The present essay brings together through the technique of illustrative analysis certain reflections on political obligation which seem to be of critical importance if contemporary civil disobedience and widespread erosion of established public authority are to be understood. The attempt is here made to sketch the theoretical and historical context of the current American crisis in political obligation. This context is, however, so vast that a genuinely comprehensive analysis cannot be given within the scope of a brief essay. I have, consequently, resorted to illustration; and rather full notes have been supplied in order to indicate the range of relevant materials and to allay at least some of the misgivings that must inevitably arise from oversimplification.

The rapid technological change which the United States has experienced in the postwar era is now forcing a realignment between industry and the Federal Government. Traditional systems of interaction between the public and private sectors, including the various regulatory systems, are in need of reexamination in light of the new relationships. Different patterns of organization and governmental participation will need to be developed in several areas. Granting that the scope of projects such as going to the moon, building a supersonic transport or developing a world-wide communication satellite system requires governmental investment, on what basis can the government protect its investment and insure that the corporations are not profiting unduly at the expense of the individual taxpayer?

If eamon de Valera were an ordinary politician, the question of to what extent his behavior conformed to any given principle would be insignificant, for we expect all ordinary politicians to clothe their actions with high principled rhetoric. But Eamon de Valera is more than a politician. He has become a nearly mythic figure in Irish political history. Quite consciously, he has contrived to present himself as the premier statesman of post-British Ireland. De Valera is different from any politician presently on the North American or British political stage, for he has projected his actions not on the silver screen of the possible, but against the hard wall of principle.

Valery has written that “A great man is one who leaves others after him in a state of embarrassment.” Certainly, the eighteen-month-old era of aprés de Gaulle has been characterized by an unexpected sense of confidence, not the oft-predicted chaos. But embarrassment persists. The enigma of de Gaulle himself remains. We have many and varied chronicles of his long political career. We have his speeches, his early books, his war memoirs and the first volume of his new Mémoires d'Espoir. But we have only begun the long process of sifting and reconciling the varied and contradictory facts at hand. The final analysis, as with so many other political leaders who left an ambiguous mark upon their contemporaries, will be left to the judgment of history—So subjective, yet so precious to de Gaulle himself.

Institutions of higher learning fulfill important functions and are, in a sense, symbols of universalism. The future of mankind may depend on the orientation and effectiveness of their work.

The forces of universalism confront many problems today. The universal, regional and technical international organizations have many uses, but are handicapped by and reflect the shortcomings of a political system based on so-called sovereign states. This system has become unrealistic in the age of radio, television, rapid air transportation, nuclear power, missiles, communication satellites and space ships, and in an age of world-wide problems such as hunger, unemployment and enormous population growth. Other circumstances impede the development of a co-operative world society. Besides political and ideological rifts, there is the North-South chasm caused by important differences and conflicts of interest between the developed and developing nations. Instead of concentrating on farsighted policies and meaningful co-operation, the developed nations have produced dangerous weapons systems and are, in addition, polluting the air, water and soil as if driven to self-destruction by an evil spirit. They may also—often with the purest motives—run the risk of simply exporting these problems to the Third World under the guise of development aid, in the mistaken belief that industrial and technological 'growth' and educational systems as we know them in Western countries constitute a panacea for the ills of developing societies.