U.S.-Style Academic CVs for Political Science and International Relations

This stock photo of a “resume” is basically the antithesis of what you should write.

For related content, please see my post about cover letters for U.S.-style academic job applications.

I’ve served on hiring committees for academic positions in political science and international relations at U.S.-style institutions over the course of a decade. I’ve noticed that many people on the job market are extremely poorly coached about what applying to academic jobs entails. In particular, they do not recognize what it takes to be competitive for desirable positions nor do they understand the standard forms and expectations for communicating their qualifications.

Poorly mentored graduate students and early career scholars may believe that hiring committees give equal attention to all applicants. This is false. In reality, assessment proceeds in stages, with early stages being faster and considering larger number of applicants more briefly and later stages being slower and considering increasingly small numbers of applicants in greater detail. The applicant’s task is to make sure that their materials are clear enough to be persuasive even at a glance–and if one is applying to a U.S.-style university that means writing a competent and clear curriculum vitae according to North American norms.

(I will note here that other higher ed systems have their own norms, and you need to research the prevailing norms of those systems when you apply.)

Context: Why You Need to Get the CV Right.

Let’s assume that there are 200 applicants for an assistant professor position at a competitive university, one at which teaching competence is valued but research success will ultimately make or break an application.

The first round of cuts will be ruthless and swift. In round numbers, about 20 to 30 percent of the pool will be culled because they clearly do not qualify according to the criteria listed in the job ad. That could include, for instance, someone who does not have the required Ph.D. (or Ph.D. in hand by time of appointment).

You should know that a job advertisement contains elements that are optional and some that are binding. The more clear-cut an ad's provisions are, the less likely the committee can be flexible. Black-and-white provisions like "has Ph.D. (or will have by time of appointment)" are ones that a committee will have little latitude to overrule. Indeed, it is possible that admin staff will make a pre-deliberation round of cuts on the basis of these provisions. If you do not meet these minimum requirements, you are very unlikely (< 0.1% chance) to be considered.

A further 20 to 30 percent of applicants will be clearly uncompetitive. If you are applying to a post at a research-intensive university after receiving your doctorate five (or even three) years ago, and all you have to show are non-peer reviewed publications or a couple of book chapters, your file will be dismissed rapidly.

How rapidly? About forty-five seconds.

From the applicant side of the process, this may seem harsh or heartless. It is not. The hiring committee’s job is not to provide career counseling (and legal and institutional considerations may preclude feedback). It is, instead, to select a candidate who is qualified, who will answer institutional and departmental needs, and who is likely to achieve tenure at the institution. There is no point in spending time wading through an applicant’s file if they appear less able to meet those criteria than the top 30 percent of applications. You can tell whether someone will be competitive in that pool with an exceptionally high degree of certainty from the bare facts of their career trajectory. Trimming 70 percent of an applicant pool rapidly allows for more careful and considered review of the remaining applicants. (In subsequent rounds, the consideration of files becomes much more detailed.)

This first filter is the most Glengarry Glen Ross of all of them. You meet the educational criteria or you don't. You've demonstrated publication potential or you haven't. You've shown you can teach acceptably well or you haven't. First prize is consideration for this job. Second prize is a set of steak knives. 

This level involves the most objective set of criteria in any part of the hiring process--and that is why it is the fastest. Ultimately, judging whether you have met these minimum standards for competitiveness or not is easy. I know this makes some people uncomfortable but there really is no other way to handle ratios of 200 or 300 to 1.

To paraphrase Baldwin (or Mamet) again, "You think that the hiring process is too hard? You think this is unfair? If you can't take this, how can you get tenure?" I am being intentionally blunt here because I have seen many candidates who are weak convince themselves that they are strong. It is better to be impolitely clear in this context than cruelly polite.

Is it possible that someone who might be qualified or even competitive could slip through the cracks in the first round? Sure. The risks are less than they may appear, however. Most files will be reviewed by more than one committee member, so any howling errors are unlikely to make it through. What’s more important is that the harms to the hiring committee are pretty minimal. Whether an applicant can present their profile in a way that it can be quickly understood correlates really well with overall socialization into the discipline, and that, in turn, is a pretty good predictor of professional success. (Yes, there are exceptions, but they are really, really rare.)

Remember: the committee’s job is to find a great set of candidates rather than ensuring each applicant is perfectly evaluated. (The relevant criteria for judging the committee’s process have to do with fairness, not precision.) Service on a hiring committee can be, all told, a 60 to 80 hour commitment minimum. Spending an hour or more on each application in the first stages would be a wild misuse of time that would treble or quadruple the overall burden of hiring committees to almost zero increases in hiring quality. It is more efficient to focus on qualified candidates.

