WHEN SWISS CONTRIBUTORS TO THIS SPECIAL ISSUE LIMIT themselves to the presentation of a picture of modern Switzerland and leave it to the public to decide whether they want to learn something from the Swiss experience, two problems remain unsolved. First, in Switzerland we have neglected to some extent the analysis of the structures and the processes of the political system. We know more about the history of our political institutions than we do about their actual functioning. Normative theory is better developed than empirical research. This leads to the second problem: as many questions concerning the mechanics of the system are not answered in a sufficiently clear way, interpretations of the Confederatia Helvetica differ considerably between various analysts.

THE DIVERSIFICATION IN THE SOCIO-ECONOMIC ORGANIZATION AND the growth of the political system have increased the number of instances of decision-making and intensified the relations between social and political forces. Parties and pressure groups are not enough in themselves to channel the interests, ideologies, and stresses, originating in the social system, into the political system. Nevertheless, during the last forty years, other, less familiar channels have broadened considerably and of these it is what we call the consultative councils which have made the greatest impact. So much has their importance grown in recent years that they must be considered as a mechanism of systemic interaction, comparable in weight to those of the pressure groups or parties. The consultative councils have, in fact, become a major cog in the political system and any attempt to exclude them is doomed to failure.

For more than four decades the analysis of party organizations in the European democracies has been completely separated from analyses of American party structures. The first part of this article examines how and why such a separation was to emerge in the aftermath of Duverger's and Epstein's path-breaking original work. It then goes on to outline how an analytic framework might be developed so that more wide-ranging comparative studies of party organizations in democratic regimes can be undertaken in future. Only with such research can the limitations of ‘exceptionalist’ and ‘regionalist’ explanations of party structure development and change be overcome.

J-P. SARTRE HAS WRITTEN AT LENGTH ON THE QUESTION OF HOW THE myth of the French revolution is possible. The intelligibility, let alone the truth, of his answer need not detain us unduly. But the question is a good one. The past two centuries or so have indeed been the age of myth of the Revolution. As in philosophical logic, the definite article has distinctive and powerful implications and gives rise to very interesting problems. In this case, they are not merely logical, but also, and above all, moral, epistemic and political. The definite article seems to imply existence; and it also seems to imply uniqueness. Even more disturbingly, it seems to suggest, in this case, moral rightness and political authority. The Revolution is necessary, unique and inevitable, legitimate and authoritative. But to claim these traits, it must also be identifiable; and it can only be identified, hailed and revered, if it carries some manifest stigmata. But what are they? Can they not be counterfeited? Are there not peddlers of fake stigmata, or, worse still, of false theories concerning what constitutes the stigmata?

THE THEME I PROPOSE TO TREAT HERE RUNS LIKE A PARALLEL tributary to the mainstream of Giovanni Sartori's theme: ‘We are living above and beyond our intelligence’. But while Sartori concentrates his attention on the pros and cons of ‘political engineering’ in the modern society, its feasibility and cost benefits, I concentrate on the question which can be summarily formulated as follows: ‘can modern political judgment itself, i.e. before it sets political engineering, or indeed policy-making, in motion, comprehend (in the double meaning of the expression) the issues upon which it should be exerted in their individual esotericism and in their collective array?’ But before starting to examine this question, I must make a few caveats.

THE TRANSITION FROM DICTATORSHIP TO DEMOCRACY IN Spain has been a fascinating experience ever since the Autumn of 1976, when the Ley de Reforma Politica (Law on Political Reform) was passed through the Francoist Cortes and later through a national Referendum. Setting aside the political virtuosity of the different players involved in this dramatic experiment, three aspects of the transition have been particularly important from the point of view of a sociological analysis of Spanish politics: first of all, the ideological moderation of the electorate, which would fulfil an essential prerequisite of democratic stability; secondly, the continuities with past political cleavages between Left and Right, in spite of a parenthesis of four decades of dictatorship; finally, the threat to the new democracy coming from the political violence of Basque separatists and from the activities of Francoist groups which are also active within the army. These three dimensions can be re-examined in the light of the results of the General Election of 1 March 1979, the first constitutional general election in Spain since 1936 and the second election since the death of Franco.

AS A WAY OF REACHING IMPORTANT POLITICAL DECISIONS, THE referendum is usually regarded as a clumsy and unsatisfactory instrument and quite unimportant as a contribution to political democracy. Yet widespread demands for more participation ‘by the people’ have brought the referendum into new-found favour. Interest has been rekindled too by its application to the issue of membership of the European Community, with the clear possibility of directly comparing the referenda in the four countries involved. This new interest in the referendum comes at a time when many party systems, the traditional supports of a purely parliamentary democracy, appear to be in disarray, and there are signs of increasing volatility within electorates which can foreshadow basic realignments in party systems. Questions now are naturally being raised about the future ordering of democratic politics, and for this reason it seems justifiable to focus an examination of the referendum especially on the problem of political change.

