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Underrated Industrialist, Josiah Wedgwood

Blog Post | Politics & Freedom

Underrated Industrialist, Josiah Wedgwood

Josiah Wedgwood was an entrepreneur, abolitionist, inventor, and in many respects the first modern philanthropist.

Summary: Josiah Wedgwood challenged the prevailing perspective on entrepreneurship, rising from humble beginnings to become an esteemed industrialists and advocates of Enlightenment ideals. Wedgwood’s story exemplifies the transformative power of entrepreneurship, philanthropy, and innovation, reshaping not only the economy but also societal perceptions of wealth and social responsibility.


This article was published at Libertarianism.org on 12/18/2023.

We use and encounter the word “entrepreneur” constantly in our daily lives. Entrepreneurs are an indispensable part of the modern economy, but for much of the Western world’s history, aristocratic elites looked down on merchants as crass money-​makers. A long tradition stretching back to antiquity enforced the aristocratic view of property ownership and agriculture as the only honorable ways of making money. But in the 18th century, things started to change dramatically.

At the forefront of change was Josiah Wedgwood, a man born the child of a potter, who ended his life as an esteemed industrialist, a trendsetter for English society, and an advocate of Enlightenment ideals. He is also one of first examples of the entrepreneurial philanthropist in the modern sense, using his profits to build schools, homes, and improve the working conditions of his employees. Most famously, he was a staunch advocate for the abolition of slavery.

Wedgwood’s Upbringing

Josiah Wedgwood was born on the 12th of July 1730 in Burslem, Staffordshire. He was the eleventh child of Thomas and Mary Wedgwood. Wedgwood’s family, while not poor, was not particularly rich either.

Wedgwood’s father and his father’s father had both been potters. According to all conventional wisdom, Wedgwood would follow in his ancestors’ footsteps and earn a similarly modest living. Though there were many potters in his hometown of Staffordshire, potters only sold their wares locally. To sell to London was rare; to sell abroad was unheard of. Staffordshire was not the cosmopolitan center of the United Kingdom. By the end of Wedgwood’s life, this all radically changed.

From a young age, Wedgwood showed great promise as a potter, but at the age of nine he contracted smallpox, permanently weakening his knee, meaning he could not use the foot pedal on a potter’s wheel. But Wedgwood took this tragedy in stride despite his young age. While healing, he used his spare time to read, research, and most importantly, experiment. Instead of making the same pots his family had always crafted, he dedicated himself to innovating.

Combining Science and Faith

After his father’s death, Wedgwood’s mother took charge of educating her son imparting to him a deep appreciation for curiosity. Wedgwood came from a family of English dissenters, Protestants who broke off from the English state-​supported Anglican church to start their own religious establishments. Specifically, Wedgwood and his family were Unitarian: they emphasized the importance of humans using reason to interpret scripture. Unlike many of their contemporaries, Unitarians did not see science and religion as conflicting ways of viewing the world but complementary. Because of this attitude, Unitarians were often found defending freedom of speech and conscience as indispensable rights for political and religious life.

Where Unitarians split most noticeably from the established Anglican church was their view of Original Sin. Growing up, Wedgwood was taught that the world could be made a better place through human effort. A modern observer views progress and making the world a better place as a common aspiration, however, few of our ancestors believed there was such a thing as consistent material or moral progress. It is easy to see why, given that belief system, most people were content to work the same job their father had using the same tools that had been used for hundreds if not thousands of years.

The Beginnings of a Business

At the age of 30, Wedgwood began his own business in Staffordshire at his Ivy House factory. Because of England’s vast colonial territories, tea and coffee were making their way to England in larger quantities. The emerging middle class began to frequent coffee and tea houses to converse with their peers, dramatically increasing the demand for pottery. Wedgwood observed an increased demand for pottery, but also an increased demand for beauty and style in everyday items.

In Wedgwood’s early days of business, elaborate designs were not popular; what was demanded was the pure simplicity of materials like porcelain. Porcelain, however, was in short supply and extremely fragile. To remedy this, Wedgwood began developing cream glaze that would give earthenware the appearance of porcelain with none of the downsides. After conducting over 5,000 painstaking tests, Wedgwood perfected what came to be known as creamware, something few of his competitors replicated.

Increasingly known for his high-​quality products, Wedgwood was invited to participate in a competition with all the potteries of Staffordshire to provide a tea service or set for Queen Charlotte. Knowing this was a crucial opportunity, Wedgwood went all-​in on creating a creamware set, even painstakingly using honey to help stick 22-​karat gold to his pure white creamware. Wedgwood won the competition and was made the Queen’s potter. Wedgwood was light years ahead of his competition when it came to marketing and branding, and from this point onwards, all of the company’s paperwork and stationery boasted the royal association.

