Martyrdom has been a recurring theme in the Iranian political culture. This article presents an analysis of its sociological and historical significance and delineates the causes of its politicization and popularization since the 1960s. In order to understand this tradition in its broader cultural context, the relationship between the preeminence of tragedy in Iranian pre and post-Islamic popular culture and martyrdom is explored. By examining the writings of the major literary and political figures, the metamorphosis and political utilization of this tradition in recent political history of Iran are propounded. The article demonstrates how martyrdom as a symbol has functioned to forge a sense of solidarity, enhance mass mobilization, and preserve the sacred values of the community. In this context, the leading intellectuals and lay thinkers alike perceive of martyrdom as a symbol of communal cleansing and regeneration. The symbolic and utilitarian use of this tradition are also analyzed in the pre-and postrevolutionary period.

When Dwight D. Eisenhower assumed the presidency in 1953, twenty years of Democratic rule ended, and many changes followed. These were most obvious on the personal side. Prominent figures of the New Deal and Fair Deal disappeared from the Washington scene, and new men, largely from the business world, took over. But on policy matters the changes were less abrupt. Eisenhower had pledged during the 1952 campaign not “to turn the clock back—ever.” And so there was no wholesale reversal of New Deal and Fair Deal policies. It is important to remember that Eisenhower accepted most of the social welfare legislation of the two preceding decades, although he disappointed Republican conservatives in doing so. Thus, in the 1950's, the New Deal largely was eliminated as an active political issue and became an accepted part of American history. It is doubtful whether any other Republican political figure could have achieved that change and could have made palatable to most of his fellow Republicans the social welfare legislation of the 1930's and 1940's.

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.

We probe the connections linking the market, speech, and sympathy in the work of Adam Smith, stressing how individuals strive for social esteem and ethical credit while competing in markets. We demonstrate how Smith approached speech and rhetoric as constituting attributes of markets, the modern analogue of previous institutional foundations for social order. Thus, markets are not simply, or exclusively, arenas for the instrumental quest by competitive and strategic individuals to secure their material preferences. They are a central mechanism for social integration derived not from strategic self-interest but from the inexorable struggle by human agents for moral approbation. Part One retranslates the master concept of Moral Sentiments into a modern theory of recognition. Part Two considers how Smith, in his Rhetoric, established the mutual constitution of recognition and speech. Part Three carries this understanding to his Jurisprudence, the most integrative of his texts, which relocates these impulses inside the market itself.

The pivotal second chapter of Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations, “Of the Principle which gives occasion to the Division of Labour, ” opens with the oft-cited claim that the foundation of modern political economy is the human “propensity to truck, barter, and exchange one thing for another.” This formulation plays both an analytical and normative role. It offers an anthropological microfoundation for Smith's understanding of how modern commercial societies function as social organizations, which, in turn, provide a venue for the expression and operation of these human proclivities.

The question of WHO is the ultimate constitutional interpreter poses one of the fundamental problems with which a coherent constitutional theory must come to grips. Any answer will be closely connected to other basic theoretical interrogatives, such as WHAT is the constitution and HOW should it be interpreted. Three principal theories compete here: Judicial supremacy, legislative supremacy, and departmentalism. This paper suggests a sort of analysis that transforms the question of WHO from one that yields a universally applicable response into a more complex set of queries about degrees of deference one institution owes another under varying circumstances. What emerges is a modified version of departmentalism.

Renewed interest in the relationship between religion and politics in the United States and widespread discussion of recent pastoral letters adopted by the American bishops, especially those dealing with disarmament and the economy, have drawn attention to the political values of American Catholics. After a brief historical review of the political experiences of American Catholics and of the roles social theorists accord religion in political life, this article addresses three concerns: (1) in a nation of joiners, does parish participation reinforce civic participation? (2) are there patterns in the connection between religious values and political values? and (3) do parishioners feel that church leaders should offer teachings on personal morality and sociopolitical questions and, if so, should the teaching be accorded special respect? The primary basis for empirical generalizations is a sample of 2667 active, parish-connected non-Hispanic Catholics.

John Locke's theory of property has been the subject of sustained contention between two major perspectives: a socioeconomic perspective, which conceives Locke's thought as an expression of the rising bourgeois sensibility and a defense of the nascent capitalist relations, and a theological perspective, which prioritizes his moral worldview grounded in the Christian natural law tradition. This essay argues that a closer analysis of Locke's theory of money in the Second Treatise can provide an alternative to this binary. It maintains that the notion of money comprises a conceptual area of indeterminacy in which the theological universals of the natural law and the historical fact of capital accumulation shade into each other. More specifically, the ambiguity of the status of money enables Locke to navigate an antinomy within the natural law such that he establishes a relation of necessity between the divine telos and accumulative practices.

