In the underdeveloped countries—where live most of the world's people—the hope for economic progress now flames with great intensity. The new international capital facilities of the postwar period, the new programs for sharing modern science and technology, the new interest of wealthy lands in progress in the poor countries—all these present the latter with an opportunity to be rid of the poverty and squalor of their material existence. Their eyes naturally turn to the more developed countries for capital and technical knowledge, and for ideas.

In studying world affairs we are acutely conscious of the fact that many rivalries and conflicts are carried on with hostility on all sides, but within a framework of mutual respect. We have too many examples of honor among enemy soldiers to regard this as remarkable.

At the same time we know that one of the most exacerbated forms of conflict occurs when incompatible respect demands are involved. The “ex-colonials” of the globe are asserting themselves with vindictive passion against “white imperialists.” Most of these “ex-colonials” are colored, and they are reacting against the memory of years of humiliation, fancied or real, inflicted by the West. In some states of the “West,” notably the Union of South Africa and the United States, internal politics are torn by ethnic hostilities. Many historical cases support the proposition that conflict is peculiarly atrocious when an established system of caste is challenged, or is believed to be challenged. We recall the outrages perpetrated by serfs in revolt against lords, or by masters against revolting (or allegedly revolting) slaves.

The two studies under review were issued in the series of the Library of Policy Sciences, edited by Harold D. Lasswell and Saul K. Padover, and are concerned with different areas of knowledge about communications. Sykewar presents the first detailed description of the activities and operations of the Psychological Warfare Division of SHAEF. The evaluations may not be definitive, but Dr. Lerner, a former intelligence officer in PWD, has made an important contribution toward codifying the lessons learned in this policy field.

Western observers of Soviet life have been apt to construe Soviet historiography as a political barometer. The character of statements rather than the events purportedly described by them has been the object of study. The tendentiousness of Soviet historical writing —its distortions and its employment of such elusive concepts as “relations of production”—have been not so much obstacles to investigation as they have been its subject matter.

For a variety of reasons, explanations of Cuban foreign policy lack in persuasiveness. Some authors adopt a kitchen-sink approach in which any number of factors are adduced to explain Cuban behavior, but they do not pay adequate attention to how these various pieces fit together into a coherent whole. Other writers concentrate on a single factor to explain Cuba's globalism, but in the process load more explanatory power than it can bear onto a sole variable. Still others have a penchant for prescribing proper foreign policy for the United States, with the result that the study of Cuban policy in its own terms is often shortchanged. Only by studying the character, world view, and charismatic influence of Fidel Castro can a center of gravity be found for the study of Cuban foreign policy.

Whether we articulate them or not, the assumptions that we make concerning the future development of the Soviet system are fundamental to our thinking about American foreign policy. The objectives toward which we can reasonably direct our efforts, the philosophy of our situation, are in a very large measure a function of the image we have in our minds of the changes we discern or anticipate in the character of the society and the government of the Russian people.

Engels once remarked in a letter to Marx, that it really looks as if old Hegel is directing History as World Spirit from his grave, and with the greatest conscientiousness lets everything spin out twice, once as great tragedy, and the second time as running farce, Caussidiere for Danton, Louis Blanc for Robespierre, Barthelemn for Saint-Just, Flocon for Carnot, and Mondkalb with the top dozen most debt-ridden lieutenants for the little corporal and his roundtable of marshals. Thus, as for the 18th Brumaire—we've been there before.1

A consensus seems to have emerged among government decision-makers, military strategists, and scholars that an invulnerable nuclear retaliatory capability is a national goal of high priority, if not top priority. The Kennedy Administration, to a much greater degree than its predecessor, has given indication that the rationale and ingredients of a “second-strike” nuclear strategy are understood and being concretely programmed into defense planning. The agreed-upon goal is for the United States to be able to launch a devastating retaliatory nuclear attack against the enemy regardless of the size of the enemy's first strike against the United States. “As a power which will never strike first,” explained President Kennedy in his March 28 defense budget message, “our hopes for anything close to an absolute deterrent must rest on weapons which come from hidden, moving, or invulnerable bases which will not be wiped out by surprise attack. A retaliatory capability based on adequate numbers of these weapons would deter any aggressor from launching or even threatening an attack—an attack he knew could not find or destroy enough of our force to prevent his own destruction.”

A Wave of rising expectations has engulfed the underdeveloped areas of the world, and in its wake there remains an intense desire for economic advancement and national recognition. Until recent years the relatively luxurious level of living in the West, particularly in the United States, served as a natural focal point in the search for a pattern of economic life that would lead to growth in these areas. Since World War II, and particularly since about 1955, when the USSR adopted a stepped-up “trade and aid” program among the less-developed areas, increasing attention has been directed to the Soviet pattern of growth and the Soviet answer to “imperialism.”

