The Fourth Republic in France, which at the present fateful moment is in the early days of its uncertain career, is definitely enough established to ensure that it will forever be listed among the several régimes that have prevailed in France since the Revolution. So also, the constitution of the Fourth Republic, commonly referred to as the constitution of September 28, 1946, this being the date of its adoption by the constituent assembly that formulated it, will demand a place on the proverbially long list of constitutions of France, no matter on what basis a count may be made. This constitution was ratified by the voters on October 13, 1946.

The year 1946, it will be remembered, saw the formulation of an earlier constitution in France by an earlier constituent assembly. This constitution, once drafted, succeeded in being passed by the assembly, the First National Constituent Assembly; but the closeness of the vote (309 to 249) was merely one indication of the difficulty it encountered in securing approval. The date of the adoption was April 19, 1946. The constitution was rejected at the polls on May 5, being the only constitution ever to be disapproved by the French voters.

On March 21, 1947, the House of Representatives concurred in the Senate amendments to House Joint Resolution 27, which proposed an amendment to the Constitution of the United States placing a limit on the number of terms a President may serve. The vote in the House on so important a question was amazingly small—81 ayes, 29 noes, a total of 110 votes. Objection to the vote on the ground of absence of a quorum was made and then withdrawn. The necessary vote of two-thirds was declared to have been taken, and the way was cleared for possible ratification by the legislatures of the states.

The pertinent part of the proposed amendment in its final form is as follows:

“No person shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice, and no person who has held the office of President, or acted as President for more than two years of a term to which some other person was elected President shall be elected to the office of the President more than once. But this article shall not apply to any person holding the office of President when this article was proposed by the Congress, and shall not prevent any person who may be holding the office of President, or acting as President, during the term within which this article becomes operative from holding the office of President or acting as President during the remainder of such term.”

Under this amendment a President might conceivably serve not to exceed ten years. The primary object of the latter part of the complicated proposal was to except President Truman from its application. In order to be valid, the proposal must be ratified within a period of seven years after its submission to the states.

Among the luxuries that Americans indulge in during the current prosperity and high-income level is complacent disregard of the more serious aspects of intergovernmental fiscal relations. Ominous cracks and crevices in the fiscal structure temporarily close during a period when the price can be paid for disregarding them. A depression, however, uncovers already existing problems and aggrevates preëxisting evils.

To canvass interlevel financial relations at a time when emergencies did not force impromptu solutions was the purpose of a round-table discussion of the American Political Science Association, convening at Cleveland, December 27 and 28, 1946. Since multiple taxation and the need for tax coördination have been examined—and will continue to be surveyed—by economists, the round-table's attention was directed rather to aspects of the problem which are neglected when intergovernmental relations are viewed solely or primarily in terms of taxation. The round-table discussion of other aspects is here reported by its chairman, Wylie Kilpatrick, of the Governments Division, U. S. Bureau of the Census. Participants included Charles S. Ascher, of the National Housing Agency; Hubert R. Gallagher, associate director of the Council of State Governments; W. Brooke Graves, Legislative Reference Service, Library of Congress; I. M. Labovitz, Fiscal Division, U. S. Bureau of the Budget; and Lewis B. Sims, Governments Division, U. S. Bureau of the Census.

The shifting content of interlevel fiscal relations, changing with different periods, requires a re-survey of the current picture to prevent irrelevancy arising from considering facts which, however much they once were true, no longer obtain today.

Early in 1931, General Jorge Ubico Castaneda established in Guatemala one of the tightest dictatorships in all Latin America. For many years, his régime was not only popular, but benevolent. General Ubico loved his country, and under his leadership there was a remarkable increase alike in administrative efficiency and public honesty. Under the Ley de Probidad, one of his first statutes, every important government official from the president down was required to file a sworn statement upon assuming office of all property owned by him and by his immediate family, to serve as the possible basis of an accounting on termination of his services. Government employees receiving funds were required to give a receipt, made out in duplicate upon official blanks that must be accounted for, upon pain of a fine amounting to twice the amount involved, one-half of which was to be paid to the informer. No one could tell when General Ubico would “drop in” on him to audit his books and examine his papers, as he could reach even the most out-of-the-way government offices on his motorcycle. Indeed, “government by motorcycle” became a popular phrase of the day in reference to this rugged and domineering personality.

Although the constitution provided in Article 66 that the presidential term of office should be six years, and that no president should be reelected until he had been out of office for at least twelve years, a subservient Congress that had virtually abandoned its legislative powers to the executive called for a national plebiscite on extending General Ubico's term, and following a favorable vote the constitution was amended to provide that he should continue as president until March 15, 1943, Article 66 remaining in suspense until that date. Late in 1941; the constitution was again amended to extend his term another six years.

Modern science and modern scientific methods, with all their splendor of achievement, have led to an ethical vacuum, a religious vacuum, and a philosophical vacuum—so it has been said. For they have offered little or nothing to distinguish between good and evil, right and wrong, justice and injustice. All social sciences are involved in this calamity, but none has been so deeply affected as political science, which had to face the new creeds of Communism, Fascism, and Nazism as political phenomena of tremendous power. They settled down in the area abandoned by science, taking full advantage of the fact that, scientifically speaking, there was a vacuum.

