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Political Science and the New World Order

POLITICAL SCIENCE and the world of politics and government interact constantly. It has been so through history and will continue to be so. One need only go down the list of political scientists discussed in the first chapter of this book to see how unusual it is for a leading figure to be removed from the social issues of his day. The Pythagoreans were in constant bloody struggle. Plato lost his best friend, Socrates, to public execution. .Aristotle was consultant to the world conqueror, Alexander. Thus it has gone through the centuries. Although it is true that the political scientists of today assume so far as possible an objective relation to politics and government, and surround themselves with the apparatus of an engineer, they do so with little hope of avoiding commitments to the issues of the day. That is the new science. It is suited to the new world. But essentially it must be, as always, caught up in action and moral questions as soon as it becomes applied to the real world.

The New Political Science


The decade that has passed since the first publication of this book has brought pronounced change to the profession of political science. We are too hard on the heels of this change to specify its origins. It appears, however, that the original impetus came largely from two quarters. One came from the writings, influence, and students of the faculty of political science and related faculties at the University of Chicago, where, in the twenties and thirties, the "new political science" was incubated. There, under the leadership of Charles E. Merriam, a group of energetic and adventurous minds brought together political science, sociology, psychology, philosophy, statistics, economics, and anthropology. Strong components of logical-empiricism, pragmatism, behaviorism, and European sociological theory laced them together. The new amalgam was then defended against strong, if intelligent, criticism from local Aristotelians and Thomists. It was a department of high civic and professional activity, yet it never premitted political involvement to substitute for theory and research.

In retrospect it may be seen that the setting was favorable. The University was young and well financed. It had gained great strength in many special disciplines. It was under intellectual leaders, not merely businessmen or public relations men, over several decades. The traditionally superior intellectual centers in the private Eastern colleges were satisfied with specialized social science disciplines. The great public universities of the Midwest and West were just being created. The moment was right for Chicago. The barricades of the disciplines Were breached in the Division of Social Sciences as the Political Science Department moved into new intellectual positions, and reinforcement of the trend came with the introduction of general survey courses in the college that produced a widespread understanding of the study of human behavior throughout the university community.

Then the large graduate student body thereafter provided manpower to many government agencies at a critical period of the political development of the United States and furnished key teaching and research personnel to many colleges and universities, coinciding with increased college enrollments and the availability of research funds from foundations and other sources at these centers.

At the same time, a second forceful wave struck political science out of psychology. It did not represent a single school but rather at first several distinct movements. One was of survey research, emanating particularly from the University of Michigan where Rensis Likert became a leading figure. Another was of small-group theory and research, centering at Iowa at first and then at other centers as the disciples of Kurt Lewin dispersed. Still another occurred at Columbia University under Lazarsfeld and others.


Beginning in the late forties, the impact on political science was in evidence. By 1961 there were perhaps twenty times as many so-called "political behaviorists" in political science as there were in 1951, the term being loosely applied to all of the profession who had some education in areas not traditionally part of political science-statistics, survey methods, clinical psychology, cultural anthropology, research design, and a general empirical and methodological orientation.

At the same time, the subject-matter of the field enlarged. In the fifties, for the first time since the profession opened up as a specialized social science in the nineteenth century, the study of comparative government left the developed countries and entered Africa, the Far East, South Asia, and South America. Also, studies of groups that had not been clearly within the scope of the discipline formerly, such as medical associations and labor unions, increased in number. Microscopic studies of the policy-making process commenced to appear. Works on the ways in which political character was imbedded in general personality became more numerous. Many new ideas hammered at the minds of political science audiences, exposed in lecture halls and journals-game theory; decision theory; computer techniques; models of man, of nations, of the world; psychological theories of the courts and the bureaucracy. Historical and legal studies diminished in importance. Jargon flourished; reading became more difficult as the literature expanded.

