When we analyse ground-rent, we start from an assumption. The products that pay a rent of this kind — the ones where a part of the surplus-value, and so a part of the total price, is resolved into rent — are sold at their prices of production, just like every other commodity. For our purpose it is enough to consider farm products, or mining products.
So their sale prices are equal to their cost elements — the value of the constant and variable capital used up — plus a profit worked out from the general rate of profit and reckoned on the total capital advanced, whether that capital was used up or not. We assume, then, that the average sale prices of these products are equal to their prices of production. And now the question: how, on this assumption, can a ground-rent develop at all — that is, how can a part of profit turn into ground-rent, so that a part of the commodity price falls to the landowner?
To bring out what is general about this form of ground-rent, we take a case from industry. Suppose that the factories in a country are driven mostly by steam-engines, and a certain minority of them by natural waterfalls instead.
Suppose the price of production in those industries is 115 for a batch of commodities in which a capital of 100 is used up. The 15 per cent profit is worked out not only on the 100 of capital consumed, but on the whole capital applied in producing this commodity value. This price of production, as discussed earlier, is fixed not by the individual cost price of each manufacturer producing on his own, but by what the commodity costs on average, under the average conditions of capital in that entire sphere of production. It is in fact the market price of production: the average market price, as distinct from its oscillations.
And it is in the form of the market price, and further in the form of the governing market price or market price of production, that the nature of commodity value presents itself — its being determined not by the labour-time that is individually necessary to produce a particular quantity of commodities, or a few individual commodities, for one particular producer, but by socially necessary labour-time: the labour-time required, under the given average of social conditions of production, to produce the socially required total quantity of that species of commodity that is on the market.
The particular figures here are completely immaterial, so let us assume further that the cost price in the factories driven by water-power comes to only 90 instead of 100. Since the price of production governing the market for the mass of these goods is 115, with a profit of 15 per cent, the manufacturers who drive their machines with water-power will also sell at 115 — that is, at the average price governing the market. Their profit would therefore be 25 instead of 15. The governing price of production would allow them to make a surplus profit of 10 per cent — not because they sell their commodity above the price of production, but because they sell it at the price of production, because their commodities are produced, or their capital functions, under exceptionally favourable conditions, conditions that stand above the average level ruling in that sphere.
Two things become clear straight away.
First: the surplus profit made by producers who run their works on a natural waterfall behaves to begin with just like any other surplus profit — and we have already worked this category out when we dealt with the price of production. It is not the chance result of deals made in the circulation process, or of accidental swings in market price. So this surplus profit is likewise equal to the difference between the individual price of production of these favoured producers and the general social price of production of the whole sphere of production, the one that governs the market. That difference is equal to the amount by which the general price of production of the commodity exceeds its individual price of production.
Two limits govern that excess: on one side the individual cost price, and hence the individual price of production; on the other the general price of production.
The commodity produced with the waterfall is worth less, because producing it takes a smaller total quantity of labour — less labour, that is, entering in objectified form, as part of the constant capital. The labour set to work here is more productive: its individual productivity is greater than that of the labour applied in the mass of factories of the same kind. This greater productivity shows itself in the fact that, to produce the same quantity of commodities, it needs a smaller quantity of constant capital, a smaller quantity of objectified labour, than the others; and beyond that a smaller quantity of living labour as well, since a water-wheel does not have to be heated. This greater individual productivity of the labour applied lowers the value, and also the cost price, and with it the price of production of the commodity. For the industrialist it presents itself like this: the cost price of the commodity is lower for him. He has less objectified labour to pay for, and likewise less in wages for the smaller quantity of living labour-power he sets to work. Since the cost price of his commodity is lower, his individual price of production is lower too. His cost price is 90 instead of 100. So his individual price of production would be only 103 1/2 instead of 115 (100 : 115 = 90 : 103 1/2).
The difference between his individual price of production and the general one is bounded by the difference between his individual cost price and the general one. That is one of the magnitudes that set the limits on his surplus profit. The other is the size of the general price of production, and the general rate of profit enters into it as one of the governing factors.
If coal were cheaper, the difference between his individual cost price and the general one would shrink, and so would his surplus profit. And if he had to sell the commodity at its own individual value, or at the price of production determined by that individual value, the difference would fall away altogether. The difference is the result of two things at once: the commodity is sold at its general market price, the price at which competition levels out the individual prices; and the greater individual productivity of the labour he sets in motion does not go to the workers but, like the productivity of labour in general, to whoever employs them — it presents itself as the productivity of capital.
