This article addresses the pedagogical value of teaching Aristotle'sPolitics 4.1 early in an introductory course inpolitical theory that draws texts from the history of politicalthought. I argue that this chapter provides an interpretive key tounderstanding arguments made elsewhere in thePolitics and can be used to introduce studentsto the kinds of theorizing that appear in the study of politics moregenerally. I begin by laying out some common learning obstacles thatstudents experience in introductory political theory courses, usingPolitics 4.1 to address these issues. I thenoutline my approach to this text and conclude by reflecting on someof the possibilities and limitations of this method of introducingthe nature of political theory to an undergraduate population.

Claims of misconduct must be accompanied by verifiable proof. In “Diagnosis versus Ideological Diversity,” Phillip W. Gray (2019) professes the need to address bias and dishonesty in research but contradicts his stated goals by making untrue and unsupported allegations of misconduct. He equates a coding error with LaCour and Green’s (2014) suspected data fabrication while disregarding publicly available contradictory evidence. In this evidence-based article, we demonstrate that Gray made a series of false accusations of research dishonesty and ideological bias. His assertions not only are unsupported; the evidence also shows the opposite. PS: Political Science & Politics edited Gray’s article after publication and online distribution—removing or modifying the most explicitly false and harmful statements—and changed his central thesis but without changing the DOI. This resulted in two different articles with the same DOI. Although retraction is uncommon, this degree of post-publication modification appears to meet the threshold. The published corrigendum failed to address Gray’s false allegations, pervasive and unsubstantiated insinuations of misconduct, and errors that persist in the second edition of his article. The constellation of behaviors by the journal and Gray contradicts academic norms and emphasizes the need to establish clear standards of evidence when making accusations of academic misconduct.

Although ethnographic methods have yielded important insights into the inner workings of many political institutions, their use in the study of institutions engaged in national security policy making and practice has been more limited. Common features of security institutions raise methodological and ethical concerns for participant observers: they are hard to access, handle classified information, and their proximity to the use of violence creates challenges for researchers who adopt critical perspectives toward the framing and practice of national security. This article reflects on how critical ethnographers might respond to these challenges, drawing on experiences from a 14-month ethnographically influenced study of UK government departments involved in national security policy making. I argue that even though questions of informed consent and avoiding harm are complicated by the core functions of security institutions and their cultures of busyness and secrecy, navigating these tensions can itself generate useful ethnographic insights into institutional cultures.

Political science instructors have started to make use of the “staff ride”—that is, the combined study of a military campaign, structured visits to related sites, and after-action analysis. Our study is the first examination of the potential utility of this pedagogical tool in civilian political science programs. Although the specific knowledge and skills that any given staff ride promotes depend on its content and structure, the potential benefits include four student learning outcomes: (1) staff rides show students how we might draw lessons from the past and apply them to present or future problems; (2) students may derive an enhanced ability to empathize with military and civilian decision makers; (3) staff rides can highlight the normative stakes in politics; and (4) they can foster connections among the participants. This article describes potential benefits of a staff ride, provides detailed instructional models based on the Battle of Gettysburg and the Tet Offensive, and considers ways to replicate these experiences in more accessible formats.

The assignment before me was far more ambitious than any story I'd ever pitched to an editor. I wouldn't have dared to try, for fear of being laughed out of the newsroom. But I was now away from journalism, spending eight months as an APSA Congressional Fellow on Capitol Hill. I was told to think big.

A great divide between “Ivory Tower” academics and those engaged in applied politics characterizes popular perceptions for those on both sides of this chasm. Yet, after spending a year in Washington, D.C., as part of the APSA's Congressional Fellowship Program, it is evident that there are commonalities as well as differences between these two groups. However, applied career opportunities are rarely investigated by graduate students in political science, who aim instead for a tenured position in academe. According to the most recent data collected by the APSA, only 7 to 13% of Ph.D.s selected a non-academic position or career track during the period from 1990 through 2000, and this trend remained stable during the early part of this decade (Lopez 2003, 836).The author would like to thank Jeff Biggs, director of the Congressional Fellowship Program, and Michael Brintnall of the American Political Science Association. She also thanks Gene Alpert, Stan Bach, Arthur Burris, Beth Fuchs, John Haskell, Scott Keeter, Bill Koetzle, George Kundanis, Celinda Lake, Congressman Dan Lipinski, Thomas Mann, Norm Ornstein, Neil Pinney, John Ratliff, and Ben Scott for their contributions and insights. Those included in this study are not intended to be an exhaustive or representative list of political science Ph.D.s working in applied settings.

Institutions of higher learning reflect the philosophies, environments, and resources of their location. Fort Lewis College sits in the San Juan Mountains, a part of the Rocky Mountain chain in southwest Colorado. Throughout its history, the College has successfully transformed itself to suit the needs of its students. Flexibility is demonstrated in frequent changes in focus, curriculum, student population, and programming. Founded as an agricultural high school in 1911, the College transitioned to a two-year college in 1927, implemented an agricultural and mechanic two-year degree program in 1933, assumed junior college status in 1948, and finally, in 1962, became a baccalaureate degree–granting institution that centered its educational objectives around a liberal arts philosophy. Additionally, the College's diverse faculty and student population impact the curriculum and programs. Students of differing classes, ethnicities, regions, and faith traditions share intellectual and physical space. Presently, the student population is just under four thousand, and there are approximately two hundred tenure or tenure-track faculty. Eighteen percent of the student population is native, representing over 125 different nations, but principally the Navajo nation. These statistics require the College to adjust its curricular objectives to suit the intellectual levels and goals of its students.

After a more than seven-decade battle, American women secured the right to vote in August 1920. The struggle for women to have a voice in elections was not over, however. The Nineteenth Amendment states that “The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.” The amendment gives Congress the power to enforce the law by appropriate legislation. It does not, however, empower or charge any government office or actor with ensuring that women can and do cast ballots. This article argues that this reality, often taken for granted, has serious implications for both the incorporation of women into the electorate and the representation of their political interests.

Giving a job talk has multiple aims. Most important of these: to get a job. But, it also makes sense to think about a job talk as (a) practice that will improve your skills for future job interviews, making it more likely that you will eventually get a job, even if not this one, (b) a kind of initiation ritual into the profession, and (c) a way to broaden your academic network and make new friends. It is your chance to persuade your peers (and perhaps your future colleagues) that you are a promising/accomplished scholar, a potentially good colleague, and a good teacher—not necessarily in that order. Priorities attached to these desiderata will vary from department to department (with major differences to be expected between research-oriented departments and those with a more liberal arts focus), but even within any given department, different members of the department will undoubtedly attach different weights to each of these three concerns. Such relevant information will be conveyed in a job talk.

In “In Laws of Politics and How to Establish Them,” Erik Weber contends that my arguments for the existence of “five laws of politics” are “inconclusive.” Although the “empirical evidence is impressive,” he avers, the “underlying social mechanisms” responsible for the adduced relationships are missing. Without it, he adds, no empirical relationship rises to the special status of a “law” of politics. Helpfully, Weber did not stop there. Using the example of Duverger’s laws, he suggested ways to close the “argumentative gap.” In this article, I aim to do just that.