Certainly the task of becoming a competent and productive political scientist has become more difficult during the decade witnessed by this book of elementary political science. When this book appeared, it may have seemed too difficult to use for educating college students. Today it appears to us to represent a minimum of education in political science for the educated adult. Whereas its approach in 1951 seemed still to be special, today it seems more general. Today, more than then, it stands at the threshold of a storehouse of newly acquired materials and techniques.


Where this book will stand ten or fifty years from now is an open question: Perhaps someone is writing a book today that will leapfrog us into the future state of the science. We can offer here merely an estimate of what political science is likely to be a generation from now.

The new political science of a generation hence will not be much improved in its grasp of the essential motives of man and the factors operative in politics: men will behave recognizably as they have since the ancient Jews and Greeks observed them, seeking the same types of goals and stimulated by the same classes of events. Literary definitions of man will be as up-to-date then as now; because of the wide range of his possible behaviors, anything said about a man might be true, and therefore might be interesting if said well.

However, no one in his right mind will think of going to a literary personage, or to any political scientists resembling such, for advice on how to inform himself exactly on a matter and how to get something done. By that time, the data of political science will be more voluminous and in better form, a number of well-established techniques for dealing with problems will have been developed, and the profession better trained for engineering solutions. One of the great changes imminent in political science, in fact, is the clearer understanding of the nature of applied political science and of the rules to be followed, both intellectually and procedurally, in moving from pure science to applied science and back.

By that time also, certain problems will be refused by the profession. For, as technique and knowledge grow in science, the possible becomes more clearly separated from the impossible, the practical from the impractical. There occurs a more accurate assessment of what can be done with a stipulated sum of resources.


Interdisciplinary co-operation will be extended or else the profession expanded greatly and subdivided into hundreds of specialized skills. The reason is now apparent: political science is concerned with political, politically caused, and politically related events. It rests on top of other sciences, such as geography and psychology, and leans against economics, various fields of sociology, logic, and mathematics. To take an example, twenty years ago the literature on hostility and aggression amounted to some speculation and a few studies. Ten years ago a few dozen studies covered this field, which is of critical interest to much of the study of political behavior, both national and international. Today hundreds of speculative works and empirical studies exist; books such as Buss' Psychology of Aggression (1961) are written principally to summarize and organize the studies. In politically related psychology alone, there are a dozen fields like this. Consulting the appropriate psychologist becomes necessary on a hundred important political science problems, if the inquiries would have value.


The language of political science will continue to change. This book, for all its concern with language, was even when first published a compromise with tradition. Many terms that were then tapping at the door for admission were kept out for fear that its readers would be distressed. Perhaps it will have been the last work with a pretense of originality to do this.

A professional, operationally oriented language of political science is not far in the offing. It will take from logic, mathematics, sociology, and psychology, though probably not much from economics, which is also in the throes of moving from deductive to inductive formulations of its problems. The new language, when mastered, should prove to be pleasant to work with; it is incorrect to think that "common-sense" language is economical in science; actually common-sense language is a kind of installment plan; the buyer pays as he goes along, until at the end of his life he has paid far more in his intellectual "money" than if he had made his "purchase" initially in cash.

It may be hoped that the new language of political science will be aided by a new mathematics of the social sciences. To the outsider, owing to his naivete and the failure until recently to explain the ideological and practical foundations of mathematical analysis, it has appeared that mathematics is pure, beautiful, and eternal. To him it seemed logical that the corpus of a science had to be forced onto the mathematicians' procrustean bed or else not visit their realm at all. Now more mathematicians and social scientists are viewing mathematics as a tool of the problems of social science, which has been poorly fashioned to this time, but may conceivably be redesigned and useful. The future may well see a political mathematics, or, more likely, several types of social science mathematics, one or more of which will be adaptable to mathematical representations of political phenomena.


