‘Je pense donc je vote’: the confident assertion of the european Parliament's promotional campaign in France to encourage voters to participate in the 1999 European elections struck a spectacularly false note. The citizens not only of France, but of Europe as a whole, reacted with striking indifference to the prospect of the fifth direct elections to the world's only transnational parliament. In the elections held on 10-13 June, turnout fell in all but three of the fifteen member states, averaging less than half of the eligible electorate for the first time since 1979. Except in the two countries holding general elections on the same day – Belgium and Luxembourg – media coverage of the contest was distinctly muted. Even in those countries, the European component was secondary. Across the European Union, there was little sense of key choices being defined, let alone settled, by the election, whether on a national or continental scale. If political elites were engaged in trials of strength which they were unable to avoid, there was scant evidence of campaigning on the ground. In David Butler's memorable phrase, the European elections of 1999, as before, resembled ‘tactical exercises without troops’: army generals were active at the centre, conducting a theoretical, phoney war of interest largely to themselves.

ONE OF THE FIRST THINGS THAT STUDENTS OF POLITICS IN THE USA learn is that the central organizing principle of the Constitution and of the political system is the separation of powers. Yet most students begin with – and few are encouraged to go beyond – a very one-sided view of that principle. For the most part, they are taught about the protective, controlling purposes rather than about the constructive, empowering purposes of the practice of separating governmental powers. They are always taught to appreciate power separation as a means of avoiding certain evils, but they are rarely taught to appreciate it as a means of attaining certain goods.

THERE ARE TWO MAIN CONCEPTIONS OF ‘REPRESENTATION’ IN democratic theory, and they are not wholly compatible. All democratic electoral systems implicitly appeal to one or the other conception of representation. Therefore, the nature of an ideal electoral system is an essentially contested question. Furthermore, the mathematics of social choice sets severe limits on what an electoral system — any electoral system — can achieve. Though the implications of social choice are not so nihilistic as some would have us believe, they are relevant and serious.

THE BRITISH-IRISH COUNCIL SPRINGS FROM AND IS PROVIDED FOR IN the Belfast Agreement signed on Good Friday 1998. Its coming into force depends upon the implementation of the Agreement. The Council is established, however, not by the 1998 Northern Ireland Act, which gives legislative expression to the bulk of this Agreement, but by an international treaty, the British–Irish Agreement, attached to the Belfast Agreement.

The Belfast Agreement together with the legislation providing for devolution to Scotland and Wales establishes a new constitutional settlement, both among the nations which form the United Kingdom, and also between those nations and the other nation in these islands, the Irish nation. The United Kingdom itself is, as a result of the Scotland Act and the Government of Wales Act, in the process of becoming a new union of nations, each with its own identity and institutions – a multi-national state, rather than, as many of the English have traditionally seen it, a homogeneous British nation containing a variety of different people.

AS ELECTION DAY APPROACHED IT SEEMED CERTAIN THAT LABOUR would come out on top and the Scottish National Party (SNP) would come second. Thanks to the new German-style electoral system it also seemed certain that Labour could not win an overall majority in the new Scottish Parliament and that the Conservatives would get some parliamentary representation however low their vote. But each of the parties had hopes and ambitions as well as expectations. Labour hoped to get over 60 seats in the new parliament of 129, enough at least to have the option of forming a minority government. The SNP hoped to get well over 40 seats, enough to let it assume the undisputed role of the opposition, and to mark a further step along the road to independence. The Liberal Democrats hoped to be more than a small but useful coalition partner in the new parliament. Out in the country they hoped the new electoral system would end the traditional handicap of a Liberal Democrat vote being dismissed as a ‘wasted vote’ and so let their votes rise to equal their underlying level of popular support. ‘Other’ parties and candidates hoped that the new electoral system and the new inclusive politics would somehow include them.

THE PARTICULARISTIC CHARACTER OF THE POLITICAL WORLD, THE separation of political communities into poleis, territorial-states or nation-states, has always provoked the universalist criticism of borders as artificial and incompatible with universal humanity. Such demarcations were even suspected of being one of mankind's greatest evils. Edmund Burke, for example, wrote in his A Vindication of Natural Society – a response to Rousseau's Discourse on the Origin and Foundation of Inequality – that ‘this artificial division of mankind, into separate societies, is a perpetual source in itself of hatred and dissention among them’.

