The study of political influence in the West has for the most part focused on the process by which interest groups affect the content of legislation; hence, the input process has occupied the center of attention.

Students of politics in the new states of Africa and Asia who have adopted this perspective, however, have been struck by the relative weakness both of interest structures to organize demands and of institutionalized channels through which such demands, once organized, might be communicated to decisionmakers. The open clash of organized interests is often conspicuously absent during the formulation of legislation in these nations. To conclude from this, however, that the public has little or no effect on the eventual “output” of government would be completely unwarranted. Between the passage of legislation and its actual implementation lies an entirely different political arena that, in spite of its informality and particularism, has a great effect on the execution of policy.

Much of the expression of political interests in the new states has been disregarded because Western scholars, accustomed to their own politics, have been looking in the wrong place. A large portion of individual demands, and even group demands, in developing nations reach the political system, not before laws are passed, but rather at the enforcement stage.

All leaders are also led; in innumerable cases, the master is the slave of his slaves. Said one of the greatest German party leaders referring to his followers: “I am their leader, therefore I must follow them.”

Georg Simmer

Political scientists studying Congress have shown the same disinclination for the study of individual leaders as that of the profession as a whole. Whatever the reasons for avoiding an analysis of social and political processes from the perspective of an individual—and there are several good ones—it is difficult to ignore, if not discount, the extreme emphasis placed on personalities by experienced participants and observers of the congressional process. One may decide, with Fenno, to underplay references to specific individuals in an effort “to show how much generalization is possible short of a heavy reliance on personality data.” But the fact remains that those closest to the legislative process do see it in terms of individuals and personalities; more important, much can be learned, as evidenced by Huitt's work, by focusing on individual legislators and the contexts within which they function. Whether it is Lyndon Johnson as Senate Majority Leader searching for the man who is the “key” to a particular bill, the differences between a Rayburn and a McCormack, or the skill of a Judge Smith, the individual looms large on Capitol Hill.

“Myself, I get confused. The President tells ya that he don't want no war, it's peace. You pick up a paper, they're bombing children. And television, the guys being interviewed, talking about peace, and the picture shows where the women and children are being bombed and slaughtered and murdered. How long if I think that way and I have had a bad feeling, how long will other people that their mentality's not strong enough, to separate the cause of it? Fear. What's gonna happen to our kids, our grandchildren?

“Lotta them are afraid of their jobs, losing their jobs. Because the government's maybe got some contract with some company. For example, we got one fellow here works with the government, with this here carbonic gas or whatever it is. If he opens his mouth up too much, he can lose his job. And the senators or congressmen, they personally don't take interest in their own country, right here, what's going on.

“The colored. We had a tavern on 61st and State, three and a half years, Negro neighborhood. I tell you I never was insulted no place by not a Negro person over there. They respected me highly. It took a white fella to come in and insult me because I wouldn't serve him beer, he was too drunk. And if it wasn't for these poor Negro fellas, I'd a probably killed this man. (Laughs) Because he called me a dirty name.”

Alienation is both one of the most popular and vague concepts used by contemporary social scientists. Scholars often cite Robert Nisbet's statement that alienation is basically a perspective. The current age is said to be one of alienation, or writers declare alienation to be the fundamental interpretive concept for explaining deviant behavior. One author has even gone so far as to say that definition is unnecessary because we can all feel what “it” is in our very bones. Indeed, if we don't understand it intuitively we are alienated by definition.

Recently, there have been a series of attempts to clarify the meaning of the term. Daniel Bell, commenting on the uses of the concept alienation in the works of Marx, distinguishes estrangement (“a socio-psychological condition”) from reification (“a philosophical category with psychological overtones”). For research purposes, the fundamental difference between these meanings lies in the criteria which are applied in determining whether an individual is alienated. The existence of estrangement is determined by investigating the attitudes of individuals; reification is measured against “objective” standards about the quality of human life established by the investigator.

The reification (objective) tradition has many strong exponents. It offers a potentially powerful concept to an analyst wishing to evaluate the human condition in terms of explicitly stated criteria of what man ought to be in his social and personal relationships. Most of the contemporary scholarly work, however, is concerned with estrangement, and my own interest also lies in the individual's perception of the situation he faces.