The machinery of political science will have become mare complicated and prominent. Ten years ago, a few political scientists had desk calculators and even fewer handled their data by means of punched-card counting and sorting machines. Within the next couple of decades, however, the rapid development of computer technology and audio-visual equipment will intrude upon the premises of political science with mechanically aided translation systems, automated teaching equipment, programmed textbooks, television classes, computer simulating systems that "act out" possibilities of action in the real world, data-analysis computing systems, and especially information-retrieval systems to screen, sort, and provide classes and items of data on order. In some cases, the professor's office will come to resemble an engineer's cab.

Still, psychic assurance may be given two kinds of political scientists who may be affrighted by these prospects, the contemplative philosopher and the political reformer. The former's concern is groundless. There need be no loss of personal integrity, privacy, and time for contemplation. He has only to look at the fate of the pure physicist and mathematician, in fact the theorists of any science encumbered by machinery, to see that their ivory towers are numerous and now have wall-to-wall carpeting.


The political reformer may be another kind of problem: many political scientists, and we are no exceptions, came into political science for the good that might be done the world.

If such a person is incapable of any alliance whatsoever with science, he will be edged out of the profession. Insofar as he can understand, employ, and adapt behavioral science to his problems of political action, he will have reason to applaud the changes that are in prospect. For the dependency of the world of action upon the work of social science promises to increase continuously. It has already gone farther than most people realize. A glance through the files of the American Behavioral Scientist magazine will amply reinforce this statement. In another generation, the highly trained "intelligentsia" will be very close to all centers of decision and public policy. Only world war and costly and prolonged international strife and chaos can block this progressive movement of the human sciences.

The question of whether this massive shift in methods of social decision is to be ultimately good or bad naturally occurs. To some people the answer is obvious: it must be bad; substituting rationalistic means for emotional means of determining individual and social policy is a sad mistake; man must not only live and act viscerally, but must also make decisions that way. To many other people, the answer resolves itself by the statement: if what is to occur will bring to the world approximately what the technicalizing of the natural sciences has brought to the world, then the basic change is not too great and the results are as good as they are bad; that is, man will be more capable of good, or evil, than before. To some others again, the prospect is good: if man can predict and control behavior, his "good" impulses will have a chance to conquer his "bad" ones and they will tend to work that way out of the dynamics of science; science, they would say, is after all a triumph and reinforcement of the controlled will (the ego) over the impulses (the id) and conscientious restraints (the superego), and practically all the humanly provoked disasters of history are attributable to the collapse of ego controls in the face of excessive self-indulgence and extreme demands of conscience.

The Transforming World

The development of political science, and of social science as a whole, depends upon, even as it influences, a larger political environment. Although its methods may change, it must continue to test their value upon the same kinds of events. The world, now and as it will be, challenges description by science and at the same time defines the scope and method of the science in part. To speculate, therefore, upon the shape of the world to come is not only a major mission of political science, but also serves to foreshadow the changing role of political science.


The political and governmental condition of the world today is little changed from ten years ago when this book was first written. The powerful currents flowing then flow now. The turning point in their course, however, is somewhat more evident today than then.

The world has become a little richer, but not much, and the distribution of energies and resources has hardly altered. The richer regions have gotten richer and the poorer regions have remained about the same. A number of colonies have achieved statehood, and have become rid of a nagging obsession. But, as after a long night of bad dreams, they are awakened to a cold and gloomy dawn. Independence, as the United States learned after 1783, solves only one problem of many, and worsens others. The new countries think to make a great leap forward by simple socialism, but they move very slowly, if at all. Generally, economic development and aid from abroad helped them only to maintain a low level of subsistence, a minimum freedom from disease, with little cultural development, in the face of steadily increasing populations.

Democratic government has held its own. Except for France, which was in a state of governmental crisis throughout the decade, Western European democracy has been stable. A series of studies has indicated that the Latin American countries have, on the whole, neither rejected nor made strong moves in the direction of representative government of the North American and Western European type. Communist rule on the Chinese mainland has been consolidated. It has made some advances in Cuba, in Vietnam, in Laos, in Mali, and in Guinea. The international Soviet cause has suffered minor reversals in Hungary, Poland, Yugoslavia, and Albania during the same period.

