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Political Science
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352 pages, Paperback
First published July 1, 1995
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July 11, 2025
Reading Political Science by Robert A. Heineman in 1998 was, for me, the intellectual equivalent of discovering a compass in a storm. I was a student in search of coherence in a world teeming with ideologies, revolutions, regimes, constitutions, charismatic leaders, and global conflicts. Heineman’s book didn’t just give me facts or definitions—it gave me a framework. It didn’t just explain what politics was; it told me why political thinking mattered, how institutions emerged, and what the consequences were of ignoring civic reason.
Let’s get this out of the way: Heineman’s Political Science is not an “easy read” in the way a bestselling thriller is. It is dense, structured, and unflinchingly academic. But it is exactly that intellectual rigor that makes it a foundational text. Written in the late 20th century and reflecting a deeply American academic style of exposition, the book draws from classical political philosophy, modern empirical theory, and normative approaches to build a comprehensive overview of the discipline.
At its heart, the book argues that political science is not merely the study of government or statecraft—it is the study of power. Power in its visible forms (law, elections, policies) and its invisible forms (belief systems, institutional inertia, cultural narratives). Heineman, along with his co-authors William M. Tatalovich and Mark K. Peterson in subsequent editions, does not restrict himself to dry textbook structure; rather, he places political phenomena in a broader context of philosophical inquiry.
The first part of the book—an exploration of the foundations of political science—is what impacted me most. Heineman starts with a simple yet provocative question: What is politics? Not “what do politicians do?”, but a deeper philosophical investigation into why human beings organize themselves into collectives, and how they manage differences. The discussion ranges from Aristotle’s conception of man as a “political animal” to Weber’s theory of legitimate domination. Hobbes’ Leviathan, Locke’s social contract, and Rousseau’s general will make their appearances not as distant echoes from history but as urgently relevant ideas.
Heineman emphasizes that political science is a normative as well as empirical enterprise. We study how governments function (or fail), but we also ask how they ought to function. That dual nature—part description, part prescription—gives political science both its analytical power and its ethical responsibility.
One of the most engaging sections is the book’s treatment of political ideologies. Heineman’s prose may be clinical, but the ideas burn with relevance. Liberalism, conservatism, socialism, fascism, communism—all are presented not as stereotypes but as complex systems of thought with historical roots, internal logic, and real-world consequences.
As a young reader in 1998, just a few years after the fall of the Soviet Union and the “end of history” thesis of Fukuyama, I found the discussion of Marxism both intellectually thrilling and timely. Heineman doesn’t caricature Marx; he outlines the materialist theory of history, alienation, class struggle, and the vision of a classless society. At the same time, he scrutinizes the gap between Marxist theory and the realities of 20th-century communist regimes.
Liberal democracy, the apparent “victor” of the Cold War, is not spared critical scrutiny either. Heineman highlights tensions between liberty and equality, between individual rights and collective good, between procedural democracy and substantive outcomes. Reading these tensions as a teenager, I didn’t feel cynical—I felt curious. I started to understand why two sincere people could disagree vehemently about what “justice” means.
The central chapters of Political Science turn to the structure of political systems: legislatures, executives, judiciaries, and bureaucracies. Heineman’s strength lies in his ability to move between general theory and particular examples. For instance, he explains parliamentary versus presidential systems with references to the UK and US, but also draws on insights from newer democracies and hybrid regimes.
In his analysis of constitutions, Heineman underscores how the “rules of the game” shape political behavior. Institutions are not neutral—they embed values. A constitution that prioritizes individual rights, for instance, will produce different political cultures than one that prioritizes national security or religious conformity. This was an eye-opener for me. Until then, I had thought of constitutions as documents, not living structures.
The chapter on bureaucracy is another standout. Often ignored or reduced to a punchline, bureaucracy here is treated with the seriousness it deserves. Heineman explores Max Weber’s theory of rational-legal authority, the evolution of civil services, and the tension between technocracy and democracy. I remember re-reading those pages, stunned by the realization that much of what we think of as “politics” is actually determined by anonymous bureaucrats working behind the scenes.
