Democracy and Religion in What State? State Projects, Sanitizing Politics, and Fracturing the Demos

Do Critical and Normative Inquiry Conflict?

To advance understanding of informal sector entrepreneurship, the aim of this paper is to evaluate and explain the cross-country variations in the prevalence of informal sector competitors. To do so, World Bank Enterprise Survey (WBES) data is reported from 142 countries. This reveals that 27% of formal enterprises view competition from the informal sector as a major constraint on their operations, although this varies from 72% of formal enterprises in Chad to no formal enterprises in El Salvador. To explain these cross-country variations, four competing theories are evaluated which variously view informal sector entrepreneurship and enterprise to be more prevalent when there is either: economic under-development (modernisation theory); high taxes and state over-interference (neo-liberal theory); too little state intervention (political economy theory), or an asymmetry between the laws and regulations of formal institutions and the unwritten socially shared rules of informal institutions (institutional theory). A multilevel probit regression analysis confirms the modernisation and institutional theories, but not the neo-liberal and political theories. Beyond economic under-development, therefore, it is not too much or too little state intervention that is associated with the prevalence of informal sector competition but rather, whether the laws and regulations developed by governments are in symmetry with the norms, values and beliefs of entrepreneurs. The paper concludes by discussing the theoretical and policy implications of these findings.

In his Essay on Liberty, John Stuart Mill set forth one very simple . . . to govern absolutely the state's interference in the affairs of the individual: That is, that the sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively, in interfering with the of action of any of their number, is self-protection. That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant. The limits to state intervention set by Mill depend on a distinction between self-regarding actions and other-regarding actions-actions which harm only the actor, as opposed to actions which may also harm other persons. Mill's liberty principle categorically precludes state control of self-regarding actions, but permits the regulation of other-regarding actions. Political theorists, including those sympathetic to Mill, have commonly expressed doubt whether a valid can be so absolute. These doubts focus on self-regarding actions that impose a very high risk of harm on the actor. In particular, when the risk of harm can be significantly reduced with little effort or sacrifice on the actor's part, it seems unreasonable to insist that the state can take no measures to protect him from the consequences of his own neglect. Jurists have shared the doubts of political philosophers about the reasonableness of Mill's absolute prohibition. As justification for regulating ultra-risky activities, jurists have argued that risky actions place persons other than the actor in danger and hence are truly other-regarding. The political theorists have concentrated instead on the actor, contending that any person who undertakes an ultra-risky activity is necessarily irrational; it is this lack of responsible capacity which makes Mill's inapplicable. Both approaches may appear to leave Mill's absolute. But in effect they render it useless as a limit on state intervention. For all risky actions place some burden on others, and all risky actions can be said to attest to the irrationality of the actor. This Note offers a justification for legislation controlling ultra-risky activities that is consistent with Mill's absolute prohibition against paternalism, and yet does not allow unlimited state intervention. Central to the approach is the philosophical issue of personal identity.

Guest Editor’s Introduction: Critical Philosophy of Caste and Race

Law as Interpretation

This article provides a distinct examination of Nepal's strategic orientation on national security, intricately dissecting the dynamic interplay between security imperatives, economic prosperity, and sustainability. It will discuss the economic foundations, scrutinize trade policies, investment strategies, and economic development plans, and unravel their role in fostering fiscal resilience and shaping the nation's capacity to navigate external challenges. The environmental factor emerges as a strategic imperative, recognizing the inseparable link between a secure environment and long-term national well-being. The socio-economic dynamics explored in-depth will reveal policies contributing to citizens' well-being and recognizing the population as a strategic asset. The integration of technological innovations is identified as a dynamic force shaping Nepal's national security approach and positioning the nation within the global economic setting. The role of public awareness and informed citizenship is also highlighted in shaping the nation's path. This article unfolds as a comprehensive description that unstitches the layers of complexity defining Nepal's unique path toward a secure, prosperous, and sustainable future.

