After the first world war, Paul Valéry spoke for the entire generation when he observed that Western civilization had learned that it was mortal, and that “a civilization is as fragile as a life.” Thoughtful people discussed Oswald Spengler's work, began to criticize the idea of progress, revived cyclical theories of cultural decline, and were deeply stirred by the idea that Western civilization was in a state of decay. Since that time there has been no end to jeremiads and diagnoses judging that the crisis of our time is caused by the loss of spiritual convictions, the eclipse of transcendental values, the decline of morality, or the breakdown of traditional belief systems.

Frequently, the writings in this genre have offered not sound diagnoses but merely truisms and dolorous representations of symptoms; nevertheless, concealed in them lurks a psychological truth. The breakdown in morality and traditional beliefs, stimulated by rapid social change, mass society and secularization, has helped to devitalize the psychological bearer of conscience and morality: the superego. Historically, the cultivation of the superego had propagated civilized men and a system of internal controls. Now the deterioration of the superego has brought crisis for political power and regression for civilization.

It is well known that each age writes history anew to serve its own purposes and that the history of political ideas is no exception to this rule. The precise nature of these changes in perspective, however, bears investigation. For not only can their study help us to understand the past; it may also lead us to a better understanding of our own intellectual situation. In this quest the political theories of the 17th century and particularly of the English Civil War are especially rewarding. It was in those memorable years that all the major issues of modern political theory were first stated, and with the most perfect clarity. As we have come to reject the optimism of the eighteenth century, and the crude positivism of the nineteenth, we tend more and more to return to our origins in search of a new start. This involves a good deal of reinterpretation, as the intensity with which the writings of Hobbes and Locke, for instance, are being reexamined in England and America testify. These philosophical giants have, however, by the force of their ideas been able to limit the scope of interpretive license. A provocative minor writer, such as Harrington, may for this reason be more revealing. The present study is therefore not only an effort to explain more soundly Harrington's own ideas, but also to treat him as an illustration of the mutations that the art of interpreting political ideas has undergone, and, perhaps to make some suggestions about the problems of writing intellectual history in general.

The principal aim of this paper is to relate the normative structure of international law to the underlying patterns of political behavior that have characterized the modern state system. The political constraint upon the normative structure of the law is only one of many; there are also economic, social, and ethical constraints, among others. Nonetheless, it provides many insights into the changing substantive content of the law and also illustrates the way in which theory helps to provide an understanding of subject matter.

A systematic study of the structure of the international society has been attempted elsewhere by one of the authors. Two different models of international systems delineated there have particular relevance to the present topic. These are the “balance of power” system, a model of the international politics of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and the “loose bipolar” system, a model of present-day international politics. The two models, though no doubt less complex than the actual patterns of action, suffice to demonstrate important differences in system structure and behavior that can be related to normative standards.

The creation of the Bundesrat, when the Federal Republic was launched a decade ago, has brought into being a new variant among the several examples of second chambers in the lengthening history of federal governments. The purpose of this study is to investigate the working of that new model—in contrast to the expectations of its originators—and its relations to the other parts of a democratic system; and to assess its present merits and future utility.

The form of government which we call federalism can readily be illustrated with examples from history. Its institutional structure and constitutional intricacies, however, still present real difficulties of definition by logical construction and have given rise to many conflicting interpretations of the term. Kenneth C. Wheare, in one of the more recent attempts at general definition, describes the federal principle as the “coordinate division of powers” between the central and regional governments, which in their respective spheres are “mutually independent” and “coequally supreme.” Such language envisions a system in which both central and regional governments have a complete set of the three branches of government with full powers in their respective spheres of jurisdiction, and a minimum of institutional overlap or interdependence.

The problem of representation is central to all discussions of the functions of legislatures or the behavior of legislators. For it is commonly taken for granted that, in democratic political systems, legislatures are both legitimate and authoritative decision-making institutions, and that it is their representative character which makes them authoritative and legitimate. Through the process of representation, presumably, legislatures are empowered to act for the whole body politic and are legitimized. And because, by virtue of representation, they participate in legislation, the represented accept legislative decisions as authoritative. But agreement about the meaning of the term “representation” hardly goes beyond a general consensus regarding the context within which it is appropriately used. The history of political theory is studded with definitions of representation, usually embedded in ideological assumptions and postulates which cannot serve the uses of empirical research without conceptual clarification.

Political science, like other fields of social inquiry, has had an enduring interest in questions of stability and change. This interest—until now principally expressed in studies of the rise and fall of institutions—has lately been focused increasingly upon individual and group behavior, in a search for the influences that hold men to their political beliefs and affiliations or cause them to shift about. Such influences are important not only for the study of voting and party membership, but for haute politique as well—for the great and dramatic questions surrounding political loyalty, conformity, deviation, apostasy, and other states of membership or disaffiliation. Although the research reported below concentrates on the former, it is our hope that it may also cast light upon the latter. It is concerned specifically with primary groups—those small, face-to-face, solidary, informal and enduring coteries that we commonly experience as family, friendship and occupational peer groups.

It has become a commonplace that the Constitution is what the Supreme Court says it is. Scholars of American constitutional law have, therefore, focused their studies largely on the Court's opinions as indices of the Constitution's current meaning. But however well established may be the Court's role as the expounder of the constitutional document, the impact of a decision will depend on many individuals and circumstances far beyond the confines of the Court. This paper will examine the effects of the decision in Zorach v. Clauson on public policy in the seven years since its announcement. It will attempt to follow the repercussions of one Supreme Court decision through the entire political process within one area of political conflict—in this case the conflict over church-state relationships.