We open this issue with a vigorous exchange on a matter that, to put it mildly, is politically fraught. In a series of provocative publications beginning in 2006, John Mearsheimer and Stephen Walt address what they call “the Israel Lobby” and detail what they see as the dire consequences that that lobby has generated for American foreign policy making. In our lead essay here, Robert Lieberman challenges Walt and Mearsheimer in precisely the way I think debate on their thesis needs to proceed. Lieberman focuses on the causal claims Walt and Mearsheimer advance, the evidence they adduce for those claims, and the ways that their arguments fit with established research on how American politics operates. Mearsheimer and Walt have written a spirited response to Lieberman who, in turn, offers a brief reply. It is safe to say that neither party to this exchange has persuaded the other. Yet, though their exchange is frank, both Lieberman and Mearsheimer and Walt keep their eye on the ball—they are concerned to establish whether and to what extent the Israel lobby exists and operates in the way Mearsheimer and Walt claim it does.

In their recent book, The Israel Lobby and U.S. Foreign Policy, John Mearsheimer and Stephen Walt argue that American support for Israel does not serve American interests. Nevertheless, they observe that American foreign policy regarding the Middle East, especially in recent years, has tilted strongly toward support for Israel, and they attribute this support to the influence of the “Israel lobby” in American domestic politics. Their book is principally an attempt to make a causal argument about American politics and policymaking. I examine three aspects of this argument—its causal logic, the use of evidence to support hypotheses, and the argument's connection with the state of knowledge about American politics—and conclude that the case for the Israel lobby as the primary cause of American support for Israel is at best a weak one, although it points to a number of interesting questions about the mechanisms of power in American politics. Mearsheimer and Walt's propositions about the direct influence of the Israel lobby on Congress and the executive branch are generally not supported by theory or evidence. Less conclusive and more suggestive, however, are their arguments about the lobby's apparent influence on the terms and boundaries of legitimate debate and discussion of Israel and the Middle East in American policymaking. These directions point to an alternative approach to investigating the apparent influence of the Israel lobby in American politics, focusing less on direct, overt power over policy outcomes and more on more subtle pathways of influence over policy agendas and the terms of policy discourse.

Robert Lieberman's critique of our work on the Israel lobby is at odds with an abundance of evidence and prior scholarship describing the powerful influence that pro-Israel groups exert on U.S. Middle East policy. In addition to mischaracterizing our arguments, Lieberman claims that our methodology and research design are flawed and that our work contradicts the scholarly literature on American politics. Neither claim is true. Contrary to what he says, we did consider alternative hypotheses, and our analysis contains significant variation on both the independent and dependent variables. Given the methodological challenges involved in assessing the causal influence of any interest group, we also relied heavily on “process-tracing.” Lieberman recognizes this is an appropriate method for assessing causal impact and he concedes that this evidence supports our central argument. Moreover, we went to some lengths to avoid selection bias. Similarly, our arguments are consistent with the existing literature on interest groups, and with much of the scholarly literature on congressional decision-making, campaign financing, electoral politics, and the role of think tanks and the media. Surprisingly, after leveling a variety of false charges, Lieberman offers an “alternative” explanation for the Israel lobby's influence that is virtually identical to our own.

In their reply, Professors Mearsheimer and Walt focus quite reasonably on my two main claims: that their research methods are flawed and that their evidence is weak. But they begin, tellingly, by citing a range of indirect evidence that appears to depict a powerful “Israel lobby.” Lots of knowledgeable Washington insiders, they say—policymakers, journalists, candidates for office, and the like—say and do things that seem to acknowledge the “lobby's” power. I draw attention to this opening for several reasons. First, it is not clear how much weight some of this evidence will bear. Take, for example, the National Journal survey of members of Congress that Mearsheimer and Walt cite twice in their reply (and once in their book). In this survey, conducted once, in 2005, seventy-three members of Congress (out of 535—less than 15 percent) responded to the question, “Which two interest groups do you believe are most effective on Capitol Hill?” Of these respondents, thirteen (less than 20 percent of the sample) mentioned American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) as one of their two choices. It seems something of a leap from the observation that a dozen or so members of Congress said once that AIPAC is “effective” (which might mean any number of things) to the inference that AIPAC—or the lobby more generally—is powerful. Or take the observation that important politicians regularly address AIPAC's annual conference and make friendly speeches when they do. Surely these same politicians visit other such organizations regularly. And when they appear before, say, the AFL-CIO or the NAACP, surely they say nice things about the issues that these organizations and their conference attendees care about. Successful politicians rarely voice open disagreement with the people they are talking to. But are we to conclude from this behavior that the AFL-CIO and the NAACP, or any other groups that regularly receive such visits, are powerful? Again, this inference requires something of a logical leap.