Wedgwood and the Consumer Experience

Wedgwood established showrooms in London to sell his wares. In the 18th century, most stores were cramped and dingy places. Wedgwood also pioneered a range of services we expect as standard today, including money-​back guarantees, free delivery, illustrated catalogs, and even an early form of self-​checkout. More than any of his contemporaries, Wedgwood focused on perfecting the retail experience. His showrooms were immediately popular, establishing his reputation throughout London, Bath, Liverpool, Dublin, and Westminster. Some showrooms were so popular they caused traffic jams with long-​winding lines stretching through the street.

The Division of Labor and International Markets

The increasing demand led to Wedgwood being so successful he founded a new factory in 1769 named “Etruria” after the Etruscans of ancient Italy. Here Wedgwood dreamed of becoming “Vase Maker General to the Universe.” Despite being named after an ancient land, it was arguably at the time the most modern industrial space in the world. To minimize mistakes, Wedgwood broke down the process of making earthenware into a series of smaller tasks. Like the contemporaneous Adam Smith, Wedgwood observed that the division of labor dramatically increases productivity. As an employer, Wedgwood was an exemplar of humane business. Knowing the hot conditions of factories, he attempted to develop a form of air conditioning. He paid his employees well and provided cottages for his workers around Etruria.

With his modernizing practices, Wedgwood brought artistic perfection to an industrial scale. Though many of his popular products were initially purchased by the aristocracy, he eventually reduced the prices to appeal to an increasingly broader market. Wedgwood noticed that a high price was necessary to make the vases esteemed ornaments for palaces, but once aristocrats popularized his products, he would then reduce the price accordingly. Everyday people began to drink from mugs and decorate their homes with vases that for centuries had been exclusively owned by aristocrats.

Wedgwood had transformed Staffordshire from a town that nearly always sold their produce locally to a place that supplied goods for the whole nation. But Wedgwood saw the potential for further expansion abroad. Wedgwood began to ship to Europe but then rapidly expanded across the globe to places like Mexico, the United States, Turkey, and China. By the 1780s, Wedgwood was exporting most of his products abroad. Though during this period of his life business was booming, Wedgwood’s smallpox afflicted knee worsened, resulting in his leg being amputated without anesthetic and replaced with a wooden prosthetic. Seemingly unbothered, Wedgwood Christened the event “St. Amputation Day” and resumed work.

Business for a Good Cause

As Wedgwood shipped more goods abroad, he increasingly frequented London’s port, the largest slave-​trading port in the world at the time. Wedgwood saw the whip-​scarred bodies of enslaved people being shipped in from abroad. Wedgwood abhorred slavery, not only because it was immoral, but because for Wedgwood, it was not befitting of the national character and the esteem Britain ought to hold as a free nation. At its inception, in 1787 Wedgwood joined the Society for Effecting the Abolition of the Slave Trade.

He campaigned against slavery by using his craft to create mass-​produced cameos of a black man in chains on his knees against a white background with an inscription beneath reading “Am I Not a Man and a Brother?” Wedgwood gave away these medallions free of charge to abolitionist groups, even sending medallions to Benjamin Franklin, then to the president of the Pennsylvania Abolition Society. Franklin praised his medallions, saying their effectiveness was equal to the best written works against slavery. Gentlemen had this image inlaid in their snuff boxes, and ladies wore it on bracelets and hairpins.

A friend of Wedgwood and fellow abolitionist wrote of Wedgwood’s medallions, “the taste for wearing them became general, and thus fashion, which usually confines itself to worthless things, was seen for once in the honorable office of promoting the cause of justice, humanity and freedom.” Wedgwood saw how fashion could be a vehicle for political change. His medallions perfectly captured the message of the abolitionist cause, two hundred years before the advent of the t-​shirt, today’s preferred method of displaying one’s political affections.

Wedgwood was not only a master craftsman, an industrialist, and an activist: he was also a scientist. In 1765, he joined the Lunar Society of Birmingham, a group of industrialists, scientists, and philosophers who met during the full moon because the light made the journey at night easier. Members included people such as Joseph Priestly and Matthew Bolton. In 1783, Wedgwood was elected to The Royal Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge by inventing the pyrometer, a device used to measure the high temperatures of kilns while firing pottery.

Death and Legacy

After a life dedicated to his work and the betterment of the world, Wedgwood passed away on the 3rd of January 1795 at the age of 64. The name Wedgwood became synonymous with excellence in pottery, and remains so today.

