In the modern era, the institution of literature is being reconceived across Europe as a national institution. But the new paradigm of national literatures requires a remaking of literary discourse, including the transformation of critical terminology, and this results in literary discourse becoming politicized. By analyzing the history of the term libozvučnost (melodiousness) in the Czech national literary revival, David L. Cooper demonstrates how this seemingly innocent literary term became a political lightening rod for friends pursuing the same national program. This strongly suggests that, in the formative era of national literatures, using literary issues to discuss politics is not simply a matter of instrumentalizing literary criticism for covert political activity but that discussing literary values is directly political. The example of libozvučnost also reveals how the “borrowed“ discourses of Romanticism and nationalism were fundamentally remade to respond to the modern Czech situation.

Does a centralized system of direct controls necessarily provide the most effective method of control? A case study of the postwar Yugoslav banking system raises serious doubts on this score. The Yugoslav National Bank has not lost any control and may even have established a firmer control over the country's monetary system since 1954. At that time, it moved closer to the traditional central bank role of exercising indirect control over independent banks instead of performing all its functions through its own branches, over which it had direct control.

The collapse of the Russian monarchy in February and the overthrow of the Provisional Government in October 1917 confronted Rumanian leaders with the prospect of a violent change in their own country. Rumania’s participation in the First World War on the side of the Entente had by February 1917 resulted in a succession of military defeats and the occupation of two-thirds of the country, including Bucharest, by German and Austro-Hungarian forces. The court and most of the leading politicians had taken refuge in Iasi, the chief city of Moldavia, located only a few miles from the Russian border. A Russian army of about a million men and a reorganized Rumanian field army of some eighteen divisions manned a newly stabilized front which stretched from Bukovina in the north along the eastern slopes of the Carpathians to southern Moldavia

A notable characteristic of Solzhenitsyn's earlier works, from One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovichto Cancer Ward, was their apparent philosophical and aesthetic eclecticism. Their author seemed neither to reveal the intellectual origins of his work nor to articulate in his novels a coherent philosophy of history or theory of art. One critic was forced to conclude that artistically Solzhenitsyn was an “eclectic with conservative leanings” whose main concern was with truth and honesty in literature. The publication of August 1914 tended at first to allay this feeling. Parallels of both form and content could be drawn between the new novel and Tolstoy's War and Peace. Further reflection, however, suggests that the comparison with Tolstoy raises as many difficulties as it resolves. But this does not mean that the riddle of the origins of Solzhenitsyn's thought remains insoluble. When examined in conjunction with the Nobel Prize lecture and the programmatic letter of September 5, 1973, to the Kremlin leaders, August 1914 does reveal the sources of Solzhenitsyn's philosophical and aesthetic views.

In sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Muscovy direct taxes were levied on the basis of periodic fiscal surveys. The records of these surveys were called soshnye pis'ma, pistsovye knigi, and perepisnye knigi (sokha registers, cadastral books, and census books respectively). Extant copies, though often fragmentary and considerably fewer than the total number of books originally compiled, represent our best source of information about the socio-economic history and population of Muscovy. Statistical data from these books span the period from the 1480s to 1717 and bear directly on such problems as population size and movement, identification of topographic features, the social and economic composition of urban and rural society, taxation, trade and manufacture, and the peasant economy on church, private, and state lands. Two of the most useful kinds of information are the enumeration of the taxed population, in terms of households and male occupants, and the quantitative and qualitative description of taxable property.

Since World War II a great number and variety of books, pamphlets, and articles devoted in whole or in part to international law have appeared in the Soviet Union. Not all of these publications are available in the United States. The articles are too numerous to be listed here. Substantial contributions have appeared not only in the central legal periodicals such as Sovetskoe Gosudarstvo i Pravo (Soviet State and Law) and Izvestija Akademii Nauk SSSR, Otdelenie Èkonomiki i Prava (News of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR, Section of Economics and Law), but also in the publications of institutions of higher learning and research in the provinces as well as in Moscow and Leningrad. The books include general texts, specialized monographs, collections of documents, and dictionaries. Popular lectures touching on problems of international law have been recorded and distributed in pamphlet form. This extensive literature may help outsiders to understand the Soviet conception of international law, its role in Soviet policy, and its value in predicting future Soviet actions and attitudes.

