Book description
This is, I believe, a moral tale. It goes far to prove the
revolutionary axiom that if you wish to destroy a nation you must
corrupt its currency. Thus must sound money be the first bastion of a
society's defence.
In 1923, with its currency effectively worthless (the exchange
rate in December of that year was one dollar to 4,200,000,000,000
marks), the Weimar Republic was all but reduced to a barter economy.
Expensive cigars, artworks and jewels were routinely exchanged for
staples such as bread; a cinema ticket could be bought for a lump of
coal, and a bottle of paraffin for a silk shirt. In desperation, the
Bavarian Prime Minister submitted a Bill to the Reichsrat proposing
that gluttony be made a penal offence, his exact definition of a
glutton being 'one who habitually devotes himself to the pleasures of
the table to such a degree that he might arouse discontent in view of
the distressful condition of the population'.
Since its first publication in 1975, When Money Dies has become
the classic history of these bizarre and frightening times. Weaving
elegant analysis with a wealth of eyewitness accounts by ordinary
people struggling to survive, it deals above all with the human side
of inflation: why governments resort to it, the dismal, corruptive
pestilence it visits on their citizens, the agonies of recovery, and
the dark, long-term legacy. And at a time of acute economic strain, it
provides an urgent warning against the addictive dangers of printing
money -- shorthand for deficit financing -- as a soft option for
governments faced with growing unrest and unemployment.
Adam Fergusson was born in Scotland in 1932. He graduated in history
at Cambridge, and later became a journalist with the Glasgow Herald, the
Statist and The Times. He has been a Member of the European Parliament,
a Special Adviser at the Foreign Office, and a consultant on European
affairs for international industry and commerce. He has written five
books, including three novels; many articles and pamphlets; three
musical comedies; and much light verse. He is a Fellow of the Royal
Society of Literature, and lives in London.