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When the Titanic tragically sank on April 15, 1912, potentially life-saving help was delayed as a result of failures in radio communication. In part as a result, Congress moved swiftly to regulate radio, passing the Radio Act of 1912 four months later. Although at this stage radio was still used principally for point-to-point, Morse code communications, the radio scene changed drastically in the early 1920s with the rise of broadcasting, as new private stations began to deliver music and voice programs to a listening public. By 1927, more than 700 stations were battling over 96 available frequencies. This crowding of the broadcast spectrum substantially diminished the quality of radio listening. In fact, the airwaves were so full of interference that many citizens complained that it was often impossible to tune into any station clearly. In January 1926, both houses of Congress began considering sweeping bills to tackle the problem of interference and the question of how to allocate frequencies for broadcasting. Lawmakers vigorously debated a broad set of issues, ranging from questions of ownership and regulatory authority to the protection of free speech and the prevention of monopoly. A bill endorsed by both the House and Senate emerged a little over a year later, after the interference problem was said to have grown worse, and it finally arrived on the desk of President Calvin Coolidge on February 23, 1927. The bill would create a Federal Radio Commission with the power to license radio stations for two years at a time. President Coolidge had endorsed radio reform in his most recent annual message to Congress but had requested that all regulatory power be granted to the secretary of commerce, not to a commission. Now, with Congress having opted for a commission, he had to decide if the bill before him charted an acceptable path for American radio regulation.

On Election Day in 1918, Massachusetts voters would have to decide not only on their preferred candidates for governor and U.S. Senator, but also whether or not to approve 19 proposed amendments to the state constitution. By far the most controversial of these would establish a state process of initiative and referendum. The initiative would empower private citizens to write both laws and constitutional amendments, and pass them, even over the opposition of a majority of the state legislature. The referendum would allow voters to rescind laws that the legislature had passed. Behind this proposed amendment lay nearly three decades of agitation, both in the state and nationally, for "direct democracy" in America. The initiative and referendum-or "I&R" for short-had become a key demand of progressivism, the diverse movement for economic, social, and political reform that swept the nation for nearly two decades after 1900. By 1918, 19 states, mostly in the West, and hundreds of counties and municipalities, including a number of cities in Massachusetts, had adopted some form of I&R. Opposition to a statewide I&R provision in Massachusetts, however, remained fierce. Opponents claimed it would threaten the rights of minorities, give undue influence to small but well organized interest groups, and place needless burdens on voters. Proponents urged the people to empower themselves and take back control of the state from the "invisible government" of party bosses and corporate lobbyists. Now, with the election approaching, Massachusetts voters would have to decide.

In December 1877, an all-white grand jury in Patrick County, Virginia, indicted two black teenagers, Lee and Burwell Reynolds, for killing a white man. After a series of trials, an all-white trial jury convicted Lee of second-degree murder and sentenced him to prison. A separate all-white jury could not reach a verdict on Burwell, and he was returned to jail to await another trial. During the proceedings, the defendants' attorneys had protested to the county judge that their clients could not get fair trials from all-white juries. They also complained that although black men were allowed on juries by Virginia law, no blacks were even in the jury pools. The lawyers asked that special jury pools be created for their clients, but the judge denied their request. Finally, the lawyers petitioned a federal judge in the area, Alexander Rives, to move the trials to his court. In December 1878, Judge Rives agreed to the petition and had the Reynolds brothers removed from state to federal custody. Not long afterward, he charged two federal grand juries, both interracial, to investigate whether Virginia state courts had excluded blacks from juries. This, he argued, would be a violation of both the 14th Amendment to the Constitution (1868) and the federal Civil Rights Act of 1875. In February and March 1879, the grand juries indicted 14 Virginia county judges, among them the judge in the Reynolds trials, for keeping the jury pools they supervised all white.