Seven years have passed since the UN Charter was signed in San Francisco in the month of June 1945. In that short time, events have disproved some of the most important assumptions about the postwar world on which the 1945 decisions were based.

Efforts have been made, notably in the improvisations of the Korea police action, in the creation of the Interim Committee, and in the Uniting for Peace Resolution, to adapt the structure conceived at San Francisco so that it would more closely meet the needs of the world as it emerged from the crucible of World War II.

Until recently, our best studies ofpoint of departure the systemicthe developinglevel of analysis—theareas tookna- as tional parties,1 the state institutions,2 the cosmopolitan central elites,3the overarching economic and communications networks4—but the particular assumptions and inevitable shortcomings of this approach led to a call for more attention to subsystem levels of analysis. By now it has become commonplace to note the need for studies of politics at the local level to gain a more intimate understanding of the way in which processes such as political development and political integration take place in the villages and small towns of the Third World's agrarian hinterland.

SOVIET economic policy in the few years since Stalin's death has been characterized by flamboyance and ferment. In an attempt to free economic growth from the bottleneck of stagnation in agriculture, Khrushchev has sponsored some extravagant gambles in corn-growing and in expansion of the sown acreage. Policy toward the consumer has gone through two complete reversals: the regime at first experimented with offering the population an improvement in the standard of living, but is now once again asserting that abundance in the future requires austerity today. Perhaps the most startling innovation of all emerged in the past year when the regime began to develop a program of foreign economic assistance as a weapon in its economic competition with the capitalist part of the world. Because of their spectacular nature, these shifts of policy have attracted considerable attention in the West and have been commented on at length. Aware diat the Soviet Union is expanding her economic power at a more rapid rate than are the capitalist countries, Western students of the Soviet economy have sought in these policy changes-some clue as to whether its rate of growth is likely to decline or to be maintained in the future. The early indications of a rise in standards of living that would cause a reduced growth of heavy industry and so a decline in investment and in the rate of growth have now been dispelled. The inability of Soviet agriculture to provide an expanding food supply for a growing work force certainly appears to be a real threat to industrial growth, and with die failure of Khrushchev's gambles, this threat remains. Thus the evidence as to the over-all effect of these changes on the rate of expansion of die Soviet economy is still inconclusive.

The Zulu kingdom is not extinct. It survives in the imaginations of many Bantu people, and remains latent in their social practices. Historically, it is as old as modern France, but it remained an independent state for a brief seven decades, its glory ending in the Zulu War of 1879. The period is spanned by the reigns of five monarchical figures: Dingiswayo (c. 1808–1818), who laid the foundations; Shaka (1816–1828), who established the kingdom and ruled at the zenith of Zulu power; Dingane (1828–1840), who continued the despotism as European settlers began to entrench upon the Zulu domain; Mpande (1840–1872), whose sovereignty was limited by accommodation first to Boer, then to British, power; Cetshwayo (1872–1884), who sought to break free but lost independence in a war against the British. Shaka stands out as the greatest of them all—both Romulus and Napoleon to the Zulu people—and his legend has captured the imaginations of both European and African writers, inspiring novels, biographies, and historical studies in several tongues. As a violent autocrat he is both admired and condemned: admired by those who love conquerors, condemned by those who hate despots. The internal transformations wrought by his regime were accompanied by enormous devastation and dislocation throughout South and Central Africa, disrupting a third of the continent. Some estimates of the slaughter in Shaka's total wars and in the mass migrations caused by them have placed the number of dead at close to two million. It is also estimated that by 1820 Shaka had deprived some three hundred tribes of their independence, had commanded a force of more than a hundred thousand warriors, and had brought half a million souls under his rule. Several of his generals fled with their armies to make empires of their own. Thus, even after his day had passed, Shaka's influence remained, for his model of military despotism was replicated in kingdoms such as the Matebele under Mzilikazi in Southern Rhodesia and the Gasa (Shangane) under Soshangane in Portuguese East Africa, and in several groups of Ngoni north of the Zambezi River. These kingdoms for some years preserved the Zulu pattern, coupling internal despotic power with external military terrorism.

Increasingly, the present society is coming to be viewed not as a condition but as an alternative, as one possible arrangement of a much larger set. The social sciences help provide an understanding of the factors and mechanisms that allow us to review such a society, propose alternative plans, and transform it in line with these new designs.

Eleven recent books are surveyed in a review article which finds that there is still no up-to-date and comprehensive treatment of the interests and roles of the developing countries in the international monetary system. The rise of international commercial bank lending to developing countries has significantly altered the system by which balance-of-payments credit is offered. The International Monetary Fund has been relatively weakened, with especially serious implications for the poorest countries. Stabilization at both global and national levels has thus been impaired.