Seven-term representative, Beverly Byron (D) of the Sixth District in Maryland, was the first incumbent to be defeated in the 1992 primaries. Her loss was perceived as a harbinger of major change in Congress, and marked an exception to Fenno's notion that Americans hate Congress yet love their own member of Congress.

Her opponent, Thomas Hattery, fit the pundits' expectations as an agent of change. A young, progressive state legislator, Hattery won by aggressively campaigning against Byron as an out-of-touch incumbent whose lifestyle and views no longer matched those of her district. Yet, his “outsider” persona masked a highly professionalized and well-funded campaign.

Only eight months later, the man who had capitalized on citizen dissatisfaction with Congress went down to defeat by Roscoe Bartlett (R). Bartlett, a successful businessman and educator with no elective experience and highly conservative positions, captured 54% of the vote, including majorities in counties that had given Hattery strong primary support. The tables had turned: Hattery had become the insider whom the historically conservative Sixth District voters repudiated. Paradoxically, although the Sixth District race exemplified change, Bartlett differed little from the previous incumbent.

It is June 30, 1992. The Supreme Court handed down its decision yesterday in Planned Parenthood v. Casey, and now the analysis and debate over its immediate and longterm impact on abortion law and reproductive rights will begin for legal scholars and political leaders. But for public law specialists in political science, the intellectual curiosity about this case began many months ago, and the announcement of yesterday's decision was only the latest in a string of actions that many had already followed with great interest. In the rush to explain the significance of Casey to the public, the route by which it got to the Court and the arguments that shaped the ultimate result may be easily overlooked and dismissed by some as no longer relevant: what matters now will be to feed the public's appetite for a fastfood explanation of a high-profile case. But to public law specialists, what went before matters very much, indeed. A case is more than its outcome, and the parts that came before deserve some attention for the role they played in contributing to the final result.

In a recent paper in this journal, Butler and Van Peek (1990) advocated analyzing patterns of electoral change in the USA with the swing statistic—the average change in the share of the vote won by two parties contesting successive elections. The generality of their case was countered by Rose (1991), who showed that most liberal democracies do not have two-party systems; thus the swing statistic, which involves comparing the performance of two parties only, conceals more than it reveals of the pattern of electoral change in most situations. His preference was for the separate study of the “ups and downs” of each party.

In a riposte to Rose, Gibson (1992) argued for the superiority of swing over the single party measures. His case was built on a curious argument, however. On the basis of goodness-of-fit statistics, he showed that a combination of independent variables relating to the characteristics of constituencies in Greater London predicted variations in swing better than they predicted variations in the performance of individual parties. Such analyses in no way indicate the superiority of swing as a measure of electoral change, however; they merely demonstrate that swing is more closely correlated to some independent variables than is another measure of change. Gibson's argument is a case of a spurious correlation.

In this era of superpower reconciliation, European Community harmonization, and German reunification, the reunification of Korea is a distinct possibility. South Korea has pursued the “Northern Policy” for several years to facilitate the process. The initiative, aimed at creating economic and diplomatic links between South Korea and socialist countries, produced ties with former Soviet satellites, the Soviet Union itself, the People's Republic of China, and, most recently, a majority of the members of the new Commonwealth of Independent States (the former Soviet Union). By building relationships with the allies of North Korea, the South hoped to coax the North into a more conciliatory position (U.S. Embassy of the Republic of Korea 1992).

Before the “Northern Policy” was implemented, North Korea showed no inclination to reconcile the differences between the North and the South, steadfastly refusing to recognize or negotiate with the government in Seoul. However, the rapid fall of the Berlin wall, the collapse of Communism in Eastern Europe, and the disintegration of the Soviet Union permanently changed the political climate for North Korea. When, early in 1991, the People's Republic of China and the former Soviet Union did not stand in the way of South Korea's entry into the United Nations, the handwriting was on the wall. In September 1991, North Korea accepted simultaneous U.N. membership for both Koreas (Whiting 1992).

For some 70 years, peoples of highly diverse origins and cultures were part of a political system called the Soviet Union. The leadership of the Soviet Union took great pride in attempting to organize that diversity into a “melting pot,” in which citizens of each ethnic background were to enjoy the same basic rights and privileges. Extraordinary political effort was expended by Soviet leaders to promote and advertise the success of this union of equals.

We will provide an empirical assessment of the attitudes of youth in two former Soviet republics, how they now see each other, and how they feel various minorities in each new republic should be treated politically. It involves the use of a common instrument in each of these new states that was designed to measure how each ethnic group feels about the other former Soviet peoples and basic ethnic policies in their own states. In addition, data on a variety of other political and social issues are examined, primarily to examine whether certain quality of life indicators are more positively responded to in a former Soviet republic than in Russia proper.

Marx is reputed to have said that “there is nothing so practical as a good theory.” Seventy-odd years of Soviet theorizing have left little useful practical theory behind, as demonstrated by the transformations currently taking place in Russia's borderlands. As the Soviet Union crumbles, the successor states face a unique and troubling situation. For over 70 years, their administrative structures have been centralized; their economies, transportation and communications systems, and the physical infrastructure all controlled from Moscow under a coherent ideological regime. The successor states find themselves adrift ideologically and administratively, but the centralized physical infrastructure remains.

How are these states to design new administrative structures? How are they to cope with the utter failure of their theoretical principles? How may they cooperate in the use of the physical systems while establishing their political independence? Soviet administrative theory—the “scientific theory of socialism” as it was called—has been unable to provide even the most basic guidance for the process, and western administrative theory is not equipped to address the special problems of the new states. The insights of the neo-institutionalists can provide guidelines for these urgent problems.

Sometimes an emotional irritant can be intellectually productive and provocative. For me, this was the case with Theodore Lowi's APSA presidential address, reprinted in the American Political Science Review (Lowi 1992). While disagreeing at many points with Lowi's account of the development of political science and with his critiques of the currently “hegemonic” subfields of “public opinion, public policy, and public choice,” I am led ultimately to clarify my own understanding of the relationship between politics, ideology, and science. This response to Lowi's address is intended to sketch a different view of the relation between science, especially social science, and government; to argue with Lowi's assessment of the value of reductionist paradigms such as those employed by the three hegemonic subfields; and to say that many of the rest of us are passionate about politics too. In particular, it is intended to indicate how “public choice,” my own favored member of that holy trinity, is in fact well suited to address issues critical to the matters of social value with which Lowi is concerned.