NOWHERE IN HIS WORK DOES ÉLIE HALÉVY SHOW THAT HE felt any particular preference for those whom man hold to be his predecessors or masters. He refers at Length to Montesquieu at the beginning of his third volume on England in 1815, but indirectly, through his English interpreters, especially Blackstone. Blackstone interpreted the British constitution in the light of the interpretation which Montesquieu gave it in l'Esprit des Lois. In so doing he yielded to the force of French logic and falsified the analysis of reality. As French logic is unable to understand the British procedure, and imposed upon the English a stylized representation of their own practice, this paradoxical exercise was greatly to the taste of Halévy, an historian who always enjoyed the paradoxes of history, and who understood so well the native genius of both peoples.

THE ARGUMENT WE ARE ABOUT TO PRESENT UNDER THIS perhaps surprising title is based on a syllogism whose two premises are now visible to all in their sad reality.

The first premise is that because of their political organization in small and medium-sized sovereign states, the countries of Western Europe are losing the chance of adapting themselves independently to the requirements of the third industrial revolution. In this they are falling far behind the United States of America, a welfare state like them and belonging to their political culture – and Japan, whose different political culture makes the comparison less appropriate. Technological dependence brings with it lack of independence in all directions – and especially in military capacity which is now dominated by the two nuclear superpowers. The belated individual efforts of some of the European states to modernize their industries with their own means and with different socio-economic ideologies – conservative monetarism in Britain, socialist Keynesianism in France – have aggravated unemployment in the one and inflation in the other, and provoked much popular dissent against the central governments. The centralized nationalistic system became increasingly inadequate: for the problems are common ones that require common solutions; and as the problems are functional, they abhor ideological approaches.

IN MAY-JUNE 1981 THE LEFT CAME TO POWER IN FRANCE WITH an ambitious, if not altogether coherent or consistent, programme of economic expansion, redistribution, industrial relations reform, liberalization and decentralization. Unlike previous Left-wing governments which had proved to be unstable and transient, the newly formed government in 1981 was built on solid electoral and governmental foundations: the Socialists had captured the Presidency, enjoyed alone a majority in the National Assembly and provided the bulk of the Government. That government could look forward to at least five years of uninterrupted rule. So long-term structural reforms could be envisaged.

Beginning in 1930… I felt, almost physically, the approach of historical storms. ‘History is again on the move’, in the words of Arnold Toynbee. 1 am still marked by this experience, which inclined me towards an active pessimism Once and for all, I ceased to believe that history automatically obeys the dictates of reason or the desires of men of good will. I lost faith and held on, not without effort, to hope. I discovered the enemy that 1 as well do not tire of pursuing, totalitarianism, an enemy no less insidious than Malthusianism. In any form of fanaticism, even one inspired by idealism, 1 suspect a new incarnation of the monster.

THE RESULTS OF THE BRAZILIAN ELECTIONS OF 15 NOVEMBER 1982 made irreversible the trend towards abertura in the country with the longest experience of technocratic development in the Third world.

Regarded as an almost impossible achievement by political analysts, these elections became a model of a genuine ‘decompression from the top’. The system neither lost its grip during the process nor did it back down from its purpose of an almost full return to direct elections for the executive in the Brazilian Federation, making ample use of the president's involvement in the contest.

TO AN ORDINARY DEMOCRATIC CITIZEN THE QUESTION ‘DO parties matter’ might seem a typical pseudoproblem of scholars. Everybody knows that parties matter, otherwise nobody would leave home on election day and cast his vote. Even the enlightened politicians have hardly any doubts that parties matter. When Margaret Thatcher was asked before her first electoral victory what her access to power would change in Britain, she answered in one word: ‘everything’. This means that she firmly believed that parties almost exclusively matter in a political system. How did scholars come to ask such a stupid question – so contrary to democratic common sense? New and unfamiliar questions normally rise when a change of paradigm in science takes place. The change of aradigm in this case was the shift of attention from the study of politics to policy analysis.

FRANCIS BACON OBSERVED THAT IN THE DECLINING AGE OF A state, mechanical arts and merchandise flourish. Unfortunately, Britain's case is now almost the obverse of this. The underlying causes of Britain's present circumstances are evidently complex but a fruitful place at which to begin is with the country's technology policy and its associated research and development orientation.

