We present in this paper an economic analysis of American federalism as a system of shared functions. Recent political studies have suggested that the federal, state and local governments may be viewed as closely meshed parts of a single system. Functions are not neatly parceled out among the many units, or along the three planes, of the federal system. Rather, it is difficult to find any governmental activity performed by a given plane of government which does not involve the other planes in important and continuing responsibilities. Decision-making power, as well as administration, is shared. Formally, as in grant-in-aid programs, and informally, as in the cooperation of federal, state, and local law enforcement officers, the three planes of government work substantially as one in the fulfillment of common purposes.

It is possible to formulate an economic counterpart to the hypothesis of political sharing, as follows: Despite apparent diversities in the fiscal activities of the federal government, on the one hand, and state-local governments, on the other, an essential consistency marks the economic impacts of these two planes of government. In political analysis the sharing hypothesis relies for demonstration on descriptive studies of the common involvement of the federal, state, and local governments in the entire range of their activities. More quantitative criteria can be applied in testing economic impacts.

Three types of economic impacts of government can be distinguished: on the allocation of resources between public and private use; on the level of aggregate demand (income and employment); and on the distribution of income among households. These are the major categories of economic impact with which the economist deals. They are distinct areas: the resource-shifting effect of government, for example, is analytically separate from the equalization-of-income effect.

The vote is widely considered the southern Negro's most important weapon in his struggle for full citizenship and social and economic equality. It is argued that “political rights pave the way to all others.” Once Negroes in the South vote in substantial numbers, white politicians will prove responsive to the desires of the Negro community. Also, federal action on voting will be met with less resistance from the white South—and southerners in Congress—than action involving schools, jobs, or housing.

Such, at least, seems to have been the reasoning behind the Civil Rights Acts of 1957 and 1960, both of which deal primarily with the right to vote. Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy and his predecessor, Herbert Brownell, are both reported to believe that the vote provides the southern Negro with his most effective means of advancing toward equality, and recent actions of the Justice Department seem to reflect this view. Many Negro leaders share this belief in the over-riding importance of the vote. Hundreds of Negro registration drives have been held in southern cities and counties since 1957. Martin Luther King, usually considered an advocate of non-violent direct action, recently remarked that the most significant step Negroes can take is in the “direction of the voting booths.” The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, historically identified with courtroom attacks on segregation, is now enthusiastically committed to a “battle of the ballots.” In March, 1962, the Southern Regional Council announced receipt of foundation grants of $325,000 to initiate a major program to increase Negro voter registration in the South. The Congress of Racial Equality, the NAACP, the National Urban League, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, and the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee are among the organizations now participating in the actual registration drives.

Substantial constituency influence over the lower house of Congress is commonly thought to be both a normative principle and a factual truth of American government. From their draft constitution we may assume the Founding Fathers expected it, and many political scientists feel, regretfully, that the Framers' wish has come all too true. Nevertheless, much of the evidence of constituency control rests on inference. The fact that our House of Representatives, especially by comparison with the House of Commons, has irregular party voting does not of itself indicate that Congressmen deviate from party in response to local pressure. And even more, the fact that many Congressmen feel pressure from home does not of itself establish that the local constituency is performing any of the acts that a reasonable definition of control would imply.

Control by the local constituency is at one pole of both the great normative controversies about representation that have arisen in modern times. It is generally recognized that constituency control is opposite to the conception of representation associated with Edmund Burke. Burke wanted the representative to serve the constituency's interest but not its will, and the extent to which the representative should be compelled by electoral sanctions to follow the “mandate” of his constituents has been at the heart of the ensuing controversy as it has continued for a century and a half.

Academic studies of roll-call voting in Congress have tended to stress two factors: (1) the substantial degree of party cohesion in Congress on most issues, and (2) the importance of constituency factors in explaining deviations from party votes within parties. These studies indicate that party is the single most important predictor of roll-call behavior, and that constituency factors explain most of the deviation from party votes. No such study, however, describes constituency differences between Democrats and Republicans on the national level—that is, inter-party differences on constituency variables as opposed to intra-party differences. We will attempt, in this study, to demonstrate that differences between Democrats and Republicans are not merely a matter of party label or ideology (few really contend otherwise), but that they are rooted in basic differences in the kinds of constituencies from which Democrats and Republicans come. We will then go on to show that these constituency factors are also important in explaining intra-party differences in voting in Congress, but only by way of supporting the hypothesis that party voting patterns reflect constituency differences.

The general theory underlying this analysis posits gross relationships between sociological variables and political behavior, especially in democratic systems which permit relatively wide latitude in political activity. Since shared attitudes about various problems confronting people are often the result of sharing similar environments, and since economic and social environments vary widely in the United States, it is not surprising to find people located in similar environments choosing up sides in similar ways on matters of public policy, and differing with those who do not share the same environment. These effects should be most noticeable in relatively small areas, such as congressional districts.

Small in size but great in influence on Latin American intellectuals, Uruguay has been regarded as the most progressive of the twenty countries of its heterogeneous area. The “western” nature of its political system invites the application of recently devised analytical concepts, and preliminary analysis suggests that many of these concepts can be exemplified in its highly developed political institutions.