But. It matters a great deal to an individual candidate if they get past the filters. Failure at any stage precludes success. Even if an applicant might have succeeded if their file were considered in detail, if their materials are impenetrable they are at risk for being weeded out early on. And although adding more publications is not exactly a choice variable, ensuring that they are communicating their strengths well is under their control.

I find that some people get very defensive about the following point, but it is absolutely correct: it is the responsibility of the applicant to communicate their profile rather than the responsibility of the committee to find diamonds hidden in the rough. Yes, sometimes Cinderella stories do happen, but the odds are far greater that the committee will have more than enough polished diamonds to consider to fulfill their task successfully.

Preparing the CV

So what should a competent CV for a position in political science and international relations positions look like? If you are applying for a U.S.-style job, there are some basic style points:

  • It should not include color or intense formatting. Restrained (black and white, a maximum of two fonts) is best.
  • A CV is not a resume. Resumes should be one or two pages. CVs should be long enough to convey academic qualifications. CVs emphasize academic work–they show, literally, the course of life (that’s “curriculum vitae”‘s meaning!) for an academic’s scholarly development. That’s why most resume templates are terrible–they are not designed for what you should include. (I discuss this below.)
  • Don’t include a “Positions sought” or “Personal Background” or “Personal Information” section.
  • Don’t include GPAs or equivalents.
  • A CV should clearly identify your name, including both government (official) names if you are using that for your application (for instance, a first name you do not often use) and the name you prefer to be addressed by professionally (for instance, a middle or other name you use in the workplace).
  • Include a variety of contact information coordinates.
    • One rule I have heard is that committees should only evaluate what is in the packet … but including a Web site in your CV is enough to count as being “in the packet”. (Opinions differ on this and I’ve also heard enough stories to refrain from offering generalizations about hiring committees’ norms on this point.)
    • Make sure to add country codes. (This is directed at you, Americans.)
    • Have a professional email! Something like “irguy2025@aol.com” is embarrassing.
  • Don’t include a photo. (This is directed at you, Europeans.)
  • No smaller than 12-point font (11-point if need be).
  • Don’t overuse typography (boldface and underlining, italics and boldface). The standard reference for tasteful composition is https://practicaltypography.com/.

Violating those norms won’t necessarily sink your applications but I’ve never seen anyone who violated them progress farther than the third stage. It’s a good sign of fit and understanding of North American professional standards. (The name thing is also just a convenience for making sure that everyone knows how to address you.)

So what sections should you have? In order:

  • Education. This should include your doctoral and undergraduate degrees, as well as any other formal education at the post-secondary level. (Do not include anything from high school or earlier.) Include the city and country or state of your doctoral institution
  • Professional Employment. (Might be better termed “Academic Employment”.)
    • Include here if you have relevant professional employment at the level of a predoc/postdoc or higher (including visiting positions but not adjunct positions). If not (that is, if you have “only” been a grad student or an adjunct in academia), move this to another section (e.g. teaching).
    • Research assistant and teaching assistant gigs attached to being a grad student can be addressed in the Research and Teaching sections.
    • Make sure to include start and ending dates–month and year is sufficient.
  • Research. This can be subdivided into smaller bits, such as “Publications”, “Grants”, “Presentations”, etc.
    • Peer-reviewed publications should go first, absolutely first. Books should be listed separately before articles.
      • If you do not have any, reconsider whether it is time to go on the market (or refocus your efforts on non-research positions).
      • List these in reverse-chronological order.
      • Specify whether these are solo or multiple-authored works.
      • Do not include non-peer reviewed publications in the same list as peer-reviewed publications. This is a red flag.
      • Do not include R&Rs or submissions. Those may be included in a subsection for “Work in Progress” or “Working Papers”.
      • Do include accepted or forthcoming articles.
    • Lists of Works in Progress or Working Papers should be finished enough that they are already on preprints, in your job market packet, or available on demand (like, you just have to attach the file to the email you send in response to a request for these). Don’t fluff these–no vaporware.
    • Chapters in books should go in a section after peer-reviewed publications.
    • Non-peer reviewed but still academic publications should be included in a different subsection. They should be clearly distinguished from public commentary and peer-reviewed materials.
      • Book reviews for academic journals and outlets should be in their own section if there are many of them, but they can also be included in this section if you have comparatively few. Clearly indicate that they are reviews.
    • Public commentary should go in its own section, clearly distinguished from academic-facing work.
      • Including this is optional and you should consider whether it is a plus or a negative for each position. It is not always to your advantage to display this.
    • Grants may be included in this broad category; they should follow publications but precede public commentary.
      • I had a section for “Fellowships, Grants, and Awards” to cover all of these, but you could break these up if you had multiple of each category.
  • Presentations in conferences, workshops, etc may follow this section. Junior scholars may include relatively more of these to show research promise and activity.
    • Note the conference or workshop title, any affiliated institution, the dates and locations, and the title of papers presented. Do not indicate paper/poster.
    • I err on not including job talks in my list of invited presentations.
  • Teaching experience should follow.
    • Identify the institution, the course title ( and a translation if the course content is standard but the title was not), and the semester(s) offered.
    • Give some indication of the level of the course (introductory, advanced) if it is not obvious.
    • If you have been a TA or TF, note these courses but make sure you make clear you have been a TA. I did not include my teaching experience beyond solo-led courses after a couple of years of teaching, but there is an argument to do so: TAing a course means you can likely adapt it for a new institution, and if you’ve TA’d intro or methods courses you will likely be able to address the unstated goal of every job ad (“who’s going to teach intro”)
  • Service should follow. This may include service as a manuscript observer, conference discussant or organizer, etc.
  • Other Professional Experience but only if relevant. We don’t need a full work history–only items relevant to your scholarly profile and potential.
  • Software Skills Sure, put on Microsoft Office, but I’m really reading this to see if you can teach data analytics or other methods courses. If you don’t have this and you claim to be able to teach those courses, I’m going to be skeptical.

