A little over 100 years ago John Stuart Mill wrote in his essay On Liberty that “… there ought to exist the fullest liberty of professing and discussing, as a matter of ethical conviction, any doctrine, however immoral it may be considered.” The sentence from which this is taken is not obiter: Chapter Two of his book is devoted to arguments, putatively philosophical in character, which if they were sound would warrant precisely such a conclusion; we have therefore every reason to assume that Mill meant by the sentence just what it says. The topic of Chapter Two is the entire “communications” process in civilized society (“advanced” society, as Mill puts it); and the question he raises is whether there should be limitations on that process. He treats that problem as the central problem of all civilized societies, the one to which all other problems are subordinate, because of the consequences, good or ill, that a society must bring upon itself according as it adopts this or that solution to it. And he has supreme confidence in the Tightness of the solution he offers. Presumably to avoid all possible misunderstanding, he provides several alternative statements of it, each of which makes his intention abundantly clear, namely, that society must be so organized as to make that solution its supreme law. “Fullest,” that is, absolute freedom of thought and speech, he asserts by clear implication in the entire argument of the chapter, is not to be one of several competing goods society is to foster, one that on occasion might reasonably be sacrificed, in part at least, to the preservation of other goods; i.e., he refuses to recognize any competing good in the name of which it can be limited.

Low and uneven turnout is a serious problem for local democracy. Fortunately, one simple reform—shifting the timing of local elections so they are held on the same day as national contests—can substantially increase participation. Considerable research shows that on-cycle November elections generally double local voter turnout compared with stand-alone local contests. But does higher turnout mean a more representative electorate? On that critical question, the evidence is slim and mixed. We combine information on election timing with detailed microtargeting data that includes voter demographic information to examine how election timing influences voter composition in city elections. We find that moving to on-cycle elections in California leads to an electorate that is considerably more representative in terms of race, age, and partisanship—especially when these local elections coincide with a presidential election. Our results suggest that on-cycle elections can improve local democracy.

The political scientist is a teacher of public men in the making, and an adviser of public men in activity; “public men,” that is, men who are taught, invited or assumed to feel some responsibility for the exercise of political power; “political power,” that is, concentrated means of affecting the future.

Obviously we can not affect the past, or that present moment which is now passing away, but only what is not yet: the future alone is sensitive to our actions, voluntary if aimed at a pictured outcome, rational if apt to cause it, prudently conceived if we take into account circumstances outside our control (known to decision theorists as “states of nature”), and the conflicting moves of others (known in game theory as opponents' play). A result placed in the future, conditions intervening in the future, need we say more to stress that decisions are taken “with an eye to the future,” in other terms, with foresight?

After describing a newly assembled dataset consisting of almost 9,000 local appropriations made by the U.S. Congress between 1789 and 1882, we test competing accounts of the politics surrounding them before offering a more nuanced, historically contingent view of the emergence of the pork barrel. We demonstrate that for most of this historical period—despite contemporary accusations of crass electoral motives—the pattern of appropriations is largely inconsistent with accounts of distributive politics grounded in a logic of legislative credit-claiming. Instead, support for appropriations in the House mapped cleanly onto the partisan/ideological structure of Congress for most of this period, and only in the 1870s produced the universalistic coalitions commonly associated with pork-barrel spending. We trace this shift to two historical factors: the emergence of a solid Democratic South, and growth in the fraction of appropriations funding recurrent expenditures on extant projects rather than new starts.

In its 1933 report, President Hoover's Committee on Recent Social Trends suggested that there might in time emerge a “National Advisory Council” to consider fundamental questions of the social, economic, and governmental order, in their interrelation and in the light of the trends and possibilities of modern science. This would involve neither “economic planning” nor “governmental planning” primarily, but a comprehensive consideration of all the social factors involved in the formation of national policy.

In July, 1933, the National Planning Board was set up by Administrator Ickes as a part of the Public Works Administration of that time. The membership consisted of Frederic A. Delano, chairman; Wesley C. Mitchell (chairman of President Hoover's Committee above mentioned); and Charles E. Merriam (vice-chairman of the same committee).

In 1934, this agency was made a presidential board by executive order and was composed of the Secretary of the Interior as chairman, the Secretaries of Agriculture, Commerce, and Labor, the Federal Emergency Relief Administrator, and the three members of the old Board. An Advisory Committee consisting of Messrs. Delano, Mitchell, and Merriam were placed in active charge of the work.