On 2 june 1999 south africans went to the polls in the country's second democratic election. At issue in the electoral debate were: the government's mixed record of achievement since the first contest in April 1994; the prospect of significant improvement in economic performance and the promised delivery of social goods to the deprived black majority; the personality and capability of Thabo Mbeki, President Mandela's chosen successor; and the impact of victory for the African National Congress (ANC) on the status and role of the parliamentary opposition in the years to come. The first part of this article, therefore, seeks to provide a commentary on events since 1994 to set the 1999 election in context.

Perhaps the most encouraging feature of South Africa's political development has been the survival and consolidation of the democratic process. Critics of the Mandela era tend to take this for granted; but it is no mean achievement especially in view of the violence which disfigured both the multi-party negotiating process and the run-up to the 1994 election and the threat of more to come to destabilize a new and untried regime.

Since the late-1980s, efforts to consolidate democracy in Thailand and the Philippines have been accompanied by marked contrasts both in levels of developmental success and degrees of subsequent economic decline. In Thailand, extraordinary rates of growth in the decade prior to 1997 were followed by dramatic contraction; in the Philippines, the more modest and short-lived gains of the mid-1990s have been followed by economic standstill but not cataclysmic crash. Despite the major differences in the political economic foundations and economic performance of these two economies, Thailand and the Philippines currently face many common challenges of supplementing earlier neoliberal economic reform with the more daunting tasks of political and institutional reform. In particular, this brief and synoptic analysis will argue, both confront the need to enhance the quality of their democracies and the capacity of key bureaucratic agencies.

THE WELSH LABOUR PARTY COULD HAVE ANTICIPATED THE FIRST elections to the National Assembly with a fair degree of equanimity, if not optimism. In the 1997 General Election, the party had won 55 percent of the vote and delivered on its promise of a devolution referendum which it won, albeit by a narrow majority. The architect of Labour's devolution policy, Ron Davies, the Welsh Secretary of State, who was widely respected within and beyond the Labour Party, had spoken of a new Welsh politics, with policy-making open to and inclusive of other Welsh parties. All this, however, was called into question by what Ron Davies subsequently described as his ‘moment of madness’ on Clapham Common in October 1998. Although the circumstances remain unclear, they resulted in his resignation from the post of Secretary of State and leader of the Welsh Labour Party. Alun Michael, a Cardiff MP and a minister at the Home Office, was appointed Welsh Secretary and subsequently endured a bitter and bruising leadership contest with Rhodri Morgan, during which claims were made that he was Blair's man, and not really an enthusiastic devolutionist but part of the Millbank control system. Large sections of the party were disillusioned by the process and serious questions were raised as to what extent disillusioned party activists would be involved in the Assembly election campaign.

NATIONAL PARLIAMENTS ARE CENTRAL ACTORS IN THE SCRUTINY AND implementation of European Union (EU) legislation. Member state legislatures provide a channel for incorporating public opinion into the governance of the Union. Their importance has become more evident during the 1990s as debate has focused on the democratic deficit and deparliamentarization of European governance.

National parliaments are involved in EU decision-making in three ways: they 1) participate in national policy formulation on Union legislation; 2) monitor the behaviour of member state representatives in the Council of Ministers and the European Council; and 3) have functions specifically regulated in the treaties, such as ratification of treaty amendments and implementation of directives. The third function differs from the first two as the treaties impose rights and duties on the national parliaments, whereas there is no EU law on national policy formulation on Union legislation or on the scrutiny of ministers. During the 1996-97 Intergovernmental Conference (ICC) the member states saw no need for such European-level regulation. Thus it is up to each national parliament – within the limits set by member state constitutions and other constraints – to decide how it deals with the challenges brought by EU membership.

THE RESULT OF THE DANISH PARLIAMENTARY ELECTION OF 11 MARCH 1998 could hardly have been closer. It came down to 89 voters in the Faroes: had this number voted for the local centre-right party, rather than the centre-left one, both of the islands' two seats in the Danish Folketing (parliament) would have gone to supporters of the opposition, thus tipping the parliamentary balance. However, because the sister party of the Danish Social Democrats won one of those seats, the incumbent prime minister, Poul Nyrup Rasmussen, managed to confound the predictions of the opinion polls and stay in power, continuing his Social Democrats' coalition with the Social Liberal Party. It remained a minority government; but this is the norm in Denmark's fragmented multi-party system. Moreover, with the presumed support of the parties to the left of the Social Democrats, and with other parties also professing their keenness to cooperate, the chances of a stable government enduring through the rest of the four-year parliamentary term looked bright.