Throughout Western history, aristocrats, nobles, and other elites often peddled a narrative that prosperity was achieved through familial ties of property ownership and military prowess. People like Josiah Wedgwood challenged this narrative by showing a new path for the Enlightened industrialist and philanthropist. Instead of making his fortune from familial connections and war, Wedgwood showed the peaceful path to wealth by simply fulfilling consumers’ desires. His marketing practices were light years ahead of his time, and his penchant for building a distinct brand through advertising and high-​quality goods was an unprecedentedly modern strategy at a time when the wealthy still wore powdered wigs.

Wedgwood used his wealth to benefit the world by treating his workers with dignity while advocating for humane causes like the abolition of slavery. Stories like Wedgwood’s counter the anti-​capitalist narrative of the corrupting tendencies of private enterprise, showing how business can be humane, cosmopolitan, and most importantly, for Wedgwood, beautiful.

Blog Post | Culture & Tolerance

Why the West Turned on Itself | Podcast Highlights

Chelsea Follett interviews Maarten Boudry about the cultural and ideological roots of Western anti-Western sentiment.

Listen to the podcast or read the full transcript here.

Joining me today is Maarten Boudry, a philosopher and author with eclectic interests, including progress, cultural evolution, conspiracy theories, and more. You should check out his Substack. He joins the podcast today to discuss a fascinating essay titled “The Enlightenment’s Gravediggers.”

You start with a very powerful and illustrative story about Jean-Jacques Rousseau.

Rousseau was one of the first philosophers of the Romantic movement, which was a big part of the counter-Enlightenment. At this point in history, modernity hadn’t yet delivered anything tangible for the common people, but there was a relative measure of intellectual freedom, so, in that sense, we were already in the early stages of modernity.

Rousseau, before he was an established philosopher, was leafing through a magazine and came across an announcement for a prize by the Académie de Dijon. I don’t have the prize question with me here, but it was something to the effect of, “Have the improvements of the sciences also led to a betterment of morality in our society?” Rousseau describes that the moment he read that sentence, in a flash of insight, he saw the innocence of humanity in its original state and the depravity and decadence of civilization. And so he wrote his essay, a sweeping indictment of the whole of so-called civilization. It says that wherever the sciences are blossoming, wherever knowledge is improving, virtue is declining, and every supposedly great civilization eventually collapses under the weight of its own useless knowledge. By the way, he won the first prize—this is relevant for what comes next.

What I find fascinating is that Rousseau was a very cultured and educated man, but he condemned the whole idea of being refined and learned and cultured. In effect, he was biting the hand that feeds him. The Enlightenment philosophers had created this little island of intellectual freedom, which was the hand that was feeding him by giving him the freedom to study and exchange ideas. And he knew that hand would never punch him in the face. In fact, his friend Diderot encouraged him, even though he totally disagreed, because he relished the provocation of an Enlightenment philosopher tearing down the whole project of the Enlightenment.

That is one of the most fascinating and unique aspects of modernity. We do not just tolerate this sort of behavior; we encourage it. If you understand what is behind that story, it provides a lot of insight into what comes next in the 20th and 21st centuries: this very modern phenomenon of anti-modernity, the capitalist phenomenon of anti-capitalism, and the Western hatred of Western civilization.

Tell me more about the cultural trend of disdain toward Western civilization and capitalism.

There are a couple of different intellectual tributaries to this grand river of anti-modernity. There’s postmodernism, with the idea that we should undermine truth and reason, the foundations of modernity. There’s the victim versus oppressor narrative, sometimes called post-colonialism, which is the idea that you can neatly divide the world into oppressors and victims, which also leads to an indictment of Western civilization. And there’s environmentalism, which rejects the fruits of modernity. In the book, I ask the question, why do these different ideologies exist at all? Is there something about modernity that sows the seed of its own destruction?

The explanation that I eventually came up with is very simple: modern Western civilization is the only hand that allows itself to be bitten. If you were living under Stalin, you could never dream about criticizing the political ideology or economic system; dissent was just not tolerated. The same applies to China and to a lot of other unfree countries. And that leads to a sort of paradox, which I think was first described by an American politician called Daniel Patrick Moynihan, which is basically that there’s an inverse correlation between the number of complaints about human rights violations and the amount of actual human rights violations. If you ever find yourself in a society where nobody is complaining, and everyone agrees that the future will be glorious and the political system is great, you really have to get out of there as quickly as possible because that’s a completely totalitarian society.

You also talk about an alternative explanation: that this self-flagellation is some sort of mutation of Christianity.