Americans elected Abraham Lincoln as the nation's first Republican president in November of 1860. Northern political leaders had formed the Republican Party only a few years before, in large measure to combat the spread of slavery. Southerners had long been wary of Northern hostility toward their "peculiar institution," and Lincoln's 1860 victory proved to be the last straw in this sectional rivalry that had deeply influenced American culture and politics since the earliest days of the republic. By the time of Lincoln's inauguration five months later, in March 1861, seven Southern states had announced their decision to secede from the Union. Lincoln rejected secession as unlawful and pledged that his government would continue to exercise its authority, as best it could, in the rebellious states. A crisis in South Carolina, the first state to secede, tested Lincoln's mettle in the opening days of his presidency. Federal troops still held Fort Sumter in Charleston harbor, but their supplies were running low. Lincoln would either have to evacuate the fort or risk war by sending provisions. The new president understood the weight of the choice he faced: nothing less than the survival of the Union was at stake.

By the mid-1830s, the U.S. Government and the State of Georgia had for years been pushing the Cherokees to turn all of their territory over to white settlers and move west, yet it appeared that most Cherokees wanted to keep their ancestral homeland. In October 1835, the Cherokee General Council had named a committee of leaders to work out a mutually agreeable solution with the federal government in Washington. At about the same time, however, U.S. Indian Commissioner John Schermerhorn had called a meeting at New Echota, Georgia with a separate committee of Cherokees who he believed would be more willing to "remove" the entire tribe to the West. This separate committee ultimately agreed to the Treaty of New Echota on December 29, 1835. Under the treaty, the Cherokees would cede all of their eastern territory in exchange for $4.5 million, land in the West, and other sundry benefits. U.S. President Andrew Jackson, who had battled Native American tribes during much of his former military career, was eager to oust the Cherokees from the eastern states. However, several members of the Senate criticized the Treaty of New Echota as a "phantom treaty," claiming that it was signed by an illegitimate council without the consent of the Cherokee people. Approving the treaty, they insisted, would be a grave wrong against the Cherokee Nation and its official government, which the United States had long recognized. On May 18, 1836, the U.S. Senate finally put the Treaty of New Echota to a vote. If ratified, the treaty would bind all Cherokees to the decisions of the committee at New Echota, and the Cherokee Nation would have to leave its native land.

In late February, 1791, Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton submitted a report to President Washington defending his recent proposal for a national bank, which he hoped would bolster the American economy and assist the federal government in managing its finances. Congress had approved the plan, but some of the President's advisers warned that the federal government lacked the authority to establish a bank because the Constitution did not grant it the power to charter corporations. In his rebuttal, Hamilton argued that Congress had "implied powers," not specifically listed in the Constitution, which lawmakers could use when necessary to achieve legitimate goals. Because the proposed bank would assist Congress in executing its fiscal responsibilities, Hamilton believed that incorporating the bank fell well within Congress's constitutional authority. As President Washington considered these arguments, he knew that his decision to sign or veto Hamilton's bank bill would extend far beyond the issue of the bank itself. If he approved, his assent would potentially encourage the broad exercise of implied powers in the future. A veto, on the other hand, would send the message that Congress had no authority beyond the powers explicitly listed in the Constitution. Either way, President Washington would be lending his considerable weight and prestige to one side of this seminal constitutional debate, and he was well aware that much was riding on his decision.

On June 8th, 1787, at the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia, delegates from across the United States began discussing a curious proposal to expand federal power over the states. James Madison of Virginia had suggested that the new constitution include a "federal negative," which would give Congress the authority to veto any law passed by a state legislature. He viewed this as a critical safeguard against unchecked power at the state level. In late May, Madison's Virginia delegation had presented a plan for the constitution that included a watered-down version of the negative. Now, in June, Charles Pinckney of South Carolina revived the original version, calling it "the corner stone of an efficient national Government." Not everyone agreed with Pinckney's assessment, however. Opponents charged that Madison's federal negative would allow Congress to "enslave the states" and let "large States crush the small ones." Indeed, the question of how much power - and what types of power - to vest in the federal government went to the very heart of the debate that unfolded that summer. Whether Madison could persuade his fellow delegates at the Constitutional Convention was far from clear, but there could be little doubt how much was at stake as the new nation struggled to find its footing in Philadelphia.

