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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.