One limit on this surplus profit is the level of the general price of production, and the general rate of profit is one of the factors in that level. So the surplus profit can arise only out of the difference between the general and the individual price of production, and hence out of the difference between the individual rate of profit and the general one. Anything over and above that difference would presuppose selling the product above the price of production that the market governs, and not at it.
Secondly: so far the manufacturer who drives his works with a natural waterfall instead of steam has a surplus profit that differs in no way from any other.
All normal surplus profit — that is, surplus profit that does not come about through accidental sales or through swings in the market price — is fixed by the gap between the individual production price of the goods turned out by this particular capital and the general production price that rules the market prices of the goods of the capital of this sphere of production as a whole, or the market prices of the goods of the total capital invested in this sphere.
But now the difference comes in.
So what is it, in this case, that the manufacturer has to thank for his surplus profit — for the excess that the production price, governed by the general rate of profit, throws off to him personally?
The first answer: a natural force — the motive power of the waterfall. Nature supplies it of itself, and it is not itself a product of labour the way coal is, the coal that turns water into steam: coal is a product of labour, and therefore has value, has to be paid for with an equivalent, costs something.
The waterfall is a natural agent of production, and no labour goes into making it.
But that is not all. The manufacturer who works with a steam-engine also uses natural forces that cost him nothing — and those forces make labour more productive, and in so far as they cheapen the production of the means of subsistence the workers need, they raise surplus-value and therefore profit. Capital monopolizes them just as much as it does the natural social forces of labour that spring from cooperation, division of labour and so on. He pays for the coal, but not for water's capacity to change its state, to pass over into steam; not for the elasticity of steam, and so on.
Every capital that works with steam-engines shares in this monopolizing of natural forces — that is, of the boost to labour-power that these forces bring about. It may raise the part of the product of labour that represents surplus-value against the part that turns into wages. In so far as it does this, it raises the general rate of profit; but it creates no surplus profit, and surplus profit is by definition the amount by which an individual profit runs above the average profit.
So the fact that the use of a natural force, the waterfall, creates surplus profit here cannot come solely from the fact that the increased productive power of labour is owed here to the use of a natural force. Further modifying circumstances have to come into play.
Conversely. The bare use of natural forces in industry may bear on the level of the general rate of profit, since it bears on the mass of labour required for the production of the necessary means of subsistence. But in and of itself it creates no departure from the general rate of profit — and it is precisely a departure that is at issue here.
Then: the surplus profit that an individual capital otherwise realizes in a particular sphere of production — for the differences in the rate of profit between particular spheres are constantly being evened out into the average rate — comes, apart from merely accidental deviations, from a reduction of the cost price, that is, of production costs. And that reduction is owed either to the fact that capital is applied in larger than average masses, so that the incidental costs of production fall, while the general causes that raise the productive power of labour (cooperation, division of labour and so on) can act to a higher degree, with more intensity, because over a larger field; or to the fact that, apart from the size of the capital at work, better working methods, new inventions, improved machines, chemical trade secrets and so on — in short, new and improved means and methods of production standing above the average level — are used.
The fall in the cost price, and the surplus profit flowing from it, come here from the way the capital at work is invested. Either the capital is concentrated in exceptionally large masses in one hand — a state of affairs that cancels itself as soon as equally large masses of capital are applied on average — or capital of a particular size functions in a particularly productive way — a state of affairs that drops away as soon as the exceptional mode of production becomes general, or is overtaken by one still more developed.
So here the cause of the surplus profit comes out of the capital itself (with the labour it sets in motion included) — whether from a difference in the size of the capital applied or from a more purposeful application of it. And in itself nothing stands in the way of all capital in the same sphere of production being invested in the same way. Competition between capitals tends on the contrary to even out these differences more and more; the determination of value by socially necessary labour-time asserts itself in the cheapening of commodities and in the compulsion to produce commodities under the same favourable conditions.
