It is a distressing paradox of our time, when we are concerned as never before with military problems on whose solution may depend our national existence and even the survival of civilization, that we should turn our backs on history and deny that the lessons of the past have any validity for the present.

There are many reasons for this. The problems we face are enormously complex and highly technical; the weapons on which we must rely and which threaten our existence are so revolutionary in character as to make past experience seem highly irrelevant. And there are few to tell us that this is not so, for military history has never really been seriously studied in this country. The historian has stood on the sidelines while his academic colleagues, the political scientists, the economists, the physicists, and others, have become increasingly active, officially and unofficially, in the study of national security problems.

There is every likelihood that future historians of the Russian novel will praise the Soviet period for the record number of volumes produced and blame it for an equally unprecedented decline in artistic standards. Yet one may hope that the twenty-first-century critic, in fairness to an unhappy past, will not overlook a redeeming feature of the Soviet novel, i.e., its considerable anthropological value. The present reflections about a few recent or fairly recent Soviet novels do not deal with their literary qualities. They are concerned exclusively with the light these novels cast upon various aspects of everyday life in Soviet Russia, including, it may be added, the life of the novel makers themselves.

Widespread criticism and suspicion of the activities of businessmen have been a striking feature of public debate on economic and social affairs in India since 1947*. It has almost been a matter of habit with literate Indians to blame the commercial classes and the financial interests for the country's economic backwardness. In spite of the generous contribution of businessmen to the Congress Party funds, and the close association of Mahatma Gandhi with many prominent industrialists, the business community found itself under thick clouds of public hostility after independence.

Often as foreign policy may be the subject of partisan discussion in modern democracies, important international commitments are usually made only with support, or the expectation of support, from the great bulk of the political community. This has surely been the ordinary American and British pattern, labeled bi-partisan, non-partisan, or extra-partisan. We assume that political support extending well beyond the ranks of the party in office is essential for a successful foreign policy, and especially for a substantial military venture. Even the American decision to defend South Korea, while it was necessarily made by the Democratic administration before any apparent political consensus and while it eventually involved the United States in an unpopular war, was never in itself a partisan policy which Republicans as a group refused to support. The one outstanding recent instance of a truly partisan foreign policy is Britain's Suez action of 1956. As the significant deviant case, it provides useful insights into the process by which an alternative to the usual bi-partisan arrangement is developed and conducted. Specific questions concern the making of the Suez intervention decision, the nature of parliamentary support for this decision, the role of party loyalty in maintaining such support, and the significance of partisan opposition.

Reflecting the general concern about international relations felt in this country, social scientists have written a great deal recently about the images of Americans and of the United States which are held by foreigners. It is generally agreed that the attitudes of foreigners toward us are important factors in the success or failure of American foreign policy in the struggle against the threat of world communism. The quantity of material which is now available is drawn from diverse sources, including the informed judgments of experts, content analyses of newspapers, opinions of foreigners who are studying in the United States, polls of students and of the general populations of foreign countries, and interviews with political and other leaders in various countries.

Power politics and opportunism go hand in hand. Picking the right time to act involves a clear perception of the alternatives, a close estimate of the risks, and a clever gamble on the odds.

The Russians have shown themselves adept at the game. Their use of force or the threat of force has been unusually astute. They try to move when the deck is stacked in their favor.

The United Nations has made a vital contribution to economic intelligence and analysis through the publications of its Bureau of Economic Affairs as well as those of its regional commissions. The prestige of its professional staff is so high that their pronouncements find a respectful audience all over the world. This well-merited recognition, however, burdens the staff with heavy responsibilities. An academic economist may well indulge in political advice or economic forecasting, even though proficiency in economic theory guarantees neither sound political judgment nor the possession of prophetic gifts. It is different with staff members of a public agency, and especially with those of one of the foremost international institutions. Any advice they give should be based on generally accepted theories and values rather than on controversial hypotheses or partisan opinions. And, since they are as unable to foresee the future as other human beings, they should withstand the temptation to make predictions.