EVER since the Berlin blockade of 1948–1949, the author has been asked on a number of occasions to explain how the zonal boundaries in Germany came to be drawn and why Berlin was left as an island in the Communist sea. A brief and simple answer was found to be impossible for several reasons: First, the Department of State does not have all the pertinent records, since the Department was not included in all of the negotiations on this subject. Second, some parts of the story do not seem to be documented adequately in any official records, with the result that certain aspects of the subject are open to controversial interpretations. Third, not only is the story of these negotiations complicated in itself, being woven from several separate strands, but it can only be explained in the larger framework of the overall planning for the occupation of Germany. Despite these many limitations and difficulties, the author has felt that he should attempt to set down as complete and objective an answer as he could to the persistent queries which this subject has evoked. The result is the present article.

The success of the European Economic Community often has been hailed as the most important development of international relations in the West in the last century. Even if the EEC does not progress beyond the point it has already reached, it is probably the most integrated union ever to have been formed among nation-states. Moreover, observers have been impressed by the momentum the EEC has had until recently, leading most of them to expect that its level of integration will continue to rise and its scope of unification to grow. Much of the credit for the success of the EEC is often attributed to “background” factors, to the fact that the member countries share the same European tradition, have a sizable Catholic population, are in a similar stage of economic development, have a similar civilization, and so forth.

KTO KOVO?” asked Lenin. “Who governs?” echoes a contemporary American political scientist. The question is of perennial interest. The “who's” have the capacity to influence the behavior of others. They include political leaders, who customarily exercise power through public or governmental bodies, and non-political leaders, who may exercise power through the command of other values, such as wealth, income, expertise. Political leaders and non-political leaders together constitute the elite; they lead the masses, who, needless to say, greatly outnumber the elite.

A Striking feature of politics in Indonesia, as in some other new states, is the great importance of the government's symbolic activity—gestures, ceremonial, and ritual on the one hand, propaganda and indoctrination on the other. The Indonesian government of the post-1958 period allots immense resources to creating and maintaining particular attitudes and states of mind, in ways which often detract greatly from the effectiveness of its administrative and economic performance. This article describes this symbolic activity and suggests some hypotheses which may help to account for its importance.

In an era that takes matters of religious faith lightly, it becomes difficult to consider thoughtfully a man who is suspected of saintliness. The task is particularly vexing for Americans, who have no feudal historic memories to remind them that saints were once important people. The obvious solution is to avoid the issue of saintliness altogether—to avoid, for example, questions about whether Gandhi's political shrewdness was compatible with the essential innocence of heart that one asks of saints; above all, to avoid trying to satisfy a generation of ambivalent skeptics who in one breath deny that saints exist and in the next maintain that Gandhi could not have been one because he did not meet such and such criterion of saintliness. The issue of saintliness is a diversion from a serious consideration of Gandhi's contribution.

The comparative analysis of past and present systems as an approach to the study of international politics has been subjected to its first major test. It can be said at once that the effort is a most creditable one. The approach promises to become increasingly attractive with time. Much of the theoretical writing that uses the data of international politics is becoming the preserve of specialists in abstract theory. And the student committed primarily to international politics and to theory only insofar as it helps order and apprehend significant problems of international politics here and now is quite naturally attracted to the historical perspective. History can be used to illuminate the evolving structural features of contemporary relations and it provides some relief from the politics of the Cold War, which are becoming progressively routinized.

The acute phase of the Berlin crisis appears to be past. It began with the Soviet “ultimatum” of November 17,1958, and petered out in the aftermath of the showdown over Cuba. But though there are many indications that for some time a renewal of the threatening pressure on Berlin—West Berlin, to be precise—need not be expected, there can be no assurance that the situation will not blow up in our faces at any moment any day, as the death of Peter Fechter at the Wall in August 1962 illustrated. Also, we are as far as ever from a real solution for the admittedly abnormal situation of this city. And it still remains an open question whether, with the passage of time, acceptance and adjustment to the brutal abnormality of the Wall and the division of Germany will win out over growing frustration and the explosive and dangerous consequences of disappointed hopes for unification and liberation. Thus Berlin is likely to remain indefinitely both a thermometer indicating the temperature of the Cold War and a time-bomb that resists defusing.

A decade ago Roy Macridis waved a red flag in the face of the politicel science fraternity by proclaiming that the collection of data on foreign political systems had become a sterile preoccupation because of its parochial and “monographic” concern with a limited number of Western great powers, and its theoretical shallowness.1 During the intervening years considerable money and time have been spent in a frontal attack on these deficiencies. Spearheading this attack has been a band of younger scholars brought together under the leadership of Gabriel Almond in the Committee on Comparative Politics of the Social Science Research Council.

IT is a commonplace in the West to think of Soviet foreign policy in terms of a grand strategy. Yet the subject has more often than not intimidated scholars into taking the route of specialization. Problems of obtaining source materials as well as the desire to avoid complexity and controversy have frequently discouraged Sovietologists from approaching foreign policy in other than small pieces. During the past year, however, several new books have been added to the small number which both offer detailed analysis of an extended historical period and approach the development of general theory. Each of the books covers a broad period and each uses the technique of focusing on a particular instrument of Soviet foreign policy.