PSEPHOLOGY – THE ART OF STUDYING ELECTIONS – HAS COME TEN thousand leagues since R.B.McCallum applied the term in the 1940s to his pioneering analyses of British elections and political opinion in the first of the now classic Nuffield studies. Putting the electors under a magnifying glass has ranged from examining them by means of formal logic and sophisticated mathematical procedures, to anecdotal accounts of the process through which democracies choose their governments. In this article, I seek to situate a particular contest – the 1998 Quebec provincial election – into the general political landscape.

The result of the balloting was that the reigning sovereigntist Parti Québécois (PQ) was returned to power under a first-past-thepost system with a resounding majority of seats but with fewer votes than the opposition federalist Parti Liberal du Québec (PLQ). As if that paradox were not enough, polls demonstrated without a smidgen of doubt that although the voters returned a government committed to holding a referendum on the sovereignty of Quebec, a significant majority did not wish a referendum to be held within the foreseeable future. Majorities of both francophone and anglophone electors opposed a direct consultation on Quebec's status in the federation.

During the 1990s the israeli political system faced a number of major upheavals on both the macro- and the micro-political levels. As a result many of its basic features changed considerably. Presently, it is more difficult to predict future political behaviour in Israel than ever before.

One may point at the only successful no-confidence vote, which took place on 15 March 1990, as an event that symbolically initiated the new era. Yitzhak Shamir, the head of the Likud and the acting prime minister at the time, overcame the crisis, formed a new government, and continued to serve as prime minister. Yitzhak Rabin of the Labour Party took power following the 1992 elections. Shimon Peres of Labour succeeded Rabin as premier following Rabin's assassination in November 1995. Peres lost the 1996 elections to Likud's new leader, Benjamin Netanyahu. In the 1999 elections, Labour returned to power under the leadership of Prime Minister Ehud Barak.

DURING THE 1990S, THE INTERNATIONAL FINANCIAL INSTITUTIONS (IFIS) have gone beyond supporting free-market economics via the socalled Washington consensus which advocated primarily marketoriented reform, to adopt a broader notion of ‘good governance’ which includes political as well as economic factors. The World Bank's Development Report 1997; The State in a Changing World is a key document in explaining this new thinking. It lays out the desirability of democracy, the rule of law and effective democratic regulation alongside the market-oriented economic policies and fiscal orthodoxy which IFIs have long advocated. There is no doubt that governance matters to development and to that extent the Report is welcome. The Report also makes a number of worthwhile points about administrative good practice and reform. However some scepticism is in order too. This is because the Bank's notion of ‘good governance’ is too idealistic, insufficiently historically specific and over-confident in respect of what we do know and can know about the politics of development.

ON 1 JULY 1997, THE END OF COLONIAL RULE USHERED IN A NEW government for the 6½ million people of Hong Kong. Ironically, in stark contrast to other new regimes which took over from colonial rulers, the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region (HKSAR) government was greeted with only a moderate amount of enthusiasm by the governed. Nevertheless, public support for the new regime mounted in the first four months of its existence. Since October 1997, however, it has declined continuously and has now reached a low level. Evidently, the governing strategy crafted by the HKSAR government had achieved a certain degree of success in the early months of its existence. Since then, though the HKSAR government obstinately follows this governing strategy, changes in the conditions in Hong Kong have in any case rendered this strategy obsolete. Low public support is bound to undermine effective governance in postcolonial Hong Kong.

A distinction can be drawn within political philosophy between those theories which emphasize the procedural element of discussion in politics (exemplified in the work of J. Rawls and J. Habermas) and those that are concerned with the grounds people will bring up in support of their position. Within the latter type there are theories that work from wants/preferences (e.g. J. Bentham and some modern utilitarians), those that emphasize certain ideals (e.g. the Utopian Socialists), those that look to needs and their positive development (e.g. K. Marx), and those that use people's true interests (e.g. the Frankfurt School theorists and broad utilitarians like J. S. Mill and H. Sidgwick). This article has a twofold aim: to show how Sen's ‘capability approach’ incorporates a theory of true interests that goes beyond even more sophisticated existing theories of true interests; and to explain why Sen refrains from using the language of interests and needs. If his approach is reformulated in terms of needs and interests, certain political ramifications – structural and institutional changes – become unavoidable requirements for the realization of his goals. One possibility is that Sen does not discuss his innovative work in these terms because he is unwilling to condone some of these practical political ramifications.