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.

The general conclusions of the study will be stated at the outset in the broadest terms to aid the reader in his evaluation of the argument as it is unfolded in more detail.

The Soviet leaders expected to make great advances in the underdeveloped world as it decolonized. They hoped that the Communists would lead the nationalist rebellions and convert them into Communist states. Only in the North of Indochina has the Communist party been able to do so; the South is still in contest. High hopes in Indonesia, Algeria, and the Congo have come to naught. The successful seizure of power in Cuba has taken place in an unanticipated manner.

In this case, a non-Communist revolution converted itself into a Communist one. Before Castro's assumption of power in Cuba, the Soviet Union viewed Latin America in general, and the Caribbean in particular, as an area where American power severely limited Communist opportunities. The overthrow of the Arbenz regime in Guatemala in 1954 seemed to prove the point. But for a time after the Bay of Pigs episode, the Cubans believed, and seemed to have convinced the Soviets, that the Cuban revolution could be exported. But the failure of several attempts to do so, and the outcome of the missile crisis in the fall of 1962, caused first the Soviets and somewhat later the Cubans to revise their hopes for new Communist states in Latin America in the near or foreseeable future. Now several years after the windfall of Castro's conversion, Soviet attention is increasingly centered on the costs to be borne. First, although Castro will probably remain a Communist, he will continue to be as defiant as he can afford to be. Second, Castro has cost the Soviet Union a great deal of money and, although these contributions have been reduced, the end is not yet in sight.

American experts on the Soviet Union have given much of their time to discussing whether the Russian communist government is going to remain “totalitarian” or instead turn “liberal.” Journalists and scholars alike judge Soviet policies and decrees largely according to whether or not they extend more “freedom” to the Russian people. Similarly, American writers in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries almost never inquired as to what purposes the Russian imperial government's policies and decrees were actually intended to serve but only how liberal they were or were not. When one writer said that the Tsar was liberalizing, another would reply that he had not actually surrendered any of his arbitrary power and that Russia was still as oppressive as ever. In American eyes, then, the Russian state apparently cannot move except along a single line that extends from freedom to oppression, democracy to absolutism, similarity to Western institutions to dissimilarity. If Russia is not moving toward one of these poles, then she is not moving at all. Few have suggested that Russian statesmen have been operating along other lines and coping with other problems. Seldom has it occurred to American observers that the question of liberalization has actually been rather a minor one in Russian development.

The symmetric, stationary subgame-perfect Nash equilibrium in Volden and Wiseman (2007) is characterized by cutpoints between regions of purely collective, mixed, and purely particularistic budget allocations. The cutpoints in our published article were derived by finding conditions under which the proposer receives a higher utility in one region than in another. However, a stationary equilibrium requires that the proposer would not unilaterally offer a different type of proposal, given that all other players continue to play their present strategies.

To what extent and in what respects does the political thought of Michel Foucault reflect the influence of Friedrich Nietzsche's ideas? In the September 1990 issue of this Review, Leslie Paul Thiele firmly asserted Nietzschean roots for Foucault's thought. In this Controversy, Thiele's claims are disputed by J. Scott Johnson. Johnson argues that Foucault's theory is rooted as much in Marx as in Nietzsche and that Foucault himself refuted Thiele's interpretation. In his response, Thiele takes issue with Johnson's critique.

In a liberal society such as prevailed in America during the Jeffersonian and Jacksonian eras, where the aristocracies, peasantries, and proletariats of Europe are missing, where virtually everyone, including the nascent industrial worker, has the mentality of an independent entrepreneur, two national impulses are bound to make themselves felt: the impulse toward democracy and the impulse toward capitalism. The mass of the people, in other words, are bound to be capitalistic, and capitalism, with its spirit disseminated widely, is bound to be democratic. This is one of the basic insights Tocqueville had about the actual behavior of the American people. The irony of early American history, however, is that these impulses, instead of supplementing each other, seemed to fight a tremendous political battle. The capitalist Whiggery of Hamilton was frightened of democracy, and the democratic tradition of Jackson, which was therefore able to destroy it, formulated a philosophy which seemed to deny its faith in capitalism. The result was a massive confusion in political thought, comparable to the one that we find in the constitutional era, and a set of victories and defeats which the Americans who experienced them scarcely understood. One is reminded of two boxers, swinging wildly, knocking each other down with accidental punches.

Looked at from one point of view, it is strange that Federalism and neo-Federalism should have been shattered so badly in the liberal setting of American politics.

