Mises and Mont Pèlerin 1947

Although Mises was not an anarchist, he was clearly unwavering in principle concerning laissez-faire—he was better than "the rest." From Bruce Caldwell's Mont Pèlerin 1947:

General discussion waited until the evening session [of "Free Enterprise or Competitive Order"—session 1]. That event might have been retitled “free enterprise versus the competitive order,” or more simply “Mises versus the rest,” though both Hazlitt and Miller made brief comments in support of Mises’s positions, and “the rest” did not always agree with one another. Mises had some justification to feel a little prickly. After all, in a session posing a choice between free enterprise and a competitive order, it might have been fitting to have had among the opening speakers at least one person who was willing to defend the former. In any event, Mises’s defense of laissez - faire was predictably direct and pithy: most of the problems that had been identified had government actions as their root cause, so their solution was to get it out of the way. For most of those attending the conference, this simple advice was unsatisfactory. People wanted to discuss alternative policies, to find out which ones might best cohere with a liberal vision, not the reasons why policies were unnecessary. Both Hayek and Robbins tried to intervene in various ways, mostly to clarify the various positions under discussion, but at times things got testy. This was probably the session at which Mises “stood up, announced to the assembly ‘You’re all a bunch of socialists,’ and stomped out of the room," though that is not recorded in the minutes. (p. 47)

Mises, the Human Being

 

I just received a copy of Lionel Robbins's book, Autobiography of an Economist, and out of curiosity I looked in the index to find references to Ludwig von Mises. Here is the first thing I read:

The story begins in Vienna in the spring of 1933. My wife and I, who were on a visit to that city, had arranged one day to spend the evening with von Mises, when we ran into Beveridge, who was there on the last day of negotiations about the projected History of Prices in Central Europe with which he had an editorial connection. It was too late to change our commitment for the evening. It was agreed therefore that we should meet at the Hotel Bristol before going out to dinner and get von Mises to join us there. It thus came about that, as the three of us were sitting together exchanging impressions of travel, von Mises arrived with an evening paper carrying the shocking news of the first academic dismissals by the Nazis — Bonn, Mannheim, Kantorowicz and others. Was it not possible, he asked, to make some provision in Britain for the relief of such victims, of which the names mentioned were only the beginning of what, he assured us, was obviously to be an extensive persecution. This was one of Beveridge's great moments — his finest hour I would say. All his best instincts, his sympathy with the unfortunate, his sense of civilized values, his administrative vision and inventiveness, were quickened by the question. Slumped in a chair, with his great head characteristically cupped in his fists, thinking aloud, he then and there outlined the basic plan of what became the famous Academic Assistance Council — later the Society for the Protection of Science and Learning — to which hundreds of émigrés even now living in the English-speaking world owe the preservation of their careers and, in some cases, probably there lives. (p 143-144)

 Hayek saved Popper, and Mises, through the concern prompting his question that evening, may have initiated the saving of many more. I have recently seen the question, "Where is our Milton Friedman?"; but more importantly, where is our Ludwig von Mises?