From contesting the power of large corporations to nurturing a stable industrial economy, regulatory policies have been created in pursuit of a wide variety of goals. Likewise, regulatory institutions have been designed to address host of administrative demands, to incorporate organized interests into the policy process, and to compensate for specific problems of implementation. One can analyze each expansion of regulatory authority as an independentevent. However, one can bring order to the history of regulation by identifying particular regimes that have emerged during critical periods in U.S. history. When used in international relations, a regime is commonly defined as “a set of principles, norms, rules, and procedures around which actors' expectations converge.” In this context, regimes are important because they “constrain and regularize the behavior of participants, affect which issues among protagonists move on and off agendas, determine which activities are legitimized or condemned, and influence whether, when, and how conflicts are resolved.” While retaining the emphasis on a value-based governance structure, we can define a regulatory regime as a linked set of policies and institutions that condition the relationship between societal interests, the state, economic actors in multiple sectors of the economy. A regime framework focuses attention on points of continuity in policy and institutional change. It facilitates the discovery of patterns in regulatory policies and institutions and provides a useful explanatory and organizational tool.

Several years ago, Regina G. Kunzel presented a provocative examination of the Florence Crittenton maternity homes between 1915 and 1945. Her goal was to trace “the history of the transformation from evangelical to professional work with unmarried mothers.” Kunzel's thesis is that in the early twentieth century the control and treatment of unmarried mothers shifted dramatically: from evangelical women “who understood their work in terms of the ‘feminine’ virtues of piety and sympathy” to social work professionals “who claimed expertise based on training in the scientific method.” Evangelical women wanted to redeem “fallen women” in need of salvation—which they regarded as “a moral problem to be solved by sisterhood.” In contrast, social workers viewed unmarried mothers as “social units” requiring scientific treatment and “adjustment.” These differing viewpoints had practical consequences when it came to treating unwed mothers. Evangelical women were committed to keeping mother and illegitimate child together—a principle Kunzel describes as “the cornerstone of womanly benevolence in maternity homes.” In contrast—and this point is at the heart of Kunzel's thesis—social workers were militant proponents of separating mother and child because they believed that the majority of unmarried mothers “were unfit and would be better off giving their babies up for adoption.”

In both the United States and Britain, the Great Depression generated widespread interest in the possibility of utilizing state power to foster the development of corporatist institutions to restore order and stability to economic life. However, whereas Britian made only piecemeal efforts to implement corporatist mechanisms in a few selected industries, the United States proved willing, at least temporarily, to implement a far more thoroughgoing experiment in corporatism—he National Recovery Administration (NRA). This article seeks to explain this divergence in American and British policy responses to the depression. While considering the extent to which differences in state capacities, ideology, political contingencies, and the structure of economic organization may have contributed to America's greater willingness to attempt a comprehensive experiment with corporatism in the early 1930s, this article focuses on the importance of the weakness of organized labor in the American—as opposed to the British—political economy as an explanatory factor in the divergent experiences of the two nations.

The general constitutional authority of the President to veto legislation passed by Congress has recently received renewed scholarly attention. However, few studies have focused on the pocket veto—the power to negate proposed laws sent for approval without the possibility of reconsideration—and its ramifications for presidential effectiveness. This research comprehensively investigates the creation, development, and employment of the pocket veto. First, this article will trace the history of this form of executive prerogative from colonial times through its establishment in the Constitution. Second, it will review the use of the pocket veto in the nineteenth century. Third, it will undertake a seminal empirical probe of influences on public-bill pocket-veto frequency from 1889 to 1989. Fourth, I will delineate congressional and court challenges to the use of this executive device. In the final section, I will assess the consequences of heightened consternation over pocket-veto use.

Almost all affirmative-action plans cover women and minorities. Who are affirmative action's sanctioned minorities? According to the U.S. Bureau of the Census, there are at least 630 ethnic groups large enough to be counted. Indeed it is doubtful if there are any countries in the world that have not contributed at least one citizen to the United States. Language defines culture and status for many people, but no one knows how many tongues are spoken in America. Students in New York City School District 24 alone converse in some 83 different languages. For some persons, religion is the core of their identity. The Yearbook of American Churches lists 250 different religious groups. Finally, many Americans are most invested in their vocations or avocations and each of those activities is a minority of the total.

As many manufacturing industries have declined and as much American manufacturing has become vulnerable to foreign competition, numerous groups have suggested that programs to intervene in specific manufacturing sectors could help. Proponents focus on aid to telecommunications, aerospace, information technology, and high-definition television, where an edge in new technology may be key to the industries' success, but they also touch on aid to declining industries. Opponents of trade restrictions often argue that policies should facilitate adjustment in industries injured by trade. Other groups call for a technological “revolution” in manufacturing to restore international competitiveness through programs to facilitate adjustment and to speed the transition to new kinds of manufacturing. Others, concerned about massive job losses in depressed manufacturing communities, have called for improving the welfare of workers and communities.

Dwarfing all debates over civil rights policy and race relations during the three decades since 1964 has been the storm over affirmative action. Critics have argued that affirmative action in practice has meant requiring racial quotas, and hence practicing “reverse discrimination” against innocent (usually white male) third parties. This has been done, critics contend, in the name of a law, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, that explicitly prohibited racial preferences. Proponents have countered that racism is so deeply rooted in American culture and institutions that mere nondiscrimination will perpetuate the injustice of the past. There is abundant evidence to support both contentions. The purpose of this essay is not to weigh the evidence and determine which side is correct. Ultimately such profound disagreements are not resolvable by logic and evidence alone, because they hinge on divergent assumptions about human nature and the purpose and limits of government. My more modest goal in this essay is to use the insights of history to understand why civil rights policy evolved in this dual fashion following the breakthrough legislation of 1964–68, and to try to assess the consequences.

On the eve of America's entry into World War II, Senator Joseph O'Mahoney (D-Wyo.) warned that “if we let little business go down in a total effort to defend democracy we shall let the very foundation of democracy perish. The total effort will result in total government.” O'Mahoney was concerned that the growing concentration of defense contracts with large corporations would tie big business to big government and thereby leave small business out of the military buildup. This fear that big business might squeeze small manufacturers out of the war effort fueled demands for government assistance. With the antitrust laws suspended for the duration of the war, congressional small-business advocates took positive action, using crisis rhetoric and the ideological appeal of small business to secure the creation of the Smaller War Plants Corporation (SWPC), the first federal agency to represent small manufacturers.

“ERA Won't Go Away!” The words were chanted at rallies and unfurled on banners at countless marches as the deadline—June 30, 1982—approached for ratification of the Equal Rights Amendment. To include in the Constitution the principle of equality of rights for women, supporters insisted, was an essential of republican government in a democratic society. Congress had shared that perception in 1972, passing a series of measures aimed at strengthening and expanding federal legislation banning discrimination on the basis of sex. Included was a constitutional amendment simply stating that “Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or any state on account of sex.” Thirty-five of the thirty-eight states necessary for a three-fourths majority needed to amend the Constitution had given their approval.

In the mid-1960s, Charles G. Sellers, Jr., was perhaps the most widely respected historian of the Jacksonian era. The author of several seminal articles on the period, he was in the midst of writing a multivolume biography of James K. Polk, two volumes of which had already appeared. Sellers's knowledge of the intricacies of Jacksonian politics, his comprehension of the importance of state politics, and his understanding of the relationship between society and politics were unrivaled. The second volume of his study of Polk received the Bancroft Prize, and Jacksonian scholars eagerly awaited the appearance of the promised third volume, covering the most crucial years of Polk's presidency.