On 17 March 2016 the Kurdish Democratic Union Party (Partîya Yekîtî ya Dêmokrat, PYD) unilaterally proclaimed the Democratic Federation of Northern Syria in three cantons, Afrin and Kobane in northern Aleppo province, and Jazira in Hassakeh. The party's ideology claims to endorse the participation of civilians and certain Arab tribes and minorities in its governance councils. However, the PYD and its armed militia, the People's Protection Units (Yekîneyên Parastina Gel, YPG), have been accused of committing human rights violations against civilians and installing one-party rule. Given its stated normative commitments and ideas on democracy, this ideology–practice gap begs the question: what factors facilitated the PYD to conform to its democratic pronouncements on power-sharing and inclusivity under certain conditions and, conversely, what factors permitted their abandonment or violation? By analysing the PYD's governance record and strategies in northern Syria between 2012 and 2018, this article argues that the PYD displayed a mix of democratic adherence and transgression in its governance practices. This has meant that the PYD engaged hybrid mechanisms of democracy-building, coercion, displacement and violence in order to consolidate territorial control and assert ideological hegemony. I argue that complex networks of local, state and third-party interests complicate Kurdish self-rule in Syria, requiring a multilevel approach to understand the interrelated challenges to democratization in the post-war transition. I identify four major types of relations that have influenced the PYD's hybrid governance practices: intra-organizational factionalism; civilian–rebel relations, especially in mixed demographic areas; international sponsors and rivals; and rebel–regime relations.

Bridging the literature on gender and politics, democratization, and political parties, this article investigates the causes of parties’ varying compliance with electoral quotas. Whereas research has so far focused on parties’ willingness to comply, this article sheds light on their ability to do so. It suggests that the more quotas parties have to comply with, and the more complex the quotas’ designs, the more difficult implementation becomes for the organizationally weak parties that we often encounter in new democracies. The argument is developed and substantiated in a comparative analysis of parties’ quota compliance in the 2018 Tunisian local elections. Although the Islamist party was able to comply fully with all quotas (for women, youth and people with disabilities), small secular parties lost a number of lists and state funding due to non-compliance. While the quotas were highly effective in securing group representation, they had repercussions on party and party system consolidation.

This article investigates three explanations for electoral support for the far right – ‘cultural backlash’, ‘economic grievances’ and ‘protest voting’ – in a novel way. Our main contribution is that we contrast far-right voters with voters of centre-right parties, traditional left-wing parties and abstainers. Equally innovative is the comparison between mature and post-communist democracies. Using European Social Survey data (2014–16), we conclude that anti-immigration attitudes are most important in distinguishing far-right voters from all other groups. Yet, these differences are significantly smaller in Eastern Europe. Furthermore, far-right voters are not the so-called socioeconomic ‘losers of globalization’: this is only true when compared with centre-right voters. Concerning protest voting, distrust of supranational governance particularly enhances far-right voting. Overall, our study concludes that more fine-grained distinctions pay off and avoid misleading generalizations about ‘European far-right voters’ often presented in public debates.

Analysis of political regionalism and regionalist parties has traditionally neglected the case of Germany. We argue that this is a curious ommission. This article looks to redress this balance by applying frameworks created for understanding the determinants of regionalist party success to the Bavarian Christian Social Union (CSU) and the eastern Germany Party of Democratic Socialism (1990–2005, PDS). Although very different in terms of their politics, both parties have been successful as they have followed strategies and tactics evident in the broader regionalist parties' literature. This article therefore deepens our knowledge of regionalism in Germany, while also testing regionalist literatures in a new country-context.

The term ‘Westminster model’ is frequently used by political scientists and practitioners. But our recent examination (Russell and Serban 2021), published in this journal, uncovered wide variation in how it is defined – demonstrating that it is more ‘muddle’ than ‘model’. This sparked a response article from Flinders et al. (2021), which we in turn respond to in this piece. We briefly revisit our initial research questions, methodology and findings, before reflecting on their analysis. We emphasize that, notwithstanding the critics’ negative tone, we and they agree on certain fundamentals. In particular on our original central point, that the ‘Westminster model’ is an ill-defined term with a long history, which mostly makes it unsuited to positivist comparative political science research. While the ‘Westminster model’ may have some valid vestigial uses, within the UK political system, or as an object of study for interpretivist political science, it does not provide a rigorous basis for case selection and comparative political science analysis.

This article analyses the party-system reforms introduced in Russia during Vladimir Putin's presidency. It contests Byron Moraski's interpretation, published in an earlier edition of this journal, which claims that the reforms introduced in Putin's second term were a response to the 2003 Duma election and were intended to preserve the unity and discipline of United Russia, the regime's ‘party of power’. This article argues that Moraski's explanation of the second-term reforms is flawed and contends that the first- and second-term reforms were part of a wider reform programme designed to centralize Russia's political system, consolidate its party system and contribute to the construction of a façade democracy. The article also challenges Moraski's argument that these reforms, while introduced to advance the regime's interests, could further democratization in the longer term by adding the crucial caveat that stronger opposition parties that could act as a democratizing influence will only emerge if practices of electoral manipulation lessen or fail.