It is otherwise with the surplus profit of the manufacturer who uses the waterfall. The increased productive power of the labour he applies comes neither from the capital and the labour themselves nor from the bare use of a natural force distinct from capital and labour but incorporated into the capital. It comes from the greater natural productive power of a labour tied to the use of a natural force — but not one that stands at the disposal of all capital in the same sphere of production, the way the elasticity of steam does; so its use does not follow of itself as soon as capital is invested in this sphere at all. What is used is rather a natural force that can be monopolized, one which like the waterfall is available only to those who have particular pieces of the earth and its appurtenances at their disposal. It does not depend on the capital at all to call this natural condition of a greater productive power of labour into life, in the way that any capital can turn water into steam. It is found in nature only at particular places, and where it is not found it cannot be produced by any particular outlay of capital. It is not bound to products that labour can produce, such as machines, coal and so on, but to particular natural conditions of particular pieces of the earth.
The manufacturers who own the waterfalls shut out those who do not own them from the use of this natural force, because land is limited, and land endowed with water-power still more so. This does not rule out that, although the mass of natural waterfalls in a country is limited, the mass of water-power usable by industry can be increased: the waterfall can be artificially diverted, so as to use its motive power to the full; the fall being given, the water-wheel can be improved so as to get as much as possible out of the water-power; where the ordinary wheel does not suit the water supply, turbines can be used, and so on. Possession of this natural force forms a monopoly in its owner's hands — a condition of high productive power for the capital invested, one that cannot be produced by capital's own production process; and this natural force, which can be monopolized in this way, is always chained to the earth. A natural force of this kind belongs neither to the general conditions of the sphere of production in question nor to those of its conditions that are generally reproducible.
Picture the waterfalls, and the land they belong to, held by people who count as owners of those pieces of the globe — landowners. Then they are in a position to bar capital from the waterfall: from being invested in it and from using it. The owners can permit the use of it or refuse it. But capital on its own cannot create a waterfall.
So the surplus profit that comes from using the waterfall does not come from capital. It comes from capital's use of a force of nature that can be monopolized, and has been monopolized.
Under these circumstances the surplus profit turns into ground-rent — that is, it falls to the owner of the waterfall. If the manufacturer pays him £10 a year for the waterfall, his profit comes to £15; 15 per cent on the £100 that his production costs then amount to; and he stands just as well, possibly better, than all the other capitalists in his sphere who work with steam.
It would change nothing if the capitalist owned the waterfall himself. He would still draw the surplus profit of £10 not as a capitalist but as the owner of the waterfall; and precisely because this excess comes not from his capital as such but from command over a force of nature that is separable from his capital, can be monopolized, and is limited in scope, it turns into ground-rent.
First. It is clear that this rent is always differential rent, for it does not enter into determining the general production price of the commodity — it presupposes that price. It always comes out of the difference between the individual production price of the single capital that has the monopolized force of nature available to it, and the general production price of all the capital invested in the sphere of production in question.
Second. This ground-rent does not come from any absolute increase in the productivity of the capital applied, or of the labour that capital appropriates — a rise of that kind can only ever reduce the value of commodities. It comes from the greater relative returns of certain particular capitals invested in one sphere of production, measured against those capital investments that are excluded from these exceptional, nature-created favourable conditions of productivity.
Suppose, for instance, that the use of steam gave an overwhelming advantage that the use of water-power would rule out — an advantage that more than compensated for the fact that coal has value and water-power does not. Then water-power would not be used, and it could produce no surplus profit, and therefore no rent.
Third. The force of nature is not the source of the surplus profit; it is only a natural basis for it, because it is the natural basis of the exceptionally increased productivity of labour. In the same way, use-value is altogether the bearer of exchange-value, but not its cause.
The same use-value, if it could be had without any labour, would have no exchange-value — yet it would keep, as before, its natural usefulness as a use-value. On the other hand, however, a thing has no exchange-value without use-value, that is, without being such a natural bearer of labour.
And if the different values did not equalize into production prices, and the different individual production prices into one general production price that governs the market, then the mere increase in the productivity of labour through using the waterfall would only lower the price of the commodities produced with the waterfall; it would not raise the share of profit contained in those commodities — just as, conversely, this increased productivity of labour would not turn into surplus-value at all if capital did not appropriate, as its own, the productive power — natural and social — of the labour it applies.
Fourth. The landed property attached to the waterfall has, taken by itself, no hand in bringing about the share of surplus-value (profit), nor therefore in the price of the commodity at all — the commodity that is made by using the waterfall. This surplus profit would be there all the same if landed property did not exist — suppose, for instance, that the manufacturer were to use the land to which the waterfall belonged as unclaimed land. Landed property, then, is not what creates the portion of value that turns into surplus profit. It only puts the landowner, the owner of the waterfall, in a position to transfer this surplus profit from the manufacturer's pocket to his own. What it causes is not the origin of this surplus profit, but its change into the form of ground-rent; and so it causes this part of profit — or, as the case may be, of the commodity price — to be appropriated by the landowner or the owner of the waterfall.
