Think how enormously the productive power of social labour has grown in the last thirty years alone, compared with every earlier period, and above all how huge a mass of fixed capital now enters society's whole production process over and above machinery proper. The difficulty that used to occupy economists then turns into its opposite. Their problem was to explain the fall in the rate of profit; ours is the reverse: to explain why that fall is not bigger or quicker. Something must be working against it — influences that cut across and cancel the effect of the general law, leaving that law with nothing but the character of a tendency. That is why we have called the fall of the general rate of profit a tendential fall. The most general of these causes are the following.
The degree of exploitation of labour — how much surplus labour and surplus-value get taken — is pushed up above all by making the working day longer and by making work more intense. Volume 1 sets both out in detail, under the production of absolute and of relative surplus-value.
Many ways of intensifying labour do raise constant capital as against variable capital, and so drag the profit rate down — for instance when one worker has to keep an eye on more machinery. In these cases, as with most of the ways of producing relative surplus-value, the very same reasons that make the rate of surplus-value rise can also make its mass fall, once the total capital applied is taken as given. But there are other ways of intensifying labour. Take machines running faster: they use up more raw material in the same time, and the machinery gets used up sooner as fixed capital — yet this does not in the least change how the machines' value stands to the price of the labour that sets them in motion.
Above all, though, it is the longer working day — this invention of modern industry — that increases the mass of surplus labour appropriated without essentially changing how much labour-power is applied relative to the constant capital that labour-power sets in motion; in fact it rather reduces that constant capital in relative terms. It has already been shown — and this is the genuine secret behind the tendential fall of the profit rate — that the procedures for producing relative surplus-value come down, by and large, to two things: turning as much as possible of a given mass of labour into surplus-value, and applying as little labour as possible in proportion to the capital advanced. So the very reasons that let the degree of exploitation of labour rise also forbid a capital to exploit as much labour as it did before, when its total size is unchanged. These are the conflicting pulls: while they push the rate of surplus-value up, they push down at the same time the mass of surplus-value a given capital produces — and with it the rate of profit. The large-scale use of women's and children's labour belongs here too, insofar as the whole family must now hand capital a greater mass of surplus labour than before, even if the total wages it receives go up — which is by no means always so.
Everything that helps produce relative surplus-value just by improving methods, with the size of the capital applied unchanged, has the same effect — in agriculture, say. Here the constant capital applied does not in fact rise against the variable — if we take the variable as an index (a gauge) of the labour-power employed — but the mass of product does rise against the labour-power applied. The same happens when the productivity of labour — whether its product is consumed by the workers or becomes part of the elements of constant capital — is freed from obstacles to trade, from arbitrary restrictions, or from ones that have grown irksome over time, in short from fetters of every kind, without this at first changing how variable capital stands to constant capital.
It might be asked: do the causes that check the fall in the profit rate — though in the last instance they always speed it up — include those temporary but constantly recurring rises in surplus-value above the general level, the ones that turn up now in one branch of production, now in another, for the capitalist who uses inventions and the like before they have become general? That question has to be answered yes.
For a capital of a given size, the mass of surplus-value it produces is the product of two factors: the rate of surplus-value, and the number of workers employed at that rate. So if the rate is given, the mass depends on the number of workers; if the number of workers is given, it depends on the rate; overall, then, it depends on the combined relation of the two — the absolute size of the variable capital and the rate of surplus-value. Now we have seen that, on average, the same causes that push the rate of relative surplus-value up also bring down the mass of labour-power employed. But it is clear that the outcome can come out greater or smaller, depending on the particular proportions in which these opposed movements run, and that the tendency of the profit rate to fall is weakened above all by a rise in the rate of absolute surplus-value — the kind that comes from a longer working day.
As for the rate of profit, what we found in general was that the rate going down is matched by the profit mass going up, because the total capital applied has grown. Look at the variable capital of society as a whole, and the surplus-value it yields is exactly the profit. Alongside the absolute mass, the rate of surplus-value has risen as well: the mass because society applies more labour-power, the rate because the degree of exploitation of that labour has gone up. But for a capital of a given size — 100, say — the rate of surplus-value can grow while its mass falls on average; the rate is fixed by the ratio at which the variable part of the capital expands its own value, while the mass is fixed by the share that variable capital makes up of the whole capital.
