Since the ghost of Perón and Perónism has never been laid in Argentina, it is perhaps surprising that more attention has not been paid to the thought and ideology of Perón, particularly as expounded in the Peronato from 1945 to 1955. There is a widely held perception that there is nothing new to say about Peronist ideology, as distinct from the political movement, on the grounds that justicialismo was simply an excuse for pure political opportunism. Though Perón's ideology came to mean pure opportunism in practice, it does not follow that it was devised expressly to provide that result. There was rather more to Peronist ideology than that, as this paper hopes to make clear. Accordingly, we shall advance an argument in four stages: first, to show the relationship of the ideology of justicialismo to the classical tradition in political thought; second, to advance the proposition that Perón sincerely believed in his own ideology; third, to show the extreme flexibility of the doctrine; and fourth, to demonstrate the contradictions that destroyed it as a credible body of thought.

From its inception Americans have thought of the Panama Canal as one of the outstanding national interests of the United States, and a glance at the map explains why. By cutting out the long haul round South America, the canal markedly reduces the distance by sea from coast to coast, from the Atlantic ports to East Asia and Australasia, and from the Pacific ports to Europe and the Atlantic seaboards of Africa and Latin America. The result has been an immense enhancement of American naval strength and mercantile potential. But the canal also possesses great international significance, as the map again shows. It provides quicker access to the Pacific as far west as New Zealand for traffic from Europe and from most Atlantic ports outside the United States, and it puts the western coast of South America within correspondingly easier reach of the Atlantic littoral. Like the Suez Canal, it has become a focal point of global strategy and commerce, a thoroughfare between the oceans of enormous value to the world at large.

A study of ethics must be regarded as incomplete if it does not offer tools for analysing moral problems arising in the international context, particularly in an age of growing interdependence between the peoples of the world. Similarly, a study of international relations must be thought to be imperfect if it leaves out normative questions.

To this it may be objected that International Relations is an empirical discipline, and that it can legitimately leave normative considerations to moral philosophers. However, such a division of labour is unfortunately more likely to result in mere division rather than efficient co-operation. Moreover, international relations, the subject-matter, is logically, as well as historically, prior to International Relations, the academic discipline. Therefore, a study of international relations, undertaken by International Relations experts, cannot be claimed to be complete if it neglects those aspects of the subject-matter which have occupied the minds of many thinkers who do not consider themselves as IR specialists.

‘Very often it was no more than a phrase used to inhibit thought. Frequently appealed to, it was seldom analysed in real depth or formulated with genuine rigour. Writers tended to shy away from the questions it raised and the difficulties it involved.’ Professor Anderson's somewhat bleak statement about the eighteenth century use of the theory of the balance of power in international relations relects the tendency of writers concerned to analyse theories of international relations to concentrate on the opinions and writings of prominent intellectuals, eminent jurists, distinguished writers and famous statesmen. It is the intention of this note to draw attention to less eminent sources for eighteenth century views on international relations, and to suggest that far from being constrained by an inhibiting model of international relations, that of the balance of power, interpretations of European developments were aided by the very ambiguity and flexibility of the concept.

A common theme of all the books under review is the neglect of change by scholars in the social sciences generally, and especially in the study of international relations. A number of reasons are offered in explanation of this. One is that change is hard whereas continuity is comparatively easy. What stays the same over time is simpler to map than that which changes. In any young science static comes before dynamic analysis. (Gilpin, p. 4) Another reason for the neglect of change is the dead weight of tradition. The argument in the volume is that established theoretical approaches to the field have over-emphasized continuity at the expense of change.' (Buzan and Jones, p. 2; see also Holsti et al., p. xvii) A third reason is the decline in grand theory. (Gilpin, p. 4) We are reluctant to ask big questions about society any more and are concentrating on small and middle-sized ones. Fourthly, of course, there is the now well-known western bias in the study of international relations, and a parochialism which allows no purchase on the non-western systems whose study would be important for a theory of international political change. (Gilpin, p. 5) A fifth reason for the failure to do justice to change is anti-intellectualism. The search for laws of change is futile because of the uniqueness, and complexity of historical events. (Gilpin, pp. 4–5) No order can be imposed on the empire of circumstance. Finally, there is the idea that the conservatism of the western practitioner of political science conditions his or her treatment of the subject. (Gilpin, pp. 6–7) A preference for stability, or for, at most, orderly social change, makes it difficult to give a proper account of the radical change that would make the life of the observer uncomfortable. It is not surprising, says Chris Farrands, that one looks in vain to conservative thinkers for ‘an account, still less a theory, of international social change’. (Buzan and Jones, p. 87)

In the October, 1982, issue of the Review, John Baylis presented a series of observations on recent issues in peace research and peace education. Such comments are most welcome, for they represent at least the beginning of a dialogue between peace researchers and ‘outsiders’. This dialogue is long overdue. It is not surprising that its start has been delayed for, as Baylis points out, the debates and conflicts within peace research itself may have retarded its wider acceptance. Yet it could be argued that, having been left to get itself together, peace research is now better placed to make itself known to a wide audience of outsiders. If this is the case, then the phase of establishing an identity, the period of confusion, doubt and debate, may be concluded, with positive results. Such a thesis informs the following remarks, which contrast with those of Baylis; though in some respects I am in agreement with him.