As Nietzsche pointed out, a lot of the morality in Christian teachings is a kind of inversion, where the weaker and more vulnerable you are, the more virtuous you are. And there’s also the notion of original sin, that all of us are born tainted by evil. You can find these white guilt rituals on YouTube, where white people prostrate themselves in front of the people that their ancestors oppressed and ask for forgiveness. It’s very similar to the idea of original sin because, of course, they themselves didn’t own any slaves; it’s their whiteness itself, their identity, that they feel they have to apologize for.

However, many of these same people are also explicitly anti-Christian. They have completely secular upbringings and are rejecting Western civilization, which Christianity is part of. So, even though it’s possible that they’re unconsciously influenced by these Christian ways of thinking, it’s hard to prove. It also doesn’t work for all of the cases. It especially doesn’t work for the rightist forms of anti-modernity, which are muscular and aggressive and seem to be based more on pride than guilt.

My simpler explanation is that both on the left and the right, there are simply more opportunities to bite the hand that feeds you. I call this the supply-side explanation. I think the demand for complaining about the current state of affairs has always been there. People like to gripe about everything. I actually came up with something I call the Law of Conservation of Outrage in an earlier piece, which posits that, no matter how much progress society makes, the amount of complaining will always stay the same.

You say in the essay that anti-Western critics often like to pretend that their bravery will be met with universal outcry against them. But with a few exceptions, you note that these crusaders are not only given free reign but are also often handsomely rewarded.

Yeah, they are rewarded in specific contexts. So, in an academic environment, for example, you are rewarded for finding ever more novel ways to condemn Western civilization, and many of these anti-Western and anti-capitalist academics hold university positions that are paid for with tax money, which is basically the surplus production of the capitalist system that they criticize.

Can you talk about some examples of people who criticized their own societies, such as Edward Said and Michel Foucault?

Foucault is an interesting example. Early on, he was a member of the Communist Party, but he very quickly broke with communism. He was a postmodernist, so he didn’t believe in ideology or grand narratives. But he was biting the hand that feeds him in the sense that he was trying to demonize many of the institutions of modernity that we take as exemplars of moral progress.

I’m cutting some corners here, but Foucault’s argument always amounted to, “oh, so you think that we are so much better than we were in the Middle Ages?” In the Middle Ages, they were torturing criminals, but his argument was always that the modern way of treating prisoners or the mentally insane was actually even worse because although it presented itself as morally enlightened, it was really just a sinister bourgeois exercise of power to dominate the weak and vulnerable.

Foucault, of course, had unrestrained freedom to express his hatred of modernity, and he was rewarded by a lot of acolytes and followers who thought he was very brave to question the narrative of moral progress. Ironically, towards the end of his life, he contracted HIV and was treated in the Salpêtrière, which is a hospital in France that played a central role in Madness and Civilization,one of his major works. He bit the hand that feeds him, and the hand nurtured and comforted him until the end of his life.

Edward Said was one of the founders of post-colonialism, of this idea first expressed in his seminal work, Orientalism, that Western civilization, through the centuries, has always harbored a desire to oppress and invade the Orient. The intellectual groundwork for this conquest was laid by fiction and poetry, which, according to Said, presented the Orient as exotic, irrational, and sensual, in contrast with the rational, dominant, and masculine self-image of the West.

To be completely fair, there is some truth to what he wrote. It’s obviously true, especially if you go back centuries, that Western civilization had a very distorted view of other civilizations—just like every other culture in all of history. But Said was not interested in an even-handed or symmetric treatment of Western civilization; he was mostly interested in trashing the West.

The irony in Said’s case is that he studied in Princeton. He had guest professorships and distinguished chairs, and he got lots of awards for condemning Western civilization. Even in Israel, which he, in his later works, condemned as an oppressive, apartheid regime, he was welcomed. His books were published in Hebrew and put on university curricula.

Even more ironically, the opposite was true in the Palestinian-controlled territories. For a long time Said and Yasser Arafat had a friendship, but at some point, Arafat got fed up with Said and banned his books in the West Bank and Gaza Strip, which were under Palestinian control. I think there’s no better example of the difference between a hand that punches back and the one that allows itself to be bitten.

Up until now, we’ve been talking about how critics of modernity often receive prestige and accolades. That’s a metaphorical “feeding,” but you also talk about literal feeding. Tell me about that.

In Rousseau’s time, the feeding was purely metaphorical. He lived before the Industrial Revolution, and people were still as poor as they had ever been. The literal feeding only began in the 19th century, and what you see is that the more people enjoy the fruits of a capitalist society, the more opportunities they have to engage in criticism. So, capitalism and industrial modernity become a victim of their own success because they breed this class of people who have their material needs met and can spend their lives biting the hand that feeds them. Karl Marx is a great example. He was living off of the handouts that he received from Friedrich Engels which were made possible by Engels’ father’s cotton factory. Capitalism was affording him the freedom and the material prosperity to write screeds against capitalism.