In early 1891, California lawmakers were considering a plan to reform the state's elections through the introduction of an "Australian" ballot. Under this new system, candidates from all qualifying parties would appear on official ballots, which would be printed by county and municipal governments and which voters would ultimately fill out in secret. This would mark a substantial departure from the existing way in which votes were cast in California, or for that matter in most of the United States. Traditionally, political groups prepared and distributed party-line ballots, called "tickets," for voters to submit at the polls. Because each party ticket was visually distinctive (in most cases, distinguished by a particular color), it was easy for observers to determine how individual citizens had voted as they handed in their ballots. Closely monitoring the ballot boxes, representatives of the party "political machines" frequently paid supporters who voted for the machine ticket and sought to punish those who did not. Supporters of the Australian ballot promised it would end these abuses, bring greater secrecy and honesty to California's elections, and loosen the grip of party machines on the state and municipal governments. Despite some opposition in Republican circles, the Republican-dominated Assembly and Senate both passed the ballot bill by large margins in early March and sent it on to the Republican governor, Henry Markham, for his signature. If Markham signed the bill into law, California would join a growing roster of U.S. states using the new, secret ballot, and reformers would claim another victory in their battle against political machines.

In late October 1902, President Theodore Roosevelt felt relieved after months of anxiety and uncertainty. Workers in Pennsylvania's anthracite coal industry had been on strike for five months, threatening to leave eastern cities in the cold without enough heating fuel for the winter. Anthracite workers and business owners had finally reached an agreement after months of stalemate, and anthracite production resumed on October 23. The agreement - the first of its kind - put decision-making power in the hands of a federal commission, appointed by the president and empowered to determine terms of employment and various operational questions in the anthracite region. After a week-long investigation in the mines, the commission began hearing testimony from hundreds of representatives of the workers and their employers, the mine operators. The hearings finally closed in February 1903, after which the commission began formulating its final judgments. Members of the commission knew that their work would set an important precedent for industrial governance in the years ahead. Past U.S. presidents had helped put down strikes that threatened federal property or public safety, but the anthracite strike of 1902 marked the first time the government acted to resolve a strike both without force and without such a clear legal justification. The decisions of the commission would therefore have important ramifications not only for the anthracite industry, but potentially for American business-labor relations more generally. With copious amounts of data, testimony, and research to inform them, the commission members began the process of deciding how an American industry should, and would, operate.

The local government in Delhi has ordered a ban on Nestlé's flagship product in India-Maggi Noodles-citing excessive lead content per government lab tests. Nestlé disputes the government tests, noting that internal and third-party tests show the product to be safe. There is considerable confusion in the media and among Nestlé's customers, and Maggi sales begin to plummet. Other local governments and India's federal food-safety regulator also consider bans. Nestlé must decide how to respond. Options include suing the regulators and withdrawing the product, which could impact up to 25% of Nestlé's India sales.

Can an innovation model be used to solve seemingly intractable problems consistently, reliably and effectively? In 2011, Bloomberg Philanthropies founder and former New York City mayor Michael Bloomberg, announced a $24 million initiative to fund innovation teams in five U.S. cities. The innovation team program was created to advance government innovation by increasing innovation capacity within municipal government-by helping mayors design and implement solutions to their most urgent problems. Bloomberg Philanthropies developed 4-prong Innovation Model that drew on cutting-edge innovation practices from the public and private sectors and selected five large cities to use the model to solve problems ranging from high murder rates to blighted neighborhoods. This case illustrates the use of Bloomberg's innovation model in two of these cities-Memphis and New Orleans-allowing students to compare and contrast each city's use and application of the model. Students will consider the challenge of creating sustainable capacity for problem-centric innovation. Case number 2053.0

In December 2015, Angela Merkel, Chancellor of Germany and the de facto leader of the EU, faced the challenge of formulating an effective policy response to Europe's migration crisis. Merkel must decide whether Germany can continue to host large numbers of new refugees in 2016, keeping in mind that over a million had arrived in 2015. Merkel could continue Germany's relatively open refugee policy, but would need to decide how many more refugees to accommodate. Alternatively, Merkel could seek to significantly reduce the number of refugees, yet would need to formulate an effective set of international and domestic policy measures in order to achieve this objective. This case introduces students to the complex mix of economic and political considerations that guide policymakers seeking to regulate the cross-border movement of people. Students evaluate the labor-market, fiscal, and economy-wide consequences of different types of immigration flows, analyze how cultural prejudice and xenophobia mediate the political integration of immigrants, and study how electoral competition can give rise to right-wing and anti-immigrant movements that influence the overall direction of policymaking in democracies. This case also highlights the challenges faced by countries seeking to promote international cooperation in the domain of economic policymaking and highlights the role of national security, international law, and human rights norms in explaining policy contestation.