The world remained stuck during the fifties between the yielding passivity of the United States government and the obdurate narrowmindedness of the government of the Soviet Union. That this condition can persist far into the future is unlikely, for several reasons. The demands of the populations of the poorer lands of the world are increasing in intensity and scope. Not only more rice, but more clothing, health services, roads, schools, and petty luxuries are expected. Harold Lasswell has called this the world revolution of expectations. Its profound significance may be measured in historical terms: never before have hundreds of millions of people expected a considerable, planned improvement in their lot.

Moreover, ideology is on their side; that is, the demands are made in the framework of government controlled by the mass of people. Here is a second condition that threatens the bi-polar status quo of the U.S.A. and U.S.S.R.; for any signs of faltering, incompetence, or lack of faith on the part of the governing groups is met by mass political protest.

Thirdly, the world's population, which reached three billion souls in 1961, rises by 1.7 per cent annually. How grave a situation this increase will bring depends upon the speed with which productive economic measures are invented and applied. At the inadequate present rate of improvement in productive facilities, the situation will degenerate and a severe crisis will probably be precipitated in the next generation.


The symptoms of the world crisis will be aggravations of troubles currently experienced: too many mouths to feed, too great a dispersion of scarce resources in trivial consumption, too little leadership. The poor are encouraged to ask too much: they want to keep their sacred cows and get refrigerators too. They want the luxury of casting out the foreigner, and an immediate assumption of his high standard of living and culture. They wish to rule their governments but are not educated for the task. They believe in collective action and socialism, but feel little personal responsibility beyond the family hearth.

On the other hand, the rich, who may be said to consist of 70 million families in the world with assets of over $10,000, are often deficient in social responsibility. They will give modestly of their wealth to the poor but will not sanction farreaching plans that bring a reduction in their own consumption and a change in the allocations of their productive energies. They are buffeted by far more appeals to their immediate consumption instincts than to their perilous longrange position. They are rarely told that they had better turn to living modestly and using their reserves to control the approaching world chaos.

Both great classes owe their failures to the leadership of the world, which, of course, is the product of localistic recruitment systems that have no relation, except a defensive or aggressive one, to the requirements of the world order. Essentially, the first task of leadership in the world of the coming generation is to persuade the rich to sacrifice more, to produce more, and to regulate social production according to a reasonable plan that might cope with world political and economic disorganization. Secondly, the task of leadership is to restrain the poor; this means reducing their freedom to demand more goods and power, to work less, and to add more human and material burdens to a poor society. We look at both the rich and the poor and see that the new world order, if it is to function, must be an engine capable of generating far more restraints than in the past, if the uncontrolled and horrible restraints of chaos, famine, and war are to be avoided.


Where can such leadership emerge in the modern world? The communists offer it. Let us speculate on the fate of the world under the Communist type of leadership. Their terms are understandable: The Communist Party, at least initially fully subservient to the Russian Communist Party, would direct a revolution of society. The class structure of previously existing societies would be demolished within several years of the day of victory. In its place a new ruling element composed almost entirely of persons of exclusively materialist cast, uneducated or, if educated, apostates of culture, will govern ruthlessly in the name of the People. Their policies will be subordinated to Russian policies, even when those contradict the promise of the revolution. Their authentic policies will be expropriation of all forms of wealth. In a country such as the U.S.A. or France, persons with over $5,000 of assets would probably lose on the average half of their possessions. Those who own the more would lose the more.

