in one respect — and does not yet have it in another. That form was: x commodity A = y commodity B. The form of direct barter is: x use-value A = y use-value B. Here A and B are not commodities before the exchange. They become commodities only through it.
A useful object first becomes a possible exchange-value by being a non-use-value for its owner — more of something than he immediately needs. Things stand outside human beings, and so people can alienate them, or part with them. For this alienation to be mutual, people need only tacitly face one another as private owners of those alienable things, and therefore as independent persons.
But this relation of mutual strangeness does not exist among the members of a naturally grown community, whether it is a patriarchal family, an old Indian community, an Inca state, and so on. Commodity exchange begins where communities end: at their points of contact with foreign communities or with members of foreign communities. Once things have become commodities in a community's external dealings, they also become commodities, by reaction, inside its common life.
At first, the quantitative exchange-relation is quite accidental. The things are exchangeable because their owners will to alienate them to one another. Meanwhile, the need for foreign useful objects gradually settles in. The steady repetition of exchange makes it a regular social process. In time, therefore, at least part of the products of labour must be produced intentionally for exchange.
From that moment, on one side, the split becomes fixed between a thing's usefulness for direct need and its usefulness for exchange. Its use-value separates from its exchange-value. On the other side, the quantitative relation in which things exchange becomes dependent on their production itself. Custom fixes them as magnitudes of value.
In direct barter, each commodity is directly a means of exchange for its owner, and an equivalent for someone who does not own it, but only if it has use-value for that other person. So the article being exchanged still has no value-form independent of its own use-value or of the individual needs of the exchangers.
The need for such a form grows as more and more kinds of commodities enter exchange. The task arises together with the means to solve it. Owners can compare their own articles with many others only if different owners all exchange their different commodities against one and the same third kind of commodity, and compare them as values in it. By serving as equivalent for several other commodities, this third commodity at once receives a general or social equivalent form — though, at first, only within narrow limits.
This general equivalent form arises and disappears with the momentary social contact that called it into life. It passes briefly, now to this commodity, now to that one. But as commodity exchange develops, the form fixes itself exclusively on particular kinds of commodities, or crystallizes into the money-form.
At first, which kind of commodity it sticks to is accidental. In broad outline, though, two circumstances decide. The money-form attaches either to the chief articles brought in from outside — these are, in fact, the natural forms in which the exchange-value of home products first appears — or to the useful thing that makes up the main part of a people's own transferable wealth, such as cattle.
Nomad peoples develop the money-form first. All their goods are movable, and therefore directly alienable, and their way of life constantly brings them into contact with foreign communities, pressing them toward the exchange of products. People have often made the human being himself, in the form of the slave, into the first money material. They have never made the land so. That idea could arise only in an already developed bourgeois society. It dates from the last third of the 17th century, and its first attempted execution on a national scale came only a century later, in the French bourgeois revolution.
As commodity exchange breaks its merely local bonds, commodity value widens into an embodiment of human labour in general. In the same measure, the money-form passes to commodities whose natural properties fit them for the social function of universal equivalent: the precious metals.
The saying that gold and silver are not money by nature, but money is by nature gold and silver, points to a fit between the metals' natural properties and money's functions.
So far, though, we know only one function of money: to serve as the form of appearance of commodity-value, or as the material in which commodities socially express the magnitudes of their values. Value needs a proper form of appearance — a material body for abstract, and therefore equal, human labour. Only a material whose every sample has the same uniform quality can serve.
And because differences in magnitudes of value are purely quantitative, the money commodity must be able to take purely quantitative differences too. It must be divisible at will and able to be put back together from its parts. Gold and silver have these properties by nature.
The use-value of the money commodity doubles. Alongside its particular use-value as a commodity - gold can fill hollow teeth or supply raw material for luxury articles - it gets a formal use-value that springs from its specific social functions.
All other commodities are only particular equivalents of money, while money is their universal equivalent. So they relate to money, the universal commodity, as particular commodities.
We have seen that the money-form is only the reflection, fixed on one commodity, of the relations among all the other commodities. So it is news that money is a commodity only to someone who starts from money's finished shape and works backward.
The exchange process gives the commodity it turns into money not its value, but its specific value-form. Confusing those two determinations led people to treat the value of gold and silver as imaginary. Because money, in certain functions, can be replaced by mere symbols of itself, another error arose: that money itself is only a symbol.
Yet that error held an inkling of something true. The money-form of the thing is external to the thing itself; it is only the form of appearance of human relations hidden behind it. In this sense, every commodity would be a symbol, because as value it is only the thing-like shell of the human labour spent on it.
Under a definite mode of production, things take on social characters, and the social sides of labour take on thing-like characters. Declare both mere symbols, and you have declared them, in the same breath, arbitrary products of human reflection. That was a favorite Enlightenment style of the 18th century: when it could not decipher how puzzling forms of human relations came into being, it stripped away their strange look, at least for the time being, by treating them as conventions.
We noted earlier that a commodity's equivalent form does not tell us how much value the commodity has. If we know that gold is money, and therefore directly exchangeable with all other commodities, we still do not know how much, for example, 10 pounds of gold is worth.
Like every commodity, money can express its own magnitude of value only relatively, in other commodities. Its own value is determined by the labour-time needed to produce it. It is expressed in the quantity of any other commodity in which the same amount of labour-time has congealed.
This fixing of money's relative magnitude of value takes place at its source of production, in direct barter. Once money enters circulation as money, its value is already given.
By the last decades of the 17th century, knowing that money is a commodity was already more than a fresh discovery in the analysis of money. But it was still only the beginning. The difficulty is not to grasp that money is a commodity. The difficulty is to grasp how, why, and through what a commodity is money.
We saw this already in the simplest expression of value: x commodity A = y commodity B. The thing whose body displays another thing's value seems to possess that equivalent form on its own, apart from the relation — as a social property given by nature. We followed the fixing of this false appearance. It is complete as soon as the general equivalent form has grown together with the natural form of one particular kind of commodity, or has crystallized into the money-form.
Then a commodity does not seem first to become money because all the other commodities present their values in it. It seems the reverse: the others seem to present their values in it because it is money. The mediating movement disappears in its own result and leaves no trace.
Without any action of their own, commodities find their form of value lying there already finished, in another commodity's body outside them. These things, gold and silver, just as they come out of the bowels of the earth, are at the same time the direct incarnation of all human labour. Hence the magic of money.
People behave as separate atoms in their social process of production. Because of that, their own production relations take on a thing-like shape — one they do not control and never consciously chose. This first appears in the general fact that the products of labour take the commodity-form. The riddle of the money fetish is therefore only the riddle of the commodity fetish made visible, dazzling the eyes.