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In his account of power, Bertrand Russell combines a perverse psychological thesis about a will to power for its own sake with an acute perception of different forms power takes. The psychology is that of the most brutal leaders of the 1930s, when Russell wrote. His account focuses on the power of a political leader to compel a following as Hitler, Stalin, and others did. But the strength of his account is its analysis of three distinct forms of power: one grounded in resources, such as weapons, and the others grounded in the coordination of large numbers of people, either by the force of ideas or by the force of institutional arrangements. In his sharpest arguments, Russell applies his coordination account to the difficulties individuals face in controlling democratic governments.

Bertrand Russell always claimed that he took part in politics not as a philosopher, but as an outraged citizen and a suffering member of the human race. This essay takes Russell at his own word and explores his untheoretical radicalism. The essay thus treats him as a latter-day Thomas Paine and engages with his views on power, property, and warfare. The implausibility of Russell's reliance on moral outrage as the fuel for radical politics is examined in a short coda on the contrast between Russell and Dewey as representatives of individualist and communitarian radicalism.

During most of his long philosophical career, Bertrand Russell was a strong moral subjectivist or emotivist who argued that ethics, because it cannot hope to arrive at truth, is not properly a part of either science or philosophy. In several works, however, most notably Philosophy and Politics and Human Society in Ethics and Politics, he attempted to bring his empiricism and his philosophy of science to bear on moral and other axiological questions. In these writings, he appears to seek and to hope for the "imperium" of the title of this article, which contrasts these two positions, drawing on the former to critique the latter.

Bertrand Russell was a meta-ethical pioneer, the original inventor of both emotivism and the error theory. Why, having abandoned emotivism for the error theory, did he switch back to emotivism in the 1920s? Perhaps he did not relish the thought that as a moralist he was a professional hypocrite. In addition, Russell's version of the error theory suffers from severe defects. He commits the naturalistic fallacy and runs afoul of his own and Moore's arguments against subjectivism. These defects could be repaired, but only by abandoning Russell's semantics.Russell preferred to revert to emotivism.

This article contains a detailed discussion of the friendship and the intellectual collaboration between D. H. Lawrence and Bertrand Russell during the spring and summer of 1915. The questions it seeks to answer are why Russell initially was inclined to treat Lawrence's philosophical thought with respect, even to the extent of becoming an evangelist on its behalf; why he subsequently rejected Lawrence's outlook and distanced himself from Lawrence's political program; and what similarities and dissimilarities exist in Russell's thought and Lawrence's as represented by Russell's Principles of Social Reconstruction and Lawrence's essays "Study of Thomas Hardy" and "The Crown." Both writers, it is suggested, were centrally concerned with the possibility of transcending the "prison" of the self, but the ideas each developed as to how this should be done were radically divergent, so much so that each could, in the end, regard the other as the very personification of the kind of egoism they sought to transcend.

A standard problem in empirical inquiry is how to adjudicate between contending theories when they work from different fundamental assumptions. In the field of political sociology, several strategies are adopted, from metatheoretical and comparative historical approaches to the recent formal models of scientific growth proposed by Imre Lakatos and Larry Laudan. After considering the limitations of these approaches, I develop an alternative strategy—"second—order empiricism"—based on the idea that successor theories have an onus to explain the apparent success of their rivals, not only their own and their rivals' anomalies. Such a strategy, I argue, underscores some of the most effective analysis and argument in political sociology, yet is obscured by the appeal to other methodologies.