This article argues that scholars’ current understanding of Social Security policy making in the 1950s is missing a crucial component: massive letter-writing campaigns by ordinary Americans. Americans’ letters to Congress—and the responses of members and their aides in public debates and constituent correspondence—reflect a more vibrant, more democratic, and messier policy-making process than scholars have previously recognized. In the 1950s, Congress voted to amend the Social Security Act of 1935 repeatedly, expanding both the number of occupations covered by the Old Age and Survivors Insurance program and the level of benefits individuals received. Scholars have depicted this expansion as the work of planners within the Social Security bureaucracy. Yet, the letters in congressional records reveal that the process of amending Social Security resulted from—and helped create—constituencies of Americans who felt entitled to make claims on the federal state apparatus.

This article traces the history of the Office of Economic Opportunity/Community Services Administration, focusing on Richard Nixon’s failed attempt to dismantle it in 1973 and Ronald Reagan’s successful effort in 1981. I explore main two main questions: Why was Reagan able to succeed when Nixon had failed? and What does the dismantling of the agency reveal about the development of American conservatism in the 1970s and 1980s? Drawing on original archival materials, I argue that the Reagan administration learned from Nixon’s failures and adopted a more professional, managerial stance when it dismantled the agency in 1981. In addition, recent work in history and political science has explored how the multiracial democratic vision articulated by LBJ’s Great Society helped fuel the modern conservative movement. By focusing on the long-term opposition against OEO/CSA, this article provides new insights into how conservatives articulated an alternative ideology to postwar liberalism.

This article argues for the importance of reframing the history of school desegregation in the United States beyond Black and white and beyond the regional frames through which this history has been interpreted. In Western states, most Latino children attended schools segregated not by law but by custom starting in the early twentieth century; Latino students also encountered de facto segregation in the Eastern and Midwestern cities with large Puerto Rican populations by the 1950s. Parents, students, advocates, and activists protested the inequality of educational outcomes for Latino children over many decades, developing distinctive strategies to address the combination of racial and language-based discrimination faced by Latino students. Yet, because they were marginalized in political debates in the 1960s and 1970s and because most national-level historical scholarship on school desegregation focuses on Black and white participants, Latinos’ role in this aspect of our national civil rights history has remained obscured.

In the early 1980s “industrial policy” seemed to be emerging as the American left’s answer to supply-side economics. Yet soon after, supply-side economics was triumphant and industrial policy back in the political wilderness. This article investigates why the American left rejected industrial policy in the 1980s but appears to be reembracing it under the Biden administration. Via reviewing the history of the industrial policy debate, I argue that the American left rejected industrial policy proposals for several reasons including disunity within the Democratic party coalition, the growing strength of the venture capital industry, and the perceived incompatibility of industrial policy with American political institutions. Despite the defeat of industrial policy movement in the 1980s, however, I argue that a process of adaptation and reworking during the Clinton administration allowed industrial policy ideas to survive in “hibernation,” ultimately reemerging in the changed policy environment which followed the 2008 financial crisis.

This article provides an analysis of the potential danger to a president’s policy agenda that comes from appointing a sitting elected official to the cabinet. We present historical data on cabinet secretaries since the founding and demonstrate that concerns about seats falling to the other party following the appointment of an elected official to the cabinet date back at least to Martin Van Buren’s establishment of the first American mass political party in 1828. We then focus on the post-Seventeenth Amendment cabinet and show that almost 30 percent of cabinet secretaries in this era who were elected officials at the time of their appointment left seats that flipped to the other party by the next regular general election. We conclude by discussing how our results compare with Alexander Hamilton, Martin Van Buren, and Woodrow Wilson’s differing views on the cabinet and the implications for the president’s policy agenda.

Within a year of World War II’s end, the United States federal government passed the National Mental Health Act of 1946. This bill was the country’s first significant foray into the realm of psychological health. Many studies have examined the act and its legacy, including the creation of the National Institute of Mental Health. Fewer studies, however, have investigated the significant roles of veterans and veterans’ organizations in the passage of this legislation. This essay delves into these various roles and argues that veterans, from various professional backgrounds, united by creating strategic arguments to lobby for this act. Their motivations ranged from the desire to destigmatize mental health issues to discovering methods for the prevention and treatment of psychiatric problems among American society. Ultimately, these veterans helped the nation revolutionize its approach to mental health policy and paved the way for future servicemembers to take a stand and become political actors.

Until 1838 the U.S. government lent railroads Army engineers to survey routes. Though not strictly regulators, these army engineers would consequently face powerful versions of the incentives that make regulatory capture a pervasive problem—including an intensified “revolving door,” the opportunity for institutional empire building, and a fertile ground for cognitive capture. Nevertheless, engineering officers would push to abolish federal railroad aid, succeeding by 1838. This article argues that they turned against railroad aid when the nation’s growing rail network revitalized long-standing republican hopes of replacing standing armies and fortifications with floating batteries and militias. Though this scheme was strategically quixotic, Jacksonian populism and fiscal retrenchment during the Panic of 1837 combined with the transportation revolution to make it appear a credible threat to the Corps’s institutional raison d’être—building coastal fortifications. Engineers thus turned against railroad aid to protect their core competency, highlighting underappreciated tensions between institutional and industry interests.

Modern English policing arose from crime, laws, and demands for social order, but this perspective further introduces matters of philosophy that ties political liberty to political economy as being less recognized but equally powerful contributors. Shown here is how civic republican political economy (1600–1750) policing lost favor to laissez-faire utilitarian preferences (1750–1829) and helped produce more civic democratic policing. Through this perspective, it shows that Sir Robert Peel’s 1829 police were really centuries in the making.

Currently, much of the literature surrounding Black politics in the 1920s and 1930s understates the role that Black citizens and politicians played in challenging Jim Crow and white supremacy at the national level. Instead, different factors like the “cage” that white Southerners placed on Civil Rights legislation or the influence that New Deal programs had on electoral decisions in the Black community. After realignment, Black Americans and their allies were then able to launch more effective challenges against white supremacy. Although these narratives contain much explanatory power, oftentimes they overlook critical aspects of Black politics during this period that complicate this narrative. Examining the career of Oscar DePriest, the first Black congressman elected in the twentieth Century, this article argues that Black citizens and their representatives were able to explicitly affect politics at the local, state, and federal levels through DePriest’s career prior to realignment.