Out-of-date ideas—if they can only manage to survive long enough—are often put to new and surprising uses. A case in point is British Toryism. This pre-capitalist, pre-individualist, pre-liberal creed, one might think, ought surely to have died out during the 19th century. Yet not only has it survived into the era of socialism, it can also claim credit for having helped build the Welfare State. And today British socialists and Tories—both collectivists in a degree—often have more in common than either have with their fellow Liberals. Old traditions of strong government, paternalism and the organic society have made easier the modern re-assertion of state power.

New policies usually produce new kinds of politics. For every major concept of public policy, Schattschneider has observed, there has been a different theory of political organization. Over a period of decades, British collectivism has created not only a new pattern of policy, but also a new structure of power, especially in the realm of political parties and interest groups. Along with a collectivist theory of policy has arisen a collectivist theory of representation. And the latter, like the former, is today supported in interesting and subtle ways by attitudes and ideas deriving from a distant past. The purpose of this article is to look at the historical background of certain of these attitudes—especially those concerning the role of interest groups in politics.

Only the cold war has overshadowed the second most striking political phenomenon of the post World War II scene. The demise of imperial power over vast Asian and Middle Eastern territories and the rise of new independent states is in part the result of the transfer of power from Europe to the United States and the Soviet Union, and in part a distinct phenomenon. The politics of these new states have an increasing interest, partly because of their possible subversion to Communist allegiance, and partly because of the desire to assess the possibilities of successfully transplanting democracy. Emphasis on the danger of subversion intensifies interest in the political processes in these non-western countries; but the context of these politics, i.e., that which may be subverted, is the primary concern of the discipline of comparative government.

Political scientists have been among the last to extend the area of their research to non-western countries. They have been preceded by travelling diarists, students of comparative religion, archaeologists, historians, and latterly, anthropologists. From these sources much material, though of varied and uneven quality, exists to start with. A few political histories, fewer studies of various aspects of non-western politics, and still fewer studies of the contitutional development of these areas supplement these resources. Materials are scantiest for the Middle East.

In controlling nationalized industries parliament plays the role of the traditional lion under the throne. It lies quietly most of the time but can rise suddenly and wrathfully to smite offenders. It has little day-to-day influence, the major decisions being made by the managers of the industries, or by the government; but occasionally its importance is capital. This conclusion emerges from a study of the methods used by parliament to control the nationalized industries. Since these industries are fundamental to the French economy, in reality this is a study of the ways and means by which parliament controls major segments of the national economy—in every industrial state a controversial and highly significant issue.

The postwar years have been a period of great interest in the theory of international politics. A contributor to this Review has surveyed the state of the study of that theory and indicated the alternatives open to it. Within the last year the Institute of War and Peace Studies of Columbia University has held a series of seminars on the subject in an effort to push forward research frontiers.

Interest in theory is no reflection upon the merits of scholarly endeavors that are not oriented primarily to theoretical considerations. But it does assume the independent importance of a theory of international politics. The present essay assumes the importance of theory in general, but is based upon a particular kind of theory, namely, systems theory.

In August, 1953, the National Committee of the Democratic Party began publishing a new magazine, the Democratic Digest. This venture represents an attempt to create a “Democratic” viewpoint on political issues and personalities of national concern. It is an essentially new form of activity in the American party arena, for, though minor parties and one-issue political movements have often sponsored periodicals to further their causes, neither of the present major parties has previously done so on the national level.

The role of the national committees in the political process is still only vaguely defined. The national ticket is nominated by convention, and the Presidency is independent of, and ordinarily more powerful than, the national committee after election. The selection and campaign activities of Congressional candidates lie outside national committee control. Within these limits, any change in the scale or type of activity of the official national political organizations warrants careful study to determine its possible effects on the party system. The Democratic Digest marks such a change. In place of random speculation about the purposes and possible functions of a party magazine in the American system, a reliable content analysis of the early issues of this journal may provide a sounder basis for theory. An analysis of the manifest content of the magazine suggests certain conclusions as to the function not only of the Digest, but perhaps also of all national political party mass communication activity in our party system.

The 1944 action of the Supreme Court voiding the white primary ended the last effective legal block to Negro voter registration in the South. After that, resort to legal steps to block Negro registration was either outlawed by the courts or else could only be a delaying device. In the state of Louisiana, however, the decision in Smith v. Allwright did not result in Negro registration comparable to white registration. In 1956, twelve years later, 30 percent of the potential Negro voting population was registered, compared to 73 percent of the whites. This study is an investigation of some factors in that discrepancy, and in particular, of the differences in registration between Catholic and Protestant areas.