The rise in the rate of surplus-value is one of the factors that helps determine the mass of surplus-value, and along with it the rate of profit — particularly since this rise also occurs in conditions where, as noted above, constant capital does not grow against variable capital, or does not grow proportionally to it. It does not annul the general law. But it makes the law work more as a tendency — that is, as a law whose full realization is held up, slowed down and weakened by forces working against it. And since the same factors that raise the rate of surplus-value (even a longer working day is a result of large-scale industry) tend to reduce the labour-power a given capital sets to work, the same factors tend to bring the profit rate down and to slow that downward movement. If one worker is forced to do work that two could sensibly do, and this happens where that one worker can replace three, then that one now delivers the same surplus labour as two did earlier, and to that extent the rate of surplus-value has risen. But he will not deliver as much as three did earlier, and so the mass of surplus-value has fallen. The fall is offset — or limited — by the fact that the rate of surplus-value has risen. If everyone works at a higher rate of surplus-value, the mass of surplus-value rises even though the population is unchanged. And still more so when the population grows; and although this comes with fewer workers employed relative to the size of the total capital, that fall is still moderated or held back by the higher rate of surplus-value.
Before we leave this point, it is worth stressing again: with the size of the capital fixed, the rate of surplus-value can go up even while its mass goes down — and the reverse. The mass of surplus-value is the rate times the number of workers; but the rate is never reckoned on the total capital, only on the variable capital — in fact only on a single working day at a time. With the size of the capital value given, though, the rate of profit can never rise or fall without the mass of surplus-value rising or falling with it.
The depressing of wages below the value of labour-power is brought in here only as an empirical observation, since in fact — like various other things that could be mentioned — it has no part in the general analysis of capital; it belongs to the account of competition, which this work does not give. Even so, it is one of the most significant causes that hold back the tendency of the profit rate to fall.
Everything said in Part One of this volume about the causes that raise the rate of profit while the rate of surplus-value stays the same — or that raise it regardless of that rate — belongs here. In particular the fact that, taking the total capital, the value of constant capital does not grow in step with its material volume. For example, the quantity of cotton that one European spinning operative works up in a modern factory has grown colossally, compared with what a European spinner once processed on a spinning wheel. But the value of the cotton worked up has not grown in the same proportion as its mass. The same holds for machines and other fixed capital. In short, the very development that makes constant capital a greater mass relative to variable capital pulls down the value of its elements, thanks to the greater productivity of labour. And so it keeps the value of constant capital — steadily growing though it is — from growing as fast as its material volume, that is, the sheer bulk of the means of production that the same quantity of labour-power sets moving. In individual cases the mass of the elements of constant capital can even grow while their value stays the same or falls.
Connected with all this is the devaluation of capital already in existence — that is, of its material elements — which comes with the development of industry. This too is one of the factors that work constantly to hold back the fall in the rate of profit, although in some circumstances it can eat into the mass of profit, by eating into how much capital there is to yield profit. Here we see once more that the same factors which produce the tendency of the profit rate to fall also moderate how far that tendency is realized.
A country's relative surplus population is created by the same development of labour productivity that shows up as the decline in the profit rate: the two cannot be separated, and the growth of productivity speeds the surplus population up. And the more developed the capitalist mode of production is in a country, the more glaring that surplus population becomes there.
The surplus population is in turn one reason why, in many branches of production, labour stays more or less incompletely subordinated to capital — and stays that way longer than the general level of development would suggest at first glance. Two things lie behind that: wage-labourers are cheap and there are many of them, either available or already set free from work; and some branches put up more resistance, by their very nature, to being converted from hand labour into machine labour.
At the same time new branches open up, luxury production in particular. They take precisely this relative population as their base — a population that other branches have often set free because constant capital predominates there — and they in turn rest on a predominance of living labour. Only gradually do they go through the same career as the other branches. In both cases variable capital makes up a large share of the total capital and wages sit below the average, so that both the rate and the mass of surplus-value in these branches are unusually high.
The general profit rate, after all, comes about by equalizing the profit rates of the particular branches. So here again the very cause that produces the falling tendency of the profit rate produces a counterweight against that tendency, one that paralyses its effect to a greater or lesser degree.
