In the August, 1926, number of this journal, Professor W. W. Willoughby presented some conclusions regarding the conception of sovereignty and the range of its applicability in political science, together with some interesting suggestions for the clarification of political theory. His article is devoted primarily to an exposition and criticism of the juristic theories of Professor H. Krabbe, and the gist of his criticism is that Krabbe, in common with the translators of his Modern Theory of the State and with Duguit, fails to distinguish between ethical and legal validity. Krabbe's attack upon the conception of sovereignty is therefore due to a confusion: The legal supremacy which the analytical jurist attributes to the state for purely legal purposes is taken as including also an assertion of moral supremacy. Accordingly, the fact that a legally valid law may be criticized as opposed to moral sentiment or to public interest is turned into an objection against the view that the state, for juristic purposes, may be regarded as a legally sovereign will. Professor Willoughby implies that clarity can be introduced into the whole discussion simply by avoiding this confusion. The justice or utility of a law is a wholly proper question for the moralist, but it is quite irrelevant to the juristic problem, which concerns merely the legal competence of the agency enacting or enforcing the law. “We find in Krabbe, and also in his translators, …. that same mistaken idea which is to be discovered in Duguit, that an inquiry into the idealistic or utilitarian validity of law, as determined by its substantive provisions and purposes sought to be achieved by its enforcement, has a relevancy to, and that its conclusions can affect, the validity and usefulness of the purely formalistic concepts which the positive or analytic jurist employs.”

When the problem of second chambers is discussed, we frequently find that interest is confined to the subsidiary question of technique, omitting the prior question, “Why have a second chamber?” It is in the main assumed that second chambers are universally valid, and therefore attention is centered on the varied methods of selection and the extent of functions. If the primary question is raised at all, it is invariably answered by an appeal to experience. It is claimed that almost all modern governments have for a considerable time had bicameral legislatures, and that it is hazardous to disregard a practice that is so nearly universal. Seldom is an attempt made to go beyond experience and to analyze critically this admittedly wide practice. In fact, a bicameral legislature is generally held to be an unassailable and eternal verity, one of the few axioms of political science.

Nevertheless, among the more systematic writers on political science the validity of the bicameral theory is far from unanimously supported. Even a hasty reference to the history of political ideas shows recurrent dissent. Thus, during the period of democratic ferment inaugurated by the French and American revolutions we find unmistakable opposition. To mention some examples, Samuel Adams, Paine, Turgot, Sieyès, and Condorcet were in favor of the unicameral form. The basis of their hostility is well summarized in the famous dilemma of Sieyès. Sieyès has indeed indicated the broad outlines of the objections; and a succeeding century of bicameral experience shows how difficult it is to escape from his vexatious alternatives. To reconcile faith in democracy with the assumption of the value of an effective check is assuredly not an enviable task. At any rate, for our present purpose suffice it to say that bicameralism has frequently been rejected.

It is not in the least unusual, in newspaper accounts of a strike, riot, flood, or fire, to read that the governor has proclaimed martial law and summoned the militia to the threatened zone. However exaggerated such reports may be, they are evidence of a general belief that there exists some mysterious “martial law” which, when proclaimed, augments the powers of soldiers and paves the way for heroic measures. Nor are these notions wholly fanciful. For such a proclamation may indeed be followed by an extraordinary régime in which the military authority will issue regulations for the conduct of the civil population, troops may be called upon to take life, and perhaps the individuals accused of fomenting trouble will be held without authority of a court, or in some cases may even be tried by a military tribunal. Quite likely these severe measures will receive the approval of public opinion. Yet it is surprising that a people ordinarily rather legalistic should have evinced so little disposition to inquire what rules of law, if any, govern the exercise of these military powers. To answering that unasked query the present study is addressed.

Special Session—Power to Propose Constitutional Amendments Not Included in Governor's Call. In 1926 a special session of the Pennsylvania legislature proposed an amendment to the state constitution in the form of a new section, although the subject-matter of this amendment was not referred to in the governor's proclamation calling the session. In a taxpayer's action to prevent the submission to the people of this proposal it was alleged that the proceeding was in violation of Art. 3, Sec. 25, of the constitution of Pennsylvania, which provides: “When the General Assembly shall be convened in special session, there shall be no legislation upon subjects other than those designated in the proclamation of the governor calling such session.” In Sweeney v. King the state supreme court held that a resolution proposing a constitutional amendment is not “legislation” within the meaning of this clause. In reaching this conclusion it relied heavily upon its earlier decision in Commonwealth v. Griest in which it had held that a constitutional amendment is not “legislation” which must be submitted to the chief executive for his approval, a doctrine well established both in state and federal courts. An opposite result on the principal question was reached by the supreme court of California in People v. Curry. Here the restriction upon a called session of the legislature was held to preclude the proposal of a constitutional amendment. The purpose of the restriction was declared to be to regulate the duration of the session and keep down expenses, and this purpose, it was held, ought not to be defeated by a strained or highly technical interpretation.

