This year the scholarly world celebrates the four hundredth birthday of Francis Suarez, perhaps the brightest star in the scholarly heavens of Spain's Siglo de Oro and the greatest master of the second flowering of Scholasticism, a flowering which began with the works of Francis de Vittoria. Suarez' life is that of the teacher, the prodigious writer, and of the religious, devoted to students, to study, and to the religious life as a member of the then still young Societas Jesu. In contradistinction to Saint Robert Bellarmine, he published only a few controversial books in the theological and political disputes of his time. His reputation was established by his exhaustive, systematic representation of the Philosophia Perennls and of Theology.

Philippe buchez is best known for his work as a founder of social Catholicism and as an advocate of workers' associations. As a man of varied interests Buchez brought to the consideration of industrial problems a knowledge of contemporary ideas and a theory of history to support his own solutions. His Introduction à la science de l'histoire provides an example of what has been called the “Idolization of History”:

It is no mean paradox that the idolization of HISTORY should have been the outcome of and sequel to the collapse of concrete historic continuity embodied in organized religion, national tradition, local custom and social hierarchies of long standing.

Radio Havana? Quotations from Chairman Mao? A black liberation group pamphlet? Wrong. These are excerpts from Roman Catholic publications in Latin America. Still regarded by many as one of the bulwarks of the status quo, the Latin-American Church has undergone a startling transformation in the last five years which has moved its official thinking and portions of its elite leadership significantly to the left.

This article examines early modern English public houses and related period miscellany—broadside ballads, conduct books, and songs—to more closely investigate the discourses and performances of drinking culture. Drinking culture, I argue, not only had a significant role in shaping the Restoration's civic culture of political participation and the emerging early modern public sphere, but also positioned emotions of pleasure and melancholy as social and political objects of care and cultivation. While the politics of pub culture and intoxication have been well documented by historians and literary scholars of early modern England and eighteenth-century America, much of this discussion has not yet been incorporated into political assessments of the public sphere and its history. Reinserting emotion and intoxication into the emergence of the public sphere helps to flesh out the history of feeling and social ritual in civic engagement.

This article critically examines the widely accepted thesis that because of basic theoretical differences between Hamilton and Madison the Federalist is best read as the product of a “split personality.” An examination of the areas and concerns identified by leading proponents of this thesis (Douglass Adair and Alpheus T. Mason) fails to reveal any significant differences between Hamilton and Madison writing as “Publius.” In fact, this analysis reveals a very close correspondence in their views on the basic principles of the proposed system. These findings strongly support the proposition that the Federalist is a consensual work whose contradictions and tensions reflect more basic difficulties endemic to the proposed system and principles of republicanism rather than theoretical differences between its authors.

A little over two hundred years ago there was published A Discourse on a Subject Proposed by the Academy of Dijon: What is the Origin of Inequality Among Man, and is it Authorized by Natural Law? The importance of this work has been indicated by Jean Jacques Rousseau himself. In the Confessions he stressed that all the “strong ideas” contained in the Social Contract were present in the Discourse on Inequality and earlier in the Letter to M. Beaumont he had stated that all his works contained the same principles, the same morality, and the same beliefs.

A Distinguished contemporary historian of eighteenthcentury Ireland has observed that “the early history of the Volunteers has never been written.” This is not to say that the Volunteers have not been written about, for no subject has urged Irish pens to greater industry than have the Volunteers. Yet, during the past one hundred and fifty years historians of each generation have been content for the most part to rely upon the research and repeat the generalizations of the previous generation. Consequently, the circumstances surrounding the raising of independent companies in Belfast and the reasons for the spread of that institution over the rest of Ireland in 1778–79 remain obscured and confused.

This article presents an interpretation of Francis Bacon's History of Henry the Seventh. Recently Bacon's History has been described in terms of its role in transmitting paradigms of republican thought to Harrington, whose “classical republicanism” so importantly influenced later English and American political thought. Thus Bacon, who was of course not himself a republican, is now described as having contributed to the classical republican doctrine of civic virtue. I argue that the History in no way fits such republican paradigms, or that it can only insofar as Bacon's essential teaching in that work is misunderstood. Rather than unwittingly pointing to some conception of civic virtue, Bacon's History self-consciously describes modern politics as grounded on the inescapable necessity of material acquisition. I argue that Bacon's politics are modern because they look to the conquest of nature and are critical of all specific political attachments, including republicanism.

This is a political world of power and competition for power, together with, hopefully, the legitimate authority that goes with such power; a world where ability to dominate the will of others is prized either in itself or for other ends. Politics is associated with the quest for power, as an end or means. It is not surprising, therefore, that in looking at those thinkers in the past who have focused on human relationships and organized associations, commentators should be facinated with how they looked at domination, and also, secondarily, how they viewed freedom from such domination (for example, the limits of power). In the measure that these thinkers dealt with politics, one might say, they concerned themselves with power, authority, leadership, and, coincidentally, with freedom. put another way, what is typically “political” about their views about the “political system”; that is, how they looked at the process whereby valued goods are allocated authoritatively. This “system” includes formal, publlic institutional arrangements, such as the “State”, and processes within these institutions, such as “conflict” and“conciliation”.

As Chief of State and head of government, the President is the epicenter of the management of American external relations and the formulation of foreign policy. Not only does he welcome the leaders of other countries who come on summit visits, receive personally the diplomatic emissaries of foreign governments accredited to the United States, and participate in many other formal diplomatic functions, but he also is responsible for executing those segments of the law that pertain to international affairs, for appointing United States diplomats and communicating with other governments, for making treaties, and for initiating and enunciating foreign policy. Addressing himself to the last of these, President Truman cryptically declared: “The President makes foreign policy.” Dean Rusk later commented that this “is not the whole story,” but “it serves very well if one wishes to deal with the matter in five words.”