T --HE question I propose to consider is whether it is meaningful to speak of political and if so on what grounds and with what qualifying observations. This is obviously a vast problem, and within the limits of an essay one can hope at best only to illustrate some of the difficulties involved and to throw out some hints at their possible resolution. The conventional periodization adopted in histories of political thought assumes that a profound break in the continuity of western political speculation occurs around 1500; this date presumably marks the beginning of as opposed to political thought. Courses in the history of political thought which extend over the academic year generally devote the first semester to ancient and medieval, and the second to modern writers and movements. A similar subdivision of the field of political theory into modern and premodern periods for examination purposes is frequently encountered in graduate school curricula. One possible objection deserving of serious consideration not only to the conventional periodization in political theory but to any periodization whatsoever would be that serious political thought, or political theory, is a branch of philosophy and that strictly speaking philosophy has no history but is independent of place and time. The temporal location of a particular thinker is of only peripheral interest; we are interested primarily in whether a political teaching can sustain what it asserts when brought to the bar of reason. Political theory, conceived of as the critical inquiry into the first principles of politics, is then from this point of view a seamless web, and to divide it into modern and pre-modern phases is arbitrary and conceivably betrays a bias, which is inadvisable in philosophical inquiry as such, for or against

This book departs from the attempt by political theory to confront the challenges of political life with new concepts, offering instead a mode of thought so far excluded from the canon of political theory: the philosophy of presence. Making the experience of liminality the very centre of thought, it shows how embracing 'in-betweenness' allows us to discern the limits of both the political order and contemporary political theory. Through an examination of the works of Gustav Landauer, Eric Voegelin, Simone Weil and Václav Havel, the author demonstrates the manner in which 'in-betweenness' may be cultivated by way of the philosophy of presence as a method of self-enquiry into existence as it is experienced subjectively. Arguing that since externalisation is the essence of politics and that the way to a more just society lies inwards, through a confrontation with liminality, this study of how to read philosophers of presence renders their work intelligible to the contemporary discourse of crisis and will appeal to scholars of social, political and anthropological theory and philosophy.

The main hypothesis of this work is that the guiding distinction that forms the conceptual framework of W. von Humboldt’s political theory is the binary op­position state/society. The article is devoted to the explication of this distinction (and related conceptual constructions) from the Humboldt’s creative heritage in order to define the influence of this distinction on the argumentation used by V. von Humboldt to justify the necessity of autonomy of the university from the state. The article presents the historical context of the development of V. von Humboldt’s views on the issue of the limits of useful state intervention in the lives of citizens. The author denotes the continuity of the ideas and ar­guments expressed by Humboldt in the context of limiting state intervention in the life of society in general and in the life of university in particular. The es­sential properties of the state and large collectives are the production of monotony and mechanical nature, while the essential properties of individuals and society are freedom and diversity, which are declared as necessary conditions for the commensurate development of human forces into a single whole (Bildung). Ac­cording to Humboldt’s concept, attempts by the state to take care of the positive good of citizens automatically lead to the mental and moral decline of the peo­ple, the reign of the spirit of monotony, and the formation of people as machines.

This paper discusses Lockheed Martin’s perspective on the development of a cost effective Reusable Launch Vehicle (RLV). Critical to a successful Single Stage To Orbit (SSTO) program are; an economic development plan sensitive to fiscal constraints; a vehicle concept satisfying present and future US launch needs; and an operations concept commensurate with a market driven program. Participation in the economic plan by government, industry, and the commercial sector is a key element of integrating our development plan and funding profile. The RLV baseline concept design, development evolution and several critical trade studies illustrate the superior performance achieved by our innovative approach to the problem of SSTO. Findings from initial aerodynamic and aerothermodynamic wind tunnel tests and trajectory analyses on this concept confirm the superior characteristics of the lifting body shape combined with the Linear Aerospike rocket engine. This Aero Ballistic Rocket (ABR) concept captures the essence of The Skunk Works approach to SSTO RLV technology integration and system engineering. These programmatic and concept development topics chronicle the key elements to implementing an innovative market driven next generation RLV.

