Henry George knew he was onto something. He knew he had identified a big problem and a big solution, and when I say big, I mean "Eureka" big. In fact, I cannot remember a book I have read where the author deployed the exclamation point so liberally and with such joy.
In the 19th century, big was endemic. "Big" theories abounded from Marx, Darwin, and Smith. In Europe, the self-evidence of monarchy was destroyed through writing, fighting, and the most powerful force of all, the awareness that what seems inevitable and immovable becomes unsalvagable once exposed.
The most formidable intellects were tackling the fundamental theories of where we came from, who we are, how we should be organized, and why things were the way they were. And it seemed only that one had to make a well-structured argument to change the world.
George was one of those intellects. And "Progress and Poverty" is simply a joy to read because it is clear and cogent, and because it was so obviously a joy to write. Even though it is knotted with the recursion of subordinate clauses that haunt his era, it still prickles the skin because George knew, in his heart, that what was true for him was true for all men, that poverty was not an inevitable result of progress, but of property.
"Progress and Poverty" is a long book, but not long like "On Democracy," "The Wealth of Nations," or even "Origin of Species," each of which rewards the reader in the same way that fasting rewards a monk, granting enlightenment through a bit of suffering. George takes 565 pages because he has a lot of ground to cover and because he is attacking one of the core tenets of Western society and economy. He has a mighty journey, from describing the fundamentals of capital, wealth, labor, and rent to explaining the fall of mighty empires like the Greeks and Romans. And all without footnotes.
What makes the book delightful is that he combines exhaustive (exhausting?) thinking with the aforementioned joy. He is an empiricist and logical thinker who argues from first principles in a way that became wildly outmoded not long after his death. He proceeds from propositions to conclusions in a disciplined manner, and never leaves one wondering "What the heck did he just do there?" Yet, as he builds momentum -- it takes 3/4 of the book before he gets to his big idea -- you feel it. You know that he feels obligated to set his house on a firm foundation, but he is excited to show you his new kitchen and man cave.
And as he approaches the big idea, that we should "abolish all taxation save on the value of land," you feel it. To his proffer that the destruction of society and empire is inevitable once wealth disparities go critical, I banged my fist on the airplane tray table. I was almost cheering at his quote from Gaius Gracchus, "Land is not, and cannot be, property in the sense in which movable things are property." And I was tired, and perhaps a little relieved, when he brought it home.
It is hard to comprehend how a 565-page explication of a thesis on political economy became a bestseller in its time. Sure, Piketty had his moment, but our era seems to have few "big ideas," and the idea that it was both right and possible in the post-civil war recessionary era to think about a world that functions fundamentally differently seems today to be preposterous. Our best contemporary efforts seem to nudge Overton's window a little one way or another, but the window of consensus is absurdly small, and anything outside becomes /r/Subreddit fringe.
George's ideas are not really "new" as much as coherent and more precisely lain out. And they are not complete - his prescription for how to determine land value is general and abstract, and he applies little of his formidable logic to the question of how we might distribute the spoils of land taxation appropriately. He bases much of his argument on natural rights to things like the gifts of nature and has almost no statistical or mathematical support in the text, rendering the output more quaint than quant.
But if there is such a thing as "feeling" truth, of creating a structure that is strong and sturdy on a foundation of metaphysics that is evanescent, George has done so. We know that natural law is an anachronism and that all men are neither equal nor good in capacities or moral sentiment. But we also know that a structure can have integrity from its intrinsic order - like an atom or a geodesic dome that will hold coherently without external support.
Georgism is such a logical construct. It may be impossible because we are greedy and selfish, but that does not mean it is not right. Perhaps my favorite part of "Progress and Poverty" is when he challenges the notion that we are all driven primarily by self-interest. He elegantly reframes the idea, asserting that we are not greedy for more, but greedy with the fear of having less. Perhaps this simple idea of "enough" is impossible, but perhaps it is the only thing that can save us.