The confiscated or expropriated wealth would probably make no contribution to the standard of living of the poor classes. In a country like the U.S.A., a great deal of the wealth would be siphoned off to the Soviet Union and its poorer allies, "to pay for the imperialist exploitation suffered at the hands of the American capitalists." In countries poorer than the U.S.A. and Western Europe, the wealth would drain off into the ground. The effect would be negative; the country under its new rulers would practically have to start over again, although it would be clamorously celebrated that the new regime is achieving quotas far beyond the capitalist days, is receiving constant aid from Big Brother Russia, and is progressing despite all manner of "sabotage engaged in by vicious anti-People elements still hidden like rats in the cellars of the new society." An economic depression would continue for a generation, perhaps more, depending upon the geographical extent and degree of total revolution accomplished.

In broader areas of the community, the policies of communist rulers are as well known. National arts of the past would be favored over creative expressions. Illiteracy would be attacked vigorously and the reading of a limited number of books would be promoted among the population. Inquisitions would be common everywhere, to test for a wide variety of sentiments considered criminal in a People's Democracy. The technical sciences would boom. History would be rewritten (not without some good effect on that branch of learning, for one cannot defend entirely the objectivity and balance of this and other branches of knowledge that are steeped in Western culture). The social sciences generally would assume a deductive character: if pure science is intended, details would be constructed from the words of the masters of the state; if applied science were pursued, the decisions of the Party would point out the problems to be solved. Political science would be the social science most vulnerable to change and would lose its hard-won empirical quality in all cases save where applications can obviously be made without danger of exposing the moral premises of those applications.

The populations for a long time would be miserable, but perhaps not unhappy. Witnessing the condemnation and massacre of hundreds of thousands of the previously privileged members of their community, they will feel a certain privilege at being alive. They will lack happier examples to make them discontented. Their choices as consumers, enterprisers, and politicians will be reduced, and therefore they will be relieved of certain sources of anxiety of their fathers. Furthermore, they will be too busy coping with a burdensome life to feel unhappy.

In sum, whereas communism can certainly supply an engine of social and economic restraint, together with the slogans of mass appeal that successful twentieth-century revolution requires, it cannot solve the problems that give it birth. It is a heavily desructive mechanism that would, given the chance, probably destroy Western civilization before it could go into full gear throughout the world. Its economic machinery redistributes wealth by force but has no secrets of new ways of employing human and material resources for the benefit of the masses. In fact, communists rediscover constantly the techniques of the Western business civilization and employ them proudly as socialist inventions. For example, Khrushchev in 1961 applauded new experiments in a Soviet factory that resembled in every way American "human relations" and incentive techniques, and he spoke of expanding these methods of getting worker cooperation as the next stage of socialist management.


"Communism" is, of course, only a word: it refers to a complex of ideas and practices. "Capitalism" is a word too, and we know how great and many have been the changes in the ideas and practices grouped under that word. In two generations, communism has already altered its course several times, and substantial shifts may again occur. It is possible that under new conditions, certain doctrines and ways of operating may lose favor. Marxism may become less dogmatic and religious as its inapplicability to many circumstances becomes evident; higher levels of living may create a public less domineered by its leadership; the belief in violence as the preferred method of dealing with the owning classes may weaken; difficulties encountered in guiding communism and economic development in poorer countries may disillusion those who would speed the world revolution along; quarrels between the U.S.S.R. and China may dispel the fiction that communist nations must naturally see eye-to-eye on world problems; the intelligentsia may become less solid, rigid, and unimaginative as it travels abroad and studies foreign materials. In short, changes that would promote social peace and other goals commonly favored among humanitarian intellectuals of the Western World might take place. Communism might still be far from an ideal society or even an acceptable one, but it would be tolerable. Coexistence would be possible.

However, these changes would require a favorable world environment and decades of time. They would depend heavily upon the strength and wisdom of the non-communist leadership. So long as the communists find that their old ideas and practices work, they will employ and exalt them. Therefore, in order to control and change communism, the opposing leadership must shake of certain weaknesses and provide continuous, expensive, and forceful alternative measures.