Fifth. The price of the waterfall — that is, the price the landowner would receive if he sold it to a third person, or to the manufacturer himself — does not, to begin with, enter into the production price of the commodities; though it does enter the manufacturer's own individual cost price. For the rent here comes out of the production price of the commodities of the same kind that are produced with steam-engines, a price regulated independently of the waterfall.
Beyond that, this price of the waterfall is altogether an irrational expression, with a real economic relationship hidden behind it. The waterfall, like the earth in general, like every force of nature, has no value, because it represents no labour embodied in it, and therefore no price either — a price being, in the normal case, nothing but value expressed in money. Where there is no value, there is eo ipso nothing that could be expressed in money. This price is nothing but capitalized rent.
Landed property enables the owner to intercept the difference between the individual profit and the average profit. The profit intercepted in this way, renewed every year, can be capitalized, and it then appears as the price of the force of nature itself. If the surplus profit that the use of the waterfall throws off for the manufacturer is £10 a year, and the average rate of interest is 5 per cent, then this £10 a year represents the interest on a capital of £200; and this capitalization of the annual £10 that the waterfall enables its owner to intercept from the manufacturer then appears as the capital value of the waterfall itself.
That it is not the waterfall itself that has value, but that its price is a mere reflection of the intercepted surplus profit, reckoned capitalistically, shows at once in this: the price of £200 represents only the surplus profit of £10 multiplied by twenty years — whereas, other circumstances remaining the same, the same waterfall enables its owner to intercept that £10 every year for an indefinite time, 30, 100, x years; and whereas, on the other hand, if a new method of production that cannot make use of water-power lowered the cost price of the commodities produced by steam from £100 to £90, the surplus profit would vanish, and with it the rent, and with it the price of the waterfall.
Now that the general concept of differential rent has been fixed in this way, we turn to consider it in agriculture proper. What is said of it holds on the whole for mining too.
When we analyse ground-rent, we start from an assumption. The products that pay a rent of this kind — the ones where a part of the surplus-value, and so a part of the total price, is resolved into rent — are sold at their prices of production, just like every other commodity. For our purpose it is enough to consider farm products, or mining products.
So their sale prices are equal to their cost elements — the value of the constant and variable capital used up — plus a profit worked out from the general rate of profit and reckoned on the total capital advanced, whether that capital was used up or not. We assume, then, that the average sale prices of these products are equal to their prices of production. And now the question: how, on this assumption, can a ground-rent develop at all — that is, how can a part of profit turn into ground-rent, so that a part of the commodity price falls to the landowner?
To bring out what is general about this form of ground-rent, we take a case from industry. Suppose that the factories in a country are driven mostly by steam-engines, and a certain minority of them by natural waterfalls instead.
Suppose the price of production in those industries is 115 for a batch of commodities in which a capital of 100 is used up. The 15 per cent profit is worked out not only on the 100 of capital consumed, but on the whole capital applied in producing this commodity value. This price of production, as discussed earlier, is fixed not by the individual cost price of each manufacturer producing on his own, but by what the commodity costs on average, under the average conditions of capital in that entire sphere of production. It is in fact the market price of production: the average market price, as distinct from its oscillations.
And it is in the form of the market price, and further in the form of the governing market price or market price of production, that the nature of commodity value presents itself — its being determined not by the labour-time that is individually necessary to produce a particular quantity of commodities, or a few individual commodities, for one particular producer, but by socially necessary labour-time: the labour-time required, under the given average of social conditions of production, to produce the socially required total quantity of that species of commodity that is on the market.
The particular figures here are completely immaterial, so let us assume further that the cost price in the factories driven by water-power comes to only 90 instead of 100. Since the price of production governing the market for the mass of these goods is 115, with a profit of 15 per cent, the manufacturers who drive their machines with water-power will also sell at 115 — that is, at the average price governing the market. Their profit would therefore be 25 instead of 15. The governing price of production would allow them to make a surplus profit of 10 per cent — not because they sell their commodity above the price of production, but because they sell it at the price of production, because their commodities are produced, or their capital functions, under exceptionally favourable conditions, conditions that stand above the average level ruling in that sphere.