The Communists in Italy, France and Spain have banished the phrase “the dictatorship of the proletariat” from their vocabulary. That does not mean that they have abandoned socialism as an intermediate objective of their policy. They continue to fight for socialism; however, they no longer wish to establish it on the classical pattern through the dictatorship of the “proletariat” but rather through an “advanced form of democracy” in which the institutions and procedures of representative democracy, such as parliament and regular general elections and civil rights and freedoms, are respected and even guaranteed.

A Few years ago an editor was beaten in Uganda for using the “wrong” forms of the Luganda tongue, which somewhat earlier had been “standardized.” This incident reflects the emotionalism surrounding language issues in the emergent African countries, so desperately seeking a common medium for internal and external communication.

A close examination of early and modern American constitutional interpretation reveals that there has been an essential change in the manner in which the Constitution is interpreted. When that comparison takes the form of a comparison between very early Supreme Court decisions and very recent ones the difference is relatively clear—at least that there is a difference. To some extent, what some of the differences are is observable. For instance, the overt balancing of interests (those of state and individual) in modern civil liberties cases is quite different from the character of earlier Supreme Court decisions.

My object in this paper is to compare two texts in the history of ideas which are, on the face of it at least, very different from one another. John Henry Cardinal Newman's Development of Christian Doctrine remains one of the classic expositions of an evolutionary thesis; T. S. Kuhn's Structure of Scientific Revolutions already ranks as a near-classic statement of a revolutionary case. The contrast is, I think, not quite as stark as may appear at first sight: though Kuhn writes of revolutions, his concern, no less than Newman's, is nevertheless with “development”; and though his subject matter is the history of science, his concern too is, or once was, with “dogma.” What I most want to stress, however, is not this verbal correspondence, which may as it stands be intriguing rather than convincing, but a series of substantive parallels which flow from a mode of argument common to both these texts: the extensive use of political imagery in defining the structures of ideas in question and in explaining the character of their history.

Despite the high seriousness and obviously increasing importance of international politics in our time, something recognizable as a philosophy of the subject, in the view of some scholars, has not yet succeeded in emerging from the demise of “banal” positivism. This lamentable and barely explicable state of affairs has led several philosophically inclined scholars to urge the search for a philosophy of international relations. The form, scope and content of the proposed philosophy have received less attention; the philosophers in question have been content to limit their philosophical inquiry to a species of historical-philosophical archaeology consisting of, for example, the uncovering of Kant's conception of philosophical reason as it relates to international relations or, the recovery of “the just war for classical theory” or, the discovery tout court of a conception of “justice” for international relations. Without putting such indispensable efforts at risk or preempting the results of such scholarship, I see two obstacles to their success. First, there has been little or no comparable effort directed toward indicating, except in highly schematic form, what any such philosophy might consist in and, secondly, it is still unclear what relationship there could be between any such proposed philosophy and alternative conceptions of international relations such as empirical systems theory.

In recent years many scholars have contributed to the development of Marxist analyses of urban political economy. At the same time, a smaller number of social and political theorists have examined Marx's political theory and identified his theory of public and private life as a central component of his politics. Too often, Marxist analyses of urban political economy do not fully incorporate Marx's political theory. Analyses of Marx's politics, on the other hand, tend to overlook the dimensions of the modern city which illuminate his theory of public and private. This article brings together Marx's urban theory and political theory and suggests that they are, in fact, very much intertwined.

For more than a century there have been among the learned those who have tried to extend the outlook and the methods of the natural sciences to the study of man and to the behavior of human societies. Their efforts have raised issues which are of vital concern in the thermonuclear age which we have entered.

One of the challenges which democracies face is to preserve the essential liberties of their citizenry while undergoing continual, even drastic, economic and technological development. Mario Einaudi has described the New Deal as an effort to translate eighteenth-century agrarian democracy into twentiethcentury industrial democracy without evacuating the unique values which the Founding Fathers wished to be transmitted. Since the days of FDR, the United States of America has created a distinct “social breakthrough” by being the first nation to enter the postindustrial age of nuclear energy, computers, television, rockets, missiles, wonder drugs, psychedelic techniques, fertility control techniques, and supersonic jet travel. That political processes cannot be divorced from the wider environmental matrix of sociotechnological innovations is a proposition which is gaining in acceptance. Acknowledging the incidence of technological invention on the political process, we have singled out for case study the history of the communications satellite technology, the creation of an unprecedented “chosen instrument” to establish a global system of communications satellites, and the subsequent formation of an international consortium whose members have codominion over the space segment of the global system. What interests us in this study is how technological leadership becomes converted into other forms of power such as economic, political, and commercial.

What is the proper relation of religious moralities—and of moralities generally— to politics, especially to the politics of a society as religiously and morally pluralistic as our own. May a person rely on her religious-moral beliefs in making political choices? In deliberating about political choices with persons who do not share — who may even reject — her religious-moral beliefs? In defending her political choices to such persons? In this article, which is mainly critical rather than constructive, I indicate some basic respects in which the principal contemporary liberal responses to the question of the proper relation of morality to politics are deeply problematic.1 Elsewhere in the work of which this article is a part, my effort is mainly constructive: I elaborate and defend a postliberal conception of the proper relation of moral beliefs, especially religious-moral beliefs, to the politics of a pluralistic society like our own; in particular, I elaborate and defend a conception of the proper relation of religious communities to the religiously and morally pluralistic political community of which they are a part.2