“Of political principles,” says a distinguished authority, “whether they be those of order or of freedom, we must seek in religious and quasi-theological writings for the highest and most notable expressions.” No one, in truth, will deny the accuracy of this claim for those ages before the Reformation transferred the centre of political authority from church to state. What is too rarely realised is the modernism of those writings in all save form. Just as the medieval state had to fight hard for relief from ecclesiastical trammels, so does its modern exclusiveness throw the burden of a kindred struggle upon its erstwhile rival. The church, intelligibly enough, is compelled to seek the protection of its liberties lest it become no more than the religious department of an otherwise secular society. The main problem, in fact, for the political theorist is still that which lies at the root of medieval conflict. What is the definition of sovereignty? Shall the nature and personality of those groups of which the state is so formidably one be regarded as in its gift to define? Can the state tolerate alongside itself churches which avow themselves societates perfectae, claiming exemption from its jurisdiction even when, as often enough, they traverse the field over which it ploughs? Is the state but one of many, or are those many but parts of itself, the one?

The contested status of the science of politics has compelled its supporters to pursue their endeavor in an atmosphere of continual apology. The contemporary exponents of scientific aspirations in the realm of political phenomena remain on the defensive as they are confronted with the tenacious persistence of two focal problems: (1) Does the study of politics reveal the potentiality of a science, in view of the immense diversity of human behavior, which appears to be unpredictable and beyond control for the purpose of observation? (2) What would constitute the criteria of a science of politics, provided that the possibility of establishing such a discipline is conceded? In its essential features, this dual issue represents the current manifestation of a controversy which emerged in Utilitarian thought. The parties to the dispute were James Mill, Thomas Babington Macaulay (the only participant who cannot be identified with Utilitarianism), and John Stuart Mill. The respective arguments of the contestants were presented in James Mill's Essay on Government (1828), in Macaulay's article, Mill's Essay on Government (1829), and John Stuart Mill's A System of Logic (1843). Although these works have suffered no neglect in the history of political theory, the controversy which they reveal in their combined context has not commanded as much attention as its pertinence to contemporary problems merits.

Periodically the reform of English local government makes its appearance in English public life. A Royal Commission sat for nearly the whole decade of the 1920's and its labors produced three reports, which ultimately led to the Local Government Act of 1929. Similarly, the 1939–45 conflict has raised again the question of what, if anything, should be done about the reform of English local government. In 1943, Mr. Churchill expressed the view of the Coalition that no major reconstruction of the structure was necessary, nor indeed could it be undertaken in the immediate postwar years. In January, 1945, Mr. Willink, Minister of Health, produced for public discussion a White Paper on the whole problem, the main burden of which was in line with the Churchillian dicta of 1943, but which proposed the creation of a boundary commission with power to recommend alterations in the status and areas of local authorities after suitable local inquiry. These proposals were debated in the House of Commons in February, 1945, with little significant difference of opinion becoming apparent on the fundamental problems involved. Before the end of the Coalition, a bill creating the Local Government Boundary Commission had passed into law.

The Federal Social Security Act, which may be regarded as the central core of the social security program, is an omnibus act, containing the following features: (1) a national, compulsory oldage insurance plan, covering all employees except certain exempted groups; (2) two measures designed to stimulate the states to enact state unemployment compensation laws, namely, (a) a uniform nation-wide tax upon employers, against which a credit is allowable for contributions made to approved state unemployment compensation plans, and (b) subsidies to the states to cover the administrative costs of unemployment compensation; and (3) grants-in-aid to the states for old-age assistance, pensions for the blind, aid to dependent children, child welfare, maternal and child health, vocational rehabilitation, and public health activities. It is estimated that each of the two forms of social insurance will apply to about 25,000,000 wage-earners, and, when the maximum rates become effective in 1949, will involve annual contributions of nearly $3,000,000,000. This amount is approximately equal to the normal annual expenditure of the federal government prior to 1930. In addition, the grants-in-aid to the states were estimated by the actuaries of the President's Committee on Economic Security to reach a total of a half-billion dollars annually within a few years.

History of the Federal Act

When, in a message to Congress on June 8, 1934, the President indicated that he would submit a program of social insurance for consideration at the following session, the Wagner-Lewis unemployment insurance bill and the Dill-Connery old-age assistance bill were pending. Shortly afterwards, the President, by executive order, created the Committee on Economic Security, consisting of the Secretaries of Labor (chairman), Treasury, and Agriculture, the Attorney-General, and the Federal Emergency Relief Administrator. This committee appointed Professor Edwin E. Witte, of the University of Wisconsin, as executive director, and proceeded to build up a staff of actuaries and experts to study the whole problem of economic insecurity, and to prepare recommendations.

The contemporary criticism in England of the traditional theory of the state can conveniently be traced to the famous introduction of Maitland to the fragment of Gierke. It is significant to note that Maitland's analysis followed by one year the classic restatement of the orthodox view by Bosanquet, thus perhaps offering another illustration of the common observation that when a doctrine has received its fullest elaboration, its decline has already set in. During the first twelve or fifteen years of the present century, this criticism became an important undercurrent of political thought, as shown by the emergence of Distributivism and Guild Socialism, the passing of the zenith of the conventional Fabianism with the publication in 1909 of the Minority Eeport on the Poor Law, and the publication of Figgis's Churches in the Modern State in 1913. This later view was as yet, however, only an undercurrent; for the main stream of thought as indicated by L. T. Hobhouse in his Liberalism (1911) did not show any effects of the new leaven. Only during the next decade, say between the publication of Russell's Principles of Social Reconstruction (1916) and Professor H. J. Laski's Grammar of Politics (1925), did the novel movement become the main current. Viewed in wider perspective, Russell, Hobhouse, the Webbs, Tawney, Cole, Laski, and Hobson offer variations on the same theme. The completeness and comprehensiveness of Professor Laski's Grammar of Politics make it especially significant. The book is, in fact, a summary of the development of English thought since 1900.

In connection with every phase of thought and activity among men there have appeared two distinct classes of minds, the optimists and the pessimists. The former are naturally Conservatives as the latter are Radicals. These minds are always considered as extremes in their day and generation and we find these opposite poles of thought protruding in either direction beyond the settled convictions of the masses.

First, let me point out a distinction between Radicalism and Conservatism in ihe most general idea of them. There is a sort of Conservatism which stands only upon advantages held in possession. It says: “I have wealth, I have respectability, I am well off here and well guaranteed for the hereafter. Any change, good or bad in itself, will be bad for me. Change is my enemy: I bolt and bar my doors and, so far as I can, the doors of the world against it.” There is, on the other hand, a sort of Radicalism which, though often a fair thing in the mouth, means in the heart of it; “You are in place and I am: out. You have and I want. Any change gives me a chance, and the more change, the better are my chances.”