The departure of the French Socialists from the government early in 1950, even though they returned in a few months, marked the end of a stage of postwar history in Europe. For the first time since liberation France was governed by a coalition in which the Socialists were no longer represented. At the same time the Socialists were in the opposition in Belgiumand Western Germany as well and limited to little influence upon the Italian and Swiss governments. Austria, Great Britain, and Scandinavia were the only countries in which the Socialists are strongly represented in their governments. Roughly speaking then, Europe is divided into three zones according to the degree of power of democratic socialism: Eastern Europe—bordered on the West by a line running from Trieste to Lübeck—where the democratic Socialist parties have been absorbed by the Communist parties; Northwestern Europe—Great Britain and the Scandinavian countries (Norway, Sweden, Denmark)—under predominant Socialist influence; and the rest of Continental Europe where the the Socialists are a more or less powerful opposition group. Spain and Portugal in the South and Greece and Turkey in the Southeast are left outside ofthe scope of our study owing to the peculiar and non-democratic structure of these countries.

Seven years have passed since the UN Charter was signed in San Francisco in the month of June 1945. In that short time, events have disproved some of the most important assumptions about the postwar world on which the 1945 decisions were based.

Efforts have been made, notably in the improvisations of the Korea police action, in the creation of the Interim Committee, and in the Uniting for Peace Resolution, to adapt the structure conceived at San Francisco so that it would more closely meet the needs of the world as it emerged from the crucible of World War II.

The Zulu kingdom is not extinct. It survives in the imaginations of many Bantu people, and remains latent in their social practices. Historically, it is as old as modern France, but it remained an independent state for a brief seven decades, its glory ending in the Zulu War of 1879. The period is spanned by the reigns of five monarchical figures: Dingiswayo (c. 1808–1818), who laid the foundations; Shaka (1816–1828), who established the kingdom and ruled at the zenith of Zulu power; Dingane (1828–1840), who continued the despotism as European settlers began to entrench upon the Zulu domain; Mpande (1840–1872), whose sovereignty was limited by accommodation first to Boer, then to British, power; Cetshwayo (1872–1884), who sought to break free but lost independence in a war against the British. Shaka stands out as the greatest of them all—both Romulus and Napoleon to the Zulu people—and his legend has captured the imaginations of both European and African writers, inspiring novels, biographies, and historical studies in several tongues. As a violent autocrat he is both admired and condemned: admired by those who love conquerors, condemned by those who hate despots. The internal transformations wrought by his regime were accompanied by enormous devastation and dislocation throughout South and Central Africa, disrupting a third of the continent. Some estimates of the slaughter in Shaka's total wars and in the mass migrations caused by them have placed the number of dead at close to two million. It is also estimated that by 1820 Shaka had deprived some three hundred tribes of their independence, had commanded a force of more than a hundred thousand warriors, and had brought half a million souls under his rule. Several of his generals fled with their armies to make empires of their own. Thus, even after his day had passed, Shaka's influence remained, for his model of military despotism was replicated in kingdoms such as the Matebele under Mzilikazi in Southern Rhodesia and the Gasa (Shangane) under Soshangane in Portuguese East Africa, and in several groups of Ngoni north of the Zambezi River. These kingdoms for some years preserved the Zulu pattern, coupling internal despotic power with external military terrorism.

The relations between art and politics have rarely been discussed either in contemporary aesthetics or in political science. Since Hegel's Philosophy of Fine Arts, the analysis of art styles as the sensuous objectifications of cultural attitudes has been worked out in detail. But the same method has not been applied to the sensuous objectifications of political action. The removal of art from social life to the museum has also removed it from among the integral concerns of political science. Accepting the popular dichotomy between art and politics, modern political science has long lost its senseof art as techne, as a practical instrument of communication and coercion. An older political science did indeed consider “art” an instrument of coercion, curbing what Freud liked to call “the rebelliousness and destructive passions” of the masses and binding them to their rulers. Indeed, perhaps Freud alone among modern masters of social science comprehended art as one of the weapons of coercion in the arsenal of culture. “Works of art,” Freud writes, “promote the feelings of identification” and identification is, in the Freudian theory, the modality of authority.

At Least one element of consistency has continued to characterize the course of political events in Indonesia—its capacity to confound the expectations and defy the predictions of most Western observers and scholars. The fate of the Communist movement provides the most recent example. Donald Hindley concluded, in his 1964 study of the policies and development of the Indonesian Communist party since national independence, that a “Communist rebellion is out of the question in the foreseeable future” (p. 301). Guy Pauker's analyses in 1964 and early 1965 of political developments stressed the probability that Indonesia would imminently become a Communist state, either by acclamation or in default of opposing forces.