Two things become clear straight away.
First: the surplus profit made by producers who run their works on a natural waterfall behaves to begin with just like any other surplus profit — and we have already worked this category out when we dealt with the price of production. It is not the chance result of deals made in the circulation process, or of accidental swings in market price. So this surplus profit is likewise equal to the difference between the individual price of production of these favoured producers and the general social price of production of the whole sphere of production, the one that governs the market. That difference is equal to the amount by which the general price of production of the commodity exceeds its individual price of production.
Two limits govern that excess: on one side the individual cost price, and hence the individual price of production; on the other the general price of production.
The commodity produced with the waterfall is worth less, because producing it takes a smaller total quantity of labour — less labour, that is, entering in objectified form, as part of the constant capital. The labour set to work here is more productive: its individual productivity is greater than that of the labour applied in the mass of factories of the same kind. This greater productivity shows itself in the fact that, to produce the same quantity of commodities, it needs a smaller quantity of constant capital, a smaller quantity of objectified labour, than the others; and beyond that a smaller quantity of living labour as well, since a water-wheel does not have to be heated. This greater individual productivity of the labour applied lowers the value, and also the cost price, and with it the price of production of the commodity. For the industrialist it presents itself like this: the cost price of the commodity is lower for him. He has less objectified labour to pay for, and likewise less in wages for the smaller quantity of living labour-power he sets to work. Since the cost price of his commodity is lower, his individual price of production is lower too. His cost price is 90 instead of 100. So his individual price of production would be only 103 1/2 instead of 115 (100 : 115 = 90 : 103 1/2).
The difference between his individual price of production and the general one is bounded by the difference between his individual cost price and the general one. That is one of the magnitudes that set the limits on his surplus profit. The other is the size of the general price of production, and the general rate of profit enters into it as one of the governing factors.
If coal were cheaper, the difference between his individual cost price and the general one would shrink, and so would his surplus profit. And if he had to sell the commodity at its own individual value, or at the price of production determined by that individual value, the difference would fall away altogether. The difference is the result of two things at once: the commodity is sold at its general market price, the price at which competition levels out the individual prices; and the greater individual productivity of the labour he sets in motion does not go to the workers but, like the productivity of labour in general, to whoever employs them — it presents itself as the productivity of capital.
One limit on this surplus profit is the level of the general price of production, and the general rate of profit is one of the factors in that level. So the surplus profit can arise only out of the difference between the general and the individual price of production, and hence out of the difference between the individual rate of profit and the general one. Anything over and above that difference would presuppose selling the product above the price of production that the market governs, and not at it.
Secondly: so far the manufacturer who drives his works with a natural waterfall instead of steam has a surplus profit that differs in no way from any other.
All normal surplus profit — that is, surplus profit that does not come about through accidental sales or through swings in the market price — is fixed by the gap between the individual production price of the goods turned out by this particular capital and the general production price that rules the market prices of the goods of the capital of this sphere of production as a whole, or the market prices of the goods of the total capital invested in this sphere.
But now the difference comes in.
So what is it, in this case, that the manufacturer has to thank for his surplus profit — for the excess that the production price, governed by the general rate of profit, throws off to him personally?
The first answer: a natural force — the motive power of the waterfall. Nature supplies it of itself, and it is not itself a product of labour the way coal is, the coal that turns water into steam: coal is a product of labour, and therefore has value, has to be paid for with an equivalent, costs something.
The waterfall is a natural agent of production, and no labour goes into making it.
But that is not all. The manufacturer who works with a steam-engine also uses natural forces that cost him nothing — and those forces make labour more productive, and in so far as they cheapen the production of the means of subsistence the workers need, they raise surplus-value and therefore profit. Capital monopolizes them just as much as it does the natural social forces of labour that spring from cooperation, division of labour and so on. He pays for the coal, but not for water's capacity to change its state, to pass over into steam; not for the elasticity of steam, and so on.
Every capital that works with steam-engines shares in this monopolizing of natural forces — that is, of the boost to labour-power that these forces bring about. It may raise the part of the product of labour that represents surplus-value against the part that turns into wages. In so far as it does this, it raises the general rate of profit; but it creates no surplus profit, and surplus profit is by definition the amount by which an individual profit runs above the average profit.
