The period since the end of the Second World War has now exceeded in length the period between the two World Wars. The time has thus perhaps come when it is possible to attempt an overall comparison of the two periods, of the types of threat to stability that arose in each, and of the differing strategies adopted to meet these.

The interwar period is associated in the popular mind with the attempt to pursue peace through a policy of “appeasement.” This is the term traditionally used, primarily by hostile critics, and principally after the event, to describe the policy aimed to conciliate, rather than to coerce, those powers dissatisfied with the existing status quo. The policies so described, as is now generally recognized, were adopted by most of the governments concerned not primarily through crass refusal to face the facts of the situation or to summon the resolution necessary for active resistance.

A Heavy onslaught on the (predominantly American) “scientific” school of students of international relations has recently been delivered to the evident satisfaction and comfort of those who practice or respond most comfortably to the “classical approach.” Still, the defeat of one school—if defeat there was—need not, of course, necessarily redound to the honor of the other, and it is surely worth considering what positive case has been made out on this occasion, explicitly or by implication, in favor of “classicism.” In fact, this article will argue, neither approach is entirely adequate. Neither provides a really firm basis on which to found a coherent and well-integrated field of study or—what is undoubtedly more important—a framework within which the facts of contemporary international life can be selected, compared, and interpreted in a thoroughly valid and enlightening manner.

Since the Korean War, United States policies in Asia have gradually developed along the lines of the “containment” doctrine so successfully applied in Europe after 1947. Washington has increasingly seen the problem of Chinese power in Asia in much the same light as that posed by Soviet power in Europe and has behaved as if both threats could be contained by basically the same kinds of responses. In both Asia and Europe, containment measures have reflected a perceived need for complementary interaction between military policies and aid programs in order to prevent aggression by Communist powers and to foster the internal stability of nations in the area. Although difficulties have arisen in seeking the best balance of these components of the containment policy in Europe, most of the essential American objectives in the West have been attained.

Over the past decade traditionalists have launched a series of attacks on scientific approaches to international politics. Most of the arguments employed against the scientific approach stem from those used earlier by E. H. Carr in The Twenty Years’ Crisis. The general arguments that have been employed include these among others: that politics involves purpose in a way that physical science does not; that scientific knowledge is applicable to facts, but understanding, wisdom, or intuition are required for areas where human purpose is involved; that those pursuing scientific models tend to mistake their models for reality; that scientific method requires high precision and measurement and therefore is incapable of coping with the most important elements of international politics; and that the practitioners of scientific method can never be sure that they have not left something out of their model.

With several notable and recent exceptions, the current literature on “modernization” in “developing countries” implicitly or explicitly assumes an inherent irreconcilability between “modern” and “traditional” values, institutions, and behavior patterns. Related to this assumption is the expectation that whenever important elements off these two social systems collide, the natural result is social convulsion.

It is typical of this literature to qualify these assumptions with the caveat, commonly employed in conjunction with the use of “ideal j types,” that differences between these two apparent classes of society are only relative, or that “pure” cases of either type are never manifested.

With the reluctant retirement of Nikita Khrushchev, the Soviet Union entered a new phase of collective leadership. Past experience with such periods has led many Western specialists to expect that the collective leadership pattern will lead to the emergence of a single leader, who will hold preponderant power and who will seek to consolidate and strengthen that power, ultimately acquiring something approaching dictatorial authority. The assumptions of this “conventional wisdom” (to borrow a phrase from John Galbraith) are that (i) there is something inherently unstable in a collective leadership pattern, given Soviet conditions; (2) the personal ambitions and power drive of Soviet leaders prevent, in the long run, their acceptance of a situation of shared power; and (3) historical evidence of past breakdowns of collective leadership is applicable to present conditions.

It may seem preposterous to write about the effects of the economic sanctions currently in effect against Rhodesia since the process is not yet completed: we do not know how it will all end, and primary source material of a crucial nature is not yet available. But the purpose of this article is more in the direction of a general theory, using the case of Rhodesia as a source of examples and illustrations. The material on Rhodesia included here consists of some secondary sources, such as books and articles, and some primary sources, such as documents and other printed material; but the basic sources are mainly personal observation and a number of informal interviews with Rhodesian citizens (mostly businessmen) and with citizens of other African countries (mostly politicians), all dating from January 1966, about two months after UDI.

Conventional alliance theory asserts that calculation, not sentiment, determines original combinations; thereafter, ideology, cultural ties, and common historical traditions may buttress the connection achieved. Moreover, interest governs the breakdown of alliances; cultural affinities can only be retarding factors. Since the national “parts” are postulated as greater than the alliance “whole,” the logic of egocentric interests had led some to predict nuclear fragmentation within contemporary alliance systems.

General André Beaufre defines strategy as “the art of the dialectic of two opposing wills using force to resolve their dispute.” Nowhere is this dialectic more pronounced than in Beaufre's own works where Beaufre as strategist is pitted against Beaufre as a leading Gaullist strategist and director of the Institut Français d'Études Stratégiques. Beaufre, as strategist, broadens the image of French military thinking projected, for example, by General Pierre Gallois's more widely known, always stimulating, but more flamboyant and less precise, writings. Beaufre, as Gaullist, delineates the profound dimensions and compelling attractions of newly emergent French nationalism which still are only dimly perceived in what is for the French the Anglo-Saxon world.

