Welfare state programs developed later in the United States than in other nations. Today, American programs are less widely accessible, less uniform, and often less generous than programs abroad. Explanations for this relative conservatism usually focus on the lack of a socialist movement or a socialist ideological tradition in the United States. Yet during the Progressive Era, when the gap between the American and European welfare states widened significantly enough for contemporaries to acknowledge it, the forces for social reform had never been stronger in the United States. In many ways these forces resembled those in England, which at the time was laying the foundations for a model welfare state.

In the wake of India's May 1998 decision to resume nuclear testing for the first time since 1974, as well as arch-rival Pakistan's subsequent response, the attention of the world again has focused on nuclear nonproliferation policy as a means of maintaining stability in politically troubled regions of the world. The 1990s proved to be an uncertain time for nonproliferation policy. Pakistan acquired nuclear capabilities. Iraq displayed its well-known intransigence by refusing to allow International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) arms inspectors access to facilities suspected of manufacturing nuclear weapons. North Korea maintained a nuclear weapons program despite opposition from many Western nations. Troubling questions about nuclear holdings persisted in Argentina, Brazil, and South Africa. New nuclear powers were created in Belarus, Kazakhstan, Russia, and Ukraine after the disintegration of the Soviet Union. Even the renewal of the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons in 1995 failed to assuage the concerns of Western powers fearful of aggressive measures undertaken by rogue nuclear proliferants.

An important development in the field of environmental policy has been the growing acceptance and use of emissions trading as a cost-effective means to meet and maintain environmental quality standards. In the first half of the twentieth century, emissions trading programs not only would have been seen as unnecessary; they would have been inconceivable. The legal, bureaucratic, and technological infrastructure necessary to support such systems simply did not exist. Furthermore, most people did not see the release of pollutioncausing contaminants into the shared environment as transactions to be measured and monitored. Today, the use of emissions trading programs as a policy tool both reflects and represents the dramatic changes in pollution control policy that have since occurred.

The 1940s were heady times for the American labor movement. The tight wartime labor market and the backing of the federal government in defense industries facilitated impressive membership gains for both AFL and CIO unions. By 1945, labor unions represented almost 35 percent of the workforce—a more than fivefold increase from the early 1930s. What is more, union membership gains penetrated previously unorganized and resistant regions like the South. Unions indeed appeared on the verge of recruiting millions of new members and establishing a truly national social movement. Critics and supporters alike viewed unions as the most powerful institutions of the day. Following the war, Fortune Magazine foresaw little resistance to unionism and to the postwar southern labor organizing drives, while sympathetic scholars like C. Wright Mills viewed labor leaders as the “new men of power.”

Since its inaugural use in Oregon in 1904, direct democracy—as practiced in twenty-seven American states—has garnered its share of defenders and critics. While the debate over the merits and drawbacks of citizen lawmaking remains as contentious as ever, critics and proponents alike usually concur that two extra-legislative tools—the “citizen” initiative and the “popular” referendum—were most effectively used to counteract the legislative might of special interests during the Progressive Era. Citing the clout of corporate monopolies that dominated numerous state legislatures at the turn of the century, contemporary observers of direct democracy approvingly note how citizen groups during the Progressive Era used the mechanisms to take on an array of vested interests. As evidence, they submit the popular adoption of numerous progressive reforms during the 1910s, such as the direct primary, women's suffrage, prohibition, the abolition of the poll tax, home rule for cities and towns, eighthour workdays for women and miners, and the regulation of public utility and railroad monopolies. Circumventing their partisan state legislatures, defenders of the plebiscitary mechanisms evoke how citizens successfully employed the initiative and popular referendum, as one Progressive Era supporter of the “pure” democratic process championed, to rouse “a great forward movement toward stability, justice, and public spirit in American political institutions.”

Both the legal definition of rape and the social responses to it have changed dramatically over the last twenty-five years. The sorts of assaults classified as criminal, the willingness of women who have been raped to turn to the criminal justice system, the rules of prosecution, and the penalties imposed on those found guilty have all been the explicit subjects of public debates initiated in the early 1970s by activists who broke the silence of earlier decades. Activists' engagement with the policy process throughout the 1970s altered institutions and policy at the local, state, and federal levels, and also affected the development and claims of the broader women's movement.

Policy history has straddled two disciplines—history and policy analysis—neither of which has taken it very seriously. What unites those who study policy history is not that they are ”policy historians“ per se, but that they organize their analysis and narrative around the emergence, passage, and implementation of policy. Rather than a subfield, as the historian Paula Baker recently argued, policy history has resembled area studies programs. Policy history became an interdisciplinary arena for scholars from many different fields to interact. While founders hoped that policies would become an end in themselves, rather than something used to understand other issues, scholarship since 1978 has shown that the two are not mutually exclusive. In fact, some of the most innovative scholarship has come from social or political historians who have used policy to understand larger historical phenomena. In the process, the work provided a much richer understanding of how policymaking evolved.

In the 1934 Reciprocal Trade Agreements Act (“RTAA”), Congress delegated its constitutionally granted power to set tariffs to the President. Trade agreements negotiated under the RTAA required no ex post congressional approval. Instead, the broad authority conferred upon the President was subject to congressional renewal every three years. Tariff reductions also were no longer made unilaterally via omnibus tariff legislation, but rather bilaterally via trade agreements and in exchange for comparable tariff reductions from foreign trading partners. The RTAA dramatically altered the governance structure that had controlled U.S. trade policymaking for over a century, laying a new institutional foundation that made U.S. postwar participation in, and leadership of, global trade liberalization and expansion possible. Indeed, the RTAA is arguably the most important piece of trade legislation of this century. It also is an unusual case of congressional delegation of policymaking authority to the President. Representative Hamilton Fish (R-N.Y.) called the RTAA “a betrayal of our representative form of government [that] amounts to an open admission by Congress that … it is now incompetent and unfit to legislate properly, intelligently and in the public interest.” The press described the RTAA as a “radical departure in commercial policy.” What accounts for this extraordinary delegation, especially by a legislative body better known for guarding its power than for giving it away?