The Russian Revolution of 1905 was national as well as political in character. The official policy of repressing national minorities had aroused discontent; the force of nationalism had made itself felt among the submerged nationalities in Russia, promoting both the desire to throw off legal disabilities and the hope of gaining national rights within the Russian Empire. The Jews, subject to the most onerous restrictions, had begun to join nationalistic organizations in the hope that they could influence in some measure their destiny.

In a footnote to her detailed commentary on the poems of Sophia Parnok (1885-1933) Sophia Poliakova states that the poet “did not make a secret of” her lesbianism and that “many of her poems are incomprehensible without knowledge of this […] extremely personal [fact].” Yet, in her otherwise excellent discussion of the poet's creative development, Poliakova does not treat the crucially important relationship between Parnok's affectional preference and her creativity which, in my opinion, played a central role in the refining of what the poet referred to as a “voice like mine.” Parnok's lesbian orientation was also partially responsible for the problems she encountered with Soviet censorship that effectively muffled her voice.

The legitimacy of ruling Communist parties rests, in large part, on their alleged identity with the working masses. Ties to the citizenry are crucial for these parties if they are to retain Marxist credentials and, thereby, their rationale for taking power and maintaining an authoritarian system. All political systems, authoritarian ones included, seek willing obedience from citizens if for no other reason than efficiency. But as a subset of authoritarian polities, Communist states have an additional burden. No ultimate truth, national interest, or religious purity sanctioned their road to power, although national interests are increasingly used by many Communist parties to attain greater credibility with citizens. Instead, Communists' identity with the interests of working people constitutes the primary rationale for their hold on government.

By the summer of 1971 Leonid Brezhnev had apparently become effective head of state of the Soviet Union and its spokesman. When Chancellor Brandt visited the Soviet Union in September he conferred with no one else, and Pravda reported (September 19) that “responsible members of the Secretariat of the General Secretary” participated in the conversations. One is reminded of the power obscurely exercised by Stalin’s personal secretariat, especially the mysterious Poskrebyshev during the later years of his rule, and of the role of Hitler’s secretariat, headed by Martin Bormann. Yet Brezhnev is certainly not the despot implied by these analogies. Officially, he has assumed no new powers. More important, no one has been ousted from the top circle since 1965, when the regime seemed to be truly a plural leadership in which no individual was clearly dominant. Yet it is practically the first task of a new tyrant to replace with his dependents those who were formerly his equals or at least potential rivals.

Confronted with the enigma of revolutionary Russia, Imperial Germany vacillated between a policy of official cooperation and one of counterrevolutionary intervention after the treaty of Brest-Litovsk. In search of the reasons for this ambivalence, Western scholars have explored the ironies of the “unholy alliance” between Kaiser and commissar. Somewhat embarrassed for owing their survival to German autocracy, Soviet writers have praised Lenin’s cleverness in exploiting the contradictions within the imperialist camp. In West Germany, after decades of complacent anticommunism, Fritz Fischer in his Griff nach der Weltmacht has charged that rapacious Wilhelmian war aims “found their logical fulfillment in Brest-Litovsk and its supplementary treaties”.

I concur with Professor Meyer that Communist area studies must rejoin the main lines of the discipline of political science. An unfortunate methodological separation has existed much too long, a separation that might be figuratively characterized as a “loose, bipolar system,” with Sovietology at one pole and systematic political science at the other. The schism between Kremlinology, deductive reasoning, and, frequently, spectral evidence, on the one side, and scientific concept formation, empiricism, verification, and theory-construction, on the other, must come to an end. Professor Meyer's paper is a contribution toward this objective, both on its own merits and for the critical discussion that it will undoubtedly stimulate.