Interest in the politics of the developing areas has increased steadily since World War II, and scholars have now produced a sizable collection of single-country monographs, several regional studies, and at least one attempt at a global synthesis.1 This literature has tended to stress various conditions as the primary correlates or determinants of political development. This research note offers a taxonomy of five approaches to the study of political development. The taxonomy draws upon both traditional and contemporary sources, and studies of both “developing” and “developed” areas, to derive a framework for ordering the literature on political development produced in the past two decades. The five approaches are (I) “legal-formal,” (2) “economic,” (3) “administrative,” (4) “social system,” and (5) “political culture.”

In recent years the parlous state of public order in the world community has become an irresistible goad to creative energy by legal scholars. Unfortunately, the significance of many potentially valuable contributions to an improved order has been diluted by the tendency of writers to approach their thesis from the limited perspective of their own discipline as a more or less closed system, or to develop their views while suffering from what Harold Lasswell has referred to as the “syndrome of parochialism.”1 In an era characterized by intensive professional specialization and mounting chauvinism, the international lawyer who can surmount the parochialism of his own profession and his own cultural predispositions is a rarity indeed; the paragon who can do so consistently is even rarer.

The vitality of the social sciences in the United States has not prevented some of its most influential pioneers from becoming unread classics. A widespread preference for textbook treatment and up-to-theminute analysis plays its part; but if the reader does want to turn to the originals, he often finds that they are not readily available. Complete and scholarly editions of writers who pursued new directions of inquiry are rarer than might be supposed—even in their native language. The situation is particularly bad when it comes to foreign authors. A writer's theories and insights may be transmitted through one or two major works, while the rest of his output is ignored, so that his thoughts are analyzed in isolation, without benefit of the preliminary sketches, correspondence, and marginal studies that would give depth and suppleness to the interpretation. Until recently Rousseau and Tocqueville have been in this position; another case in point is Max Weber, ignorance of whose fertile theorizing has misled more than one commentator. Still another, and extreme, example of intellectual discontinuity is provided by Clausewitz. Much of his work has never been published; even in German most of it is out of print; little of it has ever been translated. The result has been the partial loss of a remarkable historical and theoretical achievement. To the American reader, in particular, Clausewitz rarely means more than the “philosopher of war,” a famous name associated with one or two clichés backed up by little of substance. Repeated attempts to outline Clausewitz's thought, or to present the “essential Clausewitz” in the form of excerpts, have never been of more than doubtful value, if only because his methodology and dialectic are scarcely less interesting than the conclusions they reach. It would be pointless to attempt the impossible once again. On the other hand, a brief survey of Clausewitz's writings and of the literature concerning him may provide a useful introduction to his theories and to the manner in which for the past 150 years they have influenced the study and the waging of war.

THE Kennedy Administration had not been long in office when one began to hear from Pentagon friends that the man whom the President had chosen as his Secretary of Defense was not just extraordinary; he was un phénomène.

International, the flooding stream of words from national governmental representatives in international organizations has been accompanied by only a trickle of scholarly studies. These include the Carnegie Endowment's valuable series of studies of national policies in the UN, most of which are now outdated. The series does not have a volume on the USSR. The most extended and valuable recent attempt to fathom Soviet policy in the United Nations is Alexander Dallin's The Soviet Union at the United Nations (New York 1962). It deals with broader subject matter than the two books discussed here and gives much consideration to Soviet policy in relation to the maintenance of peace and security.

These first three volumes of a promising series are strong evidence that the policy sciences of development are beginning to emerge as an identifiable problem-oriented frame of reference, intersecting every specialized field of knowledge. The goals of development are gaining clarity; the historical perspective deepens; the interdependence of conditioning factors is better understood; the probable lines of future growth are more fully projected; and the invention and evaluation of policies designed to maximize or at least to achieve minimum results are forging ahead. The editors of each volume have woven theory and data into coherent patterns, and many essays—such as the chapters by Marx, Riggs, Lerner, and Pool—are sharply centered on the hitherto underdeveloped topics with which they come to grips. The Almond-Coleman model of political development lurks meaningfully in the wings.

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.”

Dialectics about NATO strategy have become tiresomely repetitious. One wishes they were unnecessary, ideally because a military threat had assuredly disappeared, or because a strategic nearconsensus had emerged. At least the strategic debate should have become more specific. But doctrine in the end is paramount, however unfortunate the consequences of trying to settle upon it ex cathedra. Quantitative analyses that are not systematically related to possible doctrines can lose critical issues in a welter of data, while analyses confined to ways to implement a single doctrine are too constricted. If within NATO one or more nations insist that the mid-1950 doctrine fits the logo's, official alliance planners can be stifled.

In the preface to Paix et Guerre entre les nations Raymond Aron writes that: “Mon but est de comprendre la logique implicite des relations entre collectivités politiquement organisées.” As an effort to comprehend the implicit logic of state relations, Paix et Guerre is clearly one of the most ambitious works to appear in recent years. In terms of sheer scope, it has few—if indeed, any—serious competitors among general treatises on international relations. Moreover, in terms of substantive accomplishments, it is in many respects one of the most impressive works to appear in a long time. It is impressive if only because of the critical function it performs. Few theories of significance directly or indirectly relating to “l'institution belliqueuse” escape Aron's attention and criticism.1Paix et Guerre is impressive for the way in which it seeks to encompass and to organize the disparate materials making up the study of international relations and, in particular, for the manner in which it attempts to comprehend certain behavior— diplomatic-strategic action—from diverse points of view. It is equally impressive for its awareness that the progress of a discipline generally and the utility of comparative study particularly depend on drawing clear and precise distinctions and devising useful classifications. Finally, Paix et Guerre is impressive for the perceptiveness with which it analyzes contemporary international politics. Aron's chapters on the diplomacy and strategy of the nuclear age—“le monde fini”—form a model of political analysis. Not the least of its virtues is the modesty of the conclusions drawn and the disavowal of oracular pretensions. The same modesty characterizes Aron's theoretical endeavors. If a pervasive skepticism is applied to the theories of others, and particularly to “les grandes hypotheses,” Aron is almost as skeptical of his own efforts to lay bare “les conditions des choix historiques.” In large measure, Paix et Guerre is a sustained and often brilliant effort to demonstrate the limits of our present knowledge. That effort performs a much needed service.