It is especially alarming politically that the long run decline in manufacturing industry which Britain has experienced, and tolerated, throughout this century has recently accelerated. The country's share of world trade in manufactured goods fell precipitately in the 1960s (15 to 9 per cent), but worse still, there is evidence that imports have on balance become steadily more technologically advanced than exports. Inevitably, manufactures have contributed a falling proportion of overseas earnings (52 per cent 1971, 43 per cent 1981), leading to a historically unprecedented deficit on manufactured goods. Inevitably too, and worsened by the international recession, employment in manufacturing industry has fallen sharply (8.1 million 1971, 5.7 million 1982). The economic slide relative to other advanced industrial countries which has resulted has been disguised only by the strength of the service sector and the fortuitous arrival of North Sea oil. All this has naturally received an abundance of academic discussion.

MANCUR OLSON HAS WRITTEN A BOOK IN THE GRAND tradition, trying to explain how societies are undermined by their own success. In his own words, there is an ‘internal contradiction’ (p. 145) in the development of stable societies. I want to discuss Olson's views in the light of other works in the same tradition, works that also set out to explain how success tends to be self-defeating in various ways. Among the classics of social theory, I have singled out the writings of Marx, Veblen and Schumpeter. A contemporary work that suggests itself for the same kind of comparison is the recent book by Douglass North, Structure and Change in Economic History. Before I go on to compare Olson'stheory with these competing explanations, I must briefly set out the main elements of the theory itself. This must of necessity be a very simplified statement, but the later discussion will allow me to add some nuances.

WHEN ALL ABOUT THEM IN EASTERN EUROPE WERE LOSING their heads, the Russians could always count on the East Germans. Now nobody, least of all the Russians, seems so sure. Whether or not East Germany's leader, Erich Honecker, visits West Germany this autumn as planned, the German question is back on the political agenda of both East and West. The sharp battle-by-reprint, during the summer of 1984, in the party newspapers of East Germany and the Soviet Union over the permissible degree of contact between the East German regime and the West German government has revealed in public a remarkable rift within the Warsaw Pact over one of the most sensitive issues in post-war Soviet foreign policy: strategy towards Germany.

ON 15 NOVEMBER 1982, BRAZIL HELD GENERAL ELECTIONS. Despite stiff electoral rules, they were the first conducted in a climate of freedom since 1964, when the military overthrew the civilian Goulart government, which had been struck by instability and paralysis. In December, the authorities requested several very large new loans and ‘roll-overs’ from the IMF and the private financial community, in an attempt to assure the continuing service of the country's massive foreign debt. The two events epitomize underlying processes that had been evolving for several years: political liberalization and adjustment to economic crisis.

THE TERM ‘INDUSTRIAL ADAPTATION’ HAS RECENTLY EMERGED as a rallying call in the vocabulary of economic policy-makers in national governments and international organizations. At the same time the political consequences of the adaptation process, such as the reorientation of whole areas of government activity towards industrial priorities, or the escalation of unemployment, have redefined the agenda of economic policy for students of politics. This article, based on a comparison of the systems of industrial adaptation that have operated successfully in West Germany over the post-war period and, far less successfully, in Britain, focuses on the subsidy issue in the two countries and points to the hypocrisy of official economic doctrines and programmes. Insofar as governments must concern themselves with economic activity, issues such as subsidy must be evaluated not in pejorative, polemical fashion but in terms of their goals and of policy frameworks within which they can be controlled.

IF THE ZOOLOGISTS ARE TO BE BELIEVED, THIS WORLD appears very different to members of different species of animals. Flowers conceal patterns and markings that are visible only to insects; dogs inhabit a world reeking with enticing scents; the bats' Lebenswelt echoes with highly significant squeaks. Something rather similar is true of political animals as well. The political world that faces the true-blue Tory has contours different from those that present themselves to the militant socialist, while what the liberal sees as the manifest data of politics is different again. Each of them, contemplating the common political world, has his attention caught and held by certain phenomena beside which others fade into insignificance. It is not surprising, therefore, that each has resort to a different key concept to sum up his experience. For the ideal-typical conservative, the basic datum of political experience is the totality of the historic political community, the nation. Like Rousseau's patriot, from the moment he opens his eyes he sees his country, and to the day of his death he never sees anything else. The socialist, by contrast, his attention held by a different range of experiences, wonders how anyone can fad to recognize the importance of social classes and the rift between them, while the liberal in his turn suspects the others of being deliberately obtuse when they refuse to see that distinct and different individuals are the basic components of political reality.

A PREDOMINANT THEME OF TWENTIETH-CENTURY CLASSICAL liberal thought is the claim that piecemeal acts of intervention by government in a free economy and society will, if continued over an unspecified period of time, bring about the transformation of that society into a totalitarian regime in which all but the most trivial decisions affecting an individual are taken by the state. The crucial feature of the liberal's argument is that this process generates an outcome which was not intended by the originators of the acts of intervention: it is the method or mechanism of intervention itself which produces a state of affairs undesired by both non-statists and (at least moderate) collectivists alike. Thus, in addition to general economic and moral arguments that a classical liberal might raise against, say, a nationalized health service, he also maintains that an abridgement of the right to provide health care privately, which the collectivist does not value, must set in motion a process which culminates in the direction of medical personnel, and the prevention of the emigration of doctors by the state, to which, presumably, the moderate collectivist would himself object.

