Cooperation between two agencies presents much the same problem whether these agencies are found in different countries or in the same country. This similarity is generally overlooked because the issues over which agencies negotiate often differ—defense and trade policy at the international level, transportation or land use at the domestic level. Demonstrating the analytical similarity of international cooperation to domestic interagency cooperation requires holding issue area constant while allowing interstate and intrastate units to vary. To do this, I focus on cooperation over wildlife and habitat preservation at the domestic and international levels in the US and Canada. I explain this variation in cooperation in a simple theory in which agency goals and certain features of species interact. Variation between successful and unsuccessful cooperation in this issue area is governed solely by characteristics of the species and agency goals in each management unit, and does not depend on whether a problem is “international” or “domestic.” For scholars who think in terms of nation-states interacting in an anarchic international system, this points to a very different unit of analysis. For those who emphasize the domestic politics of international cooperation, this moves us away from executives constrained by legislatures to look at sub-units within each executive.

The constant stream—deluge might be a better word—of new books making their way to our offices makes vivid, on a daily basis, how productive is our discipline. There is so much work being done, on such a range of topics and employing such a range of approaches. And—as we have understood ever since Thomas Kuhn—while academic fields and subfields most assuredly are organized in part to channel and “discipline” such intellectual energies, the contemporary academy is at the same time a space of extraordinary intellectual diversity. There is no overall “plan” to this outpouring of ideas, no single “method” to the madness that drives us continually and persistently to research and write, to revise and resubmit, and to enter the fray with ideas that, at their best, will prove their true worth by serving as fodder for the next generation of scholars.

Robert H. Bates's new book When Things Fell Apart seeks to make a contribution in two different areas. Explicitly, it joins a large literature on why state institutions collapsed in sub-Saharan Africa, especially why leaders drove one economy after the next into the ground. Less emphatically stated but clear enough from the book's content and its structure is an important contribution to political science's “culture wars” over the use of different types of evidence, especially the sometimes competing claims for the primacy of country knowledge, game-theoretic modeling, and large cross-national data sets. In particular, Bates uses a deductive approach, where game-theoretic approaches are married to national outcomes through a deep immersion in the literature and intuition (a concept he clearly seeks to rehabilitate) and then tested by the use of a significant and original database that is nonetheless relegated to an appendix. This is a particularly important approach because no one would accuse Bates of being at all hostile to large-scale quantitative analysis. Indeed, the significant data collection at Harvard's Africa Research Program (http://africa.gov.harvard.edu), which he helped found, is a service to the discipline.

Liberal international order—both its ideas and real-world political formations—is not embodied in a fixed set of principles or practices. Open markets, international institutions, cooperative security, democratic community, progressive change, collective problem solving, the rule of law—these are aspects of the liberal vision that have made appearances in various combinations and changing ways over the last century. I argue that it is possible to identify three versions or models of liberal international order—versions 1.0, 2.0, and 3.0. The first is associated with the ideas of Woodrow Wilson, the second is the Cold War liberal internationalism of the post-1945 decades, and the third version is a sort of post-hegemonic liberal internationalism that has only partially appeared and whose full shape and logic is still uncertain. I develop a set of dimensions that allow for identifying different logics of liberal international order and identify variables that will shape the movement from liberal internationalism 2.0 to 3.0.

What determines whether a country has more or less restrictive policies regarding intercountry adoption? Despite the growing importance of intercountry adoption as a political issue, and as an explicitly human face of globalization, there is virtually no systematic empirical work on intercountry adoption. We introduce a measure of the restrictiveness of the adoption laws in Sub-Saharan African countries and test possible explanations for the variations in legal restrictions on intercountry adoption among these countries.

Factors that are commonly cited as explanations for the restrictiveness of intercountry adoption policies do not hold up very well in our assessment. Openness to adoption is not determined by the severity of the orphan crisis or the AIDS crisis within the sending country, nor are democratic countries more responsive to the needs of their orphans. Additionally, African signatories to the Hague Convention, which aimed to increase transparency and accountability in intercountry adoption, tend to be among the most restrictive. On the other hand, a stronger connection with the global economy is associated with greater openness to intercountry adoption. We conclude with a discussion of the implications for orphans and for intercountry adoption.

Judging from Gallup Polls in the United States, the United Kingdom, and Australia, opinion often changes during an election campaign. Come election day itself, however, opinion often reverts back nearer to where it was before the campaign began. That that happens even in Australia, where voting is compulsory and turnout is near-universal, suggests that differential turnout among those who have and have not been influenced by the campaign is not the whole story. Inspection of individual-level panel data from 1987 and 2005 British General Elections confirms that between 3 and 5 percent of voters switch voting intentions during the campaign, only to switch back toward their original intentions on election day. One explanation, we suggest, is that people become more responsible when stepping into the poll booth: when voting they reflect back on the government's whole time in office, rather than just responding (as when talking to pollsters) to the noise of the past few days' campaigning. Inspection of Gallup Polls for UK snap elections suggests that this effect is even stronger in elections that were in that sense unanticipated.

When Things Fell Apart manages to be wonderfully concise but still compelling. The thing Robert Bates seeks to explain is the secular trend in sub-Saharan Africa toward civil war, although he often characterizes this in broader terms, as a trend toward “political conflict” or “political disorder.” He explains the trend as follows: Public revenues fell in the 1970s and 1980s as a result of commodity price declines, effects of the second oil shock, and bad economic policy choices that overtaxed farmers so that politicians could dispense patronage to smaller, politically more important urban constituencies. The decline in public revenues led elites to become more predatory, which caused an increase in political conflict by mobilizing opposition. Popular demands for political reform, along with increased international pressure for the same at the end of the Cold War, heightened elite insecurity and led to more predation. This had the effect of “provoking their citizens to take up arms” (p. 109). Further, state decline and national-level conflicts exacerbated simmering subnational conflicts, typically in the form of land disputes between locals and migrants from other tribes.