The relationship of parties to democracy and to political stability has concerned scholars for years. Extant party systems have almost continually been under attack by reformers bent on achieving various objectives, among them greater party responsibility, greater honesty, and greater efficiency of governmental operation. But party systems have not suffered from a lack of defenders: reformers have often been engaged in vigorous debate. Such controversy, apart from the merits of the arguments on either side, focuses attention on a number of interesting empirical propositions about parties in democratic systems. These propositions, unfortunately, have not often been put to rigorous systematic test.

For example, defenders of the American party system in particular point out that an important function of parties is the guiding of social conflict into moderate, non-revolutionary modes of expression. Attempts at reform, goes the argument, should be considered as to whether they might interfere with this beneficial function. Citizens are viewed as having inherent tendencies to perform destabilizing political acts or to vote for extremist political figures. Somehow, we are told, these citizens are restrained from indulging these immoderate predispositions by the party system. In a sense, the argument continues, parties save the great unwashed from themselves; all democrats should be thankful that they do and appreciate them for this service.

Shortly after World War II a Communist guerrilla army, the Hukbong Magpalayang Bayan (HMB), or People's Liberation Army, became a serious threat to the new Philippine Republic. The Huks, as they are commonly known, controlled large parts of the sugar cane and rice growing areas of Central Luzon and carried out military and political operations in other parts of the islands. Like their Communist counterparts in Vietnam and Malaya, the Huks began as an anti-Japanese guerrilla army. In fact, Huk originally referred to Hukbalahap, a contraction of a phrase meaning People's Army Against the Japanese. As the military arm of the Communist Party, however, their ambitions always exceeded mere anti-Japanese activities.

After the Japanese defeat, successive Philippine governments wrestled with the problem of eliminating the Huks. Policies of coercion failed because the Philippine Army and Constabulary were not up to the task. Policies of conciliation failed because the demands of the Huks were regarded as unreasonable. By 1949 it became clear that the issues dividing the Huks and the government would have to be settled by force. Following the allegedly fraudulent election of President Quirino in 1949 the Huks gained steadily. By 1950 large unit raids were common and a full-scale attack on Manila was envisioned for 1951.

“Nothing we have created, in politics or literature, is necessary….”

—Richard Poirier

Theory expressing new dimensions of man's political predicaments has rarely emerged from well-accredited academic quarters. Yet political scientists have come to hope that their own discipline, imaginatively pursued, might nevertheless yield comprehensive theories for coming to terms with man's present and prospective situations. To cope with emergencies—if not those of the year 1984 then those of the now more fashionable year 2000—they have proceeded to delineate possible futures. It is hardly necessary to document how industriously they have been extrapolating from the present, becoming interested in simulating, linear programming, gaming, and projecting into the future. With methodological ingenuity and resourcefulness, practitioners of futuristics have provided a new literature which is unconventional, exciting, and at times intriguingly surrealistic. Like Bentham's and Saint-Simon's more buoyant pieces, it has all the trappings of authentic radical thought: it appears to challenge the prevailing intellectual and institutional boundaries.

Yet in view of the ideological constraints inherent in every professional discipline, it would be surprising if the new blueprints and scenarios were to inspire men to transcend the present political order, if the new Utopians (to use Robert Boguslaw's apt label) acknowledged something other than the prevailing system of psychological, economic, and industrial norms as their point of departure. They understandably begin with the present, that which is.

Political scientists interested in non-Communist systems have paid considerable attention to demands (expressions of opinion that an authoritative allocation with regard to particular subject matters should or should not be made by those responsible for doing so) coming from the intra-societal (domestic) environments of these political systems. The importance of intra-societal demands, including citizen demands, for non-Communist systems is well established. Researchers interested in the Soviet political system have paid relatively little attention to intra-societal demands, especially demands coming from those whom David Easton would call citizen gatekeepers, i.e., citizens who convert their wants into demands by articulating them.

The reasons for the neglect of research in this area are obvious enough. Quite apart from the problem of gathering useful data, there exists the question of whether demands from the intra-societal environment, and in particular citizen demands, are really important for a “totalitarian” system. Nothing like the politically autonomous interest groups of the Western democracies exist in the Soviet Union. Whatever demands come from the intra-societal environment are therefore largely grassroots demands from the populace, and there is reason to doubt that Soviet authorities feel compelled to heed such demands when formulating policy. Lenin's assertion that the Party is the vanguard of the proletariat was clearly a rejection of the idea that the masses should direct the Party. His successors have continued to assert that the Party leads the masses, and not the masses the Party.

