In our discussion of first wave democratization, we focus particularly on the final step of what is usually a very long transition, because this is when we are most likely to find an important labor role. This is so for two reasons. First, especially in the first wave, the earlier steps often took place before the creation of a substantial working class and organized labor movement; therefore, the later, the more likely the working class was to be a political force. The second point has to do with the nature of the transitions themselves. Most of these transitions were gradual, incremental reforms of pre-existing regimes rather than more sudden shifts in basic regime properties. Generally the constitutional and legislative components of democracy were introduced first, with the conditions for classical elections coming later and among these the creation of a mass electorate coming last in most cases. Thus in most regimes, prior to this step contestation at the elite level was already advanced to a point consistent with democracy, and participation had already advanced beyond the point of "oligarchic democracy," to use Dahl's term, but was still short of what is required for polyarchy or a democratic regime, because the lower classes were still excluded. Put another way, although somewhat problematic because of the length and gradualism of this process, the transition to democracy can be marked by the "final"26 step in a longer series, and this step often represented the extension of the suffrage to the working class itself. Viewed in this light, to inquire about the role of the working class in first wave democratic transitions is often to ask about the role of the working class in obtaining its own suffrage.

Pre-Labor Democratization In one pattern, labor played no role in the establishment of a democratic regime due to the simple fact that the transition to democracy occurred prior to the development of a significant working class. Here democracy was the product of an intra-elite struggle that took place without reference to the working class, which indeed hardly could be said to exist at the time of democratization. This pattern reveals that in no sense can one say that first wave democratizations necessarily required working class pressures or in fact any working-class role whatsoever.

Of the cases analyzed in this paper, Switzerland, Denmark (1848), and Chile followed this pattern. Switzerland and Denmark both adopted manhood suffrage in 1848, when the working class was marginal in numbers and organizationally limited. While it is generally accepted that democracy was established in Switzerland at this time, the characterization of Denmark as democratic is somewhat more problematic because the King still retained control over one-fourth of all appointments to the legislature. We will return to Denmark's subsequent steps in the democratization process below; nevertheless, the Danish adoption of manhood suffrage in 1848 is interesting to consider at this point. In Chile, legislative reforms adopted in 1874 (also before the appearance of a substantial working class) established the foundation for a democratic regime which lasted from 1876 until 1973, with the brief exceptions of 1891, 1924-25, 1927-31, and 