By Kevin D. Williamson
Sunday, July 23, 2017
‘Made in America Week” at the White House has come and
gone, amounting to… not much.
There was a terrific parade of American-made goods, some
of them near to my heart: Stetson hats and Gibson guitars among them.
But the newly energized nationalized among us may not
want to look too closely at those sentimental “All-American” claims.
Gibson makes some of the finest electric guitars in the
world, along with some very fine acoustic guitars, mandolins, and much more. It
was founded by a child of immigrants and currently is owned by an immigrant,
Henry Juszkiewicz, whose parents moved from Poland to Argentina before he found
his way to the United States. For much of its history, Gibson was a Panamanian
company, and while Gibson-branded guitars are indeed made in the United States,
there is much more to Gibson Brands than American-made guitars: Chinese-made
Baldwin pianos, Chinese- and Japanese-made Epiphone guitars, Boston-based
Cakewalk Software, Malaysian-made Cerwin Vega audio components, a stake in
Japanese electronics firm Onkyo, and much more. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife
Service took an interest in Gibson’s wood imports from Madagascar a few years
back, which came via a German intermediary. Which is to say, in its triumphs
and in its troubles, Gibson is a truly global company.
Stetson hats currently are made under license in Texas,
but the original John B. Stetson Company of Philadelphia was a global
enterprise, too, over the years operating facilities everywhere from Germany to
Brazil to New Zealand. In the 1990s, the iconic Western headgear was acquired
by a conglomerate held by an all-American leveraged-buyout firm based in New
York.
In some ways, it hardly makes any sense to label almost
anything “Made in the U.S.A.,” or “Made in” any other place. Real life in the
21st-century economy is a great deal more complicated than anything that can be
captured on a label. The Michigan-based watchmaker Shinola was informed by the
Federal Trade Commission last year that it could no longer describe its watches
as American-made. Shinola watches are American-made, but they are made in
America by inserting Swiss-made watch movements into cases made in any number
of places. Isn’t that Made in the U.S.A.? In a sense, sure, and also in a sense
not. About 80 percent of what goes into a Toyota Camry sold in the United
States is made in the United States, which is a lot more than in some
“American” cars. About 70 percent of a 2011 Honda Civic was American-made,
while only about 2 percent of a Chevy Aveo from the same year was of North
American origin. (Weird thing: The country-of-origin breakdown often is given
in U.S. and Canadian content — is Canada a foreign country or isn’t it?) Toyota
gets a fair amount of mileage out of advertising that the trucks it sells in
Texas are made in Texas, to heck with the other 49 states.
One of the great enduring stupidities of modern economic
life is the belief that buying American is somehow beneficial to the United
States as a whole. A related daft notion, very popular among our progressive
friends horrified at the chauvinism of “Buy American” campaigns, is that buying
local helps your local community and economy. This stuff has been studied and
studied and studied, and the short version is that buy-American/buy-local
efforts amount to approximately squat. It makes sense if you think about it:
You can buy a bag of green beans from your local farmers’ cooperative and feel good
about yourself, but that farmer is going to use the money to pay his bills,
probably to a faraway financial company that holds his mortgage, a carmaker
overseas, or a tractor-financing company abroad. He might buy his diesel from a
local retailer, but that diesel very likely comes from crude oil drilled in
some faraway place (from Canada to the Middle East) and refined in another
faraway place. The components that went into those green beans — seeds,
fertilizer, farming equipment — probably weren’t locally made. Money likes to
move around.
Does “Buy American” create or protect American jobs?
Almost certainly not. That’s because we all buy lots of different things, and
paying more than you have to for an inferior General Motors product doesn’t
stick it to Honda so much as it sticks it to… everybody else you might have
bought something from with that money you spent making yourself feel patriotic
about buying a car assembled in Michigan out of components from all over God’s
green Earth.
There is a word for making a national economy policy out
of “buy local” or “buy national,” and that word is “autarky.” Autarky is what
happens when a country tries to produce everything it uses and use everything
it produces. There are a few countries organized around something like that
principle, and they are desperately poor: North Korea is the leading example,
though a little bit of autarkical policy helped to reduce Venezuela from one of
the wealthiest countries in the Western Hemisphere to one of the poorest, a
country so far up that infamous creek that it cannot even manage to produce
toilet paper in sufficient quantities. Autarky and socialism tend to go
hand-in-hand, for reasons that are pretty obvious: Both are attempts to put
economic exchange and production under political discipline. The results of
each are predictable and similar: misery.
I once had the pleasure of meeting a few of the master
luthiers who craft Gibson guitars, and I can tell you that it isn’t
sentimentality, dopey and half-digested nationalism, or pity that is keeping
them in business. What keeps them in business is that they are among the best
in the world at what they do. They have a great deal of which to be proud —
they enrich the American scene and do not require our condescending protection.
Likewise, a few years ago I asked some workers at the Mercedes-Benz factory in
Stuttgart whether they were worried about their jobs’ being outsourced. They
scoffed at the notion of some low-paid Third World clock-puncher taking their
jobs. They know who the real competition is: robots, many of which are designed
and made right here in the United States.
Americans
make a great deal of the best stuff in the world. But how often do you hear
the complaint: “When I go into Walmart, everything says ‘Made in China.’
Where’s the ‘Made in the U.S.A.’?” It is true that you will not find a great
quantity of cheap T-shirts, flip-flops, or injection-molded plastic toys made
in the United States. Those things are made overseas — often on industrial
equipment made in the United States. Ordinary consumers see only consumer goods
and have no appreciation for the size and scope of the American capital-goods
industry. We import a lot of shoes and apparel, but we export a lot more
industrial machinery — and twice as much transportation equipment. But those
are big, general categories: We export a lot of industrial machinery, and we
import a lot of it, too. Some of that imported machinery is used to make Gibson
guitars, among other things. Part of the case for free trade is the fact that
the gentlemen at Gibson know a great deal more about what kind of wood they
need, and what kind of machinery they need, than the gentlemen in Washington
do.
And there is almost nothing in this modern world that is
as truly American-made as the principles and practices that make truly global
production possible. It is a system of incalculable complexity and vast
subtlety, as great a work of genuine and humane greatness as anything the hands
of men have produced.
So, about those hats and guitars:
Made in the U.S.A.?
It’s complicated.
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