Given the widespread moral conventionalism or historicism in contemporary social science and ethics, many have viewed Marx as arguing either that conceptions of justice simply shift historically and lack objectivity (relativism) or that notions of justice are to be understood solely as expressions of class interests (reductionism). Although metaethical ambiguities about the status of conceptions of justice influenced some of Marx's and Engels's formulations, they condemned the “crying contrasts” of rich and poor. Marx is better understood as defending a version of moral objectivity or moral realism. The paper begins with an example from the recent debate about justice in the international distribution of wealth to highlight the implausibility of a relativist or reductionist account. It then describes alternative views of the status of justice and equality in Marx and Engels and explores the logical structure of Marx's critique of Proudhon. A fourth section examines the analogy between Marx's and Engels's realism in the philosophy of science and their realist arguments in ethics, focusing on Marx's and Engels's non-relativist and non-reductionist conception of moral progress. The conclusion sets Marx's use of concepts of exploitation in the context of his overall moral judgments and suggests that Marx's social or historical theory rather than his moral standards are the most controversial part of his ethical argument.

This essay will attempt to define an abstract model of the international system (or, more precisely, a model of the structure of that system), as a supplement to the types presented by Morton A. Kaplan. Before attempting such a construction, it is well to show the utility of the “multi-bloc system” as an alternative to his six models. Kaplan's “balance-of-power” and “unit veto” systems are essentially defined in terms of nation-states as “actors”; and his “universal” and “hierarchical” systems have essentially but one “actor,” though in the former the nation-state subsists as an administrative and local political unit. The two “bipolar” models (“loose” and “tight”) have, by definition, two major bloc “actors,” with uncommitted nation-states on the margin and an “international actor” such as the U.N. playing a limited role in the former model. It is true that his “unit veto” system may have blocs instead of nation-states for “actors,” but by this very token the difference between a system with a multiplicity of states and one with a multiplicity of blocs is not suggested by Kaplan's typology.

The possibility of an international system composed of a multiplicity of blocs has been considered by a number of writers in the past few years. Even before the end of the Second World War, Walter Lippmann wrote:

The question is whether some sixty to seventy states, each acting separately, can form a universal organization for the maintenance of peace. I contend that they cannot, and that single sovereign states must combine in their neighborhoods, and that the neighborhoods must combine into larger communities and constellations, which then participate in a universal society.

Extensive research investigates the impact of descriptive representation on women’s political participation; yet, the underlying mechanisms remain unclear. This article develops a novel theory of descriptive representation, arguing that women politicians mobilize women’s political participation by recruiting women as grassroots party activists. Evidence from a citizen survey and the natural experiment of gender quotas in India confirm that women politicians are more likely to recruit women party activists, and citizens report greater contact with them in reserved constituencies during elections. Furthermore, with women party activists at the helm, electoral campaigns are more likely to contact women, and activist contact is positively associated with political knowledge and participation. Evidence from representative surveys of politicians and party activists and fieldwork in campaigns, further support the theory. The findings highlight the pivotal role of women’s party activism in shaping women’s political behavior, especially in contexts with pervasive clientelism and persistent gender unequal norms.

This study addresses the phenomenon of misinformation about misinformation, or politicians “crying wolf” over fake news. Strategic and false claims that stories are fake news or deepfakes may benefit politicians by helping them maintain support after a scandal. We posit that this benefit, known as the “liar’s dividend,” may be achieved through two politician strategies: by invoking informational uncertainty or by encouraging oppositional rallying of core supporters. We administer five survey experiments to over 15,000 American adults detailing hypothetical politician responses to stories describing real politician scandals. We find that claims of misinformation representing both strategies raise politician support across partisan subgroups. These strategies are effective against text-based reports of scandals, but are largely ineffective against video evidence and do not reduce general trust in media. Finally, these false claims produce greater dividends for politicians than alternative responses to scandal, such as remaining silent or apologizing.

The Leviathan has been described as “original, persuasive, solid, coherent.” General commentaries on Hobbes usually single out his logic for special praise; more detailed critiques generally unearth a mass of confusions and inconsistencies. Confusions and inconsistencies there certainly are; more, I believe, than one would expect to find in the work of a man of such undeniable logical powers. Speculation upon the psychological explanation of this fact is intriguing, but no part of the purpose of the present article. It is part of my purpose, however, to contend that Hobbes's passion for clarity and certainty may have played a part in leading him to adopt perverse definitions, to which even he did not consistently adhere and which constituted a major source of confusion. Conversely, I disagree with those who say his analytical system is sound and only his empirical assumptions about human nature are open to serious criticism.