Just beyond the state there is a kind of limbo, a strange world this side of the hell of war, whose members are deprived of the relative security of political or social membership. Different sorts of people live there, mostly for indefinite periods of time, people who have been expelled from their state or otherwise deprived of legal rights, people whose state has been defeated in war and occupied or who have been separated somehow from its jurisdiction. Among the residents, two groups endure conditions paradigmatic for all the others: refugees, deprived of their rights by persecution; and prisoners of war, separated from their state by captivity. The two are very different, since refugees are stateless persons, radically dependent on their hosts and unable to look backward to any protecting authority, while prisoners remain citizens still and receive such protection as their states can provide. However distant and isolated they may be from their home country, their captivity is (hopefully) temporary; both captives and captors may one day be required to account for their behavior. Nevertheless, prisoners and refugees belong alike to the limbo world. They cannot expect effective help from any organized society; they do not know when, if ever, they will be “at home” again; they are compelled to reconstruct or redefine their obligations without reference, or without clearcut reference, to authoritative laws and commands.

The complex relationship between a deputy's Parliamentary voting record and his behavior in electoral politics in his constituency has rarely been traced in French political studies in a precise quantitative manner. One would like to contrast the extent to which both the deputy's Parliamentary voting record and his choices regarding coalitions in local politics depend upon his personal ideology with the extent to which the same behavior depends upon the political characteristics of his constituency. Even though ideological cleavages may exist across constituencies themselves, finding behavioral outcomes related to constituency characteristics could suggest that the deputy is motivated by his desire to be reelected.

Studies that attempt a systematic analysis of deputies' behavior are few, despite Lerner's early exploration of the relationship between constituency characteristics and voting on the European Defense Community (EDC) issue. Recently, MacRae, in his volume on Fourth Republic Parliaments, has clearly emphasized the primacy of ideology, particularly with respect to the voting patterns that resulted in unstable governments. More specifically, MacRae gives an ideological interpretation to his finding that intra-party voting divisions can be accounted for by issue-related scales.

MacRae also tries to relate Parliamentary behavior to analyses of voting behavior in the constituencies. In general, however, his analysis, relegated to one brief chapter dealing with “Assembly Votes and the Constituencies,” appears to have been incomplete.

The present study is an attempt to identify the determinants of innovation in public agencies, i.e., the degree to which they adopt and emphasize programs that depart from traditional concerns. Innovation is suggested to be the function of an interaction among the motivation to innovate, the strength of obstacles against innovation, and the availability of resources for overcoming such obstacles.

The significance of the research can be viewed in terms of Hyneman's observation nearly twenty years ago that bureaucratic agencies “… may fail to take the initiative and supply the leadership that is required of them in view of their relation to particular sectors of public affairs. …” His concern was the responsiveness of the public sector not only to expressed wants but to public wants that may go unexpressed, or be only weakly expressed, and whose utility is much more easily recognized by the informed bureaucratic official than by the ordinary citizen.

While the results and conclusions to be reported appear to be largely valid for organizations in general, the empirical focus will be local departments of public health which, as a class, have had a rather dramatic succession of opportunities to respond to new public problems over the past twenty-five years. A brief introductory paragraph will orient the reader to the applied setting.

In recent years a growing body of research has used multivariate statistical techniques to examine the relationship between aggregate environmental characteristics and the public policies of state and local governments. This research has been concerned primarily with isolating or demonstrating the social, economic, and political correlates of either public policies (e.g., expenditures, revenues and referenda issues) or governmental structures (viz., form of government, size of election districts and type of ballot).

One advantage of the aggregate approach, beyond the relative accessibility of data, is that it permits a systematic, comparative study of states or cities. On the local level this comparative approach provides a convenient supplement to the earlier case study approach which was concerned with the political processes and issues of particular cities.

A number of hypotheses have been suggested by studies employing either the case study or aggregate approaches. In those observations dealing with government structure, attention is usually directed to the council-manager plan as an example of progressive government. That is, city governments which are reform-oriented are likely to be found in more affluent, better educated, homogeneous, middle-class cities. The notion is that the middle class prefers a more efficient, professional city administration. Conversely, the mayor-council plan is usually associated with older, machine-type politics which allegedly reflects the preferences of the less affluent, less-educated, working class and ethnic minorities who are most concerned about political representation.

