IN recent years a good deal of attention has been focused on the Vlasov movement as an outstanding example of “Soviet opposition to Stalin” and as a wartime opportunity (largely missed by Germany) to utilize defectors and prisoners for military as well as political propaganda purposes. One important facet of the Vlasov problem has eluded systematic investigation: the reaction of the Soviet authorities to the movement. The themes employed in their campaign to reduce the political force of the Vlasov challenge provide some insight into their political behavior under the stress of indigenous opposition.

HUNDREDS of books have been written to describe the ways in which particular groups or individuals have come to exercise domination over large numbers of their fellows. Despite this tempting wealth of factual material, or perhaps because of it, modern social science has very largely avoided any attempt to discover and explain, within a strictly empirical framework, what recurring patterns there may be in these myriads of events. The following pages represent a very modest effort in this direction.

If there is indeed a distinguishable process of acquiring power, or, as is more likely, a series of such processes, the attempt to distinguish them must be formulated in terms of a time sequence. It should indicate the conditions in the society as a whole that lead to a concentration of power. In addition, it should indicate the sequence of stages through which the concentration takes place.

The surface indices of political life in Germany suggest that that nation has embarked upon a moderate pro-European and pro-Western course, and that political extremism and nationalism have no significant appeal at the present time. Thus the elections of 1953 produced an overwhelming majority for the “moderate” parties. Neither the Communist Party nor specifically neo-Nazi formations attained significant votes or representation in the Bundestag in the election of that year. On the whole, the statements made by governmental, political, and interest group leaders have been cautious and responsible. Occasional manifestations of neo-Nazism have been local and limited in character. There is no evidence to suggest that such tendencies have widespread organized support either aboveground or underground.

THE influence of ideological conceptions upon the men who make Soviet policy has been frequently and rightly emphasized. Some observers are so deeply impressed by this influence that they tend to regard the Soviet system as a kind of ideocracy. It is undeniable that ideology has been one powerful factor in the shaping of Soviet policies and actions from the time of the October Revolution to the present. But one must not lose sight of the fact that, in Soviet Russia, the relationship between ideology and policy is one of mutual interaction. It is a two-way process in which theoretical conceptions affect the making of policy and practical considerations affect the content of the ideology. The ideological system is not a completely static thing. It has evolved over the years, and the realities of Soviet politics have been the driving force behind this evolution.

NO analyst of Soviet Communism has failed to express surprise that a Marxist movement should have triumphed in a prevailingly agrarian society. Equally trite has been the observation that the Russian Marxists have not been able to solve the problem of the peasant and his full integration into their socialist system. Marx was a city boy, we are told, and that is why Nikita Khrushchev, the First Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, has to spend his time discussing the failure of Soviet agriculture to keep up with the industrial sector of the economy. We are left with a truly confusing picture. Marxism, on its own premises designed as a movement for fully industrialized societies, comes to power or is a serious contender for power in societies that are mainly agrarian, while mature industrial countries adhere perversely to something (but something that is definitely non-Marxist) variously described as “the social welfare state,” “liberal capitalism,” and the like. Perhaps Marx was wrong and—for reasons unforeseen by him—his system is peculiarly suitable to what we now term “backward” countries, with predominantly agrarian economies and a low standard of living. Then why cannot Marxism solve its central problem of the agrarian economy? Or is it perhaps merely one form of Marxism—Soviet Communism—which is thus incapacitated? No wonder that scholars, first secretaries, and the rest of us tend to become confused.

WE attempt in this article to identify some politically significant characteristics of Soviet policy in the field of “cultural relations. These are discussed in the context of international affairs since the death of Stalin. The significance of this topic for governments was reemphasized by its prominence at the two Geneva East-West meetings of 1955. It impinged noticeably upon world attention once the ”Geneva spirit” had rekindled hope for a lessening of tension.