Foreign trade cheapens two things: the elements that constant capital is made of, and the necessary means of subsistence that variable capital is turned into. To that extent it lifts the rate of profit, because surplus-value is extracted at a higher rate and constant capital is worth less. And it works in this direction generally, by letting production be carried on at a larger scale.
But that is not all it does. It speeds up accumulation, and at the same time it speeds up the sinking of variable capital relative to constant capital — and with that, the fall in the rate of profit.
There is a further twist. In the infancy of the capitalist mode of production, foreign trade was its basis. As that mode develops, foreign trade becomes its own product instead — forced by the inner necessity of this mode of production and by its need for markets that keep widening. Here again the same double-edged effect shows. (Ricardo completely overlooked this side of foreign trade.)
There is another question — one that, in its own specifics, properly lies beyond the bounds of this investigation: when capital placed in foreign trade — above all in colonial trade — earns a higher rate of profit, does that lift the general rate of profit?
Capital placed in foreign trade may bring in a higher rate of profit. First, because it competes with goods produced in other countries where production is less easy: the more advanced country sells its output above its value, though it still undersells its rivals. In so far as the labour of the more advanced country counts here as labour of a higher specific weight — heavier labour, worth more per hour — the rate of profit rises — labour that is not paid for as the better sort is all the same sold as the better sort.
The same relationship can hold the other way round, towards the country that goods are sent to and bought from: that country hands over more objectified labour in kind — more labour embodied in actual goods — than it receives back, and yet it still gets the goods cheaper than it could have made them itself. It is just like a manufacturer who uses a new discovery before it becomes general: he undercuts his competitors and still sells above the individual value of his own commodity — he cashes in the unusually high productivity of his workers as surplus labour. In this way he realizes a surplus profit.
As for capital invested in the colonies and the like, it can yield higher rates of profit because the rate of profit generally stands higher there, given how little developed the country is, and also because labour is more harshly exploited — with slaves and coolies, and so on. Unless monopolies block the way, there is no seeing why the higher profit rates earned by capital placed in certain branches, and sent back home, should not go into the equalization of the general rate of profit and push it up to that extent. Especially not when free competition rules in those branches.
What Ricardo has in mind is something else: the higher price obtained abroad is used to buy goods there, and those goods come home as return cargo and are sold on the domestic market. So at most this gives the favoured branches a temporary edge over the rest. But once we leave the money form behind, that semblance vanishes. The privileged country hands over less labour and gets more back — though the difference, that excess, gets scooped up by one particular class, exactly as happens in the exchange between labour and capital at large.
So where the rate of profit is higher simply because rates are generally higher in the colonial country, good natural conditions there may go together with cheap commodities. Equalization does happen — but it does not equalize back to the old level, as Ricardo thinks.
But the same foreign trade also develops the capitalist mode of production at home, and with it the decline of variable capital compared with constant capital. On its other side it produces overproduction in relation to foreign countries, so that in its further course it has the opposite effect once more.
So it has come out in general that the very causes which bring the general profit rate down also call forth counter-effects: effects that hold this fall back, slow it down and partly paralyse it. They weaken the law's effect without doing away with it. Without them, it would not be the profit rate's fall that was incomprehensible; the puzzle would be the opposite — why that fall is relatively so slow. So the law works only as a tendency, and its effect makes itself felt with full force only in certain circumstances and across long stretches of time.
Before we go further, let us repeat two points that have already been worked out more than once, so as to head off any misunderstanding.
First: the very same process that brings commodities down in price in the course of capitalist development also alters the organic composition of the social capital applied in producing those commodities, and with it lowers the rate of profit. So the falling relative cost of a single commodity — including the part of that cost that is wear and tear of machinery — must not be identified with the rising value of constant capital compared with variable. The converse does hold: if constant capital's relative cost falls while the sheer amount of its material elements stays level or grows, that pushes the rate of profit up — that is, it brings down to that extent the value of constant capital compared with the variable capital, which is applied in shrinking proportions.