Everyone has heard the gibe that the specialist is a man who knows more and more about less and less, while a sociologist is one who knows less and less about more and more. Another quip has it that while psychology is all data and no conclusions, sociology is all conclusions and no data. Political science itself has not escaped a certain amount of cheap disparagement from those who know little or nothing about it. Thus a political scientist has been described as one who among politicians is reckoned a scientist, and among scientists is reckoned a politician; or, indeed, as one who is called a political scientist because he is neither—an obvious paraphrase of Voltaire's famous sarcasm regarding the Holy Roman Empire. At any rate, the time has come when a certain group of political scientists have wearied of such gibes, to say nothing of that condescension which they think they detect in the attitude of laboratory scientists toward them; and they have registered a vow to convert political science from a “normative” or “telic” science, as it has been variously called, into a natural science, into a science which will hereafter be printed in lower case instead of in upper, and will, moreover (the height of ambition of all true sciences) be able to predict the future just as astronomy, physics, and chemistry are able to do—not to mention astrology, alchemy, and palmistry. Nor is this newly conceived ambition the product merely of discontent; it is rather more, perhaps, response to the beckoning of opportunity—the opportunity spelled by the rise of the behavioristic psychology.

Analysis of the dynamic properties of two or more interrelated systems is a recurrent problem in social science theory. A particular problem frequently arises (although it often goes unrecognized) in assessing the validity of an analysis of a system, some variables of which are causally related to other variables, which latter, in turn, are either not explicitly taken into account or are assumed constant. Examples are easy to find: economists may study the behavior of a single country's economy with only secondary regard for the rest of the world; studies of group behavior may pay only secondary attention to the other roles played by the group members in other contexts; two more examples are worked out below and others may be found in the works about to be cited. Indeed, in a larger sense, the division of social science itself (or of natural science, for that matter) into separate disciplines is an example, for the variables taken as given by one discipline are the very subject matter of another and vice versa. In all these examples, the very real problem is present that if variables taken as given are causally affected by the variables of the system being analyzed, or if variables assumed not to affect that system actually do affect it, the results of the analysis may have little relevance for the study of real problems.

Not the least paradoxical aspect of the United Nations mandate in the Congo, as described in the three-power resolution adopted by the Security Council on November 24, 1961, is that it was designed to prevent the exercise of a right which is explicitly recognized by the Charter. In effect, by “completely rejecting the claim of the Katanga as a sovereign independent Nation” and “recognizing the government of the Republic of the Congo as exclusively responsible for the conduct of the external affairs of the Congo,” the authors of the resolution clearly denied the provincial authorities of the Katanga the right to self-determination. Similarly, the support given by the United States government to the resolution, reaffirmed in several official statements, seems hardly compatible with our long-standing moral commitment to the Wilsonian principle that “the small states of the world have a right to enjoy the same respect for their sovereignty and territorial integrity that the great and powerful states expect and insist upon.” Actually, what may at first sight appear to be a sign of inconsistency is rather a reflection of the fundamental ambiguity in the concept of self-determination.

The Senate of the United States, like other institutionalized groups, operates in accordance with a complex of norms for members' behavior which are understood by few outsiders and perhaps not completely by all senators. Formal written rules governing the behavior of members take into account the division of functions between the two major parties and the operation of the Senate's institutionalized sub-groups, the committees. These are supplemented by unwritten rules that are often more consequential. Members have generally accepted notions of the way the Senate as a body ought to perform its public business and regulate its internal affairs, and the way members ought to behave toward the Senate and toward each other.

Senatorial behavior would be difficult enough to study if this were all, but it is not. For one thing, the norms are by no means undifferentiated for the entire membership. Within the Senate a number of identifiable official and unofficial “statuses” (or “positions”) besides that of United States Senator can be distinguished, each carrying with it a “role” in the form of the behavior expected by the Senate and the public of the person occupying that status. The leadership positions in the two parties and the committee chairmanships come immediately to mind as examples of official statuses.