The world-wide appeal of communism would be much less strong if it were not for the poor record of the European countries and the United States in the area of ethnic relations. It ought to stagger the economic determinists of communism to realize how large a proportion of all those who were allegedly joining their ranks as a protest against economic exploitation were actually joining out of humiliation and rage at the disagreeable attitudes of so many English, Americans, and Europeans towards the Indian, Negro, and Oriental peoples in the past. Moreover, there appears little inclination on the part of most of the recently colonial peoples to weigh in the balance the record of class discrimination in Russia and of the historical Russian imperialism in Eastern Europe and Central Asia. Granted this condition, the non-communist world has a difficult problem finding staunch allies among the socialist-trained intellectuals who are prominent in the elites of the developing countries around the world.

The appeal of communism would also be weakened if the image of the Soviets as peace-loving were to break down. The long history of Western European imperialism has given Chinese, American Indians, Africans, Indonesians, East Indians, and Arabs - far over half the world's people, that is - a strong impression of West Europeans and North Americans as violent and domineering. Yet no objective survey of history shows that they are more so than the average human being or government; American Indians, Chinese, Africans, and all other populations have records of bloodshed and conquest every bit as extensive as the Europeans. Advanced technology and organization made the Europeans more successful in these regards in recent centuries. The Russians, whose record of peacefulness-internally, with regards to their empire, and in the world at large--is no exception to the rule of violence in history, have until recent years been in the shadows of world conflict and escape blame. The appealing Marxist theory that war is a capitalist vice assists in guarding the peaceful image of the communists.

The struggle for the world ends as a struggle for the minds of men. No economic measures are likely to satisfy the level of demand; technical and industrial development programs are bound to follow, rather than precede, political solutions of world problems. Ethnic relations are a little more responsive to propaganda of the deed and word. The image of peace is almost surely an effect of propaganda and can be controlled somewhat more than the other factors that affect the international standing of the communist and non-communist groupings. The old American universal elixir, education, seems to be the only serious prescription for world economic and psychological troubles.


Time and education are the basic requirements for a resolution of world economic or psychological problems. Time enables education to occur; time means forestalling the disasters of inflationary populations, forestalling military or semi-military aggressiveness, forestalling the use of ultimate weapons. Time means at least two generations to heal bad old memories of race hatreds and imperialism and to train a new generation to organize and operate productive economic systems. Education in turn must be pragmatic. It must be massively organized, conducted at a basic level, and intimately related to the culture and living conditions of the children, ordinary adults, and grass-roots leaders who are learning. The enormity of the task demands a leadership of a certain character: it should be convinced of the need to apply social science and technology intelligently and imaginatively to new situations; it should be capable of self-sacrifice; and it should be able to ask sacrifices of the population.


The most effective way to create time is by military strength, for no policy of limiting demands is likely to succeed without a universal respect for the enforcing power. If Western military strength is sufficient, communist aggression everywhere is reduced and the position of hostile extremists weakened. By the same logic, any concentration of military expenditures upon total war and upon space exploration to the disadvantage of flexible and variegated military technique and organization endangers plans for a peaceful and prosperous world. The armed forces must be exceedingly active and in, evidence around the world, although not appearing imperialistic, to reassure friends and dampen the ardor of opponents. It is a common mistake to believe that since people hate force, they do not respect it.

There is a second class of reasons for recommending increased efforts to create diversified and flexible military forces. Ever since Plato set up the guardian class of his Republic, there has been more than a kernel of truth in the belief that the military mind is apt to be more occupied with the general interest than the minds of businessmen, workers, and housewives. However, historically, the military has been preoccupied with a localistic or nationalistic interest, so that the more devoted the military, the more unfortunate the consequences to neighboring lands. Today, for the first time perhaps, there is a strong current of internationalism and humanitarianism in the military mind of the West. The numbers of military men educated in politics, world affairs, technology, and human relations are large. There is little place for archaic beliefs in the modern armed forces. At the same time, the military are educated to demand much of themselves and of others, a combination of attitudes, and accompanying abilities, not ordinarily encountered in the population at large. As we have explained, these are particularly the traits of mind needed in this age: a grasping for the general interest, a willingness to sacrifice oneself, and a will to impress sacrifice upon others. A lack of any one of these three qualities would be enough to spoil chances of a new world order.


