I began drafting this Introduction on July 30, 2013, the day that Bradley (now Chelsea) Manning was convicted on 19 of 21 charges, including 6 counts of espionage, in a U.S. military court martial. Manning is a former U.S. Army intelligence analyst who covertly conveyed to WikiLeaks a massive file of over 700,000 classified documents—including battlefield reports from Iraq, reports from Afghanistan, and State Department cables—thereby publicly disclosing extensive information about U.S. military conduct, and misconduct, of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Manning was subjected to harsh treatment, including solitary confinement during the first nine months of his detention, sparking public outcry and leading a UN Special Rapporteur on Torture to hold that his detention represented cruel, inhuman, and degrading treatment.

In recent years, WikiLeaks and Anonymous have made headlines distributing confidential information, defacing websites, and generating protest around political issues. Although many have dismissed these actors as terrorists, criminals, and troublemakers, we argue that such actors are emblematic of a new kind of political actor: extraordinary bandits (e-bandits) that engage in the politics of no one via anonymizing Internet technologies. Building on Hobsbawm's idea of the social bandit, we show how these actors fundamentally change the terms of global activism. First, as political actors, e-bandits are akin to Robin Hood, resisting the powers that be who threaten the desire to keep the Internet free, not through lobbying legislators, but by “taking” what has been deemed off limits. Second, e-banditry forces us to think about how technology changes “ordinary” transnational activism. Iconic images of street protests and massive marches often underlie the way we as scholars think about social movements and citizen action; they are ordinary ways we expect non-state actors to behave when they demand political change. E-bandits force us to understand political protest as virtual missives and actions, activity that leaves no physical traces but that has real-world consequences, as when home phone numbers and addresses of public officials are released. Finally, e-banditry is relatively open in terms of who participates, which contributes to the growing sense that activism has outgrown organizations as the way by which individuals connect. We illustrate our theory with the actions of two e-bandits, Anonymous and WikiLeaks.

Many commentators refer to the U.S. overseas network of military installations as an “empire,” yet very few have examined the theoretical and practical significance of such an analogy. This article explores the similarities and differences between the basing network and imperial systems. We argue that American basing practices and relations combine elements of liberal multilateralism with “neo-imperial” hegemony. Much, but far from all, of the network shares with ideal-typical empires a hub-and-spoke system of unequal relations among the United States and its base-host country “peripheries.” But Washington rarely exercises rule over host-country leaders and their constituents. Historical examples suggest that this combination of imperial and non-imperial elements has rendered the United States vulnerable to political cross-pressures, intermediary exits, and periodic bargaining failures when dealing with overseas base hosts. Moreover, globalizing processes, especially increasing information flows and the transnational networking of anti-base movements, further erode U.S. capacity to maintain multivocal legitimation strategies and keep the terms of its individual basing bargains isolated from one another. Case studies of the rapid contestation of the terms of the U.S. basing presence in post-Soviet Central Asia and post-2003 Iraq illustrate some of these dynamics.

That the market economy inevitably leads to inequality is widely accepted today, with disagreement confined to the desirability of redistributive action, its extent, and the role of government in the process. The canonical text of liberal political economy, Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations, is assumed even in the most progressive interpretations to accept inequality, rationalized as the inevitable trade-off for increasing prosperity compared to less developed but more equal economies. I argue instead that Smith's system, if fully implemented, would not allow steep inequalities to arise. In Smith, profits should be low and labor wages high, legislation in favor of the worker is “always just and equitable,” land should be distributed widely and evenly, inheritance laws liberalized, taxation can be high if it is equitable, and the science of the legislator is necessary to put the system in motion and keep it aligned. Market economies are made in Smith's system. Political theorists and economists have highlighted some of these points, but the counterfactual “what would the distribution of wealth be if all the building blocks were ever in place?” has not been posed. Doing so encourages us to question why steep inequality is accepted as a fact, instead of a pathology that the market economy was not supposed to generate in the first place.