Perhaps the most humanizing part of the book is where Heineman talks about political participation, civic culture, and public opinion. In a world where cynicism about politics runs high, this chapter felt almost like a call to arms. Political science is not just about studying politics—it is about being a part of it.
He introduces the concept of political socialization: how we form our political values through family, education, media, and peer groups. He distinguishes between “parochial,” “subject,” and “participant” cultures, borrowing from Almond and Verba. These distinctions gave me the tools to assess not just governments but societies. Why do some citizens protest while others submit? Why are some countries resilient democracies while others keep sliding into authoritarianism?
Heineman argues that for democracy to flourish, political literacy must deepen. Citizens must not only know their rights—they must understand the systems that produce and protect those rights. Reading this as a teenager in a postcolonial democracy, I felt both empowered and responsible.
Heineman’s exploration of methodology is short but sharp. He emphasizes that political science, while informed by philosophy, must also follow the rigors of the scientific method. Hypotheses, models, variables, case studies—these are not tools of detachment but of precision.
His critique of behavioralism and his cautious endorsement of rational choice theory made me curious about the balance between structure and agency. While the text doesn’t go too deep into game theory or econometrics, it makes a compelling case for political science as a discipline that sits at the crossroads of humanities and social science.
In 1998, I read Political Science with the wide eyes of a learner. Today, nearly three decades later, I look back on it as a work that planted in me the seeds of intellectual engagement and civic consciousness. I may not have become a political scientist, but I became someone who thinks politically, who questions narratives, who values pluralism, and who recognizes that governance is a moral enterprise.
It is easy to dismiss textbooks as dry or obsolete. But this book was a portal. It showed me that power is everywhere, that ideology matters, that democracy is fragile, and that the only way to preserve freedom is to understand its foundations.
In a world drifting towards polarization and demagoguery, I feel that Heineman’s core message still holds: political science is not optional. It is essential to becoming a mature human in a shared world. And if you ask me which book first taught me that? I will point, without hesitation, to Political Science by Robert A. Heineman.
Let’s get this out of the way: Heineman’s Political Science is not an “easy read” in the way a bestselling thriller is. It is dense, structured, and unflinchingly academic. But it is exactly that intellectual rigor that makes it a foundational text. Written in the late 20th century and reflecting a deeply American academic style of exposition, the book draws from classical political philosophy, modern empirical theory, and normative approaches to build a comprehensive overview of the discipline.
At its heart, the book argues that political science is not merely the study of government or statecraft—it is the study of power. Power in its visible forms (law, elections, policies) and its invisible forms (belief systems, institutional inertia, cultural narratives). Heineman, along with his co-authors William M. Tatalovich and Mark K. Peterson in subsequent editions, does not restrict himself to dry textbook structure; rather, he places political phenomena in a broader context of philosophical inquiry.
The first part of the book—an exploration of the foundations of political science—is what impacted me most. Heineman starts with a simple yet provocative question: What is politics? Not “what do politicians do?”, but a deeper philosophical investigation into why human beings organize themselves into collectives, and how they manage differences. The discussion ranges from Aristotle’s conception of man as a “political animal” to Weber’s theory of legitimate domination. Hobbes’ Leviathan, Locke’s social contract, and Rousseau’s general will make their appearances not as distant echoes from history but as urgently relevant ideas.
Heineman emphasizes that political science is a normative as well as empirical enterprise. We study how governments function (or fail), but we also ask how they ought to function. That dual nature—part description, part prescription—gives political science both its analytical power and its ethical responsibility.
One of the most engaging sections is the book’s treatment of political ideologies. Heineman’s prose may be clinical, but the ideas burn with relevance. Liberalism, conservatism, socialism, fascism, communism—all are presented not as stereotypes but as complex systems of thought with historical roots, internal logic, and real-world consequences.