The “Cologne School” of electoral research, which flourished during the 1960s and early 1970s, sprang from research conducted by Erwin K. Scheuch and Rudolf Wildenmann, and included studies carried on by their students. As exemplified by the ten studies reviewed here, it brought to West German political sociologists the theories and findings from American electoral research, tested some of its assumptions with West German data on voting behavior, and expanded and refined its basic notions in a comparative perspective. Especially significant were findings stressing social context as a factor influencing voting, more useful distinctions among kinds of “floating voters,” the lesser importance of party identification in the Federal Republic than in the United States, and the greater importance for West German voters of issues and ideology.

Major changes in the postwar global environment have transformed “the” German question into many German questions that continue to complicate the foreign and domestic policy-making processes in the Federal Republic. Inconsistencies between official policy pronouncements and the accepted political modus operandi are explainable in terms of four “paradoxes”: (1) the nation/state identity paradox; (2) the reunification/integration paradox; (3) the stability/security paradox; and (4) the lessons-of-history/normalcy paradox. West German commitment to the Atlantic Alliance remains unshaken, but the FRG should not be forced to choose between the U.S. and Europe, between integration with the West and further improvement in relations with the GDR. Normalization of those relations will be best served by a mutual adherence to the principles of balance, territorial integrity, confidence building and greater transparency in matters of inter-German decision making.

Statistics is the one discipline in which people have concentrated almost exclusively on how to collect and analyze data. Statisticians have been doing this as a goal in itself without having to be encumbered by substantive issues arising from some other discipline. Most of their work can be broken into components that fall in one of three categories: data gathering, data reduction (descriptive statistics), and statistical inference.

The United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA), created in November 1943 and dissolved in September 1948, was in some respects unique in the history of international organization. Unlike traditional functional organizations it was not established to deal with some technical problem of common interest but of limited significance. Nor was its creation motivated as was the institution of the League and the United Nations by the hope that it might solve the vast problems of war and peace. Its scope, the management of postwar relief and the caring for displaced persons, was limited but significant. Its decision-making powers within the field of relief operations were broad when compared with the authority of both prior and subsequent functional organizations. Since national influence within the organization had operational, not simply technical orpropaganda, significance, it was not surprising that the structure of the organization should be a matter of considerable concern to its member states. Both in its creation and in its subsequent development thestructure of UNRRA reflected the conflicting interests of the constituent governments in international relief.

How stable, how deep, or how genuine is German democracy? The only answers we can provide at present are almost embarrassingly simple; but if instead of trying to arrive at answers we go into the further questions that the questions above raise, the picture becomes more complex—and more interesting.

If one thinks seriously about any of the major international trouble spots in the world today, one soon confronts the problem of what really is the “value” of, for example, Cuba, Berlin, or Laos to the United States. The view put forward in this article is that, while the question is unanswerable in a rigorous and precise sense, some useful things can be said in approaching it, and in trying to distinguish between more and less unsatisfactory answers to it. In principle, of course, the value of other countries to the United States includes that of the advanced countries, and, most significantly, of Western Europe. The present article, however, will be primarily concerned with the value of less-developed countries to the United States, and with their value in certain extreme contingencies over a time period that is relatively short from the standpoint of history, though somewhat longer from the standpoint of economics.

A Critique of “Theories of Rational Decision” and an exposé of “Hazards and Pitfalls of Strategic Thinking” comprise the first two and more significant Parts of Strategy and Conscience. A third Part pleads for understanding between the United States and the Soviet Union, and for “ideological disarmament”; it presents vanother mode of thinking in which conscience is central.”

We hear the term less these days. But our NATO policies, our policies toward the Common Market, and our reactions to French assertiveness still give the appearance of struggling to continue along the lines of the “Grand Design” for Atlantic Partnership. As frustrations have grown the momentum of the thrust has waned; but the direction, not yet feeling the impact of alternative formulations, is sustained.

Time was when a nation, at the pinnacle of its might, asked itself the question: “In the relation of states, what is the right thing, which ought to be done, and what is the wrong thing, which ought not to be done?” It was Spain, a worldconquering power, which thus approached problems of policy in the light of rational choice and raised a crop of great and lucid minds who laid the foundations for what later became international law. But the particular principles to which these men looked for their answers have been proved inadequate, first in the practice of statesmen and then in the theory of jurists. Hopes that international relations could be ordered by the relatively simple moral rules which we recognize in the organized societies of men have been repeatedly and cruelly disappointed. The failure of this one great historic attempt to apply rational concepts to international relations has evidently made us despair of any possibility even of different rational systems in this field.

For over a quarter-entury, two separate states have existed in Germany. By fighting over “unity” and “unification,” the Federal Republic of Germany and the German Democratic Republic have in fact stabilized and legitimized their separate sociopolitical orders. This impact on the domestic politics of both states has been the main function of inter-German relations. Only recently has positive identification replaced negative orientation to the counter-state. The “German question” provides an example of “nation building” as a historical process of both the disintegration of old and the building up of new identities.