About the Contributors

Speaking to Congress in September 1856, Ecuador’s President José María Urvina called for the passage of legislation to protect Indian pueblos from water-source appropriations.1 Ecuador’s indígenas, he lamented, were too often a casualty of exploitation—their resources divested and extorted by a class of “feudal lords.” Citing firsthand grievances collected while traveling in the sierra north of Quito, Urvina denounced the country’s deplorable history of halfhearted state protection of the indigenous class and affirmed his commitment to guaranteeing “community rights” against powerful serrano landlord interests. Sympathizing with the plight of pueblos that were being “squeezed dry,” he suggested that a violent Indian uprising against aggressive landlords, were it to happen, “might be excusable.” The president forcefully laid bare the potentially tumultuous consequences for the rural oligarchy should its advocates in Congress fail to intervene on behalf of the indígenas: “Now, I ask myself, if the pueblo throws itself into a deplorable extreme [of violence] as a last recourse [against] oppression, will the authorities have the heart to order its repression with bullets . . . ? If it became the case that all justice was denied to a pueblo protesting for one of its most clamorous rights, then the Government would not be able to respond.”2In classic caudillo rhetoric, Urvina reminded the legislature of his firm leadership over Ecuador’s armed forces. Indeed, his successes in professionalizing and centralizing the military made any threat of nonintervention a weighty one. At the same time, however, the speech gave voice to a broader attempt during the Urvina era (1851–59) to represent the central government as protector and advocate of Indian rights. Citing the “impotence” of Indian communities and other “unfortunate classes” in making their grievances heard, the central government asserted its responsibility to promote the “social well-being” of all sectors that “make up the great ensemble of the state.”3 The 1856 water-rights law, which passed shortly after Urvina’s speech, was part of an assemblage of midcentury legislation premised on making Indians “equal” to “the rest of Ecuadorans in the enjoyment of their civil rights.”4 While such laments over the Indian condition were standard official discourse in early postcolonial Ecuador, Urvina’s willingness to identify the specific and present causes of their misfortune was not. In his official pronouncements, Urvina articulated a formidable critique of serrano landlord interests—their “feudal” economics, their “colonial” social practices, and—at base—their “oligarchic” control over political decision making. Indeed, Ecuador’s midcentury liberalism was marked by antagonism toward landlord power and—adopting a similar anticolonial logic—religious authority. In so doing, it posed a coherent alternative to the customary political model premised on the state’s transparent and active advocacy of hacienda and church interests.Within Ecuador’s nineteenth-century political history, the Urvina project stands as an anomaly—a short-lived liberal exception that seemingly proves the rule of Ecuadoran conservatism. Indeed, early republican Ecuador is best characterized by its continuity with colonial attitudes, institutions, and geography. Perhaps nowhere in the former Spanish empire did landlordism and clericalism survive intact after independence as in Ecuador. Hacienda and church interests, geographically concentrated in the central-north sierra around Quito, continued to dominate political decision making.5 Compared with other new Latin American states, Ecuador’s ruling class was strikingly reluctant to experiment with liberal-republican precepts of a secular state, free labor regimes and land liberalization.6 Rather, Ecuador’s most viable political projects were embodied by the monarchism of Urvina’s predecessor, Juan Flores (1830– 45), and the ultramontanism of his successor, Gabriel García Moreno (1860–75).7 It would only be in the 1870s that liberals in Guayaquil, buoyed financially by booming cacao exports, surfaced as a legitimate opposition to the conservative Catholic hegemony. Liberal ideologues would have to wait until 1895 before they could marshal the military and political wherewithal to seize national power and elaborate a comprehensive national project of secularization and liberalization.8This article examines the rise and demise of Ecuador’s experiment in anti-landlord liberalism, replaced by the resolutely Catholic and antiliberal national project of President García Moreno. It studies three interconnected realms of discourse and practice in Ecuador between 1845 and 1868. First, it assesses the midcentury project of popular liberalism, emphasizing how law and official rhetoric of the Urvina state sought to “emancipate” Indians from the colonial structures of oppression—clerical tutelage, tribute, and, most radically, labor servitude.9 It examines the redefinition of individual and corporate rights for the indigenous population, which extended centralized state authority into the serrano countryside at the expense of customary landlord and church power. Second, it details the upsurge of popular politics and litigation, as indigenous peasants and estate peons began to employ Urvinista discourse and law to leverage their day-to-day negotiations over labor conditions and mobility. Third, the article examines the reaction of Ecuador’s serrano landlords to this increased popular agitation and state intervention. Although short lived, Ecuador’s mid-century embrace of liberalism would substantially shape the nature of subsequent conservative Catholic state-building projectsUrvina was a central military leader in the Guayaquil-based “March Revolution” of 1845 that ousted Juan Flores (1830–35 and 1840– 45)—the country’s dominant caudillo