estimate the amount of woolen clothing which a normal family requires,
allowing for differences in climate, and possibly indulging somewhat
the caprices of human taste. On this basis, a certain number of sheep
would be indicated. It might perform a similar calculation for mutton,
and again a certain number of sheep would be indicated. But it would
be an extraordinary coincidence if the numbers which resulted from
these independent calculations were nearly equal to one another, or
were even of the same order of magnitude; and, if they differed
widely, what number would our world executive select? Would it decide
to waste an immense quantity of either wool or mutton; or would it
decide that it could not, after all, supply the full human needs for
one or other of the commodities?

Of course, if the executive were sensible it could solve the problem
satisfactorily enough. It could retain the monetary system we know
to-day and it could supply the commodities to the consumers, not as a
matter of right, but by selling them to them _at a price_. This price
it could then move upwards or downwards, raising, say, the price of
mutton and reducing that of wool, until it found that the consumption
of the two things was adjusted in the required ratio. But if it acted
in this manner, what essentially would it be doing? It would be
seeking by deliberate contrivance to reproduce, in respect of this
particular problem, the very conditions which occur to-day without aim
or effort on the part of anyone at all.

The moral of this illustration must not be misinterpreted. It does
not show the folly of Socialism or the superiority of
Laissez-faire. What it does show is the existence in the economic
world of an order more profound and more permanent than any of our
social schemes, and equally applicable to them all.