Second. Take the individual commodities that together make up the product of capital. The extra living labour they contain keeps shrinking relative to the materials of labour (the stuff worked up) they contain and the means of labour (the tools and machines) used up in making them; an ever smaller amount of extra living labour gets stored up in them, because as society's productive power grows, less labour is needed to produce them. None of this touches how the living labour inside the commodity splits between paid and unpaid. Quite the reverse.
Even though the total amount of extra living labour in the commodity falls, the unpaid part grows in relation to the paid part — either because the paid part falls absolutely or because it falls proportionally. For the very way of producing that cuts the total amount of extra living labour in a commodity goes hand in hand with absolute and relative surplus-value both rising.
So the profit rate's tendential fall goes together with a rise — itself tendential — in the rate of surplus-value, that is, in the degree to which labour is exploited. Nothing could be sillier, then, than to account for a falling profit rate by saying wages have risen — though by way of exception that may be the case. Only when we understand what shapes the profit rate can statistics genuinely analyse wage rates in different periods and countries.
It is not declining productivity of labour that pulls the profit rate down; it is labour becoming more productive. Both movements — the rate of surplus-value climbing, the profit rate sinking — are only particular shapes taken by labour's growing productivity under capitalism.
A sixth point can be added to the five above, though we cannot go deeper into it for now. As capitalist production advances — and it advances hand in hand with accelerated accumulation — one part of capital is reckoned and applied only as interest-bearing capital.
Not in the sense that a capitalist who lends out money is content with the interest while the one running the business keeps the entrepreneurial profit. That has nothing to do with the level of the general rate of profit, for as far as that rate is concerned, profit = interest + profit of every kind + ground-rent, and how the total is divided among those particular categories makes no difference to it.
It is rather in this sense: these capitals, even when they are put into large productive undertakings, yield, once all costs are taken off, only a larger or smaller interest — what are called dividends. Railways, for instance. So they take no part in the equalization that forms the general profit rate, because they bring in less than the average rate of profit. If they did go in, that rate would sink much lower.
Looked at theoretically, you can count them in, and then you get a profit rate lower than the one that apparently exists and really governs the capitalists — precisely because it is in undertakings like these that constant capital is greatest in relation to variable capital.
Think how enormously the productive power of social labour has grown in the last thirty years alone, compared with every earlier period, and above all how huge a mass of fixed capital now enters society's whole production process over and above machinery proper. The difficulty that used to occupy economists then turns into its opposite. Their problem was to explain the fall in the rate of profit; ours is the reverse: to explain why that fall is not bigger or quicker. Something must be working against it — influences that cut across and cancel the effect of the general law, leaving that law with nothing but the character of a tendency. That is why we have called the fall of the general rate of profit a tendential fall. The most general of these causes are the following.
The degree of exploitation of labour — how much surplus labour and surplus-value get taken — is pushed up above all by making the working day longer and by making work more intense. Volume 1 sets both out in detail, under the production of absolute and of relative surplus-value.
Many ways of intensifying labour do raise constant capital as against variable capital, and so drag the profit rate down — for instance when one worker has to keep an eye on more machinery. In these cases, as with most of the ways of producing relative surplus-value, the very same reasons that make the rate of surplus-value rise can also make its mass fall, once the total capital applied is taken as given. But there are other ways of intensifying labour. Take machines running faster: they use up more raw material in the same time, and the machinery gets used up sooner as fixed capital — yet this does not in the least change how the machines' value stands to the price of the labour that sets them in motion.
Above all, though, it is the longer working day — this invention of modern industry — that increases the mass of surplus labour appropriated without essentially changing how much labour-power is applied relative to the constant capital that labour-power sets in motion; in fact it rather reduces that constant capital in relative terms. It has already been shown — and this is the genuine secret behind the tendential fall of the profit rate — that the procedures for producing relative surplus-value come down, by and large, to two things: turning as much as possible of a given mass of labour into surplus-value, and applying as little labour as possible in proportion to the capital advanced. So the very reasons that let the degree of exploitation of labour rise also forbid a capital to exploit as much labour as it did before, when its total size is unchanged. These are the conflicting pulls: while they push the rate of surplus-value up, they push down at the same time the mass of surplus-value a given capital produces — and with it the rate of profit. The large-scale use of women's and children's labour belongs here too, insofar as the whole family must now hand capital a greater mass of surplus labour than before, even if the total wages it receives go up — which is by no means always so.
