The philosopher Arthur Danto was referring to art—prophetically, “the end of art”—not perestroika or post-behavioralism or political science. But his acerbic comment captures one of the many important things that John Gunnell argues or implies. That is, there is no natural or necessary connection between methodological pluralism and the practical activity of political scientists. Indeed, pluralism has been “subversive of the congenital practical concerns of political science” that, in various forms, have identified the discipline from the beginning. Regarding perestroika, this challenges the perceived sentiment that methodological pluralism was not only a goal in itself, but a critical or contestatory posture with respect to the American polity at large and (especially) the political organization of the profession in terms of the policies of the American Political Science Association (APSA) and the content of the American Political Science Review (APSR). While these political aspirations were genuine, they were not realized or even adequately confronted, but rather “sublimated in discussions about methodological pluralism and professional diversity.”

Placing perestroika in the longer arc of the discipline’s history, as Gunnell does, shows that its particular mismatch of methodological diversity and political identity was not new, however experientially immediate and important it was for the colleagues drawn into its debates. It is rather astonishing, though, that those debates rarely reflected on the history of the discipline, especially what significance its episodes of crisis held for the fate of perestroika. What starts to take shape, looking back, is how frequently methodological debates (even pluralism) eventually got the better of the political identity or practical agenda they were designed to foster. The comparative-historical method outlasted the nationalism of “the state” theorists like John W. Burgess; the psychological perspective on politics, associated with Charles Merriam, lived on after his ill-fated mayoral campaign in Chicago or pleas for international associations for civic revival; and behavioral methods fared far better in the long run when compared to the “consultative commonwealth” inspired by Harold Lasswell and hailed by Heinz Eulau. Post-behavioralism, as Gunnell reveals, is indeed the immediate precursor of perestroika. Might it have been (or still be) worth investigating what came of Easton’s appeal for a Federation of Social Scientists in light of the living embers of methodological pluralism?

The behavioral revolution blazed onto the scene with its own variant of methodological pluralism, too. Disciplinary historians Albert Somit and Joseph Tanenhaus amply documented this. Behavioral observations, experimentation, statistical methods, game theory, and systems analysis were all “in,” without much skepticism that they did not all “fit” together very well and that no political scientist could embrace them all. Then, too, the actual political commitments of behavioralists varied dramatically, from Robert Dahl’s democratic socialism to William Riker’s economistic conservatism. Moreover, these political positions were not logically entailed or necessarily required by their respective methodological orientations, underscored by the historical fact that the pluralist theory of Nelson Polsby, Dahl’s student and collaborator, was anti-socialist or at least against stratification theories. And “rational choice Marxism” emerged on the scene. The methodological pluralism that morphed after behavioralism might have had a sanguine effect on disciplinary disputes or identity if it entailed a form of toleration that respected difference of Others’ methods. But the toleration could be (and mostly was) a live-and-let-live indifference. Or it could respect some difference and prove intolerant of any other. The “great cafeteria of the center” that Gabriel Almond praised in his famous article on “Separate Tables” allowed “in” some methodological pluralism while “outing” critical theorists and Straussians to tray tables on the side. The APSA, in the wake of David Easton’s presidency, has at least been more welcoming, allowing a hundred sections to bloom. Alas, this could simply confirm “the persistent centrifugal forces of professionalism.”

Gunnell does not dictate to the profession “what ought to be done.” But one leaves his paper thinking there is still something important about the legacy of a discipline that, in the words of Raymond Seidelman, sought to be “a science of politics and a science for politics.” If, again, there is no natural or necessary relationship between methodological pluralism (or, indeed, anything methodological) and the practical activity of political scientists, then only contingent links and contextual choices remain. Let me ask two questions in this connection, then, the first of which is immediately contextual and professional, irrespective of method. Might the profession, under the auspices of the APSA and its officers, compose a document, if not a manifesto, and solicit signatories from the membership to condemn torture, as recently documented in the U.S. Senate Intelligence Committee report? This has immediate precedent in the American Psychological Association’s reaction to the issue (and its ongoing web updates), in part because certain psychologists (whether members of APA or not) have a lot to answer for. If any political scientists were involved in the state orchestration of terror, as policy advisers, then this is a direct parallel. If not, the large number of signatories would be nonetheless important, politically and symbolically. This would be an act of “negative” unity, that is, a testimony to what political scientists as political scientists are against.

The second: Might political scientists rally around a positive unity in civic education? This is something many claim to do, could do better, and could invite others to contribute (in research, pedagogy, or public action). It is one of the discipline’s oldest practical identities. Huge differences notwithstanding, it links Francis Lieber, Merriam, Bernard Crick, Dahl, Amy Gutmann, Robert Putnam, Jane Mansbridge, and scores of others, including many perestroikans. True, “civic education” is a contested if not an essentially contestable concept. It is a “problem” in the robust Deweyan sense for which a problem-orientation is no “mantra;” and methodological pluralism, so directed, could perform practical work. It has received some support from the APSA, and deserves more as a professional commitment. Political scientists need to approach this renewed task realistically, given the discipline’s fitful history and the “pluralist” state of affairs in politics. But it is a practical activity and disciplinary identity worth the struggle, for all that.