THE BROKEN WINDOW
LET US BEGIN with the simplest illustration possible: let us,
emulating Bastiat, choose a broken pane of glass.
A young hoodlum, say, heaves a brick through the window
of a baker's shop. The shopkeeper runs out furious, but the boy
is gone. A crowd gathers, and begins to stare with quiet satisfaction
at the gaping hole in the window and the shattered glass
over the bread and pies. After a while the crowd feels the need
for philosophic reflection. And several of its members are
almost certain to remind each other or the baker that, after all,
the misfortune has its bright side. It will make business for
some glazier. As they begin to think of this they elaborate upon
it. How much does a new plate glass window cost? Two
hundred and fifty dollars? That will be quite a sum. After all, if
windows were never broken, what would happen to the glass
business? Then, of course, the thing is endless. The glazier will
have $250 more to spend with other merchants, and these in
turn will have $250 more to spend with still other merchants,
and so ad infinitum. The smashed window will go on providing
money and employment in ever-widening circles. The logical
conclusion from all this would be, if the crowd drew it, that the
little hoodlum who threw the brick, far from being a public
menace, was a public benefactor.
Now let us take another look. The crowd is at least right in its
first conclusion. This little act of vandalism will in the first
instance mean more business for some glazier. The glazier will
be no more unhappy to learn of the incident than an undertaker
to learn of a death. But the shopkeeper will be out $250 that he
was planning to spend for a new suit. Because he has had to
replace a window, he will have to go without the suit (or some
equivalent need or luxury). Instead of having a window and
$250 he now has merely a window. Or, as he was planning to
buy the suit that very afternoon, instead of having both a
window and a suit he must be content with the window and no
suit. If we think of him as a part of the community, the
community has lost a new suit that might otherwise have come
into being, and is just that much poorer.
The glazier's gain of business, in short, is merely the tailor's
loss of business. No new "employment" has been added. The
people in the crowd were thinking only of two parties to the
transaction, the baker and the glazier. They had forgotten the
potential third party involved, the tailor. They forgot him
precisely because he will not now enter the scene. They will see
the new window in the next day or two. They will never see the
extra suit, precisely because it will never be made. They see
only what is immediately visible to the eye.
LET US BEGIN with the simplest illustration possible: let us,
emulating Bastiat, choose a broken pane of glass.
A young hoodlum, say, heaves a brick through the window
of a baker's shop. The shopkeeper runs out furious, but the boy
is gone. A crowd gathers, and begins to stare with quiet satisfaction
at the gaping hole in the window and the shattered glass
over the bread and pies. After a while the crowd feels the need
for philosophic reflection. And several of its members are
almost certain to remind each other or the baker that, after all,
the misfortune has its bright side. It will make business for
some glazier. As they begin to think of this they elaborate upon
it. How much does a new plate glass window cost? Two
hundred and fifty dollars? That will be quite a sum. After all, if
windows were never broken, what would happen to the glass
business? Then, of course, the thing is endless. The glazier will
have $250 more to spend with other merchants, and these in
turn will have $250 more to spend with still other merchants,
and so ad infinitum. The smashed window will go on providing
money and employment in ever-widening circles. The logical
conclusion from all this would be, if the crowd drew it, that the
little hoodlum who threw the brick, far from being a public
menace, was a public benefactor.
Now let us take another look. The crowd is at least right in its
first conclusion. This little act of vandalism will in the first
instance mean more business for some glazier. The glazier will
be no more unhappy to learn of the incident than an undertaker
to learn of a death. But the shopkeeper will be out $250 that he
was planning to spend for a new suit. Because he has had to
replace a window, he will have to go without the suit (or some
equivalent need or luxury). Instead of having a window and
$250 he now has merely a window. Or, as he was planning to
buy the suit that very afternoon, instead of having both a
window and a suit he must be content with the window and no
suit. If we think of him as a part of the community, the
community has lost a new suit that might otherwise have come
into being, and is just that much poorer.
The glazier's gain of business, in short, is merely the tailor's
loss of business. No new "employment" has been added. The
people in the crowd were thinking only of two parties to the
transaction, the baker and the glazier. They had forgotten the
potential third party involved, the tailor. They forgot him
precisely because he will not now enter the scene. They will see
the new window in the next day or two. They will never see the
extra suit, precisely because it will never be made. They see
only what is immediately visible to the eye.
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