What is the gap between scholars’ expectations of media-sourced data and the realities those data actually represent? This letter elucidates the data generation process (DGP) that undergirds media-sourced data: journalistic reporting. It uses semi-structured interviews with 15 journalists to analyze how media actors decide what and how to report—in other words, the “why” of reporting specific events to the exclusion of others—as well as how the larger professional, economic, and political contexts in which journalists operate shape the material scholars treat as data. The letter thus centers “unreported realities”: the fact that media-derived data reflect reporters’ locations, identities, capacities, and outlet priorities, rather than providing a representative sample of ongoing events. In doing so, it reveals variations in the consistency and constancy of reporting that produce unacknowledged, difficult-to-identify biases in media-sourced data that are not directionally predictable.

Emotions shape strategic conflict dynamics. However, the precise way in which strategic and emotional concerns interact to affect international cooperation and contention are not well understood. We propose a model of intergroup conflict under incomplete information in which agents are sensitive to psychological motivations in the form of anger. Agents become angry in response to worse-than-expected outcomes due to actions of other players. Aggression may be motivated by anger or by beliefs about preferences of members of the other group. Increasing one group’s sensitivity to anger makes that group more aggressive but reduces learning about preferences, which makes the other group less aggressive in response to bad outcomes. Thus, anger has competing effects on the likelihood of conflict. The results have important implications for understanding the complex role of anger in international relations and, more generally, the interplay between psychological and material aims in both fomenting and ameliorating conflict.

Conventional wisdom claims that racial diversity undermines public goods provision. I show that class-based differences, instead, incentivize cooperation for public goods. Class-based segregation reduces spatial externalities of inequality (e.g., sewage pollution and crime) spilling over from impoverished areas (e.g., slums) to the middle class. Conversely, I argue that in integrated (de-segregated) cities, the scale of such externalities undermines the efficacy of private services (e.g., private security), thereby inducing middle-class preferences for externalities-correcting public goods. Thus, while segregation polarizes preferences, integration aligns the middle class with the poor in coalitions that support public goods over private alternatives. I illustrate the theory using focus groups, a proposed quasi-experimental strategy, and an original face-to-face survey of 4,208 households across 420 neighborhoods in São Paulo, Brazil. The analysis introduces self-interest in reducing intergroup externalities as a mechanism for cooperation for public goods even in diverse societies. Using mechanism vignettes, I distinguish the mechanism from the affective attitudes—racial tolerance, social affinity—of intergroup contact.

Economic determinist attempts to deduce specific political conclusions or strategies from Marx's general theory do not jibe with Marx's own extensive political activity. Instead, Marx's development as a political theorist and organizer passed from observation of (French Revolution, Chartism) or participation in (1848, the International Workingmen's Association) existing radical movements to formulation of new theories and strategies, and then to application of these strategies in subsequent movements. In applying his general theory to formulating strategies and historical explanations, Marx utilized a framework of mainly political auxiliary statements to define the specific international and national historical setting. Faced with the defeat of a strategy or a tension between the strategy and an older theory, Marx reformulated his theory in different ways, sometimes altering these auxiliary statements rather than the general theory to explain unexpected events, more rarely changing the general theory itself. These new explanations reinforced his strategies. This impact of political experience on Marx's thinking illustrates his famous definition, drawn from Theses on Feuerbach, of revolution as a “practical-critical” activity. Taken as a whole, Marx's new explanations underline the role of politics in historical materialism and conflict with Marx's general expectation that economic oppression alone would ultimately drive the proletariat to make socialist revolution.

The question must sometimes occur to us who are interested in political science, whether it will ever supply general principles for the guidance of statecraft. At present there seems to be little if any connection between them. Technical skill and special knowledge in history, economics and jurisprudence are appreciated and employed by statesmen, but the idea of determining state policy upon scientific principles has no place in practical politics. In memoirs of Bismarck one finds much about politics as an art and nothing about politics as a science except in contemptuous references to people who approach politics in a doctrinaire spirit. His way of expressing a small opinion of Gladstone's statesmanship was to speak of him as “Professor” Gladstone. This did not mean that Bismarck felt any contempt for professors as such—administration in Germany makes large use of the service of specialists—but that his conception of statecraft was altogether empirical and he distrusted political activities based upon abstract principles. This, I believe, is a frame of mind common among statesmen. Professor Sheldon Amos, in his “Science of Politics” remarks that “practical statesmen, immersed in actual business and oppressed by the ever-recurring presence of new emergencies, almost resent the notion of applying the comprehensive principles of science.”

Examination of manuals of political science might furnish practical statesmen with the retort that political science has no comprehensive principles to offer. Eminent authorities in political science restrict its scope, either by giving a technical meaning to the term “Political” or to the term “the State.”