President Barack Obama's two signature first-term legislative victories—the Affordable Care Act and the Dodd-Frank Act—are the law of the land, but the political battle over their entrenchment continues. The question now is whether these landmark reforms will be consolidated and create a new politics going forward. We develop an argument about the limits of policy feedback to illuminate the obstacles to durable liberal reform in the contemporary American state. We argue that political scientists have paid insufficient attention to the fragility of inherited policy commitments, and that the capacity of reforms to remake politics is contingent, conditional, and contested. Feedbacks are shaped not only by the internal attributes of policies, but also by the interaction between policy-specific characteristics, the strategic goals of officeholders and clientele groups, and the political forces arising from a contentious and uncertain political environment.

Recent years have seen a dramatic increase in state legislation likely to reduce access for some voters, including photo identification and proof of citizenship requirements, registration restrictions, absentee ballot voting restrictions, and reductions in early voting. Political operatives often ascribe malicious motives when their opponents either endorse or oppose such legislation. In an effort to bring empirical clarity and epistemological standards to what has been a deeply-charged, partisan, and frequently anecdotal debate, we use multiple specialized regression approaches to examine factors associated with both the proposal and adoption of restrictive voter access legislation from 2006–2011. Our results indicate that proposal and passage are highly partisan, strategic, and racialized affairs. These findings are consistent with a scenario in which the targeted demobilization of minority voters and African Americans is a central driver of recent legislative developments. We discuss the implications of these results for current partisan and legal debates regarding voter restrictions and our understanding of the conditions incentivizing modern suppression efforts. Further, we situate these policies within developments in social welfare and criminal justice policy that collectively reduce electoral access among the socially marginalized.

What is it about oil? Whereas one might think that countries that produce the world's energy have it good, much scholarship has come to the conclusion that countries that produce oil have it bad: they are worse off economically and politically than they would otherwise be. This counter-intuitive idea has become so widespread that the “resource curse” is often discussed in popular outlets, from Thomas Friedman to Stephen Colbert. And yet scholarship is increasingly questioning whether this curse actually exists. After several decades of research on the topic, we still do not have a clear idea what it is about oil—if anything—that causes problems.

In the United States we like to ‘rate’ a President,” Richard Neustadt observed. “We measure him as ‘weak’ or ‘strong’ and call what we are measuring his ‘leadership.’ We do not wait until a man is dead; we rate him from the moment he takes office.” Half a century later, that habit has been amplified and accelerated by an unending news cycle and the outsized demand for commentary across the online world. The polarizing figure of Barack Hussein Obama has been catnip here: Observers from all spaces on the spectra of partisanship and sanity began weighing in on the Obama presidency long before he actually took office in January 2009.

For the past decade, concern about a crisis in civic education and engagement, especially among young people, has been rampant. In 2003, The Civic Mission of Schools report sounded a clarion call for greater attention to citizenship education in K–12 schools and touched off a national campaign, joined by such luminaries as Justice Sandra Day O'Connor, advocating improvements in the way we educate American youth for participation in democracy. Two years later, the work of the American Political Science Association's Committee on Civic Education and Engagement culminated in the publication of Democracy at Risk, which examined growing trends toward civic disengagement and proposed reforms to reinvigorate political participation in the United States. Just last year, a joint effort by the US Department of Education and the Association of American Colleges and Universities produced A Crucible Moment: College Learning and Democracy's Future, once again chronicling a “civic recession” across the land and issuing a “National Call to Action” for higher education to do more to educate young citizens for democracy.

