Recent German history has produced a remarkable succession of state forms: an empire riddled with internal social tensions, brought down by external defeat in a world war for which it bore a large degree of responsibility; an unstable and ultimately suicidal parliamentary democracy; a genocidal dictatorship which eventually collapsed, totally defeated by opponents of its expansionist and increasingly radical foreign and domestic plans; and, concurrently, two remarkably stable and enduring instances of quite different political types, liberal parliamentary democracy in the capitalist west, and “actually existing socialism” based in democratic centralism in the communist east. Compared to their respective Western and Eastern European neighbours, the Germans on both sides of the inner-German border are now sustaining and reproducing their respective political systems with remarkable efficiency. Put crudely, it seems that good Nazis have been turned into good democrats and good communists, respectively.

The phrase liberal capitalism has occasionally been used in contemporary political criticism to lump together the ideological approaches of nonsocialist political parties and to suggest that there are few significant differences among those who generally support a market-based political economy. C. B. Macpherson, in an influential essay entitled The Real World of Democracy (1965), argues that “by admitting the mass of the people into the competitive party system, the liberal state did not abandon its fundamental nature; it simply opened the competitive political system to all the individuals who had been created by the competitive market society.” As a first approximation then, liberal capitalism appears to stand for a combination of rational contractualism, utilitarian individualism, and the laissez-faire economics of Adam Smith.

It has long and widely been assumed that Afro-Americans have a special concern for African affairs, an assumption resulting from the West African ancestry of Afro-Americans. It is thought that these descendants, like other ethnic entities in the United States, desire some form of continuing linkage to the “motherland.” Historically this has been illustrated in several ways: Often descendants of Africa in America have referred to themselves as African and identified their organizations as such (Berry and Blassingame 1982:389), there are direct sociocultural “African survivals” (Herskovits 1958:7), and Afro-Americans often express sympathy for continental “African aspirations” (Hoadley 1972:490). The pinnacle of this may have been reached during the 1960s, a period referred to as the era of cultural nationalism, when African dress, inter alia, was adopted by Afro-Americans (Brisbane 1974:175).

The question of the conditions that must prevail before fundamentalist religion can play a significant part in politics has loomed large in recent years with the resurgence of Islamic fundamentalism in the Middle East. Protestant fundamentalism has drawn somewhat less attention, except for the case of the new Christian right in America. Nowhere in the contemporary world are the politics of conservative Protestantism more clearly visible than in Northern Ireland. Therefore, in this essay we seek to explain why Protestant fundamentalism has achieved such prominence and success in Ulster in recent years. First, we present a comparative analysis of conservative Protestant politics in the English-speaking world. Second, we offer an historically informed analysis of the rise of Ulster's most successful fundamentalist politician, the Reverend Ian Paisley.

If one were a Tagalog convert to Christianity in the seventeenth or early eighteenth century, one would have probably been compelled to go to confession at least once a year. Confronting the Spanish priest, one would be subjected to his anxious probing in the vernacular as he proceeded through a checklist of possible transgressions against each of the Ten Commandments. Such checklists in the local language, called confessionarios, were common throughout the colonial period. Compiled by missionaries skilled in the Tagalog, they were designed to serve as mnemonic devices to aid Spanish clerics in eliciting the confessions of their native flock.

The decline of the missions in far northern Mexico during the age of Santa Anna has attracted the attention of several scholars. Most recently David Weber in The Mexican Frontier, 1821–1846 has identified many complex national and regional factors that contributed to their demise, arguing that in the cases of California and Texas the government's secularization policy played a decisive role, while the reductions—towns of Indians converted to Christianity—in Arizona “crumbled by default” and in New Mexico were quietly abandoned by the clergy.1 (The term secularization means the replacement of state-supported missionaries from religious orders (regular clergy) with parish-supported priests obedient to the ecclesiastical hierarchy (secular clergy).) Many of these same destructive forces operated in New Granada (modern Colombia), where the once thriving missions on the eastern llanos frontier all but disappeared by the mid-nineteenth century. In striking contrast to the Mexican governments, however, those in New Granada were determined to revitalize the missions. A review of their unsuccessful efforts, when compared with the process in far northern Mexico, offers fresh insight into the viability of the mission as a frontier institution in Spanish America during the early national period.

In primitive and nonindustrialized societies the typical (and in many cases, the exclusive) tasks of religious elites have revolved chiefly around the creation, modification, and maintenance of the symbolic universe of society. Such work invariably implied privilege and various kinds and degrees of political power. But with the expansion of the modern world order, the situation of religious elites has altered dramatically. For one, religious-knowledge workers make up a very small percentage of the ranks of a much larger knowledge sector. For example, while the percentage of religious-knowledge workers (including clergy) relative to the entire economically active population in the United States has remained relatively constant since 1870, the percentage of religious workers to the knowledge workers has declined by one half in the period between 1950 and 1970—a period of dramatic growth of the knowledge sector (see Table 1). By 1970, the percentage of religious-knowledge workers to knowledge workers generally had shrunk to one sixth of its proportionate size a century earlier. Between 1970 and 1984, this proportion has leveled off somewhat. In Western Europe and Japan the same patterns have become firmly established as well.