Are guestworker programs exploitative? Egalitarian and neoclassical theories of exploitation agree that they always are. But these judgments are too indiscriminate. Privileged guests are the exception, and the exception points toward a more sensitive standard for identifying exploitation. This more sensitive standard, the sufficiency theory of exploitation, is used to analyze several guestworker programs. Even when guestworker programs are exploitative, it is argued that the unfairness should be tolerated if the exploitation is modest, not severe, and if the most likely nonexploitative alternative worsens the plight of the disadvantaged.

This article examines the doctrine of tyrannicide in John of Salisbury's mid-twelfth century political treatise, the Policraticus, in light of recent scholarly skepticism that John never meant to advocate a theoretical defense of slaying the tyrant. It is argued that John's conception of tyrannicide in fact possesses a philosophical foundation derived from his idea of the state as a political organism in which all the members cooperate actively in the realization of the common utility and justice. When the ruler of this body politic behaves tyrannically, failing to perform his characteristic responsibilities, the other limbs and organs are bound by their duty to the public welfare and God to correct and, ultimately, to slay the tyrant. John illustrates this position by reference to the many historical and scriptural instances of tyrants who have legitimately been killed. Thus, John not only proposes a theory of tyrannicide, but also roots it in a strong positive obligation to raise the sword against tyrannical rulers in the name of public benefit and justice.

Despite growing interest in the ideas of Carl Schmitt, twentieth-century Germany's premier right-wing authoritarian political thinker, most American scholars continue to downplay the centrality of Schmitt's legal thinking to his overall theory. This article attempts to overcome this lacuna by critically scrutinizing Schmitt's influential critique of liberal constitutionalism. However provocative, Schmitt's critique ultimately proves untenable because (1) it relies on an overly selective, even caricatured reading of the history of liberal jurisprudence and (2) it reproduces the most worrisome methodological claims of Schmitt's main intellectual opponent, Hans Kelsen's legal positivism.

This article examines the nature and impact of liberation theology in Latin America and considers prospects for the future. Liberation theology's fundamental ideas are explored, and the reasons for its emergence and appeal are considered in detail. As a system of ideas, liberation theology first appears during a period of great social change, ecclesiological debate, and political upheaval. The convergence of these elements helps explain the theology's appeal within the churches, makes sense of its characteristically activist identification with the poor, and helps account for the popular appeal of the new organizational structures it has inspired. These convergences also suggest possible constraints and the long-term political impact of this theology. Throughout the article I argue that analysis of impacts must go beyond the ideas of liberation theology to ask how and why such ideas are received and acted upon in concrete settings.

This article opens with some general observations on outstanding features of the current literature on political leadership, especially in the United States. It then deals briefly with conceptual problems, level of analysis issues, and counter-factual questions. This is followed by a consideration of major modes of analysis for the comparative study of political leadership. The concluding section points up the principal ways to making comparative generalization about the sources and nature of leadership in politics.

The social thought of the Middle Ages, which undertook to comprehend and scientifically to formulate the nature and foundation of all human society, proceeded from the principle of a single and uniform but articulate whole. The idea of an organic conception of all human society in its entirety was as familiar to the mediaeval mind as the notion of an atomistic or mechanistic constrution of human associations was alien to that mind. Aside from issuing into a distinct and definite theory of “public law,” the mediaeval efforts to understand mankind in its entirety and to treat every form of human society as an organic unity were the starting points of a novel philosophy of law and state which brought about a new and glorious development of legal, social, and political ideas. This development was fully in line with the professed aim of the mediaeval spirit, namely the spiritual and moral education of die western world. It had for its core the doctrine of the Church, and for its goal the elaboration of an integrated outlook on all of human life. In die fields of legal, social, and political speculation this development was greatly enhanced by the collaboration of theologians, philosophers, and jurists. Here, as elsewhere, die mediaeval mind displayed and, on the whole, preserved that high degree of unity of thought and purpose which had its roots not only in that commonly shared conception of a single harmonious universe governed by one infinitely wise God, but also in the conviction that all first premises of right thought or right action were divinely revealed truths rather than discoveries made by human reason alone.

Both Jack Lively and Marvin Zetterbaum comment on the paradoxical character of Alexis de Tocqueville's teaching in Democracy in America with regard to the importance of religious belief in maintaining liberal democracy. By concentrating on the political utility of religious belief to the point of indifference as to its content, they argue, Tocqueville undermines the very belief he finds necessary to the preservation of liberty. Moreover, how can the proponent of unrestrained freedom of the press and the enlightened rationalism of “self-interest rightly understood” advocate the creation of “social myths”? Both critics conclude that Tocqueville's position is untenable. I shall argue, on the contrary, that Tocqueville's argument is internally consistent. From a democratic perspective, Christianity represents an accidental historical heritage. By adapting to democratic conditions, Christianity can persist and even have important political effects, however. It provides an essential foundation for the individual and political self-restraint necessary to maintain liberal democracy, but it exercises its influence indirectly, through the wholly liberal means of public opinion in the context of a strict separation of church and state. Because Tocqueville sees a natural source for the simplified religious beliefs necessary to maintain a liberal democracy, he does not need to advocate the inculcation of “myths.” Popular faith alone does not secure the liberty of the individual in the United States, but in the absence of widespread religious belief, neither economic “individualism” nor liberal political institutions would either.