Substantive foci in the study of international relations have altered in time with changes in the international system and the coming of academic age of new generations of scholars. Prior to World War I, the central substantive concepts were international law and diplomacy. Historiography was the major method, and, given the nature of the historical approach during this period, few theoretical generalizations emerged.

World War I revolutionized the study of international relations. The horrible consequences of this first modern war and the idealistic fervor of the war years were instrumental in overlaying the traditional concepts of international law and diplomacy with two new foci: current events and international organizations. Feeling that the citizen should be made aware of the international world—educated for world citizenship—and that he should be given the guidance that the diplomatic history and international law specialist did not provide, many international relations scholars began to accent contemporary affairs. This new interest, however, had no methodological underpinning except fidelity to the “facts,” and involved few attempts to delineate recurring patterns of events. The “guidance” given to the student often turned out to be little more than special pleading.

The focus on international organizations also reflected an internationalistic viewpoint. International organizations were conceived of as the structural beginning of world government and as a mechanism for international understanding and peace. This focus articulated itself in descriptive studies of the structure and rules of international organizations, past and present, and blueprints for their alteration.

Because they are inexpensive and easy to obtain, because they may be available under circumstances in which survey data are unavailable, and because they eliminate many of the measurement problems of survey research, data on geographic units such as counties or census tracts are often used by political scientists to measure individual behavior. This has involved us in the long-standing problem of inferring individual-level relationships from aggregate data, which was first raised by W. S. Robinson in the early nineteen fifties.

In this paper, I shall first discuss the problem raised by Robinson. I shall then review three partial solutions to the problem—the Duncan-Davis method of setting limits, Blalock's version of ecological regression, and Goodman's version of ecological regression. Finally, I shall propose some ways in which Goodman's method may be used so as to reduce the problem of bias in its estimates, and make it a more reasonable tool for reserch.

Our difficulty, as Robinson showed, is that we cannot necessarily infer the correlation between variables, taking people as the unit of analysis, on the basis of correlations between the same variables based on groups of people as units. For example, the “ecological” correlation between per cent black and per cent illiterate is +0.946, whereas the correlation between color and illiteracy among individuals is only+0.203.

Popular discussions of the internal management of the U.S. House of Representatives in the present era generally give great weight to the ubiquity and arbitrariness of the seniority system as a significant determinant of outcomes there. Careful attention to the scholarly literature, however, should long since have modified this view. For it appears that except for relatively unimportant matters such as the allocation of office space on Capitol Hill, the criterion of seniority is generally intermingled in House decision-making with a great many other crite ria of choice, and the business of choosing is not automatic, but remains in the hands of persons having some considerable discretion. This, apparently, is the case with respect to such decisions as the allocation of Capitol Hill patronage, the initial assignment of Representatives to committees, the distribution of responsibilities within committees, and the choice of party leaders. The one important area in which seniority seems to play a role of overwhelming significance is in the matter of succession to the chairmanship of committees; this is in turn governed by the custom (not a formal rule) of seniority that guarantees members reappointment to committees at the opening of each new Congress, in rank order of committee service. It is the growth of this method of selecting committee chairmen in the House that is the subject of this paper.

A major dilemma for majority decision-making occurs when the summation of transitive individual preference orderings results in an intransitive social ordering. The problems posed by this phenomenon, which is known as the paradox of voting, can be seen in the following standard example.

Suppose there are three individuals, one with each of the following preference orders of three alternatives: ABC, BCA, CAB. Under majority rule, A would defeat B, B would defeat C, and C would defeat A, so there is no majority winner.

Most voting procedures, of course, yield a unique result whether or not the paradox occurs. But from this example it is apparent that when the paradox does occur, a majority of the voters prefer an alternative other than the one which is selected. Moreover, if a typical voting procedure is used, which of the alternatives is selected depends on the order in which the alternatives are voted on. Clearly these results have important implications, whether one is concerned with normative questions about majority rule or with the practical politics of legislative decision-making.

In the burgeoning literature on the voting paradox, surely one of the most impressive and well-known findings is Black's and Arrow's demonstration that the paradox cannot occur if the set of individual preference orderings is single-peaked. Since single-peakedness implies that the individuals and alternatives can be arrayed on a single dimension, their finding has a meaningful substantive interpretation. Namely, complete agreement on a dimension for judging the alternatives ensures that majority voting will yield a transitive social ordering of the alternatives.