Note that if you follow this then a committee will be able to tell if you are qualified or not by the end of the first page of the CV (or second if you have had a lot of jobs). This should be a moment of honesty for yourself.

Your Academic Journal Website Sucks

As part of maintaining the Political Science and International Relations Journal Listing, I’ve looked at a lot (almost all!) of the websites for academic journals in political science and international relations. Some are very good. Many or most have the information I’ve needed to answer basic questions about them. Some have been confusing or ludicrously out of date. Very few have been what I’d describe as “easy to use”, and the vast majority have been designed with little thought for what their purpose or user is.

I get it: running a journal is difficult. By the time someone is an editor, they’re shouldering big burdens in teaching, research, and service; they’re also likely a decade or more into a career. They aren’t newbies and they don’t have a lot of time. Some people view this as a no-nonsense job; others have dreams of transforming the field, or at least the journal. But few people shoulder the burden because they really want to spend time on the nuts and bolts of communicating with potential authors. After all, doesn’t everyone in the field know what the Ruritanian Journal of Informatical Politics look for in a submission?

As a user and (still!) early-career researcher, however, let me tell you that it’s possible to be pretty well versed in the discipline and savvy about the profession but still find many to most journal websites to be–at best–cumbersome. At worst, they can be confusing or wrong. That matters a lot, and not just because we should always try to do a good job in our endeavors. Rather, poor website communication by journals wastes the time of editors, reviewers, and authors. If authors don’t know if their piece is a good fit; if reviewers can’t easily find guidelines for their review; and if editors have to manage the frictions and damage that result, then it seems like everyone is shouldering an even larger burden than they really have to. Journal webpages need to be written to be read, and read by people who have the least time to waste on a mistake: early-career researchers and others for whom publication is a career necessity.

Photograph of young woman looking frustrated with laptop
Don’t worry: your journal is wonderful, it’s all the other websites I’m complaining about! Photo by energepic.com: https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-sitting-in-front-of-macbook-313690/

Here’s the biggest ways to fix problems I see in journal webpages:

  • State the mission up front and briefly. Great journal webpages have a succinct, easy-to-read synopsis of their mission and editorial fit. How brief? Well, if editors think that journal articles can be summarized in 150 to 200 words, it’s not out of place to suggest that a journal mission–which is broader–can be done in the same length or shorter. Specifically, this paragraph should indicate the disciplinary, methodological, and substantive scope of the journal, while being clear about whether it errs on inclusion or exclusion. It can link to a more detailed description (ideally including keywords), but 90 percent of potential authors should be able to know whether they’re in or out within one paragraph.
  • Describe article types fully and briefly. Most journals run at most three types of peer-reviewed publications: research articles, review essays, and research/theory notes. (They may run rebuttals, capsule book reviews, invited essays, and the like, but that’s not in scope for this discussion.) Journals should state the requirements for these fully but briefly. A website that describes the ideal review essay is far more useful than one that just lists “review essay” as a type of submission.
  • Non-standard is fine–as long as it’s clear. I’ve been doing this job, off and on, since 2008, and I had not ever heard of a “state of the art” essay until two weeks ago. More frustrating: the journal I first encountered it (I then found another the same day!) did not describe what it is. Nor could I find anything helpful online. I assume it’s a review essay, but I don’t know. Similarly, from time to time, journals list other non-obvious forms like “country notes” or “election reports”, again with no additional clarity. Editors may think that the answer is to refer people to earlier issues of the journal, but that’s the opposite of helpful: it’s putting barriers in front of researchers rather than removing them. We need more nonstandard output types! But we also need to define them and explain them in a standardized format.
  • Be specific bluntly. Requirements are not the time to be cute or to hedge. Some journals suggest page lengths in forms of word counts; others, in forms of pages; others, in word count or page lengths but prefaced with the deadly ambivalence of “about”. Crisp guidelines should be preferred for initial submission, and word lengths should be preferred over page counts. If page counts are used, typeface, font size, and margin size should be stated directly. (It’s always preferable to supply Word and TeX templates.) Arbitrary guidelines are annoying but ambivalent guidelines are invitations to frustration.
  • Write a human-readable summary that fits on one page. By”one page” I don’t mean “one webpage that scrolls infinitely”, I mean that one 8.5″ x 11″ or A4 page of standard 12-point, Times New Roman with 1-inch margins should be able to fit everything you think authors need to know about submission type, formatting, editorial fit, and the editorial board. You can always expound on these summaries using hyperlinks; you can always have several pages throughout your website that explains all the finer points for final submission. Fine. But I’m aware of one political science journal that has editorial instructions that run nearly 3,500 words: this is just inviting authors to trip up at submission. Be a good regulator, not a red-tape enthusiast: write the rules that you need and that users can understand.
  • Keep your website up-to-date. Blessings upon those who maintain accurate webpages; plagues upon those whose website bears no correlation to the actual process of submitting to journals. (Have I personally encountered journals where I’ve diligently followed the rules laid out on the website only to have a submission kicked back? Yep.) This also includes keeping up-to-date your editorial board and editors’ information, including affiliations.
  • Mean what you say. If you list research/theory notes on your website, but you don’t direct reviewers to specific reviewer instructions for research/theory notes, then you don’t really accept research/theory notes. Failure of editors to communicate and/or failure of reviewers to understand the notes format is universal among the ECRs I’ve spoken to regarding this issue. This is a journal problem, but it’s a harm that falls disproportionately on people who believe your website reflects editorial policies (which it should).
  • Make it shorter. Your journal is special. Your journal website isn’t. Resist the urge to embroider the website by loading everything with more text. Use hierarchical organization to ruthlessly shove nice-to-knows (or nice-to-says) into subordinate pages, while keeping the top pages open only for need-to-knows.

Representation and Symbolism in International Relations (or Vlad the Film Critic)

We shouldn’t become so inured to the routines of great-power press conferences that we dismiss what seem like trivial or pointless throwaways. For instance, during a press availability at last weekend’s G-20 summit in Argentina, Russian President Vladimir Putin made time to talk about subjects ranging from the Ukrainian naval incident to Russian luxury cars and the recent Hollywood film Hunter Killer.

Here’s Putin talking about the Aurus Senat, his personally modified state car (the Russian version of the American Cadillac-badged The Beast):

Reporter: And a short second question, please. Your car, Aurus, the Russian-manufactured Aurus, has driven so far away from home for the first time and reached this continent; there is a big commotion around it, with local residents taking pictures with it near the hotel. You have been using this vehicle for several months. How do you like the car? I assume you were not always a passenger, but actually drove it? How do you like it? What do you like about it? What don’t you like? Thank you.

Vladimir Putin: I never drove the limo version, only the smaller car. Very good car, I like it. And I am not the only one – some of our Arab friends like it too. They are already expressing a desire to buy it. Therefore, I think we can do this, I don’t see any problems. This is a capsule, a fairly well assembled car and very comfortable.

Trivial, right? And next to Putin’s discussion of Ukraine, Russo-British relations, and the Kremlin’s line on why Trump won’t talk to him, sure. But on the other hand, Putin doesn’t dismiss the question out of hand (and is it too paranoid to think it’s a plant, or at least a welcome opportunity to discuss it?). And certainly RT found time to promote the car as a part of its coverage of the G-20 summit, stressing how it had impressed the international audience there. So let’s not dismiss the idea that Putin took a few seconds out of his busy day to talk about his car. Presidential time is valuable and it’s unlikely that serious and strategic presidents simply say things without at least some goal in mind.