There is general agreement among Western scholars that the modern totalitarian state is distinguished in part by its possession of a unitary and systematically elaborated ideology. While it will be found that expert opinions vary considerably in regard to the importance of the role played by ideology in the origin and continuation of totalitarianism, there is little question but that the ruling power of the totalitarian society is not indifferent to the relationship between national ideology and popular attitudes. Indeed, history shows that the rulers of twentieth-century totalitarian states have devoted considerable effort to the development among their citizenries of attitudes of acceptance toward the social philosophies and goals associated with their regimes.

THE German labor unions are presently passing through a critical period. The outward portents of the crisis are clearly visible. The membership of the Deutsche Gewerkschaftsbund (DGB—German Trade Union Federation), which continued to climb regularly until 1952, is now stationary or, viewed in proportion to employment figures, slightly on the decline. Union headquarters ring with controversies between factions and personalities. The recent, predominantly Catholic, split-off from the DGB threatens to enlarge the hitherto minor area of rival or dual unionism; even a moderate enlargement of this sort would probably lead to an increase (as it did in France) in the indifference of the majority of workers toward all labor organizations.

While much is known about the impact of bombing on an economy's material ability to produce—in terms of the physical survival of resources—comparatively little thought has been devoted to the broader social consequences of truly major bombing. The social and political consequences, however, may well dominate the material or more narrowly economic ones; resources potentially of value may either remain unutilized or may be improperly or anti-socially employed, as a result of the impairment or collapse of our accepted processes of social decision. Our purpose here is to attempt to explore the social consequences of a major bombing disaster by an examination of the effects of bombing upon the organization of society, upon the distribution of political and economic power, and upon institutions relevant to the effective functioning of society. Needless to say, we can only make preliminary or tentative conjectures (or, rather, speculations), in view of the complexity of the subject and the limited degree of historical knowledge of the functioning of human societies under conditions of extreme stress. Nevertheless, it seems desirable to explore these questions—since the answers may have important implications for prewar planning designed to promote the ability of our society to cope with such disasters.

MANKIND'S latest technological triumph—the ability to split certain atoms and harness the resultant energy for either destruction or construction—constitutes one of the most provocative developments in modern international relations. It not only creates the greatest opportunity for suicide yet available to humanity; it also introduces a new stage in the scientific, industrial, and technological revolutions which have given modernity its primary characteristics. For atomic power constitutes an entirely new source of energy capable of supplementing or even of replacing that traditionally derivable from fossil fuels and falling water. Moreover, the amounts of fissionable matter necessary to produce it are so small, in contrast to existing sources of power, that problems of fuel transportation are almost completely eliminated.

WITHIN the past year, the Italian government has revealed a ten-year program, known as the Vanoni Plan, for the development of the Italian economy. By the investment of $56 billion, the government hopes to conquer the problem of chronic unemployment and to revitalize the laggard southern regionof the country. The plan is a bold and imaginative one, replete with government controls, and probably too optimistic. Nonetheless, it has forcefully drawn international attention to Italy's basic economic problems. Hence it is opportune to examine those problems against the perspective of what has been attained by the Italian economy in the past ten years.

Compared with northwest Europe, Italy has always been economically poor. Capital is much scarcer and the endowment of natural resources is much less favorable. Deposits of coal and metallic minerals are negligible or lacking, though natural gas production is growing and petroleum has recently been discovered. Arable land is poor in average quality. Only 1.78 hectares areavailable per person engaged in agriculture, one-third less than in France, while total arableland is one-quarter below France although the population of Italy is 10 per cent larger (47.1 million in 1951).

HOW new is the Soviet “new course”? It is just as difficult to answer this question as it applies to the internal Soviet economy as in its application to internal politics or to foreign affairs. Nor is this surprising, for it is probable that there is a close interrelationship between the various facets of Soviet policy.

THE problem of disarmament can be studied under two principal headings: that of politics and that of the technique of control.

From the stand point of general politics, disarmament is linked to every aspect of the cold war, since it appears to be the essential condition to any real reduction of international tension. From the technical stand point, disarmament raises a host of special difficulties which it becomes necessary to examine, if only to appreciate fully the broad ramifications of the subject.