In an influential recent study, Broockman and Skovron (2018) found that American politicians consistently overestimate the conservativeness of their constituents on a host of issues. Whether this conservative bias in politicians’ perceptions of public opinion is a uniquely American phenomenon is an open question with broad implications for the quality and nature of democratic representation. We investigate it in four democracies: Belgium, Canada, Germany, and Switzerland. Despite these countries having political systems that differ greatly, we document a strong and persistent conservative bias held by a majority of the 866 representatives interviewed. Our findings highlight the conservative bias in elites’ perception of public opinion as a widespread regularity and point toward a pressing need for further research on its sources and impacts.

Can wars breed nationalism? We argue that civilians’ indirect exposure to war fatalities can trigger psychological processes that increase identification with their nation and ultimately strengthen support for nationalist parties. We test this argument in the context of the rise of the Nazi Party after World War 1 (WW1). To measure localized war exposure, we machine-coded information on 7.5 million German soldiers who were wounded or died in WW1. Our empirical strategy leverages battlefield dynamics that cause plausibly exogenous variation in the county-level casualty fatality rate—the share of dead soldiers among all casualties. We find that throughout the interwar period, electoral support for right-wing nationalist parties, including the Nazi Party, was 2.6 percentage points higher in counties with above-median casualty fatality rates. Consistent with our proposed mechanism, we find that this effect was driven by civilians rather than veterans and areas with a preexisting tradition of collective war commemoration.

Africans in French Tropical Africa have recently been called on to make several farreaching political decisions. Two basic questions have been at issue: the nature of the relationship between France and the African territories, and the nature of relations between the African territories themselves. On the first question, the Referendum of September 28, 1958 on the Constitution of the Fifth French Republic gave Africans the choice between total independence and internal autonomy within “The (French) Community.” With regard to their mutual relations, the territories which made up the federations of French West and French Equatorial Africa could remain tied together politically, or they could sever all formal political connections among themselves; in French African political terminology, the second issue has been whether or not the individual territories should form “primary federations.”

The issue of total independence or internal autonomy within “The Community” was temporarily decided at the 1958 Referendum, when eleven of the twelve territories of French West and Equatorial Africa voted to remain with France, Guinea alone choosing immediate independence. Since then several members of “The Community” have initiated negotiations with France for the full transfer of sovereign powers to local African governments, and the indications are that all French-speaking West Africa will be fully independent within the near future.

The outcome of the second question—political relations among the African territories–is not so clear. The trend up to now has been against the re-creation of primary federations.

The origins of voter preferences about the vertical distribution of political power in federal systems are not well understood. I argue that negative historical experiences with higher-level governments can raise demands for both exit strategies and a decentralization of power, but also for upward integration. I specify conditions when delegating power upwards, for example, from the nation-state to a supranational level or international organization, can better serve the purpose of constraining nation-state actions to overcome history. Empirically, the quasi-random division of the French regions Alsace and Lorraine allows estimating differences in support for integration with a spatial regression discontinuity design. More negative exposure to nation-state actions causes persistently higher support for European integration in three referenda and less Euroscepticism in EU elections. Survey evidence supports exit and integration as two complementary alternatives. Both options can serve the purpose of moving power away from the government level associated with negative historical experiences.

As no passage in Thucydides is more important, so none is more dramatic than the Mytilenaian Debate. Having resolved to punish harshly a rebel city, the Athenians repent and reconsider. Exhorted by Kleon to maintain their original decision and by Diototos to abandon it, the Athenians must scrutinize the relationship between justice and expediency. Diodotos, who professes to argue from interest only, narrowly prevails in the debate. There is, however, much more to his speech than meets the eye. For it proves misleading to say that he is arguing merely from interest—and then, on a deeper level, to say that he is arguing from justice. In fact no passage in Thucydides, including the Melian Dialogue, raises starker questions about the status of political justice.

The term “majority rule” is as impossible to escape as it is apparently difficult to define with precision. Aristotle generally employed it to designate the conduct of government by the poor citizens, who were more numerous than the rich, in the Greek city states. In canon law, it meant the verdict of the maior and sanior pars of a small group. Frederic Harrison wrote about the “rule” of the “effective majority”—that section of any community or social aggregate, which, for the matter in hand, practically outweighs the remainder. He explains that it may do so “by virtue of its preponderance in numbers, or in influence, or in force of conviction, or in external resources, or in many other ways.” Sir George Cornewall Lewis thought that where the ultimate decision is vested in a body there is no alternative other than to count numbers, and to abide by the opinion of a majority. But in alleging that “no historian, in discussing the justice or propriety of any decision of a legislative body, or of a court of justice, thinks of defending the decision of the majority by saying that it was the decision of the majority,” he did not anticipate the view of the English historian Hearnshaw. According to the latter, “The faith of a democrat requires him to believe that in the long run the majority of the people finds its way to the truth, and that in the long run it tries to do the right.”

