No Roman historian except the scholar propagandist Livy would have described his own age as the best of times and the worst of times. Imperial pagan Romans were too morally pessimistic about history to be able to say more than what Tacitus in effect said of the age of Trajan: it was the best of the worst times. His patriotism in no way encouraged him to say yes to his age, as Vergil and Livy had done to theirs. Instead it strengthened the moral severity with which he passed judgment on men of an iron age.

One reason the political theory of Plato's Republic is widely misunderstood is that its precise relationship to the political content of the early dialogues is not generally recognized. That the political views of the Republic are frequently misconstrued seems apparent. In recent years many scholars have argued that the ideal state put forward in the work is completely “utopian.” This word is used in different senses, but the sense I will concentrate on in this paper is its bearing upon questions of political reform. As I use the term, a “utopian” political theory contains proposals that are not intended to be taken seriously in terms of political reform. When I say that the ideal state discussed in the Republic is not “utopian” as these scholars maintain, I mean that Plato designed it with political reform in mind, and that he thought seriously about how to bring it into existence. This does not, however, imply that the ideal state is likely to be realized, or that Plato ever thought it was, but only that Plato wished to bring it into existence and thought this was possible, should extraordinary good fortune bring the necessary conditions into existence.

Philippine foreign policy is important to the United States for several reasons. The epigram describing the Filipinos as the most occidental of the Orientals and the most oriental of the Occidentals, emphasizes the Philippines as potentially one of the world's most important cultural bridges between these two worlds. It combines some of the best features of both areas and offers the possibility of giving each world an insight into the other. From the American standpoint the Philippines is often thought of as a show window in the Orient, and this country has a stake not only in the success of Philippine democracy, but also the Philippines provides some testimony to the fairness of American colonial policy.

Many of the debates among competing paradigms in political science are concerned with peripheral elements rather than the basic assumptions of the paradigms. Since the major assumptions of any paradigm are rooted in metaphysical theories of the nature of reality, tests of one paradigm are likely to deal with phenomena that may not be considered in another. The article outlines the main metaphysical theories —materialism, idealism, and dualism —then proceeds to demonstrate that the primacy of matter versus ideas is central to paradigms of explanation in one area of political science, namely, theories of urban unrest. A survey of competing theories highlights the metaphysical assumptions and methodological preferences of each contending paradigm. The article argues that more attention should be paid to the metaphysical assumptions of paradigms in order to sharpen the focus of the research agenda.

AMINOR consequence of the war of 1914 was that the Turks evacuated the south Arabian country of Yemen which they had occupied since the latter part of the nineteenth century. Yahia Hamid al-Din, heir to the throne of the thirteenhundred-year-old Imamate (Muslim theocratic monarchy) was able to reestablish the power of his dynasty. During his long reign he devoted himself to four principal tasks: the restoration of internal order which had collapsed altogether during the era of Turkish domination; keeping foreigners out of Yemen which came to bear the title of “the Tibet of the Middle East”; building up his treasury which also was that of the country at large; and buying surplus World War I weapons. The last he resold to the Ethiopians and others, or he stored in caves. The locations of these supplies were known only to members of his dynasty and trusted servitors.

HerbertMarcuse has been called the philosopher of the New Left. If this title is warranted—and I believe it is—then we have in the New Left not only a rejection of American society, but a rejection of the traditions of Western civilization. What is remarkable, however, is that the New Left can disrupt colleges and universities, the guardians of civilization, and frequently be assured of apologists within those very colleges and universities. Herbert Marcuse is not one of their apologists so much as one of their teachers. What lures many of these innocents and not-so-innocents to his teaching is its utopianism. This utopianism appears to provide an attractive alternative to American society. It is seemingly based on a solid and comprehensive critique of contemporaryliberalism and the conservative vestiges of nineteenth-century liberalism. It condemns not only economic but intellectual and moral laissez-faire. And yet, as we shall see, this new utopianism is itself rooted in the underlying principle of modern liberalism, a principle which Marcuse develops to its ultimate logical conclusion and, in so doing, poses a threat to the very existence of civilized society.