Since the April 1960 student-led revolution there, debate in South Korea on the peaceful unification of the two Koreas has increased in frequency, intensity, and popularity among students, intellectuals, political parties, and other social groups. Popular support for independent and peaceful unification is rapidly mounting. This changing mood may be due to more effective North Korean propaganda as well as to the unhappy economic conditions in South Korea. In response to North Korea's aggressive unification campaign, the ROK (Republic of Korea) government has found it necessary to set up a research organization dedicated solely to the study of problems of unification.

Self-sustaining economic growth remains a tantalizing and remote goal for the world's poor nations, whose populations comprise some seventy percent of all the world's people. Now halfway through its “Development Decade,” the UN has observed that a continuation of past development trends is not something that can be looked upon with favor. There has in fact been a large expansion in industrial production and in overhead capital facilities in these poor lands over the past decade or two.

ARE regional and global approaches to world order compatible or competitive ? Policy-makers and scholars pose this question with increasing frequency. Yet too often assessments of the relative capabilities of regional and general international organizations fail to distinguish the different demands such issues as threats to the peace or modernization create for widely divergent institutions. Enthusiasm for regionalism waxes and wanes with events. As Inis Claude observes, “The advocacy of regionalism can be, and often is, as doctrinaire and as heedless of concrete realities as the passion for all-encompassing organization.”

One of the major questions about foreign policy concerns the level of effort: How much should the state extract from the internal political system in order to pursue its external objectives? As posed, the issue involves the control of resources, and although the resources it deals with usually include material resources, the limiting factors are political. It should not be stretching the meaning of political things (although it would be changing the frame of reference) to identify the issue as one of allocating political “assets” among several (in this case, two major) sectors to deal with political risks or threats. It is easy enough to identify this allocative function as a requirement of independent governments and quite another to establish what is required to achieve it.

Almost everywhere in the world man lives in communities, and a vast majority of these communities are not independent political entities but are subject to political control from above. When village communities are under the control of a central authority, there necessarily arises the problem of working out a political relationship between the local communities and the central authority. This relationship is, of course, far from uniform. The modest state of the aboriginal Fiji, where the ruler has little more power than to demand tributes, is a far cry from the modern state of Communist China, which controls practically every sphere of peasant life. A question arises then as to what determines the variation in the political relationships between the village community and the central authority and within the village's internal political structure. The purpose of this article is to explore these determinants and examine their consequences for the village community as a political entity.

During the last ten years the study of comparative politics has undergone a methodological revolution. Reacting against the static, formalistic, “country-by-country” approach of earlier students of foreign governments, numerous contemporary political scientists have endeavored to create a more dynamic, empirically interpreted, and truly comparative method of analysis. This group of political scientists makes three general assumptions concerning the new approach.

Complaints and resistance encountered by American scholars pursuing social science research abroad can be attributed to the following clusters of attitudes: (i) the fear complex, (2) political hostility, (3) cultural sensitivity, (4) the exploitation syndrome, and (5) the saturation factor.1 In this article I shall briefly analyze these different sources of resistance, then point to changes and variations in their incidence, and finally address the question of remedies.

For the first time since independence, economic planners in India are experiencing a serious crisis of confidence. Although there has always been some debate on alternative policies and programs, the central assumptions of development planning have remained unchallenged since the 1930's. Now, in contrast, the very core of economic development strategy has become the target of open and bitter criticism. The final draft of the Fourth Five Year Plan has been delayed for more than a year, and the end of fundamental disagreements seems nowhere in sight.

At Angkor, where the remains of an antique kingdom's abandoned capital are found deep in the Cambodian jungle, the exquisite bas-reliefs tell a story more compelling than written history. Battle scenes with a great cavalry of war elephants meld into episodes of river combat between handsomely carved fleets of oar-powered boats in an unending stone panorama of warfare as it was fought centuries ago in Southeast Asia. For one who has seen these carved panels it is not difficult to realize that when the Europeans arrived in mainland Southeast Asia in the early seventeenth century they found warfare endemic there. This conflict was not less bloody nor less protracted than that which Europe had already experienced or was about to endure in the Thirty Years' War. But this violent interaction in Asia did not seem to hold the prospect for the development of a nation-state system such as was emerging from European warfare. Rather than moving toward centralized states and configurations of alliances, the peoples of Southeast Asia in the seventeenth century appeared to be entering a phase, repetitious in their history, in which political fragmentation and spasmodic conflict were hallmarks.

Dag Hammarskjöld not long before his death called attention to the mainspring propelling the successful operation of the United Nations. The growth of the United Nations into an increasingly effective organization, he declared, will be dependent upon the cooperation extended by its Member nations in making the Charter “a living reality in practical political action as it is already in law” and in giving enhanced respect to United Nations decisions.