Aside, however, from this fundamental remedy for the evil,-education of the electorate,—it is probable that the expense of the primary could be lessened, and the usefulness of the system greatly extended and,—at the same time all its advantages preserved,-if the primaries were employed, not as a means of nominating candidates for office, but rather for the purpose of electing delegates to a nominating convention. The effect of this change in the primary system would be to give us back the convention plan, which is spite of its weakness has still many excellencies, especially if it be purged, in part at least, of the evils which led to its abolition.

It is easy to see how this proposed change at the point where the primary is employed would remove some of the objections formerly urged against the convention as the agency for political nominations. With the primary working as it does at present, the reward of the victor is the nomination of his party, which brings him only one step from actual election. For such a reward a man eager for political office is willing to raise a large campaign fund. But if what is decided at the primary is not the nomination of the candidate but only the make-up of a convention at which the candidate will be nominated, the reward in sight is only a fractional share of the power through which the candidate will receive his nomination. Not only would it be impossible for any man acting in his own interest, but also impossible for any party acting in the interest of a particular man, to accumulate by the employment of money enough of these fractions to acquire the power to insure in advance the choice of the convention.

From such a change as this there might reasonably be expected to follow a gradual improvement in the type of men offering themselves for election. The prospective

candidate would be relieved of the necessity, repugnant to any self-respecting man, of loudly advertising his abilities, and of submitting to an equally vociferous attack by his rival. The decision as to the best candidate having been removed from a large and comparatively uninformed electorate to a select body of representatives in convention, the nomination would be made under more dignified circumstances, by men who would be likely to have a personal knowledge of the candidate; and the responsibility of choice, instead of being diffused and lost among the mass of voters, would be concentrated among a small body of known men upon whom it could be definitely fixed by the record.

V

THE STRUGGLE FOR GOOD GOVERNMENT

THE three essential phases of government are election, legislation and administration. Politics is the root of the first; it has a legitimate influence on the second, but for the third it is anathema. The United States suffers more than any other country from a popular failure to distinguish clearly between them. Too often we do not realize that the abilities which make an effective politician are far from being the same as those which make a good administrator; indeed the qualities which enable a man to attain office often make him totally unfit to hold it.

The tradition that impassioned oratory is the principal need of a man in public life comes down to us from a time when we were fighting to emancipate ourselves from European domination and it was necessary to support our cause with rhetoric and glowing argument. Our present needs are different. In these days, in the administration of government, deeds, not words, count. American democracy won its fight for free government in the eighteenth century,-its fight in the twentieth must be for good government; and just as there can be no good government without good administration, there can be no good administration until administration is divorced from party politics and partisanship.

Partisanship, however, is entitled to a certain place, especially in the conduct of elections. An election which

did not involve party politics would cease to be an election in the vocabulary of popular government, for politics and policies are words closely allied; and since, in theory at least, the purpose of political parties is to determine policies and to choose the men who will carry out these policies in the name of the people, elections without politics would belie their name. This gives us a clue to the proper scope of elections, and to the proper sphere of politics. Elections that go beyond the choice of men to determine or to carry out policies and reach out into the field of administration that does not belong to them are likely to do more harm than good. Party politics is necessary in those steps of governmental action which influence policies, but harmful when it goes beyond this point.

Party politics we understand to include the art of obtaining and retaining power in office. This power means nothing more than opportunity to exercise an influence on the choice or administration of policies. Power and place are often confused. Place is not power, and politics in the true and legitimate sense has nothing to do with securing place. The man who attained the distinctive name of "what-are-we-here-for-Flanagan" was a placehunter, not a politician; it is the debauchery of politics into a mere scramble for jobs that has attached an odium to the word.

In Congress and in our State Legislatures men are often accused of "playing politics." Doubtless this is a correct statement, but should it be deemed an accusation? If democratic government makes it a proper aspiration for men to seek power in public affairs in order to have an opportunity to benefit their country, why should they be condemned for seeking to retain it? The contention of some enthusiasts that party politics should be banished

from legislative practice is untenable, although it would be equally improper to give it the foremost place among the legislator's functions. His main business is to strive to give fitting expression to the will of the people in the enactment of laws. But just what is the will of the people who elected him it is often difficult to determine. If it be conceded that he has a very definite knowledge of the purpose of his election and what he was expected to do, he cannot, and ought not, to be unresponsive to changes in public sentiment which may have occurred since his election. Indeed, he would be less than human if, losing sight of possible reelection, he failed, as the modern phrase has it, to "keep in right" with the people who elected him.

But on the other hand the assumption that the legislator should be governed entirely by local sentiment in matters involving the national welfare is certainly not to be commended, although in practice it has gained some currency. A representative stands not merely for the comparatively few people who have elected him, but for the people of the entire country, and he should study not only the interests of his immediate constituents, but national interests as well. From his vantage point he has the opportunity of consulting with representatives from other constituencies throughout the country, and may well form opinions more wisely than can his constituents. And yet, a representative should by no means neglect the local interests of the people who elected him. It is, of course, the business of the representative to look after the interests of his constituents and to serve them in every way possible, as long as this course does not conflict with the broader interests of the state or with what he conceives to be correct principles.

If the voters feel that they have chosen their most