The proposition advanced here is that the vast bulk of our social science findings, models, and literature, which purport to be universal, are in fact biased, ethnocentric, and not universal at all. They are based on the narrow and rather particular experiences of Western Europe (actually a much smaller nucleus of countries in central and northwest Europe) and the United States, and they may have little or no relevance to the rest of the world. A growing number of scholars, particularly those who have had long research experience in the so-called developing nations, have now come to recognize this fact; and among others new efforts are being made to reexamine the very “Western” experience on which so many of our social science “truths” and models have been based. Because these verities are still widely believed, however, by many scholars and policymakers alike, the ethnocentric biases and assumptions undergirding them need to be examined and their implications for research and policy explored.

“Expansion is everything,” said Cecil Rhodes and fell into despair; for he saw every night overhead “vast worlds which we can never reach,” part of the universe to which he could not expand. He had discovered the moving principle of the new, the imperialist era; and yet, at the same moment, he recognized in a flash of wisdom its inherent insanity and contradiction of human conditions. Naturally, neither insight nor sadness prevented him from expanding. He had no use for his flash of wisdom that had led him far beyond his normal capacities which were those of an ambitious businessman with a marked tendency towards megalomania.

The characteristically Aristotelian defense of the city's authority over its members is summarized in the statements “every city exists by nature” and “man is by nature a political animal.” These doctrines distinguish Aristotle not only from such of his predecessors as the Sophists and Plato but also from two leading schools of contemporary political thought, liberalism and Marxism. Aspiring to assess the merits of Aristotle's unique approach to the problem of political authority, this paper examines Aristotle's teaching on the relationship between nature and the city. This relationship is shown to be far more complex than is implied in the doctrine that the city is natural. I conclude by wondering why Aristotle addressed the problem of political authority with a doctrine he shows to be merely provisional and why he addressed it with this particular provisional doctrine.

The issue of federalism at the Constitutional Convention was considerably more complex than it is normally taken to have been, and most of the prevailing understandings of the settlement of the federalism issue in the Constitution suffer from failing to appreciate that complexity. There were at least six rather distinct versions of federalism “on the table” in Philadelphia; most found embodiment in one or another of the major plans before the Convention, although two of the schemas that are especially important for understanding the final Constitution have gone almost entirely unrecognized because they were not incorporated in separate comprehensive plans. Neither the older view that the Constitution's federalism is a “bundle of compromises” nor the currently popular view that it is essentially a nationalist document with some few federal reservations holds up when examined in the light of the “federalisms” at the Convention.

Among the truths of which contemporary thought stands in particular need and from which it could draw substantial profiit, is the doctrine of the distinction between individuality and personality. The essential importance of this distinction is revealed in the principles of St. Thomas. Unfortunately, a right understanding of it is difficult to achieve and requires an exercise of metaphysical insight to which the contemporary mind is hardly accustomed.

Does society exist for each one of us, or does each one of us exist for society? Does the parish exist for the parishioner or die parishioner for the parish? This question, we feel immediately, involves two aspects, in each of which there must be some element of truth. A unilateral answer would only plunge us into error. Hence, we must disengage the formal principles of a truly comprehensive answer and describe the precise hierarchies of values which it implies.

From the beginning the American republic conceived of itself as a great experiment in the realization of liberty. This experiment has come to be conjoined, serendipitously, with another fact about America—its peculiar relationship to the process of modernization. Talcott Parsons has called America“the lead society.” This is not an expression of nationalist megalomania, but rather a descriptive (if you will, a “value-free”) statement to the effect that a number of modernizing forces have gone further in this country than anywhere else. It is in this double sense that I am prepared to use the term chosen for America. For better or for worse, we are the most modernized society in the contemporary world. And, audaciously, we continue to carry on the experiment of free institutions in this not necessarily enviable condition. Liberty is on the retreat today all over the world. I cannot pursue here the far-reaching, and sinister, implications of this for America's role on the international scene. But the institutions that embody liberty are also under great pressure domestically. My observations in what follows pertain to this domestic crisis. They are animated by the hope that, if we can resolve this crisis without abandoning the experiment, we may still serve as a lesson for the human race. Perhaps we are “chosen”to do this.