No political theorist can honestly avoid the issue, and certainly every scholar worthy of the name gives it serious thought. While each may publish his own ideas freely, there is one thing which we cannot do individually, but which we may do collectively—take stock of the various opinions that prevail among us, and clarify their meaning by question and answer. This the members of a round-table tried to do at the last meeting of the American Political Science Association, in two sessions held jointly with the Research Panel on Political Theory, represented by its chairman, Francis G. Wilson of the University of Illinois.

Introductory Comments. How and what to teach has been one of the most engaging topics of conversation in political science circles for many years. Yet it is a remarkable fact that not a single department of political science in the United States, so far as the writer is aware, offers its graduate students a seminar on teaching problems. Seemingly we have been content with the old formula for teaching success: “If you would be a good teacher, saturate yourself with your subject-matter and teach like hell.” Unfortunately, some of our teachers have done just that.

If we needed to reëvaluate our teaching before the war, it is imperative now that a little individual and collective soul-searching be done. The tremendous changes ushered in by the war and the uncertainties of the future emphasize more than ever the importance of our work. The world is entering a new era in which democracy will be put to real test as it continues to meet the challenge of more militant ideologies. It will be an era of bewildering social change accompanied by an increasing awareness of political power on the part of individuals and organized groups. The ideological conflict will be characterized by tension between management and labor at home and the old familiar pattern of power politics—with new forms of nationalism and militarism—in our relations abroad. Students will be bombarded with propaganda from every quarter.

A requirement of subject-matter concentration—generally to the extent of two full-year courses or their equivalent in the student's annual budget of four or five—during the last two years of the undergraduate curriculum is common to the great majority of colleges and universities granting liberal arts degrees. It complements a requirement of diversification that is also commonly prescribed as a restriction on the freedom students otherwise would have to concentrate still further in their choices among course offerings. Together, the two embody a philosophy of balance in the distribution of studies; but they do not define the scope or content of any particular area of concentration.

The requirement of a “major” applies equally to a wide variety of fields of study, in the humanities and the natural as well as the social sciences. The aims and problems of the major in political science, therefore, are in large measure those of the major as such. They merge, indeed, into the broader question of the general goals of college education in the upper-class years, since the major figures so importantly in the work of juniors and seniors. They focus on two points chiefly: (1) the course content, or area, of the major in political science, and (2) the ways and means of instruction within the major, to the end of deepening its educational value. Put more briefly, the problems are what to learn and how to learn in the area of principal interest.

Along with its obligations to train men and women to serve as useful citizens, to carry on the cultural heritage of the past, and to take their places as productive members of private professions and occupations, the American university recognizes a responsibility to train students for service in federal, state, and local governments. The dimensions of this responsibility are best illustrated by the finding in 1939 that of the men graduates of the University of Minnesota between 1928 and 1936, 41.3 per cent either were or had been in government employment; for the women graduates, the proportion was 66 per cent.

A relatively small proportion of students find their way into the judiciary through the avenue of law-school training and practice of the law. Another small proportion become legislators through a variety of avenues, but with the law schools again predominant in the training. The bulk of university graduates who are public servants will be found in administrative agencies. Consequently, undergraduate training for the public service places its principal emphasis on the training of students to contribute effectively as officers and employees of administrative agencies. The university, therefore, is obligated to acquaint students with the opportunities for administrative service and to guide them into courses that will prepare them for such service.

Like his colleagues generally in the social sciences, the political scientist has prided himself upon the subject-matter content of his teaching. His responsibility has been to enlarge the understanding of the dynamic process by which men govern and are governed. Teaching and research have been coördinate elements of that responsibility. Constantly seeking to find better techniques for observation and measurement of political phenomena, ever trying to define more exactly the field of interest and knowledge, the political scientist has always focused attention upon the subject-matter of his specialization. He has had little time to devote to the problems of teaching methodology.

The very fact that higher education has been selective is another possible explanation for our seeming indifference to improvements in teacher-student communication. From necessity, teachers' colleges and the educational profession have given considerable attention to teaching techniques. Primary and secondary schools are intended for mass education. If they fulfill their purpose, they reach virtually all of the population from six to sixteen years of age. The college teacher has had no such mass obligation. Traditionally, only some ten per cent of our high school population continue with higher education, and they are usually divided among the various fields of learning represented in colleges and universities. Selectivity and a limited audience have encouraged the college instructor to concentrate upon subject-matter and to ignore methodology.

Political scientists certainly have no reason to offer any apologies for their primary interest.

These are days when the individual who would devote himself to the study and teaching of political science stands upon the threshold of new and exciting adventures and a lot of very hard work. His mind and his enthusiasms must be keyed to the great possibilities for constructive advancement to be found in a period of social transition. There are those among us who insist with great cogency that we should turn back to the achievements of the “wisdom of the ages” and find there the insight and answers to our current perplexities. Incisive as were the achievements of the great minds of the past, as right as were their prescriptions for their own times and difficulties, few among us would defend the proposition that all wisdom and all understanding reside solely with those who have given us our foundations. Much remains to be uncovered amidst the back-wash of a world-wide revolution. The teacher of political science must balance the wisdom of the past against present possibilities for the greater understanding and clearer insight into political institutions to be found in the quickening imagination of the contemporary scene. We must cut new paths. We must produce our Einstein. Perhaps we have, and are now ready for our own Manhattan Project. But to do this we must face squarely and honestly at least six major problems in this postwar period: (1) graduate preparation; (2) community leadership; (3) teaching load; (4) research; (5) salaries; and (6) academic freedom.

Diverse are the interests of those who are now preparing to enter the profession at the college or university level.