The armed forces, if strengthened and their mission enlarged, can supply the structure in which world reconstruction can occur. They require the co-operation of other classes of the nation, especially of trained management and the press, and then the collaboration of the educators and intelligentsia. Unfortunately, too many businessmen believe their work has no moral meaning beyond gross quantities of production and net profits. A great part of the press meanwhile is chained to merchandising. Both elements amuse, divert, flatter, and sensualize the people. Yet the major harm done by a luxuriating economy is not that it creates these attitudes, but rather that it shuts the great public off from a vision of necessity and purpose.

The intelligentsia number perhaps twenty millions of teachers, scientists, and professionals in Western Europe and North America. Only they can supply the essential ingredients of world reform-consultation and advice, research and development, planning, and the multiplication by many times of their present number to fill myriad skilled jobs.

From the standpoint of solving the most pressing problems of the age, the type of intelligentsia that is most critical is the applied social scientist. He is one educated theoretically and methodologically in the science of human behavior, with a skill in one or more of a hundred fields of human relations. Functionally divided, the major skill areas are: the reduction of group conflicts; the discovery and development of leadership and group initiatives in unfocused local populations all over the world; the perfecting of a multitude of techniques of exploiting local resources everywhere; the invention of new, culturally practical technologies; the devising and supervising of social controls to limit the growth of a surplus population incapable of self-help, and to restrict the process of consumption and demand to something near the rate of increase in production; and the raising up of a new generation of millions of applied social scientists from every country, who will not have been infected by the selfcontradictory, psychologically destructive, and self-defeating elements of Marxist ideology, whether communist or not.

This may appear impossible within two generations unless it be also recognized that complete success is not necessary within that time. But a major success is: the world must be carried past the most dangerous point of its journey into the indeterminate future. The possibilities of social science are highly regarded abroad. Applied social science can undogmatically aid in a hundred thousand communities of the world if there are enough teachers and students, and if there is an orderly atmosphere in which to work. Only this kind of social operationalism can reform the world at this point in history without doing enormous damage. As such, it stands in its scientific character, its pluralism, and its non-violence in sharp contrast to the communist method of reform.

Yet unlike the old order of nationalist democracy, it does not suffer from identification with mass movements of irrational and uncontrollable character. Such were the French Revolution and the Fascist movements. These usually root out the old cultures even where precious, bring periods of famine and hysteria, and result in executive dictatorships. Nor does social operationalism suggest to the minds of people around the world their exploitation by a business class, or the subjection of their own cultures. Admission to the new elite is attained by acquiring knowledge useful to the community. (The badge of knowledge, as any academician anywhere in the world knows, admits one equally everywhere.) The new elite, it may be remarked, now begins to resemble Plato's elite of the educators and the guardians. The suggestion is not unfavorable, though that is not the only resemblance to systems of philosophy from the past. Back at our beginnings, in Chapter One of Volume One, the names of Aristotle, Saint Simon, Pareto, Dewey, and Lasswell occurred with respect to enlarging greatly the role of intelligence in the reconstruction of societies.

It is more important, however, to put aside analogies and address ourselves directly to the creation of new institutions and new leadership for the new age. If free man cannot rid himself of old shibboleths, new ones will be forced upon him. If he cannot use his mind to greater social advantage, it will be taken from him. Destructive, unintelligent waves from the past roll against us like tides from a remote, underwater quake. This recidivism is worse than communism. But communism represents it and rides its crest. Therefore it is communism that must be engaged, forced back, and reshaped. Thus we state the task of these generations. There is a world that may be lost. There is a fresh world to win.

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