In June 1991, India was in the midst of a currency and balance of payments crisis the likes the country had not seen since independence in 1947. The country's foreign exchange reserves were barely enough to finance 13 days worth of imports. In the face of the crisis, India was forced to consider external help from the International Monetary Fund (IMF), which was accompanied by market-oriented conditionalities. The prospect of IMF support was a double-edged sword: on the one hand, restoration of finances and a viable path to economic recovery, but on the other, forced trade liberalization that would upend decades of centralized planning and inward-oriented growth. The IMF's adjustment plan would touch nearly every citizen, firm, and industry in the country. Liberalization, in theory, could stimulate long-term growth in the economy, yet it could also impose substantial adjustment costs in the form of firm closures and job losses. These economic reverberations would undoubtedly shake the country's political establishment, potentially jeopardizing the electoral fortunes of those in power. This case introduces students to Prime Minister P.V. Narasimha Rao's decision to liberalize the Indian economy. Students must pay attention to the domestic political actors-communist and right-wing parties, voter coalitions, and special interest groups-that played a central role in influencing Rao's policy positions. They must also evaluate the negotiation strategies of international institutions, national governments, and firms and industry groups in the context of trade liberalization. By applying political economy theories of trade and economic policymaking to the decision facing Rao, students learn about the complex linkages between domestic political factors and international economic pressures when developing countries integrate into the global economy.

This background note explains Cuba's past and current agriculture policies, as well as provides insights into its future potential as relations with the U.S. normalize.

This case highlights the tough choices, competing interests, and decision-making mechanisms involved in California's management of its severe drought, entering its fifth year in 2015. Stuart Woolf, CEO of Woolf Farming, a grower and processor of almonds, tomatoes, and other crops in California's Central Valley, must decide how to respond to the changing operating environment. Scarce water resources-and institutional constraints on the use of water-have forced many producers, including Woolf, to fallow farmland. Meanwhile, competing demands for water from municipalities and environmental interests have raised the public's scrutiny of agricultural water use. This case describes farming in California's Central Valley and reviews the state's complicated system for managing water rights and resources. It invites students to analyze the relative merits of competing perspectives on how to allocate water, the institutional mechanisms for doing so, and the potential responses of agricultural producers to the changing marketplace. Is now the time to double down on farming in the Central Valley, shift to a higher-value-added crop portfolio (e.g., organics), or retreat from this challenging business?

On June 5, 2013, a London newspaper reported that the United States National Security Agency (NSA) was collecting the telephone records of millions of Verizon customers in the U.S. The story was the first of many top secret revelations about the NSA's spying programs, leaked by Edward Snowden, a former NSA contractor. The case examines Snowden's actions and motivations and asks students to consider the repercussions of whistleblowing/leaking on the general public, the U.S. government, the NSA and Snowden himself. Case Number 2018.0

In May 2015 prominent leaders in St. Louis were celebrating the launch of the Contractor Loan Fund (CLF), a $10 million revolving loan fund meant to help area minority and women-owned construction contractors grow their businesses. John Dubinsky, the leader behind the advancement of this project, aimed to decrease the region's longstanding economic and social inequalities. Despite successfully scoping out the project, recruiting a team, fundraising, and launching the fund, Dubinsky was still worried about the process by which they would cultivate the growth of minority and women-owned construction contractors.

You are the CEO of an e-cigarette company that has just been acquired by a major tobacco company. Your company operates in the European market. The July 2013 draft of the EU Tobacco Products Directive (TPD) recently has been crafted by the European Commission, but it has not yet been examined by the EU Parliament and its Council. The draft proposes that all e-cigarette products be classified as medical devices, regardless of nicotine content. This is the strictest available mode of regulation. If the directive goes into effect as written, e-cigarettes would have to undergo costly and lengthy clinical trials to receive approval and face much stricter marketability restrictions. The case details the state of the e-cigarette industry in 2013, including consumer data, distribution, competition from similar products, and public health concerns. Students will analyze the current regulatory environment, determine what outcome would be most favorable to the e-cigarette industry, and identify the ways to achieve that goal.