Realist International Relations thinkers often intervene in political debates and criticize their governments' policies even as they pride themselves on theorizing politics as it “really” is. They rarely reflect on the following contradictions between their theory and their practice: if there is a “real world” impervious to political thought, why bother to try to influence it? And, is realist theory not putatively disconfirmed by the fact that realist thinkers have so often opposed existing foreign policies (e.g., the wars in Vietnam and Iraq)? I argue that these contradictions are not inherent in realism per se so much as in the commitment of contemporary realists to naturalistic methodological and epistemological postulates. I show that Hans Morgenthau and especially E. H. Carr, far from being naïve “traditionalists,” have grappled with these questions in a sophisticated manner; they have adopted non-naturalistic methodological and epistemological stances that minimize the tension between realist theory and the realities of realists' public activism. I conclude with a call for contemporary realists to adjust their theory to their practice by trading the dualism underlying their approach—subject-object; science-politics; purpose-analysis—for E. H. Carr's dictum that “political thought is itself a form of political action.”

What are social science theorists' responsibilities for the effects of their theories in the real world? I maintain that politicians and ideologues place theories in their political agendas without necessarily heeding their actual content. Hence, the ramifications of theories in the real world are mostly the result of political uses and, at times, political abuses. Consequently, theorists cannot be held morally responsible for these. They do, however, bear the obligation to examine if there are some intrinsic features of theorization and theory that render these susceptible to public misinterpretation and vulnerable to political abuse. Pointing to the rhetorical capital inherent in theories, and supported by examples involving democratic-peace theory and its political destinies, I conclude that, to discharge this task, social science theorists should substitute the prevailing objective ethic with a normative one.

Joseph Conrad offers some of the most notoriously contested writing on imperialism in nineteenth-century literature. In this article, I use two of his stories (“An Outpost of Progress” and Heart of Darkness) to argue that his critique of imperialism is as relevant today as it was in his own time.

Conrad's critique of imperialism is twofold. First and most simply, he condemns it as an economically exploitative endeavor. Second, and more importantly, he rejects the “idealistic” claim often invoked to justify imperialism as the bearer of progress, enlightenment, and other supposedly universal liberal values. This second critique causes Conrad the most difficulty, largely because his rejection of idealism is only partial. I argue that the most controversial aspects of his work are manifestations of a philosophical struggle between universalistic idealism on the one hand, and relativistic skepticism on the other. In this, Conrad contends with a problem that historically has challenged both liberalism and its conservative critics alike. Moreover, it continues to challenge both perspectives today, particularly in the debate over so-called American imperialism.

Within a span of fifteen years civic engagement has become a cottage industry in political science and political theory, but the term has now outlived its usefulness and exemplifies Giovanni Sartori's worry about conceptual “stretching.” This article traces civic engagement's ascension as a catch-all term for almost anything that citizens might happen to do together or alone, and illustrates the confusion that its popularity has occasioned. It proposes that civic engagement meet a well-deserved end, to be replaced with a more nuanced and descriptive set of engagements: political, social, and moral. It also examines the appeal of engagement itself, a term that entails both attention and energy. Attention and energy are the mainsprings of politics and most other challenging human endeavors. But they can be invested politically, or in associative pursuits, or in moral reasoning and follow-through, and those types of engagement can, but need not, coincide. We should be asking which kinds of engagement—which kinds of attention and energetic activity—make democracy work, and how they might be measured and promoted.

The Bolivian presidency is a precarious position, not only because so many presidents have left office under duress, but because former presidents are subject to legal jeopardy. The case of Eduardo Rodríguez Veltzé illustrates the weakness of the rule of law in Bolivia and the political motivations that sustain it. Rodríguez was a respected Chief Justice of Bolivia's Supreme Court. He reluctantly assumed the presidency during a political crisis and shepherded the country through peaceful elections in 2005 that brought Evo Morales to the presidency. He was subsequently charged with treason in a case that involved the transfer from the Bolivian military to the United States of some obsolete surface-to-air missiles. The Rodríguez case was politically important enough to be useful for the Morales Government, but only briefly, and the moment passed. Now, the case's obscurity and the fecklessness of the Bolivian courts have left Rodríguez in legal and professional limbo. Full disclosure from the U.S. government regarding its involvement in the missiles case might clear Rodríguez's name.

As I write this introduction, barely eight weeks have elapsed since the inauguration of President Barack Obama, and if there were a honeymoon period, it has most definitely passed. In Pakistan, a weak and divided regime is tottering. To its west, the U.S.-installed regime in Afghanistan is in retreat before the Taliban. In a globalized world, no country has been spared the stresses caused by the financial crisis. And here in the U.S., the severity of the downturn has reignited rancorous partisan debate. The topic of Robert Bates's When Things Fell Apart—the focus of our featured symposium—is the breakdown of political order in parts of Africa. But, apropos earlier discussions about area studies and its limits in which Bates was an important participant, the problem of ensuring effective and legitimate governance is hardly the provenance of the “less developed” world.