Everything that helps produce relative surplus-value just by improving methods, with the size of the capital applied unchanged, has the same effect — in agriculture, say. Here the constant capital applied does not in fact rise against the variable — if we take the variable as an index (a gauge) of the labour-power employed — but the mass of product does rise against the labour-power applied. The same happens when the productivity of labour — whether its product is consumed by the workers or becomes part of the elements of constant capital — is freed from obstacles to trade, from arbitrary restrictions, or from ones that have grown irksome over time, in short from fetters of every kind, without this at first changing how variable capital stands to constant capital.
It might be asked: do the causes that check the fall in the profit rate — though in the last instance they always speed it up — include those temporary but constantly recurring rises in surplus-value above the general level, the ones that turn up now in one branch of production, now in another, for the capitalist who uses inventions and the like before they have become general? That question has to be answered yes.
For a capital of a given size, the mass of surplus-value it produces is the product of two factors: the rate of surplus-value, and the number of workers employed at that rate. So if the rate is given, the mass depends on the number of workers; if the number of workers is given, it depends on the rate; overall, then, it depends on the combined relation of the two — the absolute size of the variable capital and the rate of surplus-value. Now we have seen that, on average, the same causes that push the rate of relative surplus-value up also bring down the mass of labour-power employed. But it is clear that the outcome can come out greater or smaller, depending on the particular proportions in which these opposed movements run, and that the tendency of the profit rate to fall is weakened above all by a rise in the rate of absolute surplus-value — the kind that comes from a longer working day.
As for the rate of profit, what we found in general was that the rate going down is matched by the profit mass going up, because the total capital applied has grown. Look at the variable capital of society as a whole, and the surplus-value it yields is exactly the profit. Alongside the absolute mass, the rate of surplus-value has risen as well: the mass because society applies more labour-power, the rate because the degree of exploitation of that labour has gone up. But for a capital of a given size — 100, say — the rate of surplus-value can grow while its mass falls on average; the rate is fixed by the ratio at which the variable part of the capital expands its own value, while the mass is fixed by the share that variable capital makes up of the whole capital.
The rise in the rate of surplus-value is one of the factors that helps determine the mass of surplus-value, and along with it the rate of profit — particularly since this rise also occurs in conditions where, as noted above, constant capital does not grow against variable capital, or does not grow proportionally to it. It does not annul the general law. But it makes the law work more as a tendency — that is, as a law whose full realization is held up, slowed down and weakened by forces working against it. And since the same factors that raise the rate of surplus-value (even a longer working day is a result of large-scale industry) tend to reduce the labour-power a given capital sets to work, the same factors tend to bring the profit rate down and to slow that downward movement. If one worker is forced to do work that two could sensibly do, and this happens where that one worker can replace three, then that one now delivers the same surplus labour as two did earlier, and to that extent the rate of surplus-value has risen. But he will not deliver as much as three did earlier, and so the mass of surplus-value has fallen. The fall is offset — or limited — by the fact that the rate of surplus-value has risen. If everyone works at a higher rate of surplus-value, the mass of surplus-value rises even though the population is unchanged. And still more so when the population grows; and although this comes with fewer workers employed relative to the size of the total capital, that fall is still moderated or held back by the higher rate of surplus-value.
Before we leave this point, it is worth stressing again: with the size of the capital fixed, the rate of surplus-value can go up even while its mass goes down — and the reverse. The mass of surplus-value is the rate times the number of workers; but the rate is never reckoned on the total capital, only on the variable capital — in fact only on a single working day at a time. With the size of the capital value given, though, the rate of profit can never rise or fall without the mass of surplus-value rising or falling with it.
The depressing of wages below the value of labour-power is brought in here only as an empirical observation, since in fact — like various other things that could be mentioned — it has no part in the general analysis of capital; it belongs to the account of competition, which this work does not give. Even so, it is one of the most significant causes that hold back the tendency of the profit rate to fall.