Reports from abroad on the American condition have a special place in the canon of social commentary. There is Lord Bryce's American Commonwealth (1888), Gunnar Myrdal's American Dilemma: The Negro Problem and Modern Democracy (1944), Werner Sombart's Why Is There No Socialism in the United States? (1906) and, of course—the standard setter—Alexis de Tocqueville's Democracy in America in 1835. What makes these works touchstones is not just the quality of the analysis or the fame of their authors but the privileged status they have come to enjoy as works of external reflection and criticism. For a people prone to ignore the rest of the world or see abroad only a mirror image of themselves, Americans have always had a surprisingly soft spot for the foreign observer willing to discourse on what makes their nation unique.

This lean volume digs into the roots of African politics by exploring the foundations of political order. The author sees state formation as originating in rulers' political decisions about how to extract wealth from society. Specifically, do they use coercion—the defining attribute of state power—to protect their subjects or to prey on them? If rulers—whom he characterizes as “specialists in violence”—calculate that their own political and economic interests are best served by taxing production, they will establish the infrastructure of a bureaucratic state. If, however, they conclude that the costs of providing protection to society's producers outweigh the expected benefits, then they will be tempted to turn the state apparatus into an instrument of predation.

Much theorizing about world politics and many policy recommendations are predicated on a rather thin view of homo politicus, often assuming that humans are rational and self-interested strategic actors and that force is the ultima ratio of politics. This thin notion should be replaced by a richer understanding of homo politicus that includes the characteristic activities of political actors: we fight, we feel, we talk, and we build institutions. This understanding helps illuminate the scope and limits of strategic action, argument and persuasion in world politics in both empirical and normative senses. I describe the spectrum of political action that situates the role of argument and persuasion within the extremes of brute force on one side and mutual communication on the other. I also discuss barriers to argument and communication. Noting the role of argument in this spectrum of international and domestic political practice suggests that it is argument (nearly) all the way down and that the scope of argument can be and in some cases has increased over the longue durée. Coercion, by itself, has a limited role in world politics. The claim that there are distinctive logics of argumentation, strategic action, or appropriateness misses the point. Argument is the glue of politics—its characteristic practice. Understanding politics as argumentation has radical empirical and normative implications for the study and practice of politics.

In Charles Dickens's novel about capitalism run amok, a teacher asks: “Now, this schoolroom is a Nation. And in this nation, there are fifty millions of money. Isn't this a prosperous nation? Girl number twenty, isn't this a prosperous nation, and an't you in a thriving state?” “Girl number twenty” (the teacher doesn't dignify the pupils with names) later confides to a friend how she got it all wrong: “I said I didn't know. I thought I couldn't know whether it was a prosperous nation or not, and whether I was in a thriving state or not, unless I knew who had got the money, and whether any of it was mine. But that had nothing to do with it. It was not in the figures at all” (Hard Times [1854] 1997, 64).

I assess several politically powerful ways of drawing on the past in the search for solutions to problems in the present. To probe these dynamics, I turn to the American jeremiad, a longstanding form of political rhetoric that explicitly invokes the past and laments the nation's falling-away from its virtuous foundations. I begin by focusing on the Christian Right's traditionalist jeremiad, which offers both nostalgic and Golden Age rhetoric in its assessment of the United States' imperiled national promise. I argue that, despite differences in the historical location of their ideals and the significant rhetorical power that they bring to political life, such nostalgic and Golden Age narratives represent a constraining political ideal, one ultimately incapable of doing justice to an increasingly diverse American society. I argue furthermore that there is another strand of the American jeremiad and conclude by sketching a different way of drawing on the past, a progressive jeremiad epitomized by the thought of Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass. Such a jeremiad is also deeply rooted in the American tradition and offers a far more promising contribution to a diverse and pluralistic American future.

In an Introduction written this summer, I noted that the 2008 U.S. Presidential election process symbolized some fundamental questions about the relationship between race, gender, and class in American politics. The recent election of Barack Obama clearly represents a watershed. Commentators have noted that the incoming Obama administration offers the possibility of a new and more cooperative way of negotiating and regulating differences in our domestic politics and in world politics. Whether this comes to pass is of course an open question. As political scientists our job is to keep such questions open, to proffer our own hypothetical and revisable answers to them, to foster an academic and perhaps even a public culture where these questions can be seriously, freely, and constructively debated, and to place such contemporary questions in a broader historical and theoretical context. The books under review in this issue of Perspectives contribute substantially to these tasks.

In this timely new book, Shane Hamilton offers a compelling account of the politics of long-haul trucking in the postwar United States and, in particular, its contribution to the rise of economic conservatism by the end of the 1970s. This work, exhaustive in its research, explains a range of critical developments in twentieth-century political economy from the perspective of trucking: from the struggles within and between various federal agencies over farm, labor and consumption policies; to advances in truck design, highway construction, refrigeration, and food packaging technologies; to the cultural development of a trucking genre within country music and Hollywood films.

The economist Amartya Sen has said that world development ought to focus on the capabilities that people achieve, and not simply on aggregate economic indicators. In that spirit, the United Nations since 1990 has published several Human Development (HD) reports that assess nations in terms of health and education conditions, as well as income or wealth. Many countries have assessed their own HD. In The Measure of America, Sarah Burd-Sharps, Kristen Lewis, and Eduardo Borges Martins apply this approach to the United States. They describe variation in health, education, and income conditions across American states, congressional districts, and social groups.