Robert H. Bates's new book When Things Fell Apart seeks to make a contribution in two different areas. Explicitly, it joins a large literature on why state institutions collapsed in sub-Saharan Africa, especially why leaders drove one economy after the next into the ground. Less emphatically stated but clear enough from the book's content and its structure is an important contribution to political science's “culture wars” over the use of different types of evidence, especially the sometimes competing claims for the primacy of country knowledge, game-theoretic modeling, and large cross-national data sets. In particular, Bates uses a deductive approach, where game-theoretic approaches are married to national outcomes through a deep immersion in the literature and intuition (a concept he clearly seeks to rehabilitate) and then tested by the use of a significant and original database that is nonetheless relegated to an appendix. This is a particularly important approach because no one would accuse Bates of being at all hostile to large-scale quantitative analysis. Indeed, the significant data collection at Harvard's Africa Research Program (http://africa.gov.harvard.edu), which he helped found, is a service to the discipline.

When Things Fell Apart manages to be wonderfully concise but still compelling. The thing Robert Bates seeks to explain is the secular trend in sub-Saharan Africa toward civil war, although he often characterizes this in broader terms, as a trend toward “political conflict” or “political disorder.” He explains the trend as follows: Public revenues fell in the 1970s and 1980s as a result of commodity price declines, effects of the second oil shock, and bad economic policy choices that overtaxed farmers so that politicians could dispense patronage to smaller, politically more important urban constituencies. The decline in public revenues led elites to become more predatory, which caused an increase in political conflict by mobilizing opposition. Popular demands for political reform, along with increased international pressure for the same at the end of the Cold War, heightened elite insecurity and led to more predation. This had the effect of “provoking their citizens to take up arms” (p. 109). Further, state decline and national-level conflicts exacerbated simmering subnational conflicts, typically in the form of land disputes between locals and migrants from other tribes.

This lean volume digs into the roots of African politics by exploring the foundations of political order. The author sees state formation as originating in rulers' political decisions about how to extract wealth from society. Specifically, do they use coercion—the defining attribute of state power—to protect their subjects or to prey on them? If rulers—whom he characterizes as “specialists in violence”—calculate that their own political and economic interests are best served by taxing production, they will establish the infrastructure of a bureaucratic state. If, however, they conclude that the costs of providing protection to society's producers outweigh the expected benefits, then they will be tempted to turn the state apparatus into an instrument of predation.

In this timely new book, Shane Hamilton offers a compelling account of the politics of long-haul trucking in the postwar United States and, in particular, its contribution to the rise of economic conservatism by the end of the 1970s. This work, exhaustive in its research, explains a range of critical developments in twentieth-century political economy from the perspective of trucking: from the struggles within and between various federal agencies over farm, labor and consumption policies; to advances in truck design, highway construction, refrigeration, and food packaging technologies; to the cultural development of a trucking genre within country music and Hollywood films.

Joseph Lowndes questions whether the independent truckers I write about were “central to the rise of the Right.” He suggests that truckers were mere dupes of “the architects of the modern Right,” who “selectively appropriated various forms of discontent in the land and turned it to their own purposes.” I disagree for at least three reasons.

Amid swirling talk of a “postracial” politics in the wake of Barack Obama's election as the forty-fourth president of the United States, Joseph Lowndes offers a needed reminder of the central role played by race in American political culture. Nowhere is the discourse of race more apparent, according to Lowndes, than in the supposedly “color-blind” politics of modern U.S. conservatism. Using language that fashioned New Deal liberalism as a “racial synecdoche” (p. 158) for all that conservatives reviled in the four decades following World War II, conservative strategists forged a triumphant pro-business Republican platform that could simultaneously claim to be postracial while serving as the key vote getter of closet racists throughout the nation.

Let me first thank Jeffrey Isaac for choosing our books for this exchange, and Shane Hamilton for his review. I would like to draw on Hamilton's main criticisms to consider political change in two ways: first, as it relates to political actors; and second, to political orders.

World government is once again being taken seriously. For decades the target of ridicule, some form of institutionalized global decision making may be inevitable. As the proposition wins broader acceptance, scholars are coming to more closely explore the modalities of world government and the place of democracy within it. The enhanced profile of new actors in globalization's wake has magnified the challenge. Amid conditions of deep instability, isolating elements of a new decision-making architecture is a formidable theoretical task.

Peter Spiro's portrayal of my book Beyond Citizenship illustrates the very problem we have in confronting the underlying causes of global crises and envisioning alternatives to existing models of governance. Legal scholar and activist Boaventura de Sousa Santos argued quite cogently in 2007 that the struggle for global social justice is also a struggle for global cognitive justice (“Beyond Abyssal Thinking: From Global Lines to Ecologies of Knowledges,” Eurozine, at http://eurozine.com/pdf/2007-06-29-santos-en.pdf). In order to succeed, this struggle requires a new kind of thinking. Such new thinking is apparent in many contemporary social movements, but academic training and practice inhibits our ability to appreciate the wisdom of those deemed less worthy to speak to the grand questions of our day.