Everything said in Part One of this volume about the causes that raise the rate of profit while the rate of surplus-value stays the same — or that raise it regardless of that rate — belongs here. In particular the fact that, taking the total capital, the value of constant capital does not grow in step with its material volume. For example, the quantity of cotton that one European spinning operative works up in a modern factory has grown colossally, compared with what a European spinner once processed on a spinning wheel. But the value of the cotton worked up has not grown in the same proportion as its mass. The same holds for machines and other fixed capital. In short, the very development that makes constant capital a greater mass relative to variable capital pulls down the value of its elements, thanks to the greater productivity of labour. And so it keeps the value of constant capital — steadily growing though it is — from growing as fast as its material volume, that is, the sheer bulk of the means of production that the same quantity of labour-power sets moving. In individual cases the mass of the elements of constant capital can even grow while their value stays the same or falls.
Connected with all this is the devaluation of capital already in existence — that is, of its material elements — which comes with the development of industry. This too is one of the factors that work constantly to hold back the fall in the rate of profit, although in some circumstances it can eat into the mass of profit, by eating into how much capital there is to yield profit. Here we see once more that the same factors which produce the tendency of the profit rate to fall also moderate how far that tendency is realized.
A country's relative surplus population is created by the same development of labour productivity that shows up as the decline in the profit rate: the two cannot be separated, and the growth of productivity speeds the surplus population up. And the more developed the capitalist mode of production is in a country, the more glaring that surplus population becomes there.
The surplus population is in turn one reason why, in many branches of production, labour stays more or less incompletely subordinated to capital — and stays that way longer than the general level of development would suggest at first glance. Two things lie behind that: wage-labourers are cheap and there are many of them, either available or already set free from work; and some branches put up more resistance, by their very nature, to being converted from hand labour into machine labour.
At the same time new branches open up, luxury production in particular. They take precisely this relative population as their base — a population that other branches have often set free because constant capital predominates there — and they in turn rest on a predominance of living labour. Only gradually do they go through the same career as the other branches. In both cases variable capital makes up a large share of the total capital and wages sit below the average, so that both the rate and the mass of surplus-value in these branches are unusually high.
The general profit rate, after all, comes about by equalizing the profit rates of the particular branches. So here again the very cause that produces the falling tendency of the profit rate produces a counterweight against that tendency, one that paralyses its effect to a greater or lesser degree.
Foreign trade cheapens two things: the elements that constant capital is made of, and the necessary means of subsistence that variable capital is turned into. To that extent it lifts the rate of profit, because surplus-value is extracted at a higher rate and constant capital is worth less. And it works in this direction generally, by letting production be carried on at a larger scale.
But that is not all it does. It speeds up accumulation, and at the same time it speeds up the sinking of variable capital relative to constant capital — and with that, the fall in the rate of profit.
There is a further twist. In the infancy of the capitalist mode of production, foreign trade was its basis. As that mode develops, foreign trade becomes its own product instead — forced by the inner necessity of this mode of production and by its need for markets that keep widening. Here again the same double-edged effect shows. (Ricardo completely overlooked this side of foreign trade.)
There is another question — one that, in its own specifics, properly lies beyond the bounds of this investigation: when capital placed in foreign trade — above all in colonial trade — earns a higher rate of profit, does that lift the general rate of profit?
Capital placed in foreign trade may bring in a higher rate of profit. First, because it competes with goods produced in other countries where production is less easy: the more advanced country sells its output above its value, though it still undersells its rivals. In so far as the labour of the more advanced country counts here as labour of a higher specific weight — heavier labour, worth more per hour — the rate of profit rises — labour that is not paid for as the better sort is all the same sold as the better sort.
The same relationship can hold the other way round, towards the country that goods are sent to and bought from: that country hands over more objectified labour in kind — more labour embodied in actual goods — than it receives back, and yet it still gets the goods cheaper than it could have made them itself. It is just like a manufacturer who uses a new discovery before it becomes general: he undercuts his competitors and still sells above the individual value of his own commodity — he cashes in the unusually high productivity of his workers as surplus labour. In this way he realizes a surplus profit.
As for capital invested in the colonies and the like, it can yield higher rates of profit because the rate of profit generally stands higher there, given how little developed the country is, and also because labour is more harshly exploited — with slaves and coolies, and so on. Unless monopolies block the way, there is no seeing why the higher profit rates earned by capital placed in certain branches, and sent back home, should not go into the equalization of the general rate of profit and push it up to that extent. Especially not when free competition rules in those branches.