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Everyone Is Misreading Burke’s View of Parties

So what are political parties?

Burke’s definition of party as “a body of men united, for promoting by their joint endeavours the national interest, upon some particular principle in which they are all agreed” is frequently cited (and disparaged) as idealistic. Commager (1950, 309), for instance, preferred “a body of men—and women—organized to get control of the machinery of government.” Dismissing Burke as ignorant of pragmatism in politics requires an overly hasty judgment or a poor reading of the text, however, especially given that in the same paragraph Burke scorns “the speculative philosopher” who seeks to mark “the proper ends of Government” in favor of “the politician, who is the philosopher in action”. Burke’s politicians form their “connexion” to “to put the men who hold their opinions into such a condition as may enable them to carry their common plans into execution, with all the power and authority of the State.”[1] And this entailed a common duty among a party’s members to fight for power and organize each other:

They are bound to give to their own party the preference in all things; and by no means, for private considerations, to accept any offers of power in which the whole body is not included; nor to suffer themselves to be led, or to be controuled, or to be over-balanced, in office or in council, by those who contradict the very fundamental principles on which their party is formed, and even those upon which every fair connexion must stand.

A close reading will show that Burke’s full definition of party as aiming to control “the power and authority of the State” is a definition far closer to Commager’s than he realized. But Burke had already gone beyond Commager in defining the relationship of policy to the party. “Principle”, as Burke employs the term, resembles a party platform aimed rather than some airy and abstract philosophy. Indeed, Burke explicitly recognizes the importance of solidarity and the temptations that might break it (“to accept any offers of power in which the bole body is not included”) and those that would lead to the solidifying of one faction against another (“the preference in all things”)—a more active and experienced concept.

Burke’s view on parties is even closer to that of the “UCLA school” (Bawn et al. 2012, 579), although they also commit the same misreading of Burke as did Commager. Bawn et al argue, contra Commager and even more Aldrich (1995), that politicians are not the center of parties. Instead, as for Burke’s partisans, politicians are the instruments through which “policy demanders” contest for the policy outcomes they desire: “interest groups and activists form coalitions to nominate and elect politicians committed to their common program.” If we remember that for Burke, “politician” was a more general category than “officeholder” or “candidate” and described those who gathered together to “put the men who hold their opinions” into influence in order to execute a common program, then it becomes apparent that the two definitions resemble each other much more than has been recognized. They are not, however, identical: Bawn et al differ profoundly from Burke in their view of the precedence of party and ideology. Whereas Burke believed that politicians gathered along preexisting divisions over “great leading general principles in Government”, Bawn et al describe a process of endogenous ideological formation in which the coming-together of interest groups produces a partisan goal (573-575).

PhD Students Should Think About Publishing From Day One

Accurate view of graduate school socialization. Via Pexels.

Once again, I’ve been invited to give my advice to graduate students about Graduate School and The Market, the two topics that occupy the anxious discussions of years 2 through N in a young scholar’s career. A quick note: I recommend reading my earlier post with job-market advice; this is an update and a companion to that piece.

There’s an inevitable selection problem when talking about how someone’s career succeeded. We don’t see the counterfactual outcomes, nor do we observe the shape of the probability distribution of success given the variables that went into the probabilistic determination of success and failure. It’s likely that the single largest factor in my succeeding in getting a job where and when I did was the composition of the search committee at UMASS-Amherst the year I was first on the market for tenure-track (t-t) jobs, coupled with the specifics of the job ad: a committee with an Americanist chair and a job ad that needed someone who could teach Honors courses in a joint appointment at a public university spoke to several of my key skills and accomplishments unusually well.

So it’s possible that my success is a fluke, and should be judged accordingly. But I have been around; I’ve now been on a search committee; I’ve been through additional searches; and I know a little bit more than I ddi when I was a graduate student. Indeed, I may be at Peak Advice, since my personal experience as a job candidate closely overlaps with my service as a committee member, and I really have seen this market at close hand. I hope, then, that this lets me talk about what worked and what didn’t work for me. I should caveat all of this by bounding my advice a little further: the dynamics of hiring at top-5 research universities and at teaching-intensive universities are very different from “ordinary” R1 jobs.