So the fact that the use of a natural force, the waterfall, creates surplus profit here cannot come solely from the fact that the increased productive power of labour is owed here to the use of a natural force. Further modifying circumstances have to come into play.
Conversely. The bare use of natural forces in industry may bear on the level of the general rate of profit, since it bears on the mass of labour required for the production of the necessary means of subsistence. But in and of itself it creates no departure from the general rate of profit — and it is precisely a departure that is at issue here.
Then: the surplus profit that an individual capital otherwise realizes in a particular sphere of production — for the differences in the rate of profit between particular spheres are constantly being evened out into the average rate — comes, apart from merely accidental deviations, from a reduction of the cost price, that is, of production costs. And that reduction is owed either to the fact that capital is applied in larger than average masses, so that the incidental costs of production fall, while the general causes that raise the productive power of labour (cooperation, division of labour and so on) can act to a higher degree, with more intensity, because over a larger field; or to the fact that, apart from the size of the capital at work, better working methods, new inventions, improved machines, chemical trade secrets and so on — in short, new and improved means and methods of production standing above the average level — are used.
The fall in the cost price, and the surplus profit flowing from it, come here from the way the capital at work is invested. Either the capital is concentrated in exceptionally large masses in one hand — a state of affairs that cancels itself as soon as equally large masses of capital are applied on average — or capital of a particular size functions in a particularly productive way — a state of affairs that drops away as soon as the exceptional mode of production becomes general, or is overtaken by one still more developed.
So here the cause of the surplus profit comes out of the capital itself (with the labour it sets in motion included) — whether from a difference in the size of the capital applied or from a more purposeful application of it. And in itself nothing stands in the way of all capital in the same sphere of production being invested in the same way. Competition between capitals tends on the contrary to even out these differences more and more; the determination of value by socially necessary labour-time asserts itself in the cheapening of commodities and in the compulsion to produce commodities under the same favourable conditions.
It is otherwise with the surplus profit of the manufacturer who uses the waterfall. The increased productive power of the labour he applies comes neither from the capital and the labour themselves nor from the bare use of a natural force distinct from capital and labour but incorporated into the capital. It comes from the greater natural productive power of a labour tied to the use of a natural force — but not one that stands at the disposal of all capital in the same sphere of production, the way the elasticity of steam does; so its use does not follow of itself as soon as capital is invested in this sphere at all. What is used is rather a natural force that can be monopolized, one which like the waterfall is available only to those who have particular pieces of the earth and its appurtenances at their disposal. It does not depend on the capital at all to call this natural condition of a greater productive power of labour into life, in the way that any capital can turn water into steam. It is found in nature only at particular places, and where it is not found it cannot be produced by any particular outlay of capital. It is not bound to products that labour can produce, such as machines, coal and so on, but to particular natural conditions of particular pieces of the earth.
The manufacturers who own the waterfalls shut out those who do not own them from the use of this natural force, because land is limited, and land endowed with water-power still more so. This does not rule out that, although the mass of natural waterfalls in a country is limited, the mass of water-power usable by industry can be increased: the waterfall can be artificially diverted, so as to use its motive power to the full; the fall being given, the water-wheel can be improved so as to get as much as possible out of the water-power; where the ordinary wheel does not suit the water supply, turbines can be used, and so on. Possession of this natural force forms a monopoly in its owner's hands — a condition of high productive power for the capital invested, one that cannot be produced by capital's own production process; and this natural force, which can be monopolized in this way, is always chained to the earth. A natural force of this kind belongs neither to the general conditions of the sphere of production in question nor to those of its conditions that are generally reproducible.
Picture the waterfalls, and the land they belong to, held by people who count as owners of those pieces of the globe — landowners. Then they are in a position to bar capital from the waterfall: from being invested in it and from using it. The owners can permit the use of it or refuse it. But capital on its own cannot create a waterfall.
So the surplus profit that comes from using the waterfall does not come from capital. It comes from capital's use of a force of nature that can be monopolized, and has been monopolized.
Under these circumstances the surplus profit turns into ground-rent — that is, it falls to the owner of the waterfall. If the manufacturer pays him £10 a year for the waterfall, his profit comes to £15; 15 per cent on the £100 that his production costs then amount to; and he stands just as well, possibly better, than all the other capitalists in his sphere who work with steam.
It would change nothing if the capitalist owned the waterfall himself. He would still draw the surplus profit of £10 not as a capitalist but as the owner of the waterfall; and precisely because this excess comes not from his capital as such but from command over a force of nature that is separable from his capital, can be monopolized, and is limited in scope, it turns into ground-rent.