since independence. The “Marcistas” coalesced around opposition to the authoritarian constitution of 1843, which had enfeebled both Congress and local governing bodies.10 Emerging within a broader conjuncture of midcentury liberalism in Spanish America, the Marcista program echoed much of the Enlightenment rhetoric and liberalizing imperatives that characterized governments in New Granada, Peru, Argentina, and Mexico during the 1850s. Ecuador’s fledgling liberals—like their contemporaries elsewhere—took advantage of the early failures of protoconservative governments, seized power, and initiated a set of legal reforms that promised to liberate the republic from its colonial heritage and make all its inhabitants equal under the law. With Flores in exile, the Marcistas chastised his clerical and landlord supporters in the sierra as “retrogrades” who had maintained their class privileges and exemptions while leaving the nation in poverty, “ignorance, and barbarity.”11 The Marcista leadership, which included future presidents Vicente Ramón Roca (1845– 49) and Diego Noboa (1851), promised instead to reclaim “liberalism, patriotism, and good sense” as the basis of a progressive national project.12 This coalition of self-styled “demócratas” advocated participatory and decentralized governance in order to usher in a new age of progress and liberty. Its broadly antioligarchic platform drew support from a variety of disaffected and historically marginalized social groups. Coastal cacao landlords, commercial bourgeoisie, mestizo soldiers, Indian peasants and peons, and middling and plebeian urban sectors were all drawn to the Marcista’s “localist, popular, and republican” values.13Born in the central sierra in 1808, José María Urvina was educated in the port city of Guayaquil. A career military man, he made colonel at 25 and was appointed interim war minister two years later. Urvina was a strikingly true-to-type caudillo, recognized even by his political adversaries as a talented orator with a “clear and penetrating genius.” While “unversed in history or political theories,” he was respected for his “practical spirit” and knowledge of human nature.14 His brilliant political intuition and notorious lack of scruples made him the dominant force in national politics until 1859. He emerged from the March Revolution of 1845 as the dominant military leader and commanded an impressive popular following. In 1851, after the tentative Noboa government agreed to admit exiled Jesuits from New Granada, Urvina presented himself of the sole defender of liberal values and installed himself in the presidency. 15As president, Urvina ruled in a way that was “despotic, yet tolerant.”16 He expanded, professionalized, and centralized the armed forces under his personal authority. He also set in motion a liberal-democratic program directed at disempowering the serrano aristocracy while rewarding his multiclass coalition of supporters. In particular, the burgeoning coastal agro-export oligarchy supported Urvina, whose economic policies mandated reduced export duties and promoted freer labor practices.17 His anticlerical initiatives also endeared him to this sector, which saw the church as a powerful ally of serrano landlord conservatism, an ideology that stymied the pursuit of their economic and political goals. Though they lacked the substantive bite of secularizing initiatives elsewhere in the region, Ecuador’s reforms barked loud enough to ensure a period of strained church-state relations. In addition to re-expelling the Jesuits in 1853, Urvina limited the incomes of other religious orders, suspended diplomatic relations with the Holy See, and vetoed legislation that would have outlawed Masonic lodges.18The ideological foundation of the Urvinista political project involved a subtle, but substantial, reconceptualization of Ecuadoran republican values. Whereas earlier administrations had professed a legalistic ideal of republicanism, Urvina and his handpicked successor, Francisco Robles (1856–59), stressed the “Anglo-American” principles of social and economic equality and advocated egalitarianism and civil rights for all Ecuadorans.19 Urvina’s signature 1851 constitution loosened suffrage requirements and expanded popular electoral participation. The abolition of African slavery in 1854 generated substantial political capital and was used to contrast the state’s lofty goals of equality and liberty with the petty economic interests of the serrano landholders; the state presented itself as capable of mediating between classes and gradually transforming society.20 Next, Urvina turned his attention to the emancipation of the country’s Indian population, whose condition, he claimed, had “all the characteristics of the most opprobrious slavery”21 Beginning in 1854, the Urvinista political project voiced a commitment to improve the conditions in which Ecuador’s indígenas labored and, more ambitiously, to equalize (igualar) their status with the rest of the republic’s population. In fact, defining and handling the “Indian problem” was central to the Urvinista republican utopia of social and economic equality—a politics that had the potential to transcend class interests and delegitimate the ideological basis for Catholic-conservative hegemony.22As a centerpiece of the popular liberal experiment, the Urvinistas put forth an ambitious reconfiguration of state-Indian relations. On the surface, the project appears to have been dedicated to dismantling the colonial structures of caste obligation and privilege. The onerous contribución de indígenas (Indian tribute) was gradually phased out after 1845 and definitively abolished in 1857.23 An 1854 law ended the colonial institution of the protecturía de indígenas (legal tutelage), which had made Indians dependent on local officials (usually clergy) for legal representation. The suppression of Indian tutelage aimed to give Indians unfettered access to a national judicial system, free from the machinations of a locally powerful protector de indígenas. Urvinista educational policy campaigned to liberate Indians from “misery, ignorance, and dejection.”24 However, the sum effect of Urvinista policy was not the erasure of Indian caste identity but the reinforcement of indigenous collective rights and community structures. While it advocated a moderate plan of land privatization, for instance, it continued to recognize Indian family and community holdings. More radically, the state attempted to regulate and ameliorate rural labor servitude by supporting “free” Indian communities against the demands and abuses of sierra hacendados. Thus, rather than advocating a race-blind bond between individual citizen and state, the Urvinistas sought to reinvigorate the colonial state-Indian covenant at the expense of landlord and church power. A kinder and gentler application of Enlightenment ideas, Urvina’s Indian policy was decidedly neocolonial and far from ethnocidal.25The Urvinista attempt to control the administration of the country’s Indian population for state-building purposes was most coherently expressed in the Ley de Indígenas adopted on November 23, 1854.26 This law codified a reinvigorated state-Indian relationship in the highlands and sought to meld “democratic ideals” onto a neocolonial caste system.27 Indian loyalty to the state was rewarded with protection and special “corporate” privileges, and Indian rights were defined through a careful mix of individual and corporate liberties. The first section sought to rescue the Indian tributary model from “decadence.” To this end, it established an unprecedented centralized framework that tried to overcome local custom and abuse by simplifying and rationalizing the tax system.28 It codified the sectors of the Indian population that were subject to the law, painstakingly defining who was eligible for state protections, rights, and exemptions. As in earlier legislation, the state-Indian relationship continued to be understood as a bond between a paternal state and adult Indian males. Indeed, as was generally the case in Urvinista discourse on Indian issues, mention of women or minors is entirely absent.The law also revealed the shifting regional dynamics of the state’s Indian policy at midcentury. Its scope was restricted to the provinces of the sierra— excluding both coastal and Amazonian regions. In the littoral provinces of Guayaquil, Manabí, and Esmeraldas, where Indians were a minority, biological and cultural mestizaje was presumed to be running its whitening course, and this “de-Indianized” population was legally subjected to the obligations of “the commonalty of citizens.”29 While coastal Indians were excluded from Urvina’s Indian policy due to their progress toward European ideals, however, the “savage” peoples of the Amazon were excluded for the opposite reason. Although the question of civilizing and colonizing the Amazon was never wholly ignored, it was a distinctly secondary issue. The distinction between comuneros (community-based Indians) and conciertos (estate peons) effectively replaced the Andes/Amazonia split as the central dichotomy within Ecuador’s “Indian problem.”30 More importantly, Urvinista Indian policy articulated a redefinition of the postindependence question of Indian exclusion and barbarity. Urvinista liberals framed the “Indian question” not as a cultural problem—lack of education, morality, and patriotism—but as a socioeconomic one. They moved away from an emphasis on bringing the “barbaric” Oriente into the fold of civilization and instead stressed the hacienda-community divide as the essential dynamic in understanding Indian society.31The second section of the law, focusing on Indian rights and exemptions, effectively codified the reconfigured state-Indian covenant. This involved, among other things, the universal extension of legal rights and economic freedoms to all Indians—most notably, the abolition of legal tutelage. Since the earliest colonial times, Indians had been defined as legal minors and placed under the ward of state-appointed protectores. With the elimination of tutelage, Indians would in theory enjoy the same legal identity and capacity as “the commonalty of Ecuadorans.” Released from the protectores, individual Indians would be free to represent themselves in any “judicial, civil, or political act.” In keeping with the paternal nature of the law, however, Indians would continue to enjoy special status in the courts, including exemptions from certain legal fees.32While it recognized the corporate status of individual Indians, the law also recognized the duality of the Indian population in highland Ecuador and focused on the particular issues facing comuneros and conciertos. The institution of concertaje—an Ecuadoran version of debt servitude—was perceived as the fundamental cause of Indian misfortune. During the first half of the nineteenth century, perhaps as many as half of all Indian contribuyentes were conciertos.33 Peonage—like African slavery—was an anathema to republican ideals, and the landlords who supported it were depicted as the direct heirs of oppressive colonialism. However, the social situation among comuneros (or indígenas libres, free Indians) was understood in a different light. To be sure, the state recognized the exploitation of free Indians and acknowledged a nefarious intermediary layer of officialdom: greedy tax collectors, manipulative church officials, and powerful protectores. Yet, the problems of the comunero were depicted as inherently superficial and eminently solvable. The free Indian— more so than the hacienda peon—was considered better able to exercise his “natural faculties” and stood on the verge of equality with his fellow white-mestizo citizens.The 1854 law mandated the parcelization