The subject of regional planning now stands high on the calendar of American social thinking. Miss Kimball, in compiling her admirable manual of information three years ago, was able to make a fair display of papers and documents on regional, rural, state, and national planning. Since that time the sheaf of materials has grown substantially in bulk and variety. This increase of interest in the topic was inevitable. As in the world of abstract ideas every attempt to cut through to the heart of a problem lands us in metaphysics, to use the penetrating observation of William James, so in the field of municipal development any effort to follow the filaments of city planning to their roots leads us beyond the immediate urban area into the large and indefinite region of which it is a part. Anyone who has for a moment got away from the political aspects of a specific city government and taken up some particular question, such as transportation, knows how quickly he is carried beyond the legal boundaries of his municipality into its regional, state, national, and even international, relations. If anyone, perchance, has doubts on the point, let him spend a few hours with the 1920 report of the New York-New Jersey Port and Harbor Development Commission. Of course to adepts this is all trite enough, but it is an indication of what must be the inexorable drift in the thinking of those who are concerned with anything more than the decorative aspects of municipal design.

It is now over twenty-one years since a group of scholastic adventurers meeting in New Orleans established the American Political Science Association, and started the organization upon its uncertain course. Looking back over the days that intervene between our infancy and this, the attainment of our twenty-first meeting, one may trace the lines of advance in our undertaking. As one of the charter members I may be permitted the liberty of reviewing briefly some of the more significant fields in this development.

One of the most striking advances in research during the last twenty-one years has been that centering around the problem of the modern city. Research centers, some of them within and some of them without university walls, have sprung up all over the country, and municipal research workers have contributed materially to the intelligent analysis of urban phenomena and to the direction of the growth of our municipalities. In no field has there been more scientific and practical political research than here. Goodnow was most conspicuous in this field in the earlier days and Munro in the later.

The study of political parties has been rescued from neglect and has been made an integral part of instruction and the object of many specific studies, notably those of Holcombe, Rice, and Gosnell. Along with parties, public opinion has been made an object of more intensive inquiry, as in the suggestive studies of Lippman and Allport.

Those who set up a new government usually have to compromise between the ideas current at the time, their own traditions, and the conditions of the territory and people to be governed. Ideas are likely to have more influence on the form than the substance, and imported traditions soon disappear unless control remains external. For a time, a system of government may be affected by such ideas and traditions, but if it lasts it is because it has become adapted to the physical, social, and psychological conditions of the region where it operates. These conditions, it is true, may be gradually modified by a government guided by philosophical ideas or foreign traditions. Such influences are, indeed, the cause of progress, but a government can safely follow them only if it makes large concessions to local conditions. The government of Iraq well illustrates the interplay of these three influences. It is a compromise of Wilsonian ideas, British traditions, and Iraq conditions.

The theoretical basis of the Peace Conference of 1919 was expressed in President Wilson's fourteen points and subsequent addresses. This basis had been formally accepted by the Allies and Germany in the agreement of November 5, 1918, before the armistice, and so legally superseded all conflicting agreements, secret or otherwise, with respect to Germany. The Turkish and Austrian armistices, however, had been made earlier, and these states were not parties to the agreement of November 5. Thus, legally, the conference was not bound to apply these principles to them.

The doctrines of H. Krabbe, professor of public law in the University of Leyden, are to be found in his Die Lehre der Rechtessouveränität, published in 1906, and his Die moderne Staatsidee, the second edition of which appeared in 1919.

The political theory of Krabbe resembles that of Duguit in that it denies law-making power to the state, and recognizes law (as defined by himself) as the ruling power in human society, as sovereign, and, therefore, as above the state. However, as will presently be seen, Krabbe places the state upon a much higher plane than does Duguit. To Duguit, political rulership is nothing more than the bald fact that, in a given community certain persons, for some reason or other, possess and exercise, actual power of control over the actions of the other persons of a group. It is, as it were, an objective fact which cannot, and need not be, ethically justified. To Krabbe, upon the other hand, the state is, in essence, a community of persons unified by the general agreement of its members as to the valuation of public and private interests, and possessing organized instrumentalities for clarifying and formulating these common convictions, and, when necessary, enforcing them. To Krabbe, the state thus plays a necessary part in the declaration and enforcement of law, if not in investing it with essential validity as such.