This paper proposes and tests a modest theory of voting defection, the act of voting contrary to party identification. The relevance of voting defection to popular control of government is clear. Except for the infrequent elections that Key calls “critical,” the identification of people with their parties is very stable over time. The percentage of Democrats and Republicans in the electorate changed only slightly in the four presidential elections from 1952 to 1964. Short term shifts in public attitudes, then, are reflected not in shifts in the distribution of party identification, but in the degree that people vote in accordance with their identification. When they are disenchanted with the President, defection will be high among members of the opposition party and low among members of the party in office. In 1952 people were weary of the Korean War; this weariness was apparent in the massive numbers of Democrats who thought Eisenhower a man capable of ending the conflict and who backed up their convictions with Republican votes. In short, in the rate of defection we have a mirror that reflects popular discontent with the politics of the President. My present concern is to explore some personal attributes of the voters who make up this critical electorate, to augment the propositions surrounding party identification with one explanation of why it is that people vote contrary to their party allegiance.

Entering the polling booth on Tuesday, November 3, 1964, the typical California voter found himself confronted with an immense sheet of finely-printed green paper, a dirty black rubber stamp, a tiny ink pad, and thirty decisions to render. A few minutes later (the legal maximum is 10) he emerged and numbly surrendered to a clerk his ballot, now slightly embellished, like the fingers of his decision hand, with black ink stains.

Most of his decisions were made on a lengthy array of propositions. In these, questions on an assortment of issues were posed, each couched in language tedious and obscure—as only minds trained in the finest law schools could devise.

This study seeks to gain some knowledge about factors which influence the vote on these propositions. It employs a somewhat unorthodox method: an analysis of the voting patterns on actual ballots. The ballots furnish attractive data because they are, after all, completely accurate records of the results of those minutes of decision-rendering in the artificial privacy of that cramped polling booth.

It would be impossible by this method to generate a comprehensive theory about proposition voting behavior—too much information about the individual voter is forever lost by the secrecy incorporated in the balloting procedure. Nevertheless a contribution can be made in several areas of relevant concern, areas currently dominated more by folklore and mythology than fact or theory.

Mass political participation increases as nations become more economically developed. In Part I of this study we attempted to identify the significant social experiences which explain the high levels of participation in economically developed nations. We formulated and explored the following general theory:

Economic development alters the social structure of a nation. As nations become more economically developed, three major changes occur: (1) the relative size of the upper and middle classes becomes greater; (2) larger numbers of citizens are concentrated in the urban areas; and (3) the density and complexity of economic and secondary organizations increases. These social changes imply political changes. Greater proportions of the population find themselves in life situations which lead to increased political information, political awareness, sense of personal political efficacy, and other relevant attitudes. These attitude changes, in turn, lead to increases in political participation.

The theory can be presented schematically in the following form:

We were able to demonstrate that individuals' levels of social status and organizational involvement were strongly and consistently related to their levels of political participation. The survey data from five nations showed, further, that organizational involvement was more strongly related to participation, and more consistently from nation to nation, than was social status.

James N. Rosenau has elaborated the issue area typology developed by Theodore Lowi in an ambitious attempt to categorize motivations, role structures, and interaction sequences which distinguish “domestic” from “foreign” issues. Lowi classified domestic issues into three areas: distribution of resources, regulation of resources, and redistribution of resources, and he equated interaction sequences in these areas with the coalition (distributive), pluralist (regulatory), and elitist (redistributive) models of the political process. The theoretical underpinning of Lowi's typology was the assumption that stable expectations develop about appropriate patterns of political competition and conflict for issues in each of these three “arenas.”

The internal logic of Lowi's argument is as follows: (1) people's expectations concerning benefits to be derived from relating to others determine their choices of relationships; (2) governmental policies (outputs) determine expectations about questions of politics; (3) ergo, the type of policy at stake determines the patterning of any political relationship; a distinctive type of political relationship should characterize every major type of policy. In these arenas of power, “each arena tends to develop its own characteristic political structure, political process, elites, and group relations.” Distributive policies are easily disaggregable into small units and can be apportioned among participants in relative isolation from one another. Regulatory policies, while specific in their impact, are not so infinitely disaggregable: “regulatory policies are distinguishable from distributive in that in the short run the regulatory decision involves a direct choice as to who will be indulged and who deprived.” Redistributive policies are similar to regulatory policies insofar as individual decisions are interrelated and apply to large categories of participants, but the impact of redistributive policies on these aggregates is much greater.