Reliable disarmament, particularly of nuclear weapons, requires inspection and control, which in turn require much mutual trust. None of this is yet in sight. Disarmament of nuclear weapons is therefore still a long way off, although a measure of conventional disarmament may be nearer.

EVENTS intimately linked to our foreign relations have profoundly affected the level of economic activity in the United States and the character of our economic progress and stability. They cannot be disregarded by those concerned with the level of economic activity in this country. Furthermore, those concerned with the economic policies of the United States must also be concerned with the impact of those policies upon the rest of the world because of the great importance of the United States in the world economy, and because of the link between economic, political, and military events at home and abroad. Since the United States cannot ignore the far-reaching and indirect effect of its policies and decisions, the American people and their government require a detailed and systematic understanding of the economic interrelationships among all countries of the world. Even more, to exercise the international leadership which our great size and resources impose upon us, we must be in a position to assess the effect of developments and actions everywhere upon the political and economic strength of the free world. This article considers a few of the salient features of world economic relations which should always be kept in mind in assessing economic policy alternatives.

ON March 7, 1936, German troops entered the demilitarized zone of the Rhineland. Germany thus violated Articles 42 and 43 of the Treaty of Versailles and Articles 1 and 2 of the Treaty of Locarno of 1925. Remilitarization moved forward for about one hundred miles the areas of concentration for any German armed attack in the west and advanced the defensive line that could be held by the German army. It severely weakened France and, in consequence, all the other powers concerned to maintain the Paris peace settlements and to preserve the peace of Europe.

IHE problem of war and national security, at one time conceived of as the province of almost anyone but the peace-minded international relationist, has come increasingly to occupy scholars and researchers. Arnold J. Toynbee, whose major concern is the philosophy of history, preserves a lively interest in international politics and particularly in the problem of war, the principles of foreign policy, and the quest for an applicable body of theory concerning international society. With the publication of the last four volumes of his famed A Study of History, it may be appropriate to call attention to the other side of his work, especially as he brings to the discussion a clarity, simplicity, and concreteness refreshing by contrast with the pompous tautologies of much of modern scholarship. This article reviews Mr. Toynbee's contribution to knowledge on the first of the problems mentioned, namely, war and national security. It seeks to present his conception of the crisis in modern war, social factors underlying the transformation of warfare, and prevailing theories on the nature and inevitability of war.

MOST American forecasters in the first half of 1955 were optimistic about the United States economy, but many were gloomy about the prospects for Asia. The head-shaking over Indonesia was particularly grave.1 Such a pessimistic outlook was perhaps a natural reaction to the sanguine attitude that followed the Indonesian achievement of freedom from the Dutch on December 27, 1949. In Indonesia itself, a battle raged in 1955—culminating in the overthrow of the Ali cabinet—between those out of power who blamed the cabinet for inflation, insecurity, and corruption, and those in power who tried to place the onus on previous cabinets, the Dutch, and remnants of colonialism. Indonesian newspapers played up these disputes with perhaps even more vigor than the American press handles party differences within the United States.

Indonesia is a classic example of a recently freed, former colony. Winning sovereignty from the Netherlands ended the first and basically the simpler phase of the revolution. The second phase, more difficult and much more gradual, must evolve new institutions to make the country a truly independent power and ensure economic development with a rising standard of living for her people. She is struggling with the usual boom-and-bust cycle that characterizes araw-material producing country. In the 1930's, she suffered through the sugar depression. Since she gained her freedom, rubber, tin, and copra, comprising over 70 per cent of her exports, have give hera hectic ride on the roller coaster of world prices.

Nothing compels the reexamination of basic constitutional postulates so much as the possibility of their peaceful revision. Hence the much-advertised United Nations Review Conference underscores the need for contrasting the theoretical structure of the Charter with the reality of the practices which have evolved within its framework. Such an effort, while it might give support to those who strive for severe alterations of the structure, may also lead to the conclusion that even though the operational practices of international organization fail to meet the specifications of the Charter, peace might be more secure in the Cold War era if it is permitted to depend on operational vagaries rather than on legal precision. What, then, is the basic theory of the Charter and what the actual practice?