Leland B. Yeager, a distinguished economist and proponent of liberty, died on April 23, in Auburn, Alabama. He was 93 years old.
In public accounts of his life you will see it noted that he was Professor Emeritus at Auburn University and the University of Virginia and that he was a monetarist economist who believed that government should keep its hands off the money supply, except by defining a “unit of account.” He was the author of many books, including International Monetary Relations: Theory, History and Policy (1976), Experiences with Stopping Inflation (1981), The Fluttering Veil: Essays on Monetary Disequilibrium (1997), and Ethics As Social Science: The Moral Philosophy of Social Cooperation (2001).
When you read his work, you will find that his interests were as wide as the world.
Many of Leland Yeager’s shorter publications, as well as his fascinating collection of essays, Is the Market a Test of Truth and Beauty? (2011), can be found on the website of the Ludwig von Mises Institute. When you read his work, you will find that his interests were as wide as the world. Unlike other polymaths and original thinkers, however, he was always careful to stipulate where his own knowledge stopped. He believed in limited government; he believed also in responsible self-limitation. As a result, he was never a pedant, and he was never a bore.
But now I’ve started to talk about Leland Yeager the person, and as I do, I feel a sense of overwhelming loss. For three decades, Leland honored Liberty with his contributions, and I had the privilege of working with him as editor on most of them. He was a fine writer and a gracious fellow citizen of the republic of letters. His friendship inspired me. He cannot be replaced in my esteem.
Leland had many intellectual involvements, and in his last years his health was failing, so I knew I was doubly fortunate to maintain a literary relationship with him. Not that he ever indicated, as academics are wont to do, that he was tired of all the demands on his time. Oh no. There was no falsity about Leland Yeager. He did what he could, and he was interested in doing what he could.
He was a fine writer and a gracious fellow citizen of the republic of letters. His friendship inspired me. He cannot be replaced in my esteem.
If I could have published his essays, reviews, and comments every month, or every week, I would have. But I tried to be respectful of his time. Every few months I asked him whether he might be thinking about something that would be good for Liberty. Usually he’d mention some interests; I’d say that I shared them, and I was sure our readers would also; and soon his crisp, clear copy would appear in my inbox. I’d make a few editorial suggestions, of which he accepted maybe half; but whether he did or he didn’t, he would discuss the logic behind his final choice of words or syntax. I always looked forward to that.
Many authors aren’t interested in discussing words. They’re more interested in what they have to say than in how they actually say it. But Leland was in love with the way language works and with the reasoning behind our syntax, diction, and even punctuation. To an editor, he was the ideal author, a person with whom one could freely discuss the craft of writing and editing, a person from whom one could learn, even when one disagreed with him.
Leland sometimes joshed me about my “flattering” him into writing his next article for Liberty, but there was no flattery involved. I told him exactly how good he was. I looked forward to discovering what his next subject would be. Economics? Government? History? Words themselves? Leland was better at explaining economics than anyone else I ever encountered, with the possible exception of Murray Rothbard (and that’s saying something); but the same enthusiasm and authorial integrity he showed in discussing economics appeared in his treatment of ethics, linguistics, history, and every other subject. A careless word, a willful exaggeration, an improbable “fact,” a cheap piece of abuse — those were things he would never permit himself. Leland never thought that good intentions could excuse bad writing.
Leland was in love with the way language works and with the reasoning behind our syntax, diction, and even punctuation. To an editor, he was the ideal author.
Rereading Leland’s works for Liberty, I found everything as fresh as the day he wrote it — and how much journal writing can you say that about? I’ll mention a few examples:
- Leland’s essay on alternative histories, the histories of things that never happened (Liberty, September 2009);
- his essay on free will and determinism (February 2017);
- his introduction to the “auxiliary language” Interlingua (February 2008);
- his essay on national and occupational cultures (April 2011);
- his review of “Reaganomics,” with an exposition of the reasons for separating economy and state (January 1989); and
- his magisterial consideration of government debt (December 2000).
In 2007 I persuaded him to debate the existence of God with me. He took the unbeliever’s side, but his essay remains a favorite of mine: “Is There a God? And Does It Matter?” (October 2007).
Leland’s last contribution to Liberty was an incisive analysis of Bitcoin. The essay, which I assume to be the final publication in a long career of authorship, appeared on April 4 of this year.
But I mean the final publication during his life. Last November 20, Leland wrote me a message in his characteristic manner. He noted that he was “93 and in poor health.” “Still,” he said, “I can’t and don’t complain.” Then he filled me in on his current literary project:
For years I have been working on a book on capital and interest. It is substantially complete, although still in rough form. Now, I think, I have a coauthor, an eminent economist, who will finish the book after my death and try to get it published.
I am looking for news on this project, and as I get it, I will report it here. Meanwhile, his published work remains — large and rich and thoughtful, and ready at all times to encourage people who delight in true works of the mind.