There was a recent study about how the hotspots of degrowth—the philosophy that calls for an end to economic growth and a controlled shrinking of material production—are all in wealthy countries. You don’t hear a lot of degrowth-ism from people in developing countries because they have a more immediate understanding of the benefits of capitalism and industry. But if you’ve been prosperous and well-fed and affluent for a long time, you tend to take those things for granted. If you read the degrowth literature, they seem to have no clue at all about what it means to farm, for example, and be self-sufficient. They romanticize it, and they can afford to romanticize it because nobody is there to tell them what it was like. Even their grandparents never experienced it.

You end the essay on the nuanced point that, in some way, we should be happy that there are so many critics of our civilization because it is a sign that freedom is still protected.

Yeah, absolutely. Perhaps because I’m an inveterate optimist, I try to put a positive spin on this kind of ungrateful, spoiled behavior. But it is a serious argument; I wouldn’t want to live in a society where people are afraid to speak up. However, I also believe that a society that engages in too much self-abasement and self-flagellation loses confidence in itself, and I worry about what that portends for the future. There are signs, especially in Europe, of technological and economic stagnation. And if you look back to earlier modern eras, there was a lot more confidence and optimism and a stronger belief in progress. I do think something has changed, and we no longer seem to believe in ourselves.

I can give you one example where I think this kind of wholesale rejection of industrial modernity is very harmful. Think about the way that people talk about fossil fuels in Western countries, how they’re destroying the planet, and we have to ween ourselves off as quickly as possible. It’s one thing for a Western activist who is surrounded by fossil fuel products to indulge in these fantasies, but Western environmentalists are also telling poor countries, “Oh, you shouldn’t repeat our mistakes,” meaning you shouldn’t burn all these fossil fuels and engaging in self-abasement, “we are so guilty because we have been doing that for two centuries.” That self-abasement leads them to actively sabotage fossil fuel development in poor countries. The IMF, the World Bank, and a lot of investment banks have openly promised not to fund fossil fuel investments in poor and developing countries. Not at home, mind you: they’re still building coal plants in Germany and gas plants in Norway. This virtue signaling mostly comes at the expense of poor and developing countries.

So, illusions have consequences. Perhaps not yet here because we’re surrounded by so much material affluence, but there are already downstream consequences on the other side of the globe.

The Human Progress Podcast | Ep. 63

Maarten Boudry: Why the West Turned on Itself

Maarten Boudry joins Chelsea Follett to examine the cultural and ideological roots of Western anti-Western sentiment.

Scoop | Women's Employment

Gender Gap Closes at Fastest Rate Since Pandemic

“The global gender gap has closed to 68.8%, marking the strongest annual advancement since the COVID-19 pandemic. Yet full parity remains 123 years away at current rates, according to the World Economic Forum’s Global Gender Gap Report 2025, released today. Iceland leads the rankings for the 16th year running, followed by Finland, Norway, the United Kingdom and New Zealand.

The 19th edition of the report, which covers 148 economies, reveals both encouraging momentum and persistent structural barriers facing women worldwide. The progress made in this edition was driven primarily by significant strides in political empowerment and economic participation, while educational attainment and health and survival maintained near-parity levels above 95%. However, despite women representing 41.2% of the global workforce, a stark leadership gap persists with women holding only 28.8% of top leadership positions.”

From Scoop.

The Economist | Tolerance & Prejudice

The Stunning Decline of the Preference for Having Boys

“Without fanfare, something remarkable has happened. The noxious practice of aborting girls simply for being girls has become dramatically less common. It first became widespread in the late 1980s, as cheap ultrasound machines made it easy to determine the sex of a fetus. Parents who were desperate for a boy but did not want a large family—or, in China, were not allowed one—started routinely terminating females. Globally, among babies born in 2000, a staggering 1.6m girls were missing from the number you would expect, given the natural sex ratio at birth. This year that number is likely to be 200,000—and it is still falling.

The fading of boy preference in regions where it was strongest has been astonishingly rapid. The natural ratio is about 105 boy babies for every 100 girls; because boys are slightly more likely to die young, this leads to rough parity at reproductive age. The sex ratio at birth, once wildly skewed across Asia, has become more even. In China it fell from a peak of 117.8 boys per 100 girls in 2006 to 109.8 last year, and in India from 109.6 in 2010 to 106.8. In South Korea it is now completely back to normal, having been a shocking 115.7 in 1990.”

From The Economist.