Real Social Science: Applied Phronesis, edited by Bent Flyvbjerg, Todd Landman, and Sanford Schram, is an interesting read in the context of the current assault on both the scientific status and the practical utility of social science in general and political science specifically. In it, the editors collect examples of social scientific work that embrace what Flyvbjerg and others have described as phronetic social science. This approach makes creative use of the Aristotelian intellectual virtue of phronesis, or practical wisdom, which the editors identify with the knowledge of how to address and act on social problems in a particular context. Rather than emphasizing the universal truth (episteme) that has traditionally been the summum bonum of social scientific inquiry, or fixating on the know-how (techne) that is characteristic of methodologically driven approaches, Flyvbjerg, Landman, and Schram present examples of social scientific research where contextual knowledge, deep understanding of embedded power dynamics, and immediate relevance to political reality take center stage. In so doing they give the lie to those who would deny the practical relevance of social research. At the same time, however, the editors develop an understanding of phronesis that marginalizes valuable elements of Aristotle's understanding of the intellectual virtue, most notably its basis in self-examination, while simultaneously bringing phronesis much closer to techne by seeking to develop their phronetic social science along methodological lines.

After a long period waiting in the wings, the Fisc (the state treasury, or the larger system of public finance) has returned to center stage in comparative politics. During this time, fiscal sociologist Joseph Schumpeter was more likely to be cited for his “creative destruction” thesis, than for his “crisis of the tax state” analysis. While the “return to the state” dates back to the late 1970s, it still took another decade before taxation became a monograph headliner, with influential works by Margaret Levi (Of Rule and Revenue, 1988), Charles Tilly (Coercion, Capital and European States: AD 990–1992, 1992) and Sven Steinmo (Taxation and Democracy: Swedish, British and American Approaches to Financing the Modern State, 1996). Since then, tax policy and extractive capacity have increasingly come to be recognized by comparativists as central to state-building projects, thus confirming Edmund Burke's old adage that “the revenue of the state is the state.” As part of this fiscal revival in comparative politics, Aaron Schneider has rightfully earned the status as leading expert on Central America with his new book, State-Building and Tax Regimes in Central America.

This valuable review of my book identifies core points and three potential areas of deepening: newly emerging elites, additional cases, and the challenge of fiscal sociology research in Central America. I address each in turn. As noted, contemporary elites share many characteristics with traditional elites, who are accurately described as incestuous, exclusive, and self-perpetuating. Some of the newly emerging elites are indeed drawn from the very families and networks that produced prior generations of elites. This evolution has been usefully described in ethnographic work by Central Americans such as Marta Casaús Arzú and North Americans such as Jeffrey Paige. They note that despite continuities, there are important differences in contemporary elites, perhaps because of the democratic regimes in which they operate, and especially because of their location atop transnationally integrated production processes. Still, while this structural position produces both conflicts and coincidences of interest with traditional elite actors, the precise pattern of intraelite relations is the outcome of contingent social processes captured by the dimensions of cohesion and dominance. Different combinations of cohesion and dominance in intraelite relations serve as a useful beginning to the analysis of tax-regime outcomes.

Taxation in postcommunist states is at least doubly peculiar: States must learn to tax wealth in private hands that barely existed previously, and societies must learn to relate to tax institutions that barely existed previously. Gerald Easter has provided a comprehensively researched and grippingly written account of how these twin tests were met in Poland and Russia. To summarize the argument of this book, Polish state actors encountered a private sector of petty capitalists and workers, and their interaction struck a consensual bargain over tax powers, citizen obligations, and the nature of public benefits in a “contractual state.” By contrast, the Russian economy was dominated by large-scale extractive industries available only through elite bargains imposed with coercive authority in a “predatory state.” The contrast serves to demonstrate the gradual accretion of political struggles and institutional forms, diverse varieties of tax regimes, and the contribution to our understanding of state—society relations made by the postcommunist experience, where “the flow of power ran from state to society, rather than in the opposite direction” (p. 187).

This dialogue might strike some readers as more amicable than critical, as the two books concur on core assumptions about the comparative politics of taxation and state building. They both prefer a macrosocial analytical framework to explain political institutional outcomes, focus on elite motives and actions as the main causal factor, and provide a historically grounded analysis. Also, both books advance recent scholarship on a neofiscal sociology in comparative state-building theory. Aaron Schneider's review, however, does note two underdeveloped themes in my study of postcommunist tax states, which rightly deserve response.