What Worked

As the title of this post suggests, what worked was publishing. As both an applicant and as a search committee member, this was the single biggest qualification that I found relevant. I had early publications in Comparative Political Studies and American Politics Research (both with fine co-authors!). Publications will not get you a job, but not having publications will make it much harder to get one. It is not uncommon to hear that search committee members won’t even look at CVs that lack publication, and these days committees can be picky enough to insist on publications in good places as well. There are other factors in play, of course, and even an R&R at a good enough journal can be a substitute, but this is the single biggest factor.

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APSA Membership Dues and Annual Meeting Fees in Context

The other day, I wrote about how APSA annual membership fees aren’t quite as expensive as they may seem in the context of other large, primary scholarly organizations in the social sciences and history. Yes, the economists and the ISA may charge a lot less, but it seems like the AEA is a crazy outlier (as they are in conference fees) and ISA isn’t quite a primary disciplinary organization in the same way that APSA, ASA, AAA, and AHA are.

But on Facebook, someone challenged me that this might not be the entire story. In this day, hardly anyone joins a scholarly oranization if they’re not either on the job market or going to the annual convention, and membership fees are largely calibrated to be just about the difference between the member and the non-member registration rate for the annual meeting. So maybe APSA is a bad deal, but that only becomes relevant when we look at the total cost of attending the annual meeting.

I went back to the Web and found some data. I quickly discovered that the economists are maybe the worst possible reference group for social sciences and humanities disciplines. Not only does AEA have relatively low membership dues, AEA also charges very little ($115!) for annual meeting registration. This suggests to me that AEA operates under a very different business model than the other leading social science disciplinary organizations, especially since (inasmuch as a few seconds’ Googling can be held to be research) AEA doesn’t have all that many more members. I suspect the difference comes in Big Science institutional support, probably some wealthy members’ bequests, and (maybe most important) convention hall exhibition fees and a different ownership structure for AER and other association journals.

The bottom line: Don’t compare APSA to AEA. They’re not in the same field.

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APSA Membership Fees in Context

Some political scientists–okay, a lot of people–wonder why membership fees for the American Political Science Association’s fees are so high. In particular, folks compare APSA fees, which can be steep (a maximum of $325 per year for high-income political scientists), to fees for the American Economic Association, which max out at…$40 annually.

To test if APSA was notably more expensive than other comparable organizations, I grabbed membership fee data from:

Since all of these fairly comparable associations use a broadly income-based membership fee structure, I then calculated how much a member would pay for a regular membership at $15,000 increments from $30,000 to $150,000 inclusive. I specified the breakpoints before looking at any of the membership fee schedules; depending on the association, this means that there would be some differences if I had said $29,999 or $30,001 because of differences in setting cutpoints. Nevertheless, on average, this is a pretty fair methodology.

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Institutions, Turnout, and Local Politics

A few months ago, I wrote a summary of the political-science literature on institutional design and turnout in local elections (municipal elections and other local government elections), which I share here. The takeaway: local governments may have lots of room to develop policies that promote turnout. The moral point: adopting policies that drive down turnout in the knowledge that they will do so is not canny but actively unethical.

How Institutional Design Affects Turnout in Local Elections by Paul Musgrave on Scribd

Talking Points for Panel on Trump and Foreign Policy

Donald Trump Signs the Pledge, by Flickr User Michael Vadon

These were my notes for a presentation at a campuswide panel at UMASS delivered on 16 November 2016. They were originally posted then but were lost in the Great Server Mistake of 2017. I’m reposting them here, unaltered.

What can we expect from the Trump administration in its foreign policy?

It is difficult to tell. The Trump campaign is perhaps the least vetted on foreign policy since–ironically–the Clinton ’92 campaign. Trump is long on attitudes and chauvinism (in the literal, textbook sense of that word), but he is short on specifics.

Three major trends seem likely:

  1. The liberal trade order will be substantially modified, if not ended.
  2. The U.S.-led alliance system will be substantially weakened, if not catastrophically eroded.
  3. The post-Second World War period of U.S. leadership and hegemony will likely come to a close.

Let me stress that what I am most certain of is the width of the error bars in my predictions, not in the point prediction itself. The Trump administration could be, at best, weakly mediocre in its exercise of U.S. leadership. The depth of foreign distrust and shock in the Trump administration — and in what it represents for U.S. legitimacy — cannot realistically permit anything more than that. The worst-case scenario, to be frank, is the worst-case scenario, and even if that remains unlikely it is much more likely than it was a couple of weeks ago.

Continue reading “Talking Points for Panel on Trump and Foreign Policy”