These are four books on inter-American relations, the focus necessarily requiring the authors to make an assessment of intra-national politics as well. With one partial exception (Powelson), none of them is based on anything approaching a theoretical orientation, and the frame of reference is not that of systematic empirical inquiry. Their value then for the student of comparative politics or international relations is extremely limited. All (except Vianna Moog) share a diffuse commitment to the prevailing U.S. value system which constrains their ability to define Latin American political realities. It is to this point that most of the present essay is directed.

In the fifth volume of his collected essays, Jean-Paul Sartre has brought together thirteen pieces written during the last ten years and dealing with the problems of colonialism and decolonization. They range from prefaces or reviews of books to polemical articles and interviews on the Algerian question and French politics; as is to be expected, they vary widely in quality as well as importance. Some of them are perhaps better seen as documents, testimonials of Sartre's courageous stand against the policies of successive French cabinets toward Algeria. At a time when the majority of the French people and of their leaders were striving to avoid seeing or acknowledging the profound moral issues confronting them, Sartre's voice was among the few raised to point out the real problems, to remind Frenchmen of their own recent experience under the Nazis, and to warn them against imitating those Germans who "did not know" what was happening at Dachau and Auschwitz. At the time of the Hungarian revolt of 1956, Sartre did not let his commitment to Marxism and to the left still his voice or his conscience. During the Algerian war, in the late 1950's, he became once again the conscience and the voice of French humanism and French culture. He and his collaborators and friends kept up the intellectual (and sometimes material) contact between France, as a nation and as an idea, and her rebellious colonial subjects.

For some time it has been common knowledge that it is in traditional agriculture that most of the world's agricultural producers are engaged. It has also been known since FAO began publishing its annual reports on the world agricultural situation, if not before, that the rate of progress of agriculture in the advanced countries of the world differs from that in the less-developed countries. In the advanced countries, where agriculture is a minor industry in terms of the number of people engaged or in its contribution to the GNP, it has been making progress and has been producing more per person or per unit of land. In the less-developed countries, where it is a major industry, it has been registering little, if any, advance. People with experience in less-developed countries know that such increase as there has been has occurred principally in the more or less commercialized large-farm sector; and that the traditional sector, composed chiefly of small farms, has had little share in it. Considering all this, and the fact that the development of the poor countries has become of international concern, it is rather surprising that so many years have had to pass before a leading agricultural economist published a book dealing with one of the major problems of these countries: the transformation of traditional agriculture.

Senator Fulbright's recent excursion into the analysis of1 foreign policy has been hailed as a breath of fresh air that sweeps away the cobwebs of cant and misunderstanding. The history of postwar foreign policy explains why such a study is needed. The inspiring successes and inventive genius of the first Truman Administration—an era unparalleled in American history for resourceful and courageous adaptation to changing circumstances—have been succeeded by disarray and confusion in American foreign policy. Both the early postwar stereotypes and the grand design of policy are breaking down. Thus the Senator's objective—an objective of unmasking old myths and clarifying new realities—is necessary and salutary.

However much men differ about what constitutes good government, they agree that it is conducive to economic development. It is sometimes taken for granted that the first step on the road to economic development is the establishment of an effective government that is determined to achieve such development. Thus Dr. Nkrumah enjoined his followers: “Seek ye first the kingdom of politics and all else shall be added unto you.” Students of economic development might not think the matter is as simple as that, but they still spend most of their time in search of government policies conducive to economic growth; they ask how economic plans can be improved, when governments can best rely on private initiative, and so on.

Where are we now in the study of new nations? Three books that are the product of nineteen experienced minds should help to establish our present position. Nation-Building grew out of a panel discussion at the 1962 meeting of the American Political Science Association organized by Karl W. Deutsch. Old Societies and New States reflects the work of the Committee for the Comparative Study of New Nations at the University of Chicago. New Nations represents the thinking of that British school of social anthropologists who, beginning with Radcliffe-Brown, have been especially interested in problems of process, authority, change, and conflict in society.

THE idea that peaceful adjustment of the relations of states may result from contention among them Claude believes to be hopelessly outmoded. The presence of nuclear weapons means that any equilibrium of states, however stable it may seem, is not nearly stable enough. The task of the theorist and the statesman alike is to introduce order from above, to replace the “invisible hand” by which adjustments are contrived in systems of self-regulation with something a little more substantial. Here the juxaposition of our two authors enlivens the subject. F. H. Hinsley considers the notion of spontaneous equilibrium to be a liberating idea. He applies the eighteenth century's beautiful system of natural harmony to the world of the present and is delighted with the result. Though large-scale war would now be devastating, we need not worry. Nuclear power is absolute and nuclear states, competent to control the instruments of power at their disposal, deter each other absolutely.