This paper argues for a conceptualization of political theory based upon a jurisprudential model of reasoning, rather than the more commonly accepted model of logical demonstration. The purpose of political theorizing is to persuade and convince, not to prove; consequently it is a form of argument necessarily directed at a particular audience or audiences. Hobbes is examined as a theorist who directed his argument at those audiences which were politically most significant. This paper explores that aspect of Hobbes's theory which was intended to persuade his Puritan audience. Hobbes attempted to persuade the Puritans by presenting his argument in a manner subtly similar to the style of reasoning they were familiar with in religious terms. This interpretation is supported by a comparison of the arguments of Hobbes and Calvin. This analysis of Hobbes is intended to illustrate both a general view of the nature of political theorizing, and the advantages of adopting an historical method in examining past political theorists.

This year marks the tenth anniversary of the Supreme Court's decision in Brown v. Board of Education. On May 17, 1954, nine judges, sworn to defend a Constitution which guarantees equal protection of the laws, speaking for a country which declared its independence on the proposition that all men are created equal and which is fighting for moral leadership in a world predominantly populated by people whose skin color is other than white—these nine men unanimously concluded that segregated educational facilities are “inherently unequal.”

Most of the members of this audience can probably still recall their feelings when they heard what the Supreme Court had done. Even those who were in full sympathy with the holding must nevertheless have been awed by the responsibility the Supreme Court had undertaken and shaken by some doubts whether the judicial institution could engage in a controversy so charged with emotion and bitterness without running the risk of political defeat and possible permanent impairment of judicial power.

Even though they contain one of the most forceful critiques of liberalism in contemporary political thought, the political writings of Stanley Fish have been neglected by political theorists. Fish's critique of liberal claims of moral and religious neutrality points to the conclusion that the liberal separation of church and state lacks a coherent justification. I offer a qualified defense of liberalism by arguing that while Fish's critique of liberal neutrality is sound, he fails to do justice to liberalism's substantive basis. Moreover, by simply negating liberalism, Fish's thinking remains within the liberal horizon in a way he fails to recognize.

This paper has been prepared primarily for the purpose of suggesting certain aspects of the teaching problem in political science upon which our attention at this round table may be focused with profit. At the same time, I believe that the issues raised are of more than passing concern and should be considered as among the most important for political scientists during the coming decade. Furthermore, although this round table discussion has been limited to the basic course in political science, I believe that the time has come for appraisal of the entire undergraduate political science curriculum. Such an appraisal should concern itself with the content of our courses (which has been growing like Topsy) and the quality of teaching (which has traditionally been ignored on the ground that the professional educators are alone concerned with teaching methods).

Turning now to the specific subject of this round table, I believe that any discussion of the basic course in political science must concern itself with the following questions: (1) the objective of the course; (2) the materials most conducive to the attainment of that objective; (3) the methods most suitable in the organization and presentation of these materials; and (4) the personnel for teaching the basic course. I should like to make certain brief observations in regard to each of these questions.

The Japanese constitution of 1889 is not, as is frequently assumed, chiefly the product of the labors of Hirobumi Ito and his secretaries who, in 1882–1883, studied constitutional systems in Europe preparatory to drafting the text of the fundamental law which the Emperor had promised in the celebrated rescript of 1881. Discussion of constitutional progress had begun as far back as 1867 and, immediately following the restoration, Meiji statesmen began the task of drafting projects of a constitution. Okubo, Goto, Kido, and Itagaki played leading rôles in urging the adoption of a national charter, and when Okubo and Kido relaxed their efforts, Itagaki initiated a popular campaign. Finally, in 1876, a formal commission of the Genro-in (Senate) was appointed to draft a constitution, while in 1880, its completed project was laid before the Emperor. This draft proposed a form of government having many features of the British parliamentary system.

Two years ago, when an astute critic made a half-century appraisal of comparative politics in the United States, he reminded us that the American Political Science Association was founded in 1903 as an outgrowth of moves to establish a National Conference on Comparative Legislation. During the more than half-century that followed, the writings in comparative government and politics have reflected the influences which have made themselves felt in the discipline as a whole. The attention given by Charles E. Merriam after World War I to “informal government,” “underlying processes and relations,” and “social bases of political cohesion” is fully appreciated now by those who are projecting comparative studies of political socialization. In the 1930s, Carl J. Friedrich's writings pointed up the need for more adequate conceptualization when combined with appropriate appreciation of empirical research. Mention should also be made of the earlier works of Herman Finer. In their respective ways, albeit in varying degrees, all of these writers recognized the need for an increased emphasis upon the informal and extra-legal factors affecting the political process, and for more concern with generalization and theory.