SINCE 1974, A PROCESS OF POLITICAL ‘OPENING’ HAS BEEN taking place in Brazil. But it was only after 1978, when the amnesty law was passed and exiles be an to return, that a majority of observers and academic analysts convinced them-selves that that process was real. The Brazilian regime can still be described as military-based and authoritarian, but now the so-called abertura has become meaningful enough to direct our attention to a different set of questions: why did such changes take place, contrary to most predictions, journalistic as well as academic, of the late 1960s and early 1970s? Why have elections pla ed such a decisive role in them, again contrary to most predictions? Are the fruits picked in this example of redemocratization really ripe to be enjoyed? Can the other countries subject to military-authoritarian rule in the Southern Cone equally aspire to them – that is , to orderly but yet significant steps toward an eventual demise of their authoritarian systems?

POLITICAL VIOLENCE CREATES ITS OWN MOMENTUM NOT ONLY in the wider security community but also in that refuge for the voyeur, academic research. Before 1968 a mere handful of books looked at the Ulster problem. Since then more than two hundred books and several thousand articles have appreared. But to what avail? In a survey of this vast literature Professor John Whyte concludes that there has been a disproportion between the enormous effort expended and the exiguous results achieved. The purist might maintain that it is not the task of scholars to indulge in political engineering: to those of us who live in the benighted province any port in a storm will do. The merit of these five books is that, wittingly or not, they create some optimism simply because they shift our gaze from the depressing reality of Belfast and examine the problem in a wider context. Of course, that might not be their purpose. Bad Chubb set out with the modest task of explaining the political process of the Irish Republic for the benefit of his own students who had lacked an up-todate general work. Bew and Patterson took as their starting point ‘the irrepressible reality of the class conflict generated by the capitalist structure of the Irish economy’ (p. 187).

IN 1964 THE BRAZILIAN POLITICAL SYSTEM UNDERWENT A basic change. The populist republic (1946–64), which had paved the way for both a formal and an informal extension of political and economic franchises, after the success of Kubitschek's administration (1956–61) and Quadros's resignation (1961), collapsed as a result of decisional paralysis. The economic challen e of accumulation and the political challenge of social justice led, in the early 1960s during the Goulart administration, both to a fragmentation of power and to radicalization. The more demands multiplied, the more the government hesitated, feeding the anxiety of different political grou s in society. The result was a growing distrust of the politicafsystem. Distrust in turn not only prevented a coalition in support of a consistent governmental programme but also brought about an intensification of conflictual demands. This self-sustaining mechanism of decisional paralysis was interrupted by the emergence of what has been called by Juan Linz and Guuermo O'Donnell ‘a bureaucratic-authoritarian regime’.

HISTORICALLY SPEAKING, THE THEME OF POLITICAL PARTICIpation and the set of issues connected with it are as old as politics itself, because they touch on some of the most central and perennial questions of political life – who decides, where are the boundaries of community and citizenship to be drawn, who benefits, how will decisions be made? However, beyond this, participation has from time to time become a particularly central and salient issue in British politics. In the seventeenth century the issues revolved around the ‘claims of the gentry and merchant classes to play a larger part in the making of government policy’. In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the issue moved on to representation of the nonropertied classes – the town worker, the rural worker and Etterly universal suffrage.

THE CONTRAST BETWEEN CLASSICAL POLITICAL SCIENCE AND its modern counterpart may help to illuminate certain serious deficiencies in the contemporar study of politics. It will wide diversity of research under the rubric of ‘contemporary political science’; nonetheless, it is possible to delineate a characteristic set of features inherent in a prevailing understanding of politics that is indeed recognizable, and is deserving of deep critical scrutiny. Futhermore, these features may be effectively exposed by a systematic contrast with the very different procedure of the classical study of politics. In particular, the latter poses major challenges to contemporary modes of political inquiry at the following critical points. First, political science must abandon claims to approximating natural science, though not necessarily ceasing to aspire to comprehensive knowledge. Second, an instrumentalist conception of political community should not be considered in any way primary or paradigmatic; the question of the nature of the association must be guided by the question of the ends for which it exists. Third, social theory operates by searching for principles of coherence, and analyses social relationships in terms of their coherence or incoherence. Fourth, the decisive basis of political science is not the distinction between fact and value, or between means and ends, but the distinction between part and whole.