I came to the labour theory of value through a kind of embarrassment. Not intellectual embarrassment — though that came later, in seminars where I learned to say "LTV" quickly and quietly, as though the abbreviation might defuse something inflammatory — but something more personal. I grew up around people who worked hard and many of us were quite poor in relative terms. The question of value and values seemed, before I had the vocabulary for it, like the most important question in economics. The labour theory of value is, at bottom, an attempt to answer it.
The received view — among mainstream economists and a surprising number of heterodox ones — is that the labour theory is dead. The marginalists of the 1870s killed it. Sraffa's 1960 equations buried it. Steedman wrote the obituary in 1977. We are told this with a finality that should make us suspicious. Theories that are genuinely dead don't require such regular reassertion of their death.
What actually happened in the 1870s was not that the labour theory was refuted. Mainstream economics changed its questions. The marginalists weren't, primarily, asking what labour is worth or where value comes from. They were asking how individuals allocate scarce resources under conditions of given preferences and endowments. A narrower question, and for that narrower question, subjective utility theory is perfectly adequate. But it purchases this adequacy by evacuating the terrain of political economy — distribution, exploitation, social reproduction — that the classical economists had taken as central.
The classical economists saw something real: that production requires human effort; that this effort is the only thing capable of adding value rather than merely transferring it; that the relationship between those who own the means of production and those who don't is the fundamental social fact of capitalist economies.
What the theory actually claims
It's worth being precise, because much of the dismissal targets a straw version. The theory does not claim that a commodity's price equals the hours worked to produce it. It doesn't claim all labour generates equal value, or that effort alone, without tools and organisation, creates anything much. In its Marxian form, it claims something harder to dismiss: that value is a social form specific to capitalism, a way that human productive activity comes to relate to itself through exchange.
This is a historical and sociological claim, not a technical one. It doesn't compete with supply-and-demand as an explanation of daily price fluctuations. It operates at a different level — the level of understanding what kind of social world we inhabit, what kind of relations organise it, how labour comes to take the peculiar alienated form it takes under capitalism.
The Sraffa problem and its misreading
Piero Sraffa's Production of Commodities by Means of Commodities is a genuine achievement. He showed that relative prices can be determined from physical input-output data without reference to labour values. Mathematically, this is true. But the conclusion usually drawn — that the labour theory is therefore redundant — only follows if you accept that the theory's primary purpose is to determine prices. Diane Elson's distinction is worth holding onto here: Marx wasn't offering a price-determining algorithm. He was offering a theory about the social form that labour takes under capitalism. For that project, Sraffa's equations are not a refutation. They're a different kind of inquiry entirely.
Value in the gig economy
If you want evidence the theory is alive, watch a Deliveroo rider on a wet Tuesday evening. The algorithm that coordinates her route, times her deliveries, sets her effective pay rate and threatens deactivation if her ratings drop is doing something recognisable from a Marxian perspective: extracting the maximum labour-time from labour-power purchased at a rate set by competitive pressure. She is classified as an independent contractor. The capital fixed in the app is presented as a neutral coordination mechanism. None of this changes the underlying structure. It obscures it — which is rather the point.
Housing and ground rent
The housing crisis gripping most of the world's major cities is, from a classical political economy perspective, a crisis of ground rent. Ricardo identified the peculiarity of land: unlike labour and capital, it cannot be produced. Its price reflects not the labour required to bring it into existence but the scarcity of desirable locations — scarcity which is itself socially produced. In the 1980s, buying an ordinary house generally required around three years of median income. Today that ratio is closer to ten or twelve years in many cities. Wakefield's trap resurfaces. His "sufficient price" kept labour from owning the land it cleared. Today, nurses, teachers, mechanics are paying someone else's mortgage, throwing their labour into the dream of home ownership while asset prices drift further out of reach. The labour theory of value, and its associated theory of rent, gives this transfer a name and an explanation.
What the theory is for
The labour theory of value is not primarily a predictive model. It is a diagnostic framework — an account of what capitalism is, how it works and what it costs those who labour within it. The question it asks — what is labour worth, and who decides? — is not a technical question. It is a political one.
And it keeps returning, because the condition that motivates it keeps returning: people who work hard and are poor, in a world producing extraordinary wealth. It seems tragic — not ironic, not merely unfortunate — to confuse resilience with justice. Survival with flourishing. Those are not the same thing.