In the world of Isaac Asimov the computer programmer is God: he selects the facts and relationships between facts from which as yet unknown correlations flow; thus he rules the world by predicting and manipulating change, and thus he maintains stability.

Significantly, we have few if any studies of the totalitarian O dictator as a personality type. It may be that we are little closer to a working psychological model of him than Plato took us with his brilliant sketch of the ideal type of the “tyrant” in The Republic. The contemporary literature on totalitarianism does, of course, contain materials that are relevant to the problem of characterization of the totalitarian dictator. Yet no frontal attack appears to have been made upon the problem. The purpose of the present article is to argue the need for one, and to do this in the context of a critical reexamination of the theory of totalitarianism. In the course of it I shall put forward some ideas of possible use in developing a conception of the dictator as a personality type.

During the past decade two tendencies have come to dominate the field of comparative politics. One of these is the concern for theoretical explication and methodological rigor, and the second is the emphasis on field studies of the “emerging,” “new,” and “non-Western” nations. The theoretical tendency has largely taken the form of applications of "systems" theory to the study of politics, and the chief criticism of this approach has been that it is a static theory, not suitable for the analysis and explanation of political change.

The broad question posed here is how authority is distributed in the world and what shifts may be occurring in its pattern of distribution. Mainly, of course, authority is today allocated according to the Western State System, characterized in its legal mechanics by territorial rule among equals and in its political philosophy by consent of the governed. Conveniently dated from the Treaty of Westphalia and the French Revolution, the system is now more widespread than ever before.

Among the laws that rule human societies,” de Tocqueville said, “there is one which seems to be more precise and clear than all others. If men are to remain civilized or to become so, the art of associating together must grow and improve in the same ratio in which the equality of conditions is increased.”1 In much of the world today, equality of political participation is growing much more rapidly than is the “art of associating together.” The rates of mobilization and participation are high; the rates of organization and institutionalization are low. De Tocqueville's precondition for civilized society is in danger, if it is not already undermined. In these societies, the conflict between mobilization and institutionalization is the crux of politics. Yet in the fast-growing literature on the politics of the developing areas, political institutionalization usually receives scant treatment. Writers on political development emphasize the processes of modernization and the closely related phenomena of social mobilization and increasing political participation. A balanced view of the politics of contemporary Asia, Africa, and Latin America requires more attention to the “art of associating together” and the growth of political institutions. For this purpose, it is useful to distinguish political development from modernization and to identify political development with the institutionalization of political organizations and procedures. Rapid increases in mobilization and participation, the principal political aspects of modernization, undermine political institutions. Rapid modernization, in brief, produces not political development, but political decay.

Because of heightened involvement of the United States in world affairs during the period between the Spanish-American War and World War I, American political thought expanded to include the dimension of international politics. In the process three different styles of thought emerged. Each style was equipped with its characteristic view of the nature of international politics, the nature and role of war, views of human nature, a method of social and political analysis, and proposals for dealing with the problems of world politics.

This article deals with bomber disarmament as a partial measure which might be agreed upon by the two major powers in the absence of more general progress toward disarmament. However, much of it is relevant to the suggestion that bomber disarmament be linked to the U.S. proposal for a freeze on procurement of strategic weapons. The relationship between a strategic freeze and bomber disarmament is very close.

When Philippe Herreman of Le Monde spoke of Tunisia's “confiscated revolution” in 1958,1 he was referring to the rivalry of President Bourguiba and the vigorous union leader Ahmed Ben Salah. Three years later their differences were overcome and Ben Salah emerged as Minister of Planning and Finance, one of the most powerful positions in the government. The social revolution envisaged by the highly privileged and colorful labor leader in 1956 had been confiscated in 1958 and became the cornerstone of Tunisian domestic policy in 1961. Such have been the gyrations of the one-party system in Tunisia and in other African states.

Most writers on international relations and international law still examine the relationship between international law and politics in terms of the assumption that law either should or does function only as a coercive restraint on political action. Textbook writers on general international politics like Morgenthau, and Lerche and Said, as well as those scholars who have specialized in international law like J. L. Brierly and Charles De Visscher, make the common assumption that international law should be examined as a system of coercive norms controlling the actions of states. Even two of the newer works, The Political Foundations of International Law by Morton A. Kaplan and Nicholas deB. Katzenbach and Law and Minimum World Public Order by Myres S. McDougal and Florentino P. Feliciano, in spite of an occasional reference to the non-coercive aspects of international law, are developed primarily from the model of international law as a system of restraint. Deriving their conception of the relationship between international law and political action from their ideas on the way law functions in domestic communities, most modern writers look at international law as an instrument of direct control. The assumption that international law is or should be a coercive restraint on state action structures almost every analysis, no matter what the school of thought or the degree of optimism or pessimism about the effectiveness of the international legal system. With an intellectual framework that measures international law primarily in terms of constraint on political action, there is little wonder that skepticism about international law continues to increase while creative work on the level of theory seems to be diminishing.

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.