NatoHas appeared under many labels since its creation — Guardian of Peace, Pawn of Power Politics, Savior of the West, and Harbinger of War. All of them probably have some validity. But no matter which sobriquet is most applicable, the most significant feature of the alliance may be that it has survived twelve years of continuous challenges. By its survival it has become the symbol of America's abandonment of isolationism. In an age in which foreign policy plays the kind of role in domestic politics that would have been unthinkable in the nineteenth century, NATO represents a coherence in foreign policy that transcends party differences. Conceived under the Republican 80th Congress, put into effect by President Truman and Secretary Acheson, and expanded by President Eisenhower and Secretary Dulles, NATO now takes its place with the New Deal as a major factor in American life in the mid-twentieth century.

Political theory never stands by itself. Any theoretical explanation of politics depends on attitudes and positions which stem from metaphysics, theology, ethics, or science. An understanding of the political thought of a man, then, will require some insight into the relationship between his politics and the presuppositions on which it is based. To write about the political theory of Descartes, however, presents special difficulties, for Descartes cannot be considered an important political thinker in his own right. His actual references to politics are scant. His influence on later thinkers did not arise from his thought about politics. Nevertheless, in political theory Descartes must be considered, for it was Descartes who set the patterns of speculative thought after him, including thought about politics. After Descartes the scientific and mechanical orientations of thought replaced the traditional Christian and Aristotelian molds in which politics had been considered.

Our nation's bicentennial year 1976 also marks the centennial of the death of Orestes A. Brownson (1803–1876). Throughout his life, Brownson was a lecturer and editor as well as a prolific writer on all aspects of nineteenth-century American life. His voluminous writings are of sweeping range. They include political treatises on American democracy, church-state relations, foreign policy, theological works, social commentaries on slavery, war and peace, the feminist movement, education, economic writings on the relationship between business and government, philosophical critiques of French, German, Italian and British philosophy, literary criticism and aesthetic evaluations of poetry and native American literature.

Eric Voegelin thought his “paradox of consciousness” was “the key to all his other works,” but no one has yet explored it as such a key. “participation” is the central term in Voegelin's philosophy, and the “paradox of consciousness” reveals the paradox of participation: a participant-partner is simultaneously a part and the whole (albeit in a perspective) of a reality of consciousness, like a marriage, a polity, or the cosmos.

Tocqueville's argument that great revolutions will become more rare is sobering, if not chilling. But we may warm to it when we realize that it is a prospectus of realignment, intended to raise the sights of democratic statesmen and political scientists. The problem of constitutionalist statesmanship it exhibits is to combine two antithetical moralities: revolutionary morals and the morals of commerce. This paper takes seriously Tocqueville's view that “the books that have made men reflect the most and have had the most influence on their opinions and actions are not those in which the author has sought to tell them dogmatically what it is suitable to think, but those in which he has set their minds on the road leading to truths and has made them find these truths for themselves” (to Corcelle, 17 September 1853). By highlighting Tocqueville's understanding of realigning statesmanship, it seeks to reopen his approach to the study of realignment as an exercise of significant choice by the electorate, a choice of constitutional forms.

The article explores the issue of economic life within the theoretical tradition of the common good. To clarify the implications of the theory of the common good for economics, the economic philosophy of Yves R. Simon is presented. After clarifying the meaning of Simon's conception of the common good, the implications of the common good for Simon's economic thought are explored. It is argued that, for Simon, the economic system is a common good that undergirds the traditional Thomistic imperative that the use of goods be common. Some of the difficulties which Simon's thought has for market economics are then analyzed, and Simon's thought is used to suggest solutions. In this context, the roles of authority and virtue (particularly prudence) are treated.

Although the founder of the Catholic church said that “My Kingdom is not of this world,” one commentator correctly has observed of the church that “few contemporary institutions have been more intimately — and none more continuously — involved in the political order.” Never was the church's temporal dimension more graphically illustrated than in the June 1979 visit to his homeland of Pope John Paul II, the former Karol Cardinal Wojtyla, Archbishop of Cracow, Poland. Millions of people, many of them from other Communist countries, heard the first pontiff ever elected from a Soviet bloc nation repeatedly call for respect for human rights, for provision of religious liberties, and for the primacy of the individual over the state — demands that many regimes, including Communist ones, have been notably reluctant to grant. The pontiff also publicly raised the delicate issue of Polish-Soviet relations, asserting that alliances must be based on mutual respect and equality and that “there can be no just Europe without the independence of Poland marked on its map.”