An important characteristic of Negro registration in Louisiana is the extreme range of variation to be found among the several parishes. Table I shows 17 parishes with fewer than 20 percent of the eligible Negroes registered, and 11 parishes with 70 percent or more of the potential Negro vote registered. Therefore, the statewide “average” percentage of Negro registration has little meaning without more detailed interpretation.

During the Civil War, which was a war for freedom in a truer sense than most of the wars which have been so called, Abraham Lincoln laid bare the essentials of the dilemma which has baffled the philosophic understanding of freedom and which has made it appear that there was always something left to be desired in its political realization. On April 18, 1864, Lincoln gave a brief and unpretentious address to the crowd assembled at the Sanitary Fair in Baltimore.

“The world has never had a good definition of the word liberty,” he said,

and the American people, just now, are much in want of one. We all declare for liberty; but in using the same word we do not all mean the same thing. With some the word liberty may mean for each man to do as he pleases with himself, and the product of his labor; while with others the same word may mean for some men to do as they please with other men, and the product of other men's labor. Here are two, not only different, but incompatable things, called by the same name—liberty. And it follows that each of the things is, by the respective parties, called by two different and incompatable names—liberty and tyranny.

Hans J. Morgenthau's “The Dilemmas of Freedom” is an extremely able, concise, and forthright treatment of a problem of grave importance, and a defense of a point of view which I deeply respect, but concerning which I have serious doubts. I suppose that the differences between us could be summarized in this way: Morgenthau suggests that the solutions to the dilemmas of freedom which he finds, are available and explicable largely in a kind of formalism. He follows, in that, the great tradition of the Federalist, which he quotes. I believe it is difficult today to understand these solutions in formal terms, and I believe the difficulty is enhanced by Morgenthau's own conception of what freedom is.

Among political scientists, even among political theorists, there is a widespread conviction that political theory has entered upon a time of troubles. Few, however, regard it simply as a “dead dog,” and political theorists continue, as they should, to administer critical self-analysis, and to define and defend their methodological and philosophical positions. The basis for a unity of opposites is still a subject for dispute. This paper is offered, not as a solution, but as a statement of one conception of the role of political theory.

A time-honored technique of dialectic is to seek well-reasoned objections to the view one does not hold. A medicine often commended to the political scientists is a body of systematic, scientific theory akin to economic theory in approach and methodological sophistication. Accordingly, this article takes issue with that interpretation which conceives of political theory as, ideally, the master discipline whereby the science of politics is to be unified and systematized, and empirical investigation oriented and guided. A few definite and carefully developed proposals for reconstruction along these lines, familar to political scientists, are G. E. G. Catlin's The Science and Method of Politics, Harold D. Lasswell's and Abraham Kaplan's Power and Society, and David Easton's The Political System. These works can serve as an initial point of purchase for analysis and discussion.

In the omnibus philosophy of an earlier day the pursuit of knowledge was the pursuit of science. Political science became a specialized discipline only very recently, and while it gained by its specialization it also suffered because of it. One of the nice tasks of modern political science is how to avoid the effects of descriptive detail as a substitute for theory and once again relate political phenomena to broader patterns of human activity, without losing the advantages, particularly in research, of the specialized knowledge and lore so laboriously acquired.

“I don't think it would have all got me quite so down if just once in a while—just once in a while—there was at least some polite little perfunctory implication that knowledge should lead to wisdom, and that if it doesn't, it's just a disgusting waste of time. But there never is! You never even hear any hints dropped on a campus that wisdom is supposed to be the goal of knowledge. You hardly ever even hear the word ‘wisdom” mentioned! Do you want to hear something funny? In almost four years of college—and this is the absolute truth—in almost four years of college, the only time I can remember ever even hearing the expression ‘wise man’ being used was in my freshman year, in Political Science! And you know how it was used? It was used in reference to some nice old poopy elder statesman who'd made a fortune in the stock market and then gone to Washington to be an advisor to President Roosevelt. Honestly, now! Four years of college, almost! I'm not saying that happens to everybody, but I just get so upset when I think about it I could die!”—Comment by Miss Franny Glass in “Zooey,” a story by J. D. Salinger in The New Yorker, May 4, 1957.