The titles of books devoted to Uruguay seem to suggest an approach to the millenium there: Uruguay, South America's first Welfare State; Uruguay, Portrait of a Democracy; and Utopia in Uruguay, among others. They imply that despite the feudal obscurantism of the colonial era, and the incapacity and abuses of the nineteenth century, that country has achieved redemption of a sort. Yet the idealist who seeks his goal there may be disappointed. Despite all the hopeful arguments that a stable middle sector based on professionalism and technical proficiency may prove the strongest ally for democratic practice and progress (and hence for the Alliance for Progress), an examination of this particular specimen may suggest the opposite. Or worse, Uruguay may actually offer an example which is simply irrelevant.

Current conditions in Uruguay suggest many problematical questions. All must be considered within the context of a democratic, social welfare-oriented system which has produced the highest average level of living in Latin America commensurate with national resources. Has emphasis on political and personal freedom created conditions in which political institutions perform functions quite different from those normally allotted them in traditional institutional analyses? If this is so, are these institutions actually dysfunctional, even within the unique Uruguayan context? To what extent have the demands of interest groups created this dysfunction, and to what extent have they defeated efforts to undertake institutional improvement or correction? Does Uruguayan political experience demonstrate any special and transferable genius which can be employed by the sister republics to their own advantage?

The long-term Afrikaner drive for power has been strongly influenced by the demographic structure of the South African electorate. Within the framework of the primary political system, secondary structures make deviations from the demographic patterns extremely difficult. The purpose of this paper is to trace the relations between the population cleavage and the composition of basic social institutions, and their bearing on the distribution of political power; and to raise the question of the viability of the resulting system.

Let us start with demography. Power in South Africa resides in the two White linguistic groups—the Afrikaans-speaking descendants of mainly Dutch settlers—and the English-speaking descendants of mainly British settlers—and parliamentary party affiliations have come to be determined almost entirely by linguistic and cultural ties; that is, by the structure of the society. The demographic composition of the electorate (Table I)—three voters speak Afrikaans to every two who speak English—has tended to influence the direction that the political system has taken. Because Afrikaners were always a majority of the electorate there were, amongst their political leaders, some who saw that if those who spoke the Afrikaans language voted, not as workers, or farmers, or protectionists but as Afrikaners, then political power would be theirs. General Louis Botha, inverting von Clausewitz, had declared after the Boer War: “the battle which was won and lost in the fields of war must be fought again upon the political platform.” The history of party politics in South Africa is little more than an account of the various attempts, and the ultimate success, of Afrikaner leaders to attain this objective.

Bernard Lewis once grappled with the question “What is a Turk?” and finally put forward, virtually as part of the definition, the “sentiment of Turkish identity”—simply thinking of oneself as a Turk. Now the course of world history is being much affected by people who on occasion speak of themselves collectively as “Africans.” How important to the definition of an African in politics is the quality of thinking of oneself as an African?

In many respects, Melville Herskovits has maintained, Africa is a geographical fiction. “It is thought of as a separate entity and regarded as a unit to the degree that the map is invested with an authority imposed on it by the map makers.” The argument here is presumably that climatically the range in Africa is from arid deserts to tropical forests; ethnically, from the Khoisan to the Semites; linguistically from Amharic to Kidigo. What have all these in common apart from the tyrann y of the map maker?

One possible answer is that they have a negative common element: they are alike one to another to the extent that they are collectively different from anything in the outside world. It is perhaps this question-begging assumption which makes President Nkrumah of Ghana insist that “Africa is not, and can never be an extension of Europe.” That argument was used against the notion that Algeria was part of France, and it continues to be used against Portuguese “integration” of Angola and Mozambique. In a televised New York debate with Jacques Soustelle when the future of “French” Algeria was still in question, Ghana's Ambassador Alex Quaison-Sackey employed the argument not merely as a variant formulation of the thesis that “Algeria had to be independent of France” but as a piece of evidence in support of that thesis.

But for two decisions, the 1961 term of the Supreme Court could have been characterized as one of the least interesting in recent years. Apart from Baker v. Carr and Engel v. Vitale no decision stands out as a major interpretation either of the Constitution or of national or state legislation. Not that there was any shortage of constitutional cases. In at least thirty such the Court gave decisions and written opinions. In a number of instances, some of which will be examined presently, acts of state legislation were held invalid. Some 63 cases involved the interpretation of acts of Congress; in none was a statute held unconstitutional. There was, in other words, a continuation of the point of view which the Court adopted in the spring of 1937, rather than a hostile disposition toward both state and national legislation dealing positively with the social and economic problems coming in the wake of that new (to the United States) combination of factors, the industrialization of much of the country and the acceptance of most assumptions of nineteenth century humanitarianism.

Last year Professor McCloskey, writing in this Review on the 1960 term, quite properly limited himself to the consideration of cases dealing with civil rights. Yet before Charles Evans Hughes became Chief Justice in 1930, so few such cases arose that no one would have devoted even a major portion of an annual survey to them. Indeed, before the Civil War there was only one obscure case in which an act of a territorial legislature was held void as contrary to the guarantees of civil rights in the Constitution, and none involving either Congressional or state legislation. A few emerged in the decade after that War, but it was only with such cases as Strormberg v. California, Near v. Minnesota, Powell v. Alabama, Grosjean v. American Press Co., and DeJonge v. Oregon that the Supreme Court actively began to be the guardian of civil liberties.