If only us intellectuals could be as rarified as Oxonians! Begun as a sort of scholar’s cloister in the Middle Ages, it is now the symbol of both academic freedom and arch disinterestedness. What has been described as the “barbarians at the gate” by American academicians – the chaos of the McCarthy period – would have been seen as one plague among many already successfully faced at Oxford. One battle for academic freedom, undertaken back in the late seventeenth century, saw Sir Isaac Newton himself as defender of the university’s independence against King James II. Newton’s success at fending off the Crown got him elected to the British Parliament as the MP for Oxford after the crisis was over.

This is a neat story for two reasons. First of all, it recounts a university successfully defending freedom of thought against an overbearing head of government; and secondly, it shows that there is a connection between “social bravery” and being elected to the Legislature. Granted that such braves don’t last very long in office, but they are important as symbols. Sadly, the prevalence of careerism in politics makes its importance seem less than it actually is.

At the same time when Senator McCarthy was conducting his investigations, the American university was receiving a makeover, using none other than one of Adam Smith’s principles as its template: the division of labor. Drawing from the example of the pin factory as a way of producing far more pins than would be possible by using isolated workers, the heralds of the new university put together plans for a “knowledge factory” which would produce scholarship more quickly and in much greater quantity than the old university system built around the isolated genius. This ideal and goal is probably the reason why J. Edgar Hoover nicknamed the modern professor a “pinhead” back in the 1950s.

(Who would have thunk that J. Edgar and Russell Kirk would have had so much in common? Kirk’s favorite term of lambaste at the time was “Brummagen U.”)

We can’t all be Oxonians, though. Most intellectual movements announce their prestige to the world through a success in the political realm.

The highest level of this kind of prestige is the formation of a new nation based upon the principles put together in the world of thought and letters. By this standard, the Enlightenment is first on the chart: the nation formed under its sway, which is of course the United States, has not only lasted more than two hundred years, but also has pushed the rest of the world towards “republican form[s] of government.” The second on the list – now a dwindling second – is Marxism.

The second level of prestige is found in a school of thought which launches a reform of the legal structure of a nation already existing. Although Adam Smith himself undoubtedly had an influence on the Founders in 1787, the only change that the Adam Smithians can claim to have inspired primarily through their thought alone was the repeal of the Corn Law tariffs in 1846.

This was a classic example of a battle of ideas vs. special interests. The Corn Law of 1815 prohibited import of grains – wheat, barley, rye and oats – unless the price of them was above a level specified for each in the legislation. Since this law was passed at the end of the Napoleonic Wars, what was clearly the protection of a special interest could be defended as a national security measure, to protect Britain against a possible drawback of free trade: an embargo that would hurt in time of war. This defense of the Corn Law might explain why it took so long for repeal to be effected and why international peace was a necessary condition for the repeal to have succeeded at all.

But “the victory of 1846” forever cemented the linkage of classical economics and international plain vanilla free trade - no tariffs. Until recently.

The reason why is foreshadowed above: the knowledge factory. The principle of division of labor has moved from the university to the laws of the land, and to international agreements.

One of the better known neo-Smithian fables is “I, Pencil” by F.A. Harper. The theme of this pamphlet is that, thanks to the division of labor, no-one on this earth can make a modern pencil all by themselves. This specialization is precisely what makes pencils so ubiquitous and cheap.

Let’s modify this a bit, to “I, Trade Agreement:” Undoubtedly the italicized snippet would be: “not a single person on the face of this earth knows how to read me.”

Take a look for yourself. This is one of the few government documents having the force of law that is more complex than the Internal Revenue Code. I can tell you, through the experience of trying to plow through Canada’s Income Tax Act, that the person who can read, comprehend and finish either of them is a rare person indeed – a lot like a production manager that can read and understand a complete set of blueprints for a factory, right down to the specs for each machine.

The old, New Deal-era IRC might very well have been the inspiration for the “knowledge factory.” If the total legislation is impossible to comprehend, let alone the court decisions and interpretations of it, then you have to divide up the chore. Such divisions have led to efficiencies from the standpoint of finding ways to reduce one’s taxes: all an amateur like me could do with either Tax Code would be to figure out how to fill out a return that could pass any audit, at the price of (probably) paying too much tax. Obviously, I would be beaten hands-down by a specialist in each of the relevant sections, or at least tied.

“Yes, kid, this Emperor is wearing clothes. Just because you don’t see how they’re made doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

It’s sad to say, but dolefully true, that the clothes of Adam Smith are quite wearable by the Tax Institute. And can be invoked against the old goal of complete free trade.

“You think we’re anti-Smithian, kiddo? Fine. Why don’t you go off explain how to get rid of each and every provision of NAFTA, without the economy being jolted out of kilter, all by your lonesome?

“Just give this factory a call if you get it done.”

This leaves the old Adam Smithians cast in the role of the sabot wielders. And we keep wondering why laissez-faire is such an impossible sell....

At least there’s Oxford, anyway. And the political quietism that’s the price of their quite different kind of academic prestige.