of Indian to individual the of comuneros into It colonial on land Indians their In this the on Indian land into a Latin American liberal that saw corporate as a central to economic and political by up the and of Indian communities the the nation and a of and To community would comuneros into and, mestizo while was on individual economic it was in way to the of indigenous liberal land policies the Urvinistas made attempt to Indian communities or their of Indeed, Urvina’s legislation recognized Indian rights to The same that asserted Indian rights to a for also their access to The law all with they to an indigenous and it community rights in other as Although it out corporate to individual Indian the law and of the Indian In Urvinista land was so as to the Indian community of the Urvinista advocacy of comunero rights was its antagonism toward the institution of labor While the elimination of was the of political the of and the of hacienda interests to rights were central to Urvinista of the Ley de but an away from state support of landlord interests. This in an unprecedented of the of debt in rural labor mandated that all Indian conciertos to or would be their with their his a would be at liberty from to the of As one the would be to his the that he the in which on even legal with Ecuador’s Indian were extended the fundamental economic to free themselves from through debt be sure, the 1854 law was not in the rights of However, the of this was and the at the heart of the hacienda labor a debt to his to the of his the Urvinistas against the legal of as a of than as an of defined it as a of debt or debt debt as the of would have for landlords, both for the of labor to their and for their as The law also the that landlord was with national instead a political community that the popular Indeed, midcentury Indian policy emerged as an for the of landlord with national and an alternative social basis for Ecuadoran identity and fact, the Ley de Indígenas was the of a broader to landlord and The Urvinista coalition landlords for the condition of Indians and their interests as to the national As one Urvinista not a but a and I have the to for the of This direct between the condition of the Indian and the practice of labor servitude the and the state to itself as the paternal between and Indeed, discourse was central to the broader political the and of state power. In the of the exploitation of the the state’s advocacy of Indian rights was short of The of the indigenous population was a the As it the centralized state to not only but also “colonial” the values of republican of the state into of its to give Indians a the state the of and paternal that called for and comprehensive Indeed, in the Ley de Urvinistas that the of Indian rights a and With the of the would be from a whose conditions he did not to the central state a more direct in which community rights were and family would land from the it was an attempt to the state’s into comunero the authority to Indian land away from local officials and into the of appointed by the into the of the Indian community had been in the after as power and at the expense of Indian The Ley de Indígenas moved to on but replaced local with national abolition of the contribución de indígenas in was as a of the Urvinista Ecuador’s Indians, the abolition was also as a legal with the potential to improve their social In of the abolition Indian to their in of Quito, for the was to local officials to “make the Indians that the abolition of had not the peons and their More the abolition of a of the broader in state-Indian among Indians for the of corporate rights and the of economic Indeed, legislation had consequences for relations in the serrano The of the paternal liberal of the central government legal and for conciertos and free Indians to leverage their with local authorities and Urvinista Indian policy was a that the nature and of the fledgling state, its opposition and centralized power. At the same time, however, the over the and cultural of labor servitude was most at the local where Indian and the state had the most at The and of increased state under Urvina on social relations were and involved a of state initiatives by local power most landlords, and Indian by the politics had in the of and in rural highland his among the Spanish on the plight of Ecuador’s appointed by President as the minister to Quito, considered the of labor servitude on the of the His framed within a broader a of the nature of labor within the at such were of the slavery under which Ecuador’s indigenous population Yet, an of Ecuador’s labor his to the broader both its and Urvinista policies on local as a of the state support of both during and after the Urvinista through for To far from the of the system, the 1854 law the state’s support of Indian also the that not any the for commitment to While the this as of the of Indian he as that it did the the to improve his condition by his the that many peons initiated such their that in where for labor was it was often to the from the In such conciertos power to their is of an to landlord authority. The application of rights within the system, he was understood by as a as or in their with customary landlord of and on the part of the Thus, a broader of landlord over their of control over the labor force and the state’s active protection of Indian rights. Indeed, while in the Indian legislation of the Urvina articulated the of the 1854 Ley de Indígenas and its redefinition of as a debt Indians could and did legal rights into power in their relations with their within the and even servitude the of the 1854 law for the landlord it within the broader history of and relations in Ecuador’s central-north Although it to the century, only emerged as a of labor in the of after the and abolition of the labor in the colonial The particular to the Ecuadoran region, as a