More specifically, one may profitably inquire whether there is some central concept that serves as a focal point for many of these difficulties. For example, it is often suggested, with merit, that Hobbes's perversion, or inversion, of the traditional meaning of “jus naturale” plays such a role. Without making any exclusive claim or denying the insights that may be gained by concentrating attention upon other focal points, my hypothesis is that understanding of Hobbes may be deepened by an examination of his use of the word “liberty.” I shall deal first with his definitions of the term, and then in turn with his applications of it to natural right and natural law, to sovereignty by acquisition, and finally to the social contract. I shall argue that his method, as illustrated by his definitions, leads him occasionally into confusion or inconsistency, and more frequently tends to confuse the reader and so to enable Hobbes to make an unsound conclusion appear sound, by means of specious reasoning. In particular, I shall contend that Hobbes's treatment of liberty (1) leads him into self-contradiction regarding the extent of natural liberty, (2) enables him to argue persuasively but speciously in support of the obligation to obey a sovereign who has attained his position by violence, and (3) prevents him from developing an acceptable theory of political obligation.

The Revenue Act of 1942 marks a new high in American finance; in fact, it reaches a new high for any country. According to official estimates, which vary somewhat, in a full year of operation the new law will increase federal tax revenues by 7 or 8 billion dollars to 24 or 26 billion dollars. This is about 50 per cent more than would have been received if the existing law had not been changed, and four times as much as the greatest tax measure of World War I. Eightelevenths of the estimated increase is to come from income taxes on individuals; two-elevenths from taxes on incomes of corporations; and nearly one-eleventh from excises on liquor, tobacco, freight charges, etc. (See Table 4).

The trend towards public ownership or control of certain basic industries and services, particularly those relating to fuel, power, transport and banking, is a secular movement of world-wide dimensions. Traces of it can be found, in greater or less degree, in almost every country which is economically developed, and in many backward ones as well.

The political scientist who studies this subject in his own country is almost certain to feel strongly tempted to consider developments elsewhere. There is a deep fascination in comparing and contrasting the manner in which this great movement manifests itself in different countries. The pattern of development will inevitably be influenced by history, and by variations in the political, economic, legal, psychological and sociological characteristics of the several nations. These divergences, however, serve to heighten the interest by enabling us to distinguish the fundamental elements of general significance from the incidental aspects of local significance due to national idiosyncrasies.

The “People's Government” at Peking, which has been functioning since October, 1949, under the sponsorship of the Chinese Communist Party, includes a system of disciplinary surveillance over government personnel that in several aspects is reminiscent of one of the world's most remarkable institutions. This is the Chinese Censorate, traditionally a highly systematized organ of administrative and political control that was an integral, and usually a prominent, part of China's governmental structure for more than two thousand years.

The new control system in China bears only a partial resemblance to the old. It is even possible that China's censorial heritage may not have had any part in shaping its development. However, since that heritage may conceivably channel its future development in directions that would be unforeseeable and unexplainable in any other context, it would appear to be desirable to take a fresh look at this long-lived institution. Aside from prospects of future influence, the Censorate, as a unique and, in its setting, a durable solution to the universal and ever-present problem of control in government, has intrinsic significance for students of political science.

This research note attempts to test the relationship between levels of socio-economic development and variation in political democracy with data gathered in Japanese prefectures. The operational measures of socio-economic development are the levels of urban-industrialism and social overhead capital, which are derived from the results of factor analysis of fifteen socio-economic indicators. Three measures of political democracy are obtained by factor-analyzing political indicators: they are the degrees of political competition, political participation, and representation equality. The analysis of the data reveals weak relationships between the two measures of socio-economic development and the three measures of political democracy. This finding challenges the validity of some generalizations regarding economic-political linkages previously reported in many cross-national studies. In the context of within-nation comparisons, this study suggests the need for a re-evaluation of the relationship between socio-economic development and political democracy.

The consistent theme in Charles E. Lindblom's work is a vision of political economy as constitutional engineering. Lindblom sees the question of institutional design in terms of a mechanical metaphor in which political economic systems are contrived out of relatively simple components. Politics and Markets compares a broad range of capitalist and socialist systems as a means of evaluating market mechanisms and authority structures as instruments of social coordination and control. Lindblom's argument that the privileged power of the corporation poses a problem for liberal market-oriented societies is logically distinct from his case that the corporation fits “oddly” with democratic theory, and the latter may be the more significant theme for further inquiry in political economic theory.

All leaders are also led; in innumerable cases, the master is the slave of his slaves. Said one of the greatest German party leaders referring to his followers: “I am their leader, therefore I must follow them.”

Georg Simmer

Political scientists studying Congress have shown the same disinclination for the study of individual leaders as that of the profession as a whole. Whatever the reasons for avoiding an analysis of social and political processes from the perspective of an individual—and there are several good ones—it is difficult to ignore, if not discount, the extreme emphasis placed on personalities by experienced participants and observers of the congressional process. One may decide, with Fenno, to underplay references to specific individuals in an effort “to show how much generalization is possible short of a heavy reliance on personality data.” But the fact remains that those closest to the legislative process do see it in terms of individuals and personalities; more important, much can be learned, as evidenced by Huitt's work, by focusing on individual legislators and the contexts within which they function. Whether it is Lyndon Johnson as Senate Majority Leader searching for the man who is the “key” to a particular bill, the differences between a Rayburn and a McCormack, or the skill of a Judge Smith, the individual looms large on Capitol Hill.

