The roots of patriotism are in childhood. At least in Western languages this is expressed in the terms that most commonly evoke patriotic sentiments—fatherland, motherland, homeland, native country. Patriotism most basically refers to places, people and things with which one is at home, and there are few later experiences that can match the sense of at-homeness experienced by the child. The world then is still a very new place, and most of it is very strange, much of it terrifying. The familiar, the secure zones of the world have, for this reason, a particular sweetness about them.

Chancellor in Crisis." “Federal Chancellor Despairs.” Such is the tenor of articles discussing the political situation in the Federal Republic. What has become of Willy Brandt? There have always been anecdotes about the chancellors. Adenauer in particular received his share. But the humor of bitterness and gloating has not been witnessed in these parts since the days of Adolf Hitler. Obviously, the two men are not to be compared. What is comparable is the need for psychic relief in political humor.

In Pompidouian France the government's objective is to make everyone believe that having more is living better, with the result that even the less affluent are purchasing new cars and second hemes, and no one, seemingly, is learning how to repair old ones or is concerned about the 11 per cent interest rate on new mortgages. A French jeweler today will not even look at your Timex watch, and the day has already come when the staterun Gaz de France is reluctant to take on any new customers because this could necessitate laying larger pipelines to satisfy increased demand.

Chile since the September 11 coup is a study in contrasts. There is the striking difference between the tensions and polarization of the last months of the Allende regime and the apparent calm and renewed sense of purpose of Chile under military rule. There is the contrast between the return to normalcy during the daytime and the repressive and chilling atmosphere during the nighttime curfew hours, when shots ring out periodically, helicopters fly overhead and armored cars patrol streets where only the occasional stray dog is moving freely.

The existence—and persistence—of the State of Israel continues to be a stumbling block, if not a scandal, for many Christian religious leaders. What is most remarkable and distressing is that the inability to understand the rationale of Zionism and the State of Israel is more prevalent among many Protestant “liberals” in theology, who might have been expected to have less dogmatic problems, than among Protestant “conservatives.” As for the Roman Catholic Church, the longstanding opposition of the papacy to Jewish aspirations and rights in the Holy Land and in Jerusalem has long been a staple of Catholic foreign policy, both because of ancient theological prejudices and contemporary political considerations.

Political authority is the right to exercise the power of the polis, the political community, over and on behalf of the members of the community. It implies the obligation of the members to obey those who exercise power by right when they act within the limits set by the criteria of authorization. Every political society this side of the eschaton must embody viable relationships of authority and obedience. If not, the society must either be sustained by tyranny, which is arbitrary force and not authoritative power, or else dissolve into anarchy, which surely then will lead to tyranny.

There are not many things we leave at home when we undertake a foreign expedition. We take not only our traveler's checks (I saw one countercultural type in New Delhi present an order for four thousand dollars!), our penchant for acquisition and our instamatic insights, but also our convenience consumerism. This is the form of modern tourism—a containerized, SEA FREIGHT sort of business, in which prepackaged and unpleasant surprises, such as currency changes, are smeared over with cosmetic preparations like Tip-Packs—“Take along your own small change in ten currencies.”

Tourism has became an entirely predictable extention of hectic, humdrum life, with predigested extravaganzas and expatriates to assure us of the integrity of the hedonistic life we are seeking. Although there are as many psychologies of tourism as there are tourists, I will attempt to embrace them all by considering three types of judgments which a tourist is (a) most likely, (b) less likely and (c) most unlikely to make concerning those among whom he has visited.

The now famous “Letter to the Soviet Leaders” by Alexander Solzhenitsyn, written before his exile, is undoubtedly a remarkable, even historic, document. It deserves to be read along with, say, Dostoevski's “Address on the Unveiling of the Pushkin Monument” as a witness to the human spirit and to Russia. One Soviet leader, upon the occasion of Solzhenitsyn's celebrated expulsion, remarked to the effect that now he will be out of our hair and you Westerners will soon find him a bore, a nuisance and a neurotic, just as we did. The remark was not entirely unperceptive. It recognized that much of the novelists news value was based precisely upon his being inside of the Soviet Union. Once out, he might soon have as little impact on public opinion as did Kerensky during his declining and obscure years in America.

In the last year and a half the familiar stereotype of the faithful Indian companion silently marching alongside the white hero à la Tonto has been rudely shaken. First a group of Sioux Indians invaded a sleepy Nebraska town where one of their kinsmen had been brutally murdered and demanded justice. Then there was the occupation of the Bureau of Indian Affairs headquarters during the week of the 1972 national elections and the almost total destruction of that building. Tempers had hardly cooled by the end of 1972 when the same group of Indian activists invaded Custer, South Dakota, burned a stall-like Chamber of Commerce building and scared the settlers who had moved into the Black Hills, winding up their confrontation with the destruction; of several bars in Rapid City, South Dakota.

The January announcement of a Libyan-Tunisian union, short-lived to be sure, was but one in a series of seemingly odd actions by Libyan President Qaddafi. In the Yom Kippur War he refused to participate in the Syro-Egyptian attack–perhaps out of pique at not being consulted beforehand. Two weeks later he angrily denounced the cease-fire and has since refused to participate in inter-Arab conferences called to discuss the post-cease-fire situation. The Israeli-Egyptian disengagement agreement, by which Egypt recovered the Suez Canal and a considerable part of Sinai, evoked only disapproval from Libya. Calling for ever greater oil embargoes against the West, Qaddafi's own adherence to the oil embargo is questionable. Qaddafi, known for his Islamic fundamentalism and fiery anti-Israel rhetoric, seemed for a time eager to join with Tunisia's Habib Bourguiba, a sophisticated modernist who has urged his fellow Arabs to accept the reality of Israel. Seeming contradictions abound. Yet Qaddafi's policies have a rationality of their own which may have as much to do with the Middle East's future as the impulses of those whom conventional wisdom calls saner.

The multinational corporation, which has been active, powerful and highly evident for some time, is coming under ever more careful scrutiny. The multinational corporation (MNC) and transnational investment are very big business. The size creates problems of its own. But when business gets as big as the MNCs, it is not only business; it extends its influence into other realms of our social life. It is not surprising, then, that there has been increasing pressure for some kind of international rules or regulations.

In January of last year, for example, the Institute for International and Foreign Trade Law of Georgetown University, in collaboration witli its sister institute of Germany, organized a very well-attended conference in Diisseldorf on International Organization for Investment. Before and after that conference there was active debate on the subject, but for some time the papers discussed there will probably be the most quoted reference material on the matter. (The papers and conclusions are to lie published by Praeger.)

Nine months ago the way ahead in Northern Ireland seemed clear. Perhaps for the first time in many years. Representatives of parries elected six months earlier to the Northern Ireland Assembly, holding between them a clear overall majority of the seats in that body, had agreed with the Irish Government and the United Kingdom Government at the Sunningdale Conference on a common program for the future government of the Province. And for its future relations with the rest of Ireland.

As with most countries, Italy combines its future with its past. It is not surprising, therefore, that on January 1, 1974, Italy announced its “official” entry into postindustrialism, while still “unofficially” hanging onto all the old industrial and preindustrial methods of production. Once again the government initiated modernization, only this time it's done by computer: all taxpaying citizens are being programmed to become honest.