We find, however, in Krabbe, and also in his translators, as will be later pointed out, that same mistaken idea which is to be discovered in Duguit, that an inquiry into the idealistic or utilitarian validity of law, as determined by its substantive provisions and the purposes sought to be achieved by its enforcement, has a relevancy to, and that its conclusions can affect, the validity and usefulness of the purely formalistic concepts which the positive or analytical jurist employs.

The Public Health Service, the Coast Guard, and (under very recent legislation) the Coast and Geodetic Survey constitute a special group of bureaus, distinguished by the fact that their heads are selected as a matter of rule from groups of higher subordinates who are originally admitted by non-competitive examinations and advanced under the closed systems of commissioned personnel peculiar to these services.

In the case of the surgeon general of the Public Health Service, the statutes say merely that he shall be appointed by the President with the consent of the Senate. A regulation of the service, however, provides that the surgeon general shall be selected from the commissioned medical officers above the rank of “passed assistant surgeon”—next to the lowest grade. The President presumably could override this regulation, and indeed an opinion of the Attorney General has indicated that his choice is not confined to the list of commissioned officers by any law relating to the service. In fact, however, the principle has been observed in the selection of the four surgeons general appointed since 1879. This system of selecting the heads of the service guarantees training and acquaintance with its problems, but—especially in view of the flexible type of assignments so characteristic of the Public Health Service and so useful in freshening a permanent personnel—the options open to the President and the Secretary of the Treasury are numerous enough to leave room for the possibility of a sort of administrative politics.

When James Otis in 1764 declared that government “has an everlasting foundation in the unchangeable will of God, the author of nature, whose laws never vary,” and that “there can be no prescription old enough to supersede the law of nature and the grant of God Almighty, who has given to all men a natural right to be free,” he was at once making use of one of the oldest and most important conceptions in the history of political thought and giving to that concept a distinctly American meaning. His was merely one of the earliest examples in this country of a kind of political theory which was to find reflection in the Declaration of Independence in one generation, in the higher law doctrine in another, and in a famous trilogy of decisions of the Supreme Court in still a third. However, the natural-rights theory is by no means the only usage found for the natural-law concept in the political thought of this country, and it is the purpose of this paper to trace briefly the various interpretations placed upon it and the different forms through which it has passed.

It is easy enough to say that natural law has meant just what the individual theorist desired to have it mean; for its content has varied from philosophical anarchy to paternalistic aristocracy, and from the assertion of strongly individualistic democracy to the defence of highly centralized government. But this statement does not dispose of the problem. It is necessary to know why and when these varying interpretations were advanced and what their exponents meant when they spoke so confidently of the laws of nature.

To students of international relations it has become almost a commonplace that among the most significant and permanent results of the World War has been the changed international status of the republics of Latin America. As a result of the war and post-war developments in these states, the traditional New World isolation in South America, as well as in North America, is a thing of the past. To our leading sister republics is no longer applicable the half-contemptuous phrase, current in the far-off days before 1914, that Latin America stands on the margin of international life. The new place in the comity of nations won by a number of these states is evidenced—to take one of the most obvious examples—by the raising of the legations of certain non-American powers to the rank of embassies, either during or immediately after the war. In the case of Brazil, for instance, where prior to 1914 only the United States maintained an ambassador, at the present time Great Britain, France, Italy, Belgium, Portugal, and Japan maintain diplomatic representatives of this rank.

Yet all things considered one of the most fruitful developments in the domain of international relations has been the share taken by our southern neighbors in the work of the League of Nations. All of the Latin American republics which severed relations with Germany or declared war against that country were entitled to participate in the Peace Conference. As a consequence, eleven of these states affixed their signatures to the Treaty of Versailles, an action subsequently ratified in all cases except Ecuador.

The consulate is an old and a dignified office. Through various vicissitudes the consul has come down to us from the days when, with the dawn of new courage and enterprise, the closing of the Middle Ages saw the revival of international trade and travel in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Hence the future of that office must be of considerable interest from an historical point of view, to say nothing of the interest which all of us who expect to do any foreign traveling ought to feel in the fate of the traveler's best friend. All of this is doubly true in view of the fact that serious changes in the consulate are in point of fact impending, or even taking place before we have had time to notice them.

Almost everyone who has even a slight acquaintance with the history of international relations is aware of the way in which the consular office has already lost much of its old standing through the abolition of privileges of extraterritoriality in modern states. Originally, the consul was a judge in many cases between citizens of the state which he represented who were permanently, or even only temporarily, residing abroad. Today in all Western states he has come to exercise judicial powers only with respect to seamen on vessels flying the flag of his appointing state. The result has been a great diminution of his powers and prestige, a change so pronounced and of such long standing that few nowadays appreciate the great dignity and influence of the consular office in its earlier history.

A comparatively recent development in British public administration has been the creation of advisory committees or consultative councils in connection with a number of government offices. It is probable that government officials have at times in the past held consultations with small groups of citizens without any formal organization or requirement. Temporary commissions and committees have also been set up from time to time including members of Parliament and private citizens. But the new tendency establishes such committees as a regular part of the machinery of public administration, and in some cases involves the official recognition and coöperation of professional and other voluntary organizations.

The Board of Education Act, 1899, authorized a consultative committee to represent universities and other bodies interested in education. This was first established by order in council of August 7, 1900, and somewhat modified in 1907. During the World War sittings of this committee were suspended. But a new committee was appointed by order in council on July 22, 1920, to consist of twenty-one members, the term of seven to expire every two years. Four of the members appointed were women.

The Trade Boards Act, 1909, provided for district trade committees, to be organized, at first under regulations issued by the Board of Trade, and later (1916) by the Minister of Labour.

The National Insurance Act, 1911, provided for insurance committees in every county and county borough; and the Pilotage Act, 1913, authorized the Board of Trade to appoint an advisory committee of pilots, shipowners, representatives of pilotage and dock and harbor authorities, and others interested or having special knowledge.

The bureau chiefs are the key figures in national administration. The units that they direct are inclusive enough to lend themselves to the purposes of supervision and coördination and to bring their heads in touch with the machinery of budget-making and legislation, but sufficiently focused to preserve for them a saving contact with details and technique. The importance of their positions can hardly be exaggerated.

Who are the present bureau chiefs? What has been their training? To what extent have they been recruited within the services they now direct, and to what extent from outside? What factors have influenced their selection? How long have they been in office? Judging by their experience as well as by the frequency with which their predecessors have been changed, how secure seems to be their tenure? These are the questions to which this paper is addressed. Its purpose is modest; it is not expected to uncover findings not already known, at least in general terms. A systematic canvass of the bare facts, however, will help to a more precise understanding of the actual situation and perhaps facilitate discussions of our working theory of the relation of politics to administration. The time is opportune for taking stock. Within the past fifteen years each of the great parties has swept into the seats of power after a period of deprivation.

In determining the scope of this inquiry, the term bureau is used somewhat broadly, to denote any major subdivision of an executive department.

One of the results of the federal form of government of the United States, under which suffrage and elections are made primarily the concern of the several states, has been the comparatively small part played in practical national politics by controversies relating to voters and voting. The great reform bills and representation of the people acts in England, as well as the conditions in that country under which the acts were adopted, have no close parallels in American political history. Still less closely does the history of this country in these matters resemble that of France. The experience of the Third Republic has been filled with controversy concerning the organization of the electoral power. The limits to this organization are indeed set by the stipulation of the constitution that “the Chamber of Deputies shall be elected by universal suffrage”; but within these limits considerable latitude for change is assured by the qualifying phrase, “in the conditions determined by electoral law.” Change has been frequent, and change has been attended by the controversy mentioned. Thus, there have been since 1875 no fewer than five alternate adoptions of scrutin uninominal and scrutin de liste; and since the separation of church and state was consummated in the beginning of the present century, the question of electoral reform has probably been the chief single issue of internal French politics.

Among the men who have profoundly affected the development of mankind and have given their best energies to the promotion of toleration, reason, and justice, Voltaire stands without a peer. Gifted as he so evidently was by nature for intellectual leadership and literary supremacy in France and in Europe, he was never content with these honors alone. His prolonged activity was to mean more to the world than an author's gift of over half a hundred volumes, filled with flashing wit and sparkling with the brightness and charm of a brilliant writer. Upon everything in France Voltaire fastened his keen gaze, and with rare insight and remarkable discrimination he analyzed the situation, devoting his life to an attempt to win recognition of the essential and pressing need of his program of reform.