First. It is clear that this rent is always differential rent, for it does not enter into determining the general production price of the commodity — it presupposes that price. It always comes out of the difference between the individual production price of the single capital that has the monopolized force of nature available to it, and the general production price of all the capital invested in the sphere of production in question.
Second. This ground-rent does not come from any absolute increase in the productivity of the capital applied, or of the labour that capital appropriates — a rise of that kind can only ever reduce the value of commodities. It comes from the greater relative returns of certain particular capitals invested in one sphere of production, measured against those capital investments that are excluded from these exceptional, nature-created favourable conditions of productivity.
Suppose, for instance, that the use of steam gave an overwhelming advantage that the use of water-power would rule out — an advantage that more than compensated for the fact that coal has value and water-power does not. Then water-power would not be used, and it could produce no surplus profit, and therefore no rent.
Third. The force of nature is not the source of the surplus profit; it is only a natural basis for it, because it is the natural basis of the exceptionally increased productivity of labour. In the same way, use-value is altogether the bearer of exchange-value, but not its cause.
The same use-value, if it could be had without any labour, would have no exchange-value — yet it would keep, as before, its natural usefulness as a use-value. On the other hand, however, a thing has no exchange-value without use-value, that is, without being such a natural bearer of labour.
And if the different values did not equalize into production prices, and the different individual production prices into one general production price that governs the market, then the mere increase in the productivity of labour through using the waterfall would only lower the price of the commodities produced with the waterfall; it would not raise the share of profit contained in those commodities — just as, conversely, this increased productivity of labour would not turn into surplus-value at all if capital did not appropriate, as its own, the productive power — natural and social — of the labour it applies.
Fourth. The landed property attached to the waterfall has, taken by itself, no hand in bringing about the share of surplus-value (profit), nor therefore in the price of the commodity at all — the commodity that is made by using the waterfall. This surplus profit would be there all the same if landed property did not exist — suppose, for instance, that the manufacturer were to use the land to which the waterfall belonged as unclaimed land. Landed property, then, is not what creates the portion of value that turns into surplus profit. It only puts the landowner, the owner of the waterfall, in a position to transfer this surplus profit from the manufacturer's pocket to his own. What it causes is not the origin of this surplus profit, but its change into the form of ground-rent; and so it causes this part of profit — or, as the case may be, of the commodity price — to be appropriated by the landowner or the owner of the waterfall.
Fifth. The price of the waterfall — that is, the price the landowner would receive if he sold it to a third person, or to the manufacturer himself — does not, to begin with, enter into the production price of the commodities; though it does enter the manufacturer's own individual cost price. For the rent here comes out of the production price of the commodities of the same kind that are produced with steam-engines, a price regulated independently of the waterfall.
Beyond that, this price of the waterfall is altogether an irrational expression, with a real economic relationship hidden behind it. The waterfall, like the earth in general, like every force of nature, has no value, because it represents no labour embodied in it, and therefore no price either — a price being, in the normal case, nothing but value expressed in money. Where there is no value, there is eo ipso nothing that could be expressed in money. This price is nothing but capitalized rent.
Landed property enables the owner to intercept the difference between the individual profit and the average profit. The profit intercepted in this way, renewed every year, can be capitalized, and it then appears as the price of the force of nature itself. If the surplus profit that the use of the waterfall throws off for the manufacturer is £10 a year, and the average rate of interest is 5 per cent, then this £10 a year represents the interest on a capital of £200; and this capitalization of the annual £10 that the waterfall enables its owner to intercept from the manufacturer then appears as the capital value of the waterfall itself.
That it is not the waterfall itself that has value, but that its price is a mere reflection of the intercepted surplus profit, reckoned capitalistically, shows at once in this: the price of £200 represents only the surplus profit of £10 multiplied by twenty years — whereas, other circumstances remaining the same, the same waterfall enables its owner to intercept that £10 every year for an indefinite time, 30, 100, x years; and whereas, on the other hand, if a new method of production that cannot make use of water-power lowered the cost price of the commodities produced by steam from £100 to £90, the surplus profit would vanish, and with it the rent, and with it the price of the waterfall.
Now that the general concept of differential rent has been fixed in this way, we turn to consider it in agriculture proper. What is said of it holds on the whole for mining too.