Reviews: Bergson and Creative Evolution: “Creative Evolution.”, The Intervention of the State: “L'Evolution de le Fortune de l'Etat.”, “Manuel Pratique des Lois Sociales.”, “Social Evolution and Political Theory.”, “The Psychology of Education.”, “The Nature of Personality.”, “Historical Sociology”: A Textbook of Politics, “An Introduction to Eugenics.”, “Breeding and the Mendelian Discovery.”, “The Inheritance of Acquired Characters.”, “Biological Fact and the

The term ‘political legitimacy’ is unfortunately ambiguous. One serious source of confusion is the failure to distinguish clearly between political legitimacy and political authority and to conflate political authority with authoritativeness. I will distinguish between (1) political legitimacy, (2) political authority, and (3) authoritativeness. I will also articulate two importantly different variants of the notion of political authority. Having drawn these distinctions, I will argue first that political legitimacy, rather than political authority, is the more central notion for a theory of the morality of political power. My second main conclusion will be that where democratic authorization of the exercise of political power is possible, only a democratic government can be legitimate. Another ambiguity is also a source of confusion. Sometimes it is unclear whether ‘legitimacy’ is being used in a descriptive or a normative sense. In this article I am concerned exclusively with legitimacy in the normative sense, not with the conditions under which an entity is believed to be legitimate. However, a normative account of legitimacy is essential for a descriptive account. Unless one distinguishes carefully between political legitimacy, political authority, and authoritativeness, one will not be clear about what beliefs in legitimacy are beliefs about.

From the time she set the intellectual world on fire with her reflections on Eichmann (1963), Hannah Arendt has been seen, essentially, as a literary commentator who had interesting things to say about political and cultural matters. In this critical study, Shiraz Dossa argues that Arendt is a political theorist in the sense in which Aristotle is a theorist, and that the key to her political theory lies in the twin notions of the “public realm” and the “public self”. In this work, the author explains how Arendt’s unconventional and controversial views make sense on the terrain of her political theory. He shows that her judgement on thinkers, actors, and events as diverse as Plato, Marx, Machiavelli, Freud, Conrad, Hobbes, Hitler, the Holocaust, the French Revolution, and European colonialism flow directly from her political theory. Tracing the origins of this theory to Homer and Periclean Athens, Dossa underlines Arendt’s unique contribution to reinventing the idea and the ideal of citizenship, reminding us that the public realm is the locus of friendship, community, identity, and in a certain sense, humanity. Arendt believes that no one who prefets his or her private interest to public affairs in the old sense can claim to be fully human or truly excellent.