The proliferation of new sovereign states, well over sixty since World War II, has created language problems on a scale unknown in the past. In many of the emergent lands there is a great diversity of tongues, with none of them predominant. Ethnic and tribal rivalries quite often are so acute that the choice of any one language over the others would evoke stubborn opposition and fan already existing resentments. For example, Nigeria with some two hundred distinct languages simply saw fit to adopt English as the over-all official medium, although several important vernaculars are employed for primary education and local administration.

The human population is the base of human existence. This, when considered, seems an inescapable proposition. But in the minds of most men it must have an absurd remoteness. The process of population has seemed like primordial creation itself, hardly a thing to be touched by mere scruple. Beyond the scope of any deliberation, the peopling of the earth has, for mankind as a whole, remained unquestioned as the earth, an axiom behind which there was no going and from which all proceeded. But according to a relentless gathering of awareness, as witnessed in an abundance of recent writings, it appears that history has marched to a new point. The condition of the world is being modified by a constellation of emergencies, and any observation and reflection on them, any rough glance at the outlines of trends in the life of the world, points to the swelling flood of population as the central reality in every perspective on the future.

Numerous articles and books have been written on workermanagement cooperation.1 It may be of interest to students of industrial and political relations to study such arrangements in Asian countries. This article will discuss such an arrangement in one of the Asian countries—i.e., worker-management councils (dewan perusahaan) in Indonesia, as they have developed from 1960 up to June 1964.

The internal political life of Turkey since the revolution of 1960 JL has been beset by military coups and conflicts between political parties and social groups far more frequent and intensive than might normally be expected in a post-revolutionary period. This unrest contrasts sharply with the political stability which prevailed before 1960, and comes after a series of constitutional changes intended to establish a better system for orderly change and control of government.

In the last forty years, Germany has had three radically different political systems. In each case, the party system, better than any other single index, reflects the style of politics of that period. The highly splintered, multiparty system of Weimar mirrors perfectly the extreme ideological dissension and radicalism of postwar German politics. The one-party system of the Third Reich epitomizes the attempt to destroy the individual's traditional social ties and then to absorb him totally in a coordinated movement. Finally, the two-party system of Bonn reflects the growing social and political consensus concerning the more pragmatic and concrete political goals of postHitlerian Germany. Although these three political systems are intimately related, the main question for us is why the democratic party systems of Weimar and Bonn are so different. The party systems are unintelligible, however, without an understanding of the patterns of pressure-group politics as well.

Private investment in Latin America by citizens of the United States, as well as in other less-developed areas of the world, is widely regarded as a valuable—if not an indispensable—component of the overall U.S. foreign assistance program. By quickly identifying and exploring promising new business opportunities, and by providing financial resources and human skills required to translate them into going ventures, U.S. investment activities can make a vital contribution to economic development. Recognizing the role of private investment in furthering its national interests, the U.S. government has for a number of years sought to promote the flow of new investment: a rapidly growing investment guarantee program, direct government loans to eligible private investors, and investment information services are some of the instruments employed by the government in pursuing this objective. To provide additional incentives, a bill currently before Congress stipulates that U.S. investors making certain kinds of new investments in eligible, less-developed countries would be permitted to deduct 30 per cent of the cost of the investment from their total federal income-tax obligations.

In 1959, the tenth anniversary of the Communist take-over in China, Howard Boorman reviewed Western scholarship on Chinese politics in an essay subtitled “Some Remarks on Retarded Development.”1 Although a good deal has taken place in Western rese0arch since that time—and the Chinese Communists have, through their actions, generated considerably more subject matter—I am inclined to give my essay the same subtitle. Many books and articles on China have been published since 1959, but social science analysis has neither “staged a take-off” nor begun “the drive to maturity,” to borrow two of W. W. Rostow's terms. In fact, in my opinion social science has yet to achieve “the preconditions for take-off” from which it can begin to theorize about China.

On June 15, 1964, the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development adopted its Final Act. General Principle 10 of this Act contains the following recommendation: “Regional economic groupings, integration or other forms of economic co-operation should be promoted among developing countries as a means of expanding their intra-regional and extra-regional trade and encouraging their economic growth and their industrial and agricultural diversification."1 The Act expresses the discontent of the developing nations with the existing state of affairs and their readiness to experiment with new forms of regional economic cooperation.

Serious literature about foreign policy, when it is not primarily historical, can be classed in three ways. It is either pragmatic, attempting to solve specific problems through a mastery of specific data; or it is what I will call unitary, arguing for comprehensive solutions on the basis of some general vision of the truth; or it is pluralistic, asserting the value of many approaches and denying the certainty of any one.

The United Nations involvement in the Congo crisis can be viewed in various perspectives. It is a significant example of the UN's peace-keeping activities and a formidable test of Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjùld's concept of preventive diplomacy. From the viewpoint of legal analysis, it shows the flexibility of the Charter. In terms of the UN's institutions, it demonstrates both the potentialities and the perils of the development of the executive capacity of the SecretaryGeneral. In addition, in the Civilian Operations of the United Nations Operation in the Congo (abbreviated as ONUC, the initials of Organisation des Nations Unies au Congo), it has another, less widely known facet Alongside efforts to contain, ease, and ultimately eliminate the political-military crisis in the Congo, the United Nations has undertaken through ONUC's Civilian Operations emergency and longer-term functions which can most appropriately be called “statepreserving” and “state-building.”