A Rhodesian revisiting the city he knew as Salisbury could probably make his way around Harare, Zimbabwe, a lot better than a Portuguese revisiting what is now Maputo, Mozambique, or a Belgian returning to Kinshasa, Zaire. Harare still has broad boulevards, flowering jacarandas, clean public parks, orderly traffic circles, and even some city streets with familiar colonial names. But there are also street signs to bewilder the returnee—avenues named for Julius Nyerere, Tanzania's postindependence leader, and for Samora Machel, president of the People's Republic of Mozambique. And our visitor would look in vain for the statue of Cecil Rhodes, now an empty pedestal.

William James used to say that temperaments determine philosophies. People who respond to international affairs divide temperamentally into two schools: those who see policies as wise or foolish, and those who see them as good or evil. One cannot presume an ultimate metaphysical antagonism here. No person can escape perceptions of good and evil—even Machiavelli counseled the Prince not to forget, when circumstances impelled him to do a bad thing, that he was doing a bad thing—and no policy can wholly divorce political from moral principles. Nor in the impenetrability of human motives can we easily know when the moral reasons are political reasons in disguise (very often the case) or when political reasons are moral reasons in disguise (more frequent than one might think).

The last two years must surely qualify as among the most difficult in NATO history. It seems as though one can't pick up a magazine or journal these days without finding an article about the problems, if not the imminent demise, of the Western alliance. The titles alone are revealing: "What's Wrong With NATO?" "Can NATO Survive?" "Challenge to NATO's Cooperation," "Europe and America: The Politics of Resentment."

Threats to the security of Japan and the world are manifold, but for Japan the "enemy" is war.

For thirty years a United States bearing global strategic responsibility and a Japan committed to "no war/no collective security" have, despite apparent differences and frequent setbacks, collaborated so successfully that East Asia has become the growth miracle of the developing world. During these years the backdrop for Japan's strategic calculations—and its hesitations—has been its concept of "Comprehensive National Security." It is important, then, for us in the West to understand just what this concept means.

Amidst the sound and the fury that attended last year's missile controversy came an astonishing development in relations between the two Germanies, one which seemed to go against the prevailing winds of East-West tensions. While Moscow and its stalwart ally East Berlin were threatening hellfire if Bonn went ahead with NATO plans to station Pershing II missiles, exchanges on all levels between East and West Germany were never more relaxed. And (touch wood) 1984 continues on the same promising note on which 1983 left off.

Paraguay is the least-known nation of the Americas. It comes as no surprise, then, that the thirtieth anniversary of the longest surviving modern-day head of state, General Alfredo Stroessner, should have occurred this past May with a minimum of international media coverage.

Stroessner rose to power via a military coup in May, 1954, and by July had been nominated the Colorado party candidate in a one-candidate election. The primary determinant of social and political relations in Paraguay, however, is the state of siege sustained by Stroessner since that time. The “facade of legality which the regime presents”— to borrow from a 1978 Amnesty International report—is achieved by invoking Article 79 of the 1967 Constitution, which, renewed every ninety days, provides for the declaration of a state of emergency and suspends constitutional safeguards against violations of basic civil and human rights.

Most discussions of U.S. policy in Central America have focused on operational questions: Should the United States support the Contras seeking to overthrow the Sandinista government of Nicaragua? Should we condition military aid to El Salvador on curbing the death squads? These are the issues debated too by the Kissinger Commission on Central America, whose report was presented to President Reagan earlier this year. They are important, vexing, and decisive. But they are also essentially unanswerable on their own terms.

"Borrowers should pay their debts." Most Americans would agree with this maxim and would probably apply it to debtor countries as well. There is little sympathy in evidence for the debtors, and even less for the money-center banks whose capital is badly at risk in Latin America. The discussions of such esoterica as International Monetary Fund loans, special drawing rights, and debt refinancing bring yawns. Undoubtedly, the Reagan administration's view that debt is a private matter, to be resolved between debtor countries and their creditor banks, enjoys wide public support.

U.S. policies can play a major part in influencing change in South Africa, but before this can occur there is much faulty thinking to correct. Traditional academic commentary on the matter prescribes for the U.S. the role of honest broker; indeed, the State Department often categorizes its own role in such terms. This is a myth that must be exploded immediately. The United States has too much at stake in the area; it can't pretend to be neutral or play the role of a third party mediator. It is a major partner.