What factors best account for the 1974 congressional election results? Were the Democratic party gains in House seats due mainly to the behavior of “strategic politicians” who sought or accepted candidacies and raised effective campaign war chests? Or were the Democratic gains due more to the impact of Watergate and the economy on voters' choices? In this Controversy, Gary C. Jacobson and Samuel Kernell defend the “strategic politicians” thesis, while Eric Uslaner and Margaret Conway stand by their more conventional accounting of the 1974 election outcome.

In “Politics, Ideology, And Belief Systems” Professor Sartori has undertaken the Sisyphean task of drawing up conceptual schemes to distinguish the political mentalities of the pragmatist and the ideologist. His “Hypothesis” poses the curious proposition that “ideology and pragmatisms qua ‘political cultures’ are related, respectively, to the ‘cultural matrixes’ rationalism and empiricism.” (p. 402) When political scientists put forth hypotheses, students of history are usually not far behind with their arid facts and pale negations. Sartori's hypothesis is an intriguing theoretical formulation of a central issue in twentieth century politics; whether it is historically valid is the concern of this article. For the question that remains uppermost as I read his article is simply who are the ideologists and who are the pragmatists? Historically considered, if we were to apply Sartori's defining characteristics to a specific context it may very well be that the totalitarian “ideologies” of communism and fascism would have to be judged “pragmatic,” while the mentality of American political behavior may even have to be considered “ideological.” Since I am sure Professor Sartori did not have this ironic interpretation in mind, perhaps some elaboration is in order.

When Marx turned Hegel on his head he not only gave a materialistic base to German idealism but imputed an activistic impulse to political theory. Dialectical materialism is the “actualization of philosophy,” the extension of contemplative thought into real life. And whether regarded as a “knowing-process” or as Sartori's “belief system,” Marxism represented a rejection of both the deductive rationalism of Descartes and the sensationalist rationalism of Locke.

This article, drawing on recent studies of class consciousness and powerlessness explained in individual versus system level terms, develops and analyzes an operational measure of “power consciousness.” Power consciousness is defined as a person's evaluation of his or her political power position and his or her explanation of the causes of any inadequacies or advantages perceived in this position. The operational measure of power consciousness arrays responses to two items on political power satisfaction (one of them open-ended) along a dimension which ranges from satisfaction, to dissatisfaction ascribed to personal failures of the respondent, to dissatisfaction explained in terms of problems with the political system. Survey data are utilized for a comparative analysis of whites' and blacks' scores on the power consciousness measure. The following topics receive detailed attention: the place of power consciousness in the matrix of power measures; its relationship to background factors, especially level of education; its relationship to indicators of political discontent; and the impact of power consciousness on levels and styles of political behavior. The analysis is followed by suggestions for the development of future work in this area.

Revolutions shift power not only from one economic class to another, but also from one governmental level to another. Not only is there a new deal between industrialists and laborers, between financiers and merchants, between those in the higher and those in the lower income brackets, but the centers of strength also shift from one region to another and from one governmental authority to another; and there is a new balance of power between the province and the nation, between the city and the state.

Professor Frey and I seem to be in agreement on several points: (1) The research procedures proposed by Bachrach and Baratz are unsatisfactory. (2) Worrying about criteria of issue selection is unnecessary; policy formation can usefully be studied issue by issue. Indeed, I would add that typologies of issues are one of the more promising developments in the study of politics. (3) The notion of nondecisions is not a club with which to belabor Who Governs? in particular or “pluralists” in general. Frey has performed a considerable service by rescuing the idea of nondecisions from the ideologically tinged context in which its advocates generally have discussed it. (4) Analysts of policy formation who limit their attention to overt conflict miss many exercises of power. (5) The pluralist-elitist dichotomy is not a useful distinction.

The last two points call for further discussion. I do not know of any researcher who has disputed the fourth point. In his study of New Haven, Dahl employed three indices of power, “of roughly the same strength.” One of these was: “When a proposal initiated by one or more of the participants is adopted without opposition.”

The problem of devising forms of government for the insular dependencies that came to the United States as a sequel to our war with Spain presented, among others, this very special aspect; that the governments to be created should at one and the same time provide for a maximum of efficiency and carry with them the largest possible grant to the people governed of powers to manage their own affairs. The securing of either one of these considerations alone would have been a simple matter. Had the United States acquired Porto Rico and the Philippines under no moral obligation to extend to them the principles of self-government, the maximum of efficiency could easily have been attained by simply vesting all governmental powers, legislative, executive and judicial, in a few appointed officials, and holding them to a rigid accountability for the manner in which they might perform their duties. Or, the grant of self-government could have been attained by providing for a liberal form of government under which the islands would be left free to work out their own destinies with all of the dangers of misrule and inefficiency that the experience of other Latin-American countries has demonstrated to be present. To accomplish both, meant that means had to be devised for harmonizing these two considerations, which in their nature were more or less antagonistic, and that, in consequence, the problem to be solved was vastly more complicated and delicate than it otherwise would have been.