He had read the history of all nations and of all times, and had studied politics and literature, philosophy and science. He did not always go to the heights and depths of things unknown; he may even at times have been superficial. But with versatility far surpassing that of most mortals, with an adroitness in expression and thought, with flexibility in manner, he used his knowledge and pressed his cause, so that willing homage was paid to his gifts and genius by the man of moderate intelligence, by the philosopher, by the humble citizen, and by the sovereign. Yet, appreciated as Voltaire was by those who realized the importance of his endeavors, he had to submit to indignities from those who could have given him the most assistance.

Validity of Procedure. In the summer of 1925 the appellate division of the supreme court of New York held that the City Home Rule Amendment of 1923 had not been legally adopted and was invalid. In the case of Browne v. City of New York the court of appeals reversed this decision and held the amendment valid. The chief ground of attack on the amendment was, it is believed, unique. It may be stated as follows: The New York constitution requires an amendment to be proposed by one legislature, approved by the legislature chosen at the next election of senators, and then ratified by the voters. The City Home Rule Amendment was proposed by the legislature of 1922, approved by that of 1923, and ratified at the polls in 1923. It was an amendment to Article XII. But the legislature of 1922 had also approved an amendment to Article XII, relatively trivial in nature, which had originated in the legislature of 1920. This amendment was ratified in November, 1922, and went into effect in January, 1923, before the second legislative approval of the City Home Rule Amendment. In other words Article XII, which the City Home Rule Amendment changed, was not the same when the amendment passed the legislature for the first time as when it passed the second time. The appellate division held not only that the amendment must be the same when passed by the two legislatures but that the provision amended must also be the same.

Perhaps no convention of our day is more acceptable to both the political scientist and the man on the street than the employment of the simple-majority device to determine the will of a group. Even the ponderous German scholar Otto von Gierke is drawn to the facetious conclusion that it is only in the institution of matrimony that the majority principle cannot be used. Exceptions, of course, exist. Examples familiar to students of American government include the two-thirds and three-fourths majorities of the federal amending process, the two-thirds vote of the United States Senate in the approval of treaties, and like majorities in the overriding of presidential and gubernatorial vetoes. But these exceptions do not invalidate the commonly accepted “naturalness” of decisions according to simple majority. The theory has probably been expressed best by Grotius: “It is unnatural,” he says, “that the majority should submit to the minority—hence the majority naturally counts as the whole, if no compacts or positive law prescribe a different form of procedure.”

Although it now finds almost universal acceptance, the practice of reaching decisions by counting heads has not always prevailed, and even where employed its use has been limited and contingent. Speaking historically, the modern dogma of majority rule is a comparatively recent development, although it is probably an outgrowth of the various theories of majority rule of days gone.

This paper deals with the applicability of statistical principles and methods to research in political science. The subject is virgin and comprehensive. At the outset it will be necessary to delimit the treatment to be given it here, and to state some of the premises upon which this treatment will be based.

In the first place, the topic is unrelated to questions of public finance, or any of the bookkeeping aspects of government. I shall confine attention to more fundamental problems, distinctly psychological and sociological as well as political in character. These have to do with the nature and operation of forces that give rise to political activity and that determine its forms and its direction. A socio-political-psychology, quantitative in method, is the goal with respect to which orientation is sought.

In the second place, only data of a kind now available for research will be considered. Every statistician will agree with Professor Merriam's demand for the development and extension of governmental reporting, but my immediate concern is with undeveloped possibilities of utilizing existing materials.

In the third place, the desirability of a quantitative approach to political research problems is taken for granted. Yet the statistical method has serious limitations, not merely because it can never replace logic as a means of interpretation, but also because it is not universally available for scientific inquiry. The developments of recent years in the field of abnormal psychology, for example, have no quantitative method of discovery behind them. When subjective processes give rise to or accompany behavior, measurements of the latter may be possible.

The regular long session of the 69th Congress met in December to harvest the legislative fruits of the Republican victory of 1924, then almost too well dried by thirteen months' standing and a little damaged by some bad weather in the special session of the Senate. The spirit of quiet husbandry, almost bereft of partisanship, was signalized by the enactment of the Revenue Act of February 26, 1926, which at last virtually realized the oft-frustrated “Mellon plan” of tax revision. Within two months, however, the propitious, if hardly exciting, skies that looked down on these early scenes were darkened, and an almost dramatic transition from sunshine to the shadow of farm-relief perplexities and the distant thunder of the oncoming primaries invested the session with other points of interest besides its industry and output.