Long sessions in presidential years are short ones in the sense that the conventions dictate earlier and more definite limits than even Washington weather invites. Moving to such an end, the recent session could not escape the season's contagion. Yet presidential politics hardly set the tone of the session. Its work had unusual inherent interest. The array of questions before it, mingling economic and technical elements, was indicative of the trend of problems of public policy. It presented the paradox of all Congresses, of course: partisanship in building the machine; eclectic voting or bipartisan combinations in the actual passing of bills.

Membership. The Republican majority in the House had been cut by the 1926 elections and by a party shift in one of five by-elections from 61 to 40—a margin safe enough for purposes of organization, even apart from the relaxed mood and leaderless condition of insurgency in the lower chamber.

In the Senate, however, the Republican lead had been reduced to a hair. Even if Smith of Illinois and Vare of Pennsylvania were counted, those called Republicans numbered only 48, against 47 Democrats and a Farmer Labor member. Deaths chanced to net the Republicans a seat, so that at the session's close, although lacking Smith and Vare, they still had a plurality of one. Two empty seats in the meantime were evidence of the weakness of the regular Senate Republicans when deprived of the aid of House amendments and House conferees.

The year 1928 will witness national elections in at least three of the great western democracies of the world. The first of these important electoral contests took place in France on the last two Sundays in April. Following a campaign of unique character, some 8,000,000 voters went to the polls to pass judgment upon the record of M. Poincaré's National Union government—a government headed, strangely enough, by the same man whom the electorate had seemingly repudiated four years earlier. Not only was this contest unusual in that it brought into play certain new kinds of campaign technique, but when carefully analyzed in the light of the operation of the new electoral law, the outcome almost defies any logical interpretation. On the surface, it has been heralded as a great personal triumph for Premier Poincaré as the “savior of the franc.” But more than that one cannot say; for he presented his case without the least semblance of a political program, and the party complexion of the newly elected Chamber of Deputies is baffling. Nor is one certain that it faithfully reflects the existing state of public opinion in the nation.

A resumé of the provisions of the latest electoral law, enacted in July, 1927, is necessary for a full understanding of what happened at the polls. In France, as all students of politics know, “electoral reform” is a perennial question. Since 1871 five successive systems of voting have been used: to 1885, the scrutin uninominal, or d'arrondissement; from 1885 to 1889, the scrutin de liste; from 1889 to 1919, the scrutin uninominal again; from 1919 to 1927, the scrutin de liste, with partial proportional representation; and now a reversion once more to the old scrutin uninominal.

The elections which were held throughout Germany on May 20, 1928, are of considerable interest and importance not only to Germany but also to the rest of the world. These elections, to be sure, did not have the dramatic interest which attended the Reichstag elections of December, 1924. But they deserve attention for a number of reasons: first, because they are the first elections to be held in the Reich under what may be called normal conditions; second, because elections for five Landtags and several city councils were held at the same time; and third, because the elections gave a further test, and supplied additional evidence of the operation, of the German system of proportional representation.

Despite the intensive work of the political parties, the people were not aroused to much enthusiasm during the campaign. The old Reichstag was dissolved before Easter, but not until the last week of the campaign could one detect any excitement. Never before had the electors been bombarded with so much printed matter, posters, and, last but not least, loud-speakers and films. All the modern methods of appealing to the voters were tried by the numerous political parties. There were lacking, however, the overpowering issues and the battlecries which were so effective in 1924. Parades, demonstrations, meetings, and all the rest were carried through successfully on the whole, but they were quite dull and uninteresting. Only the two extreme parties, the National Socialists or Hitlerites on the right, and the Communists on the left, could appear enthusiastic. Nevertheless, the lack of what the Germans call a “grosse Parole” and the lack of excitement are not to be deplored; their absence probably indicates progress toward social and political consolidation.