It is argued that natural law can be known without the aid of revelation, and so it seems to be a medium through which people of different faiths can live together and talk to each other. However, Leo Strauss argues that Aquinas's understanding of natural law cannot possibly provide such a medium because Thomas relies on Christian revelation to develop his account of natural law. To counter this claim, this article makes a distinction between the way Aquinas presents his natural law teaching to his readers in a discussion of revelation and the way he thinks human beings may come to know natural law independent of special revelation. This distinction leads to a consideration of the deepest issue dividing Strauss and Aquinas: their rival accounts of the relationship of philosophy to theology.

Professors Richard Matthews and Colleen Sheehan raise two questions about my essay on James Madison and public opinion:(1) Can Madison be considered a genuine partisan of democracy? (2) Do Madison's writings on public opinion suggest that he believed that the government should try to foster a common opinion among the citizenry?

Sheehan and Matthews diametrically disagree. Like Martin Diamond and Lance Banning, Sheehan argues that Madison was a thoroughgoing democrat not only during the 1790s, but even during the years surrounding the formation of the Constitution. According to Matthews, Madison was the quintessential classical liberal and a proponent of “thin” democracy who believed that citizens should participate in politics primarily as voters who select elite men to make decisions for them.

The visit to the Vatican made by Kaiser William II on October 12, 1888, remains a memorable and somewhat curious event in the pontificate of Leo XIII. One version of this meeting has been given by Count Eduardo Soderini, a personal friend of Leo XIII, who thus far has been the only historian given access to the Vatican archives for this period. But the private papers of the pope's protégé and advisor, Cardinal Galimberti, particularly letters from the cardinal's German friend and informant, Monsignor Montel, suggest that Soderini's account is rather reticent and incomplete. This impression is confirmed by some documents in the papers of Friedrich von Holstein, a key figure in the German Foreign Ministry. A full account of this extraordinary meeting and a better appreciation of its significance is obtainable from unpublished documents in the French, German, and Austrian diplomatic archives, especially from a report made to Prince Bismarck by his son Herbert, a report approved and dictated in part by the kaiser himself.

In the development of American liberal thought in the twentieth century Reinhold Niebuhr occupies a central, but only partially examined, place. Numerous writers have noted that his active forty-year career followed a pattern typical of many other American intellectuals in the middle third of the century. From a rejection of liberalism and an attachment to Marxism in the thirties, he emerged in the postwar period with a renascent liberal faith, which in the fifties assumed an increasingly rigid, anticommunist cast.

In the modern, extant world of practical history, the dominant “democratic” tradition splits sharply into three, often hostile strands. These strands are liberal democracy, social revolutionary democracy, and participatory democracy. Especially for analytical purposes, it is important to see these strands as distinct sharing only the vaguest general commitment to government by and for broad reaches of the population (the demos). However, the three strands, for all their differences—and hostilities—should be seen historically as standing in profound and significant dialectical relationship with each other. In this light, liberal and social revolutionary democracy are opposites in an antithetical tension that is increasingly extreme. Participatory democracy will then appear as a third term, a still emerging synthetical response arising out of attempts to resolve the tension between the two earlier democratic variants, and clearly showing marks of its inheritance from them.

Among the revolutions in France since 1789 one, the Revolution of 1830, has been singularly neglected by historians in this century, and neither in this century nor the preceding one has it attracted much attention from any but the political historians. No monograph on the whole story of the Revolution has ever been published, and the standard account, in Lavisse's Histoire de France contemporaine, appeared nearly forty years ago. The economic and sociological dimensions of the event have been generally ignored. Consequently, the Revolution of 1830 is ordinarily seen as a political movement arising out of the unpopularity of Charles X and his ministers and out of their attempt to arrogate the sovereign power to the crown.