Considerable attention has recently been focused on political oppositions in democracies. A recent book examines oppositions in various western countries and a journal called Government and Opposition was founded in 1965. The significance of the role of an opposition in democracies does not have to be stressed. It is generally accepted.

What of the role of the opposition in the United States? Robert A. Dahl notes that one must use the plural when speaking of opposition in this country since, “a distinctive, persistent, unified structural opposition scarcely exists in the United States … it is nearly always impossible to refer precisely to “the” opposition, for the coalition that opposes the government on one matter may fall apart, or even govern, on another.”

While it is true that “the” opposition is not institutionalized as a definite cohesive, persistent, distinctive group in American politics, it is also true that there has usually been an identifiable minority party in Congress. Though it does not always oppose the majority, and cannot be expected to be synonymous with “the” opposition very often, it does persist. Despite handsome invitations to disband—in the form of successive defeats at the polls—a sizeable number of congressmen, senators, and congressional candidates continue to call themselves Republicans and to organize as such in Congress.

The use of public employment for political patronage is an ancient phenomenon seldom studied by political scientists in systematic and objective detail. Texts and treatises on political parties reckon with the subject, but usually support their generalizations and conclusions with illustrations rather than comprehensive evidence. Detailed studies date back to the muck-raking period, and deal chiefly with large metropolitan centers. The role of patronage in maintaining the thousands of rural and small city party units across the country, in the face of marked changes in the methods of national party operation over the past generation, is largely guesswork. Yet the vitality of these organizations is a matter of general concern for the future of the party system.

This study is an attempt to apply some of the more familiar assumptions about the value and role of patronage to actual experience in a rural county in central Pennsylvania where it can have little to do with policy control. Exactly what are the political uses of state patronage at this low level? Has it been used to reward the party faithful, or to encourage party activity and contributions, or to woo new partisans? In short, what does a small group of political jobholders contribute to the party that placed them in office—money? service? votes?

Roll-call votes are being used increasingly to throw light on various aspects of the legislative process. As long as these votes are neither simply unanimous nor cast purely on party lines, they contain information that can often be rendered more intelligible by the simplification or condensation of many votes into fewer variables or dimensions. The researcher interested in a particular legislative decision can thus profit by seeing whether it exemplifies a more general and repeated type of occurrence. The techniques of analysis used in studying legislative votes are broadly applicable to collegial bodies of many sorts, including municipal, state, and national legislative bodies; party congresses and conventions; the U.S. Supreme Court; and the United Nations General Assembly.

Two major questions have been asked which lead to the search for different kinds of simplifying variables in this analysis. One concerns the issues that divide a given group of legislators at a given time, i.e., what general matters are being argued about? The second concerns the subgroups of legislators within the group selected for study: what are the blocs, factions, cliques, and the like, whose more persistent existence is reflected by the division on a given vote?

Recently, the idea of phronesis has assumed great importance among political theorists. This prominence is due to the perception that, contrary to the application of the methods of natural science to politics, phronesis preserves the distinctive character of politics in its refusal to apply inappropriate standards of precision and to find certainty where it does not exist. But precisely because of this, the following question arises: Can we ascertain a nonarbitrary standard of phronesis without denying those characteristics that make it appropriate for the understanding of politics? I address this question by considering the treatment of phronesis (wisdom) found in Plato's Statesman and, in particular, the passage that weighs the relative merits of rule by wisdom and rule by law. In this seminal consideration of phronesis Plato (unlike Aristotle) does not confine his treatment to the practical sphere; even this intensely political passage contains far-reaching reflections on the nature of humanity and the world we inhabit. These explain what we are and what our world is, such that there is a need for this cognitive capacity. As I argue, they express the conditions of phronesis that can provide a guide for its use without negating its essential character.