My intention is: to try to face a certain central social problem in its connection with the concept of leisure. And I hope that a solution of that problem, or at least some ways towards a solution, may become more clear and visible. This is a rather modest purpose (because problems are still not solved when a solution has become visible or even when some ways of a solution have become more clear than before).

I shall not consider the social problem from a formally sociological point of view or from a formally political point of view, but from a philosophical point of view. It shall not be spoken of in such a way that the field of vision is completely filled with it. The point-of-view does not lie so close to the concrete phenomena that our attention is occupied and consumed by their immediate impact. Philosophical consideration means that a certain subject is considered within the horizon of the total and universal reality; it belongs to the essence and nature of a really philosophical question, that not only this question itself comes into play, but that—onsidering, meditating this question—one is obliged to bring into play the totality of the world, even God and the world. In such a view the discussion loses perhaps some actual interest for the politician or for an immediately-involved man. But on the other hand, it might be that deeper possibilities of a solution become perceivable, just because the totality of the real world, especially the totality of human nature, comes into the range of vision. It might be, too, that there are social and political problems which, from the mere viewpoint of sociology and politics, cannot be solved. And perhaps this possibility is relevant to our present case. I would like to formulate the claim very modestly. In question is a sort of attempt, a proposal, to view the problem from a new and familiar standpoint. There may result an insight into the social problem—which possibly can become useful within the sphere of politics.

The attack on natural right in the name of history takes in most cases the following form: natural right claims to be a right that is discernible by human reason and is universally acknowledged; but history (including anthropology) teaches us that no such right exists; instead of the supposed uniformity we find an indefinite variety of notions of right or justice. Or, in other words, there cannot be natural right if there are no immutable principles of justice, but history shows us that all principles of justice are mutable. One cannot understand the meaning of the attack on natural right in the name of history, before one has realized the utter irrelevance of this argument. In the first place, “consent of all mankind” is by no means a necessary condition of the existence of natural right. Some of the greatest natural right teachers have argued that, precisely if natural right is rational, its discovery presupposes the cultivation of reason, and therefore natural right will not be known universally: one ought not even to expect any real knowledge of natural right among savages. In other words by proving diat there is no principle of justice diat has not been denied somewhere or at some time, one has not yet proven that any given denial was justified or reasonable. Furthermore, it has always been known that different notions of justice obtain at different times and in different nations. It is absurd to claim diat the discovery of a still greater number of such notions by modern students has in any way affected the fundamental issue.

Romanticism though in its beginning little concerned with politics or the state, prepared the rise of German nationalism after 1800. It was an aesthetic revolution, a resort to imagination, almost feminine in its sensibility; it was poetry more deeply indebted to the spirit of music than the poetry of the eighteenth century had been, rich in emotional depth, more potent in magic evocation. But German romanticism was and wished to be more than poetry. It was an interpretation of life, nature and history—and this philosophic character distinguished it from romanticism in other lands. It was sharply opposed to the rationalism of the eighteenth century; it mobilized the fascination of the past to fight against the principles of 1789. In that indirect way romanticism came to concern itself with political and social life and with the state. It never developed a program for a modern German nation-state, but with its emphasis on the peculiarity of the German mind it helped the growth of a consciousness of German uniqueness.

On January 19, 1950 the People's Republic of China established “a regional coalition Government” in Northwest China, embracing the five provinces of Shensi, Kansu, Ninghsia, Chinghai, and Sinkiang. This region is of special importance to China because of its strategic position at the nexus of Central Asia where Russian, Chinese and Pan-Islamic interests meet. The political orientation of the people in this area is of fundamental concern to the government of China.

Moslem communities are scattered throughout China, but the largest concentration of these is in China's Northwest. In this region under the present jurisdiction of the Northwest Military and Administrative Committee, having its seat of government at Sian, appear to be about half of China's Moslems. Within the region they represent something less than half the total population of about 23 million. The place of the Moslem communities in the Northwest Region determines in part its character and strength, for without the cooperation and loyalty of its Moslem groups, the region is politically weak and a constant strategic danger to Chinese authority and integrity in Central Asia.

Unless you are prepared on the one hand to say, “I will fight in every case on behalf of peace, which is one and indivisible,” or on the other hand to say, “I will only fight when I am myself the victim of attack”mdash;unless you are prepared to take one of those two positions there is an inevitable no-man's land of uncertainty lying between which is quite incapable, as I think, of antecedent definition.

—Viscount Halifax in the House of Lords, March 3, 1937.

The cold war—now aggravated by shooting war in Korea, —is being waged on many fronts. One of these fronts is ideological, reflecting the incompatibility of the social ideals of the opponents. The ideological war is being conducted in many ways; and among the weapons used by the foe there is perhaps none more irritating to the Americans than the assertion that the Soviets enjoy real democracy while American democracy is but a ridiculous fake.

From the very first day of their rule over Russia the Soviet leaders have insisted that their democracy is the best, or the highest ever achieved in history. This insistence they have made both before and after the enactment of the Stalin Constitution (1936)—in other words, both when their democracy excluded from the exercise of political rights the members of the former “bourgeoisie” and its servants (for example, clergymen and Tsarist policemen), and after their shift to universal suffrage.