Covering the intricate facets of America's most important democratic tradition, this book serves as an important resource to understand how citizens' views are translated into governmental action.

George Washington toured the countryside on horseback asking citizens their thoughts on his new government. Abraham Lincoln held weekly meetings with citizens to better understand their views. Today, public opinion is power, and no nation can afford to ignore it. Determining what the public is thinking is not always easy. Polls are powerful weapons, but they can be misused.

Public Opinion and Polling around the World presents a thorough review of public opinion from its roots in colonial America to its role in today's emerging democracies. More than 100 entries prepared by top scholars examine the 200-year history of public opinion, measurement methodologies with an emphasis on telephone interviews and Internet polls, and key figures like George Gallup and Elmo Roper, who created their own polling systems.

An analysis of theories compares schools of thought from the fields of psychology, sociology, and economics and explores how people form opinions. A fascinating snapshot of the public's current views on economic issues, foreign policy, gender, gay rights, and other hot-button topics observes patterns across genders, race, ethnic origins, class, and religion in regions all over the world. Students, academicians, and political observers will discover answers to such questions as, "does public opinion shape the behavior of government?"

As the American military extends its stay in postwar Iraq, the risks of political and social friction will rise. Inevitably, there will be clashes; protests erupted in May, for example, when soldiers searching for troublemakers in one town intruded on unveiled women. To keep the occupation of Iraq from ending in bitterness, American officials will have to reach out to residents both economically and politically.

To that end, they might want to consider the long-term occupation of another place where Americans haven't been universally welcomed: Okinawa. This island witnessed the bloodiest battle of World War II, losing a third of its population. The American military administered the island until 1972, when it reverted to Japanese rule. Today, 24,000 American troops are stationed there, and the military occupies one-fifth of the land.

There is a tradition of antimilitarism on the island, fed in part by the horrors of the Battle of Okinawa, and there is an active movement to evict the American troops. Yet most islanders get along well with the service members, and anti-American violence is rare. Three important lessons can be drawn from Okinawa for the American presence in postwar Iraq.

First and most obvious, commanders must do everything possible to stop criminal or just plain disorderly conduct by American personnel. Military officials on Okinawa realized the importance of this when protests arose in 1995 after three servicemen raped a 12-year-old Okinawan girl. The officials responded by establishing intensive educational campaigns that instilled the importance of good community relations in service members and their families. Personnel are now checked for drunkenness as they enter and leave the bases, and unarmed patrols in areas where G.I.'s socialize discourage bad behavior.

These measures appear to be helping: the military says American personnel and their families commit 1 percent of the crimes on the island, even though they are 4 percent of the population. And while protests against the bases continue, tensions have eased considerably since 1995.

While it's vital to discourage crime, it's also important to be seen as an actively beneficial presence. The second lesson of Okinawa is that the United States should try to contribute to the local economy, and to spread its largess.

American bases in Okinawa provide thousands of jobs to locals. The Americans are consumers too, keeping small businesses afloat. The islanders who lease the land for the bases collect above-market rents, and local governments get public works money from Tokyo as a side payment for bearing the "basing burden." That means a critical mass of Okinawans is reluctant to see the American bases disappear. To build goodwill in Iraq, officials should ensure that many different local interests profit from the American presence.

The third lesson is that American officials should establish strong lines of communication with the local authorities, not just with national officials - especially if, as on Okinawa, they represent a distinct ethnic group. To give islanders more of a voice, there is a tripartite committee for Okinawan, American and Japanese officials to discuss base-related matters. In Iraq, community representatives must likewise be included in base negotiations, especially in the Kurdish north and Shiite south.

As part of these efforts, a vigorous volunteer program like the one on Okinawa - involving everything from teaching in local schools to assisting the disabled - can help convince residents that American troops are on their side. Rebuilding security will be the greatest long-term challenge in postwar Iraq. Learning from the United States experience on Okinawa can help ensure the success of the Iraqi occupation, enabling the troops to come home all the more quickly.

As Mozambique enters its tenth year of peace following a brutal and destructive civil war, the signs of continued democratic transformation and pro-market economic reform appear rosy, at least at first glance. Donors and the international community have quietly lauded Joaquim Chissano's recent announcement that he is "not disposed" to seek a third term as president of this former Portuguese colony of 17 million on the southeast coast of Africa. Together with President Frederick Chiluba's similar announcement in Zambia a few months ago, it looks to many like an indication that these two African democracies are maturing and consolidating the gains that they have made in recent years.

Mozambique's continued place atop the list of the world's fastest-growing economies has been seen as another signal that commitment to the "Washington Consensus" will provide the funds required to bring infrastructure, schools, and health care to the rural majority. It is no wonder, then, that Mozambique finds itself highlighted as a success story for the United Nations in conflict-ridden Africa. Many credit Mozambique's remarkable transformation to the UN's efforts to sustain the drawn-out peace negotiations, demobilize more than 90,000 soldiers, rebuild a unified national army, and foster the rise of a legitimate, peaceful opposition. Donor investments continue to support Mozambique today, funding more than half of the government's annual budget.

On the ground in Mozambique, however, the continuation of this upward trajectory looks anything but guaranteed. The newspapers hint at trouble just beneath the surface: two major bank failures, the assassination of the country's most respected independent journalist, the continued depreciation of the currency, and stop-and-start talks between the Frente de Libertação de Moçambique (or Frelimo, as the ruling party is usually called) and its main political rival, the Resist^encia Nacional Moçambicana (Renamo), about how to share power at the local level. In November 2000, when police in the city of Montepuez killed demonstrators challenging the government's claim to have won that year's national elections, tensions nearly exploded into large-scale violence. ¹

The UN's work in Mozambique was unprecedented in scope, and the results have been dramatic. Two consecutive free elections and growth rates approaching 10 percent a year over the past decade cannot be ignored. Some might argue that the items of bad news cited above are merely "bumps on the road" toward lasting peace, as Mozambicans of all stripes learn to resolve problems through dialogue and democratic competition. But a deeper look at Mozambique's political and economic situation suggests a bleaker interpretation.

The truth is that a number of deep cleavages threaten the future of Mozambique's democratic transition. What are these fundamental divisions? And more importantly, how can the political system be reformed in order to prevent them from worsening or even erupting into renewed civil war? A search for answers should begin with some basic background on Mozambique and its troubled recent history.

Chapter in Democratic Reform and the Position of Women in Transitional Economies, edited by Valentine Moghadam.

Exploring the effects of the post-1989 developments in Eastern and Central Europe on the social and economic position of the women of the region, Valentine Moghadam explains how the economic crisis and subsequent development, social breakdown, and changing institutions and practices of the state have an impact upon women's roles and status. The volume combines a theoretical analysis of fundamental gender specific issues and empirical studies on aspects such as educational attainment, social security provisions, political representation, and level and type of employment. Several papers use comparative analysis, drawing on previous research into women's position during development in the Third World, and under socialism in the years prior to 1989. Countries covered in empirical case studies are Russia, Estonia, Poland, the Czech and Slovak republics, the former East Germany, Hungary, and Bulgaria. The authors draw the conclusion that women are among the principal losers in the restructuring process, both through the rise in conservative cultures, and through the economic imperatives of competing in a market-based system.