What Ricardo has in mind is something else: the higher price obtained abroad is used to buy goods there, and those goods come home as return cargo and are sold on the domestic market. So at most this gives the favoured branches a temporary edge over the rest. But once we leave the money form behind, that semblance vanishes. The privileged country hands over less labour and gets more back — though the difference, that excess, gets scooped up by one particular class, exactly as happens in the exchange between labour and capital at large.
So where the rate of profit is higher simply because rates are generally higher in the colonial country, good natural conditions there may go together with cheap commodities. Equalization does happen — but it does not equalize back to the old level, as Ricardo thinks.
But the same foreign trade also develops the capitalist mode of production at home, and with it the decline of variable capital compared with constant capital. On its other side it produces overproduction in relation to foreign countries, so that in its further course it has the opposite effect once more.
So it has come out in general that the very causes which bring the general profit rate down also call forth counter-effects: effects that hold this fall back, slow it down and partly paralyse it. They weaken the law's effect without doing away with it. Without them, it would not be the profit rate's fall that was incomprehensible; the puzzle would be the opposite — why that fall is relatively so slow. So the law works only as a tendency, and its effect makes itself felt with full force only in certain circumstances and across long stretches of time.
Before we go further, let us repeat two points that have already been worked out more than once, so as to head off any misunderstanding.
First: the very same process that brings commodities down in price in the course of capitalist development also alters the organic composition of the social capital applied in producing those commodities, and with it lowers the rate of profit. So the falling relative cost of a single commodity — including the part of that cost that is wear and tear of machinery — must not be identified with the rising value of constant capital compared with variable. The converse does hold: if constant capital's relative cost falls while the sheer amount of its material elements stays level or grows, that pushes the rate of profit up — that is, it brings down to that extent the value of constant capital compared with the variable capital, which is applied in shrinking proportions.
Second. Take the individual commodities that together make up the product of capital. The extra living labour they contain keeps shrinking relative to the materials of labour (the stuff worked up) they contain and the means of labour (the tools and machines) used up in making them; an ever smaller amount of extra living labour gets stored up in them, because as society's productive power grows, less labour is needed to produce them. None of this touches how the living labour inside the commodity splits between paid and unpaid. Quite the reverse.
Even though the total amount of extra living labour in the commodity falls, the unpaid part grows in relation to the paid part — either because the paid part falls absolutely or because it falls proportionally. For the very way of producing that cuts the total amount of extra living labour in a commodity goes hand in hand with absolute and relative surplus-value both rising.
So the profit rate's tendential fall goes together with a rise — itself tendential — in the rate of surplus-value, that is, in the degree to which labour is exploited. Nothing could be sillier, then, than to account for a falling profit rate by saying wages have risen — though by way of exception that may be the case. Only when we understand what shapes the profit rate can statistics genuinely analyse wage rates in different periods and countries.
It is not declining productivity of labour that pulls the profit rate down; it is labour becoming more productive. Both movements — the rate of surplus-value climbing, the profit rate sinking — are only particular shapes taken by labour's growing productivity under capitalism.
A sixth point can be added to the five above, though we cannot go deeper into it for now. As capitalist production advances — and it advances hand in hand with accelerated accumulation — one part of capital is reckoned and applied only as interest-bearing capital.
Not in the sense that a capitalist who lends out money is content with the interest while the one running the business keeps the entrepreneurial profit. That has nothing to do with the level of the general rate of profit, for as far as that rate is concerned, profit = interest + profit of every kind + ground-rent, and how the total is divided among those particular categories makes no difference to it.
It is rather in this sense: these capitals, even when they are put into large productive undertakings, yield, once all costs are taken off, only a larger or smaller interest — what are called dividends. Railways, for instance. So they take no part in the equalization that forms the general profit rate, because they bring in less than the average rate of profit. If they did go in, that rate would sink much lower.
Looked at theoretically, you can count them in, and then you get a profit rate lower than the one that apparently exists and really governs the capitalists — precisely because it is in undertakings like these that constant capital is greatest in relation to variable capital.