THE VAGUE AND CONTRADICTORY FORMULA OF ‘DEMOCRATIC centralism’ has never been understood as a static device independent of historical circumstances. Though it has been dogmatized, despite the opposition of other non-revisionist tendencies in the international labour movement such as Rosa Luxemburg and the Worker's Opposition in Russia during the 9th Party Congress in 1920, the formula always had to be reinterpreted according to the needs of different phases of class struggle. In every phase of development, the relation between the components ‘democracy‘ and ‘centralism‘ has been defined in a different way.3 Since the 3rd Party Congress centralism was considered to be the basic organizational principle of the party, whereas democracy had to be adapted to the changing circumstances and to the political conditions of different countries. Certainly Lenin was right in arguing in his pamphlet Chto delat (1902) that, under the circumstances of tsarist autocratic rule, ‘democratism’ within the party would have been ‘an empty and dangerous game’. Also the Menshevik leaders - in spite of their controversies with Lenin - still admitted at that time that a centralized and disciplined party organization was of the highest importance. Thus Schapiro is probably right when he sees little difference between Bolsheviks and Mensheviks on the question of democratic centralism at the time of the conflict in Iskra.

There is broad agreement that the most important transformation undergone by democratic politics since the second half of the twentieth century has been the diffusion of the means of mass-communication (television in particular). Teledemocracy especially has changed democratic politics in a specific way: the leaders rather than the parties now stand at the centre of the electoral and political process. This article does not aim to go over the relationship between media and politics; that has already been done. Instead, it focuses on how to deal with a situation in which media and politics overlap.

‘If A Majority Of People In Northern Ireland Ever Voted To become part of a United Ireland what would you do?’ At first sight the question may seem plucked from the realms of constitutional fantasy. A united Ireland seems an unlikely prospect, at least in anything but the long term. Even proponents of unity predict a 15–20 year wait. Yet the 1998 Good Friday Agreement empowers the people of Northern Ireland to decide their own constitutional future. As a result questions on Northern Ireland's future constitutional status, and public reactions to possible changes in that status, are relevant to current political debate.

It is important to note that the principle of consent is not a new constitutional invention. It has had a long association with Northern Ireland. It is argued that the peace process and the 1998 Good Friday Agreement have refocused attention on the long-standing consent principle. While consent was part of the constitutional furniture it was often overlooked during the Troubles.

This article re-examines consent in the light of the peace process. It draws on evidence from the 1998 and 1999/2000 Northern Ireland Life and Times surveys, as well as a number of in-depth interviews with senior politicians and policy-makers involved in the peace process and the negotiations on a political settlement. First it considers the changing significance of the consent principle to Northern Ireland's constitutional status, arguing that the principle has assumed a renewed immediacy. Secondly, the article reports the findings of the two most recent Northern Ireland Life and Times surveys in relation to constitutional preferences. While public attitudes towards a unitary Ireland or continued Union within the United Kingdom have been surveyed regularly, as far as the authors are aware no previous survey has asked whether people would accept or oppose constitutional change if it was supported by a majority of Northern Ireland's citizens. In other words, no survey has gauged the level of public acceptance of the consent principle. The key question is: would unionists be prepared to come quietly if a majority of Northern Ireland's citizens voted to accept a united Ireland?

WHEREVER ONE TAKES A POSITION IN THE GREAT DEBATE between representative and participatory democrats it is clear that no democracy can function without the involvement of its citizens. What is at issue is the extent and nature of the citizen participation which is thought to be required if a democracy is to be worthy of its name. Whilst this is a fundamentally normative issue, the protagonists on both sides regularly cite evidence as to actual levels of participation and draw inferences from that evidence in support of their contentions.

On the one side are those who assert that in Britain ‘some of the spectators have begun to descend on to the field’; on the other are those who say that ‘the “grass roots” of politics seem shrivelled and starved of the nourishment of participation by the citizens’. For this reason, as Jane Mansbridge has said, ‘field studies of what happens to various ideals when people try to live by them could prove useful in clarifying a wide range of normative questions.

COMPARATIVE POLITICS IS EVERYTHING – OR IT IS NOTHING. Superficially, these appear to be the only logical positions that can be maintained when considering the relationship of comparative politics to the various areas and divisions of the discipline of political science. The now old-fashioned use of the title to indicate either a small number of country studies loosely linked by structural comparison, or a somewhat broader field of institutional comparison, whatever the pedagogic arguments of coherence or convenience, possesses neither logical boundary nor scientific integrity. Yet once that treacherous one step further is taken in the directions of functional comparison, or, further, consideration of the ‘comparative method’ itself and the distinctions between comparative politics and, say, political theory, political sociology or political analysis disappear completely.