As a young reader in 1998, just a few years after the fall of the Soviet Union and the “end of history” thesis of Fukuyama, I found the discussion of Marxism both intellectually thrilling and timely. Heineman doesn’t caricature Marx; he outlines the materialist theory of history, alienation, class struggle, and the vision of a classless society. At the same time, he scrutinizes the gap between Marxist theory and the realities of 20th-century communist regimes.
Liberal democracy, the apparent “victor” of the Cold War, is not spared critical scrutiny either. Heineman highlights tensions between liberty and equality, between individual rights and collective good, between procedural democracy and substantive outcomes. Reading these tensions as a teenager, I didn’t feel cynical—I felt curious. I started to understand why two sincere people could disagree vehemently about what “justice” means.
The central chapters of Political Science turn to the structure of political systems: legislatures, executives, judiciaries, and bureaucracies. Heineman’s strength lies in his ability to move between general theory and particular examples. For instance, he explains parliamentary versus presidential systems with references to the UK and US, but also draws on insights from newer democracies and hybrid regimes.
In his analysis of constitutions, Heineman underscores how the “rules of the game” shape political behavior. Institutions are not neutral—they embed values. A constitution that prioritizes individual rights, for instance, will produce different political cultures than one that prioritizes national security or religious conformity. This was an eye-opener for me. Until then, I had thought of constitutions as documents, not living structures.
The chapter on bureaucracy is another standout. Often ignored or reduced to a punchline, bureaucracy here is treated with the seriousness it deserves. Heineman explores Max Weber’s theory of rational-legal authority, the evolution of civil services, and the tension between technocracy and democracy. I remember re-reading those pages, stunned by the realization that much of what we think of as “politics” is actually determined by anonymous bureaucrats working behind the scenes.
Perhaps the most humanizing part of the book is where Heineman talks about political participation, civic culture, and public opinion. In a world where cynicism about politics runs high, this chapter felt almost like a call to arms. Political science is not just about studying politics—it is about being a part of it.
He introduces the concept of political socialization: how we form our political values through family, education, media, and peer groups. He distinguishes between “parochial,” “subject,” and “participant” cultures, borrowing from Almond and Verba. These distinctions gave me the tools to assess not just governments but societies. Why do some citizens protest while others submit? Why are some countries resilient democracies while others keep sliding into authoritarianism?
Heineman argues that for democracy to flourish, political literacy must deepen. Citizens must not only know their rights—they must understand the systems that produce and protect those rights. Reading this as a teenager in a postcolonial democracy, I felt both empowered and responsible.
Heineman’s exploration of methodology is short but sharp. He emphasizes that political science, while informed by philosophy, must also follow the rigors of the scientific method. Hypotheses, models, variables, case studies—these are not tools of detachment but of precision.
His critique of behavioralism and his cautious endorsement of rational choice theory made me curious about the balance between structure and agency. While the text doesn’t go too deep into game theory or econometrics, it makes a compelling case for political science as a discipline that sits at the crossroads of humanities and social science.
In 1998, I read Political Science with the wide eyes of a learner. Today, nearly three decades later, I look back on it as a work that planted in me the seeds of intellectual engagement and civic consciousness. I may not have become a political scientist, but I became someone who thinks politically, who questions narratives, who values pluralism, and who recognizes that governance is a moral enterprise.
It is easy to dismiss textbooks as dry or obsolete. But this book was a portal. It showed me that power is everywhere, that ideology matters, that democracy is fragile, and that the only way to preserve freedom is to understand its foundations.
In a world drifting towards polarization and demagoguery, I feel that Heineman’s core message still holds: political science is not optional. It is essential to becoming a mature human in a shared world. And if you ask me which book first taught me that? I will point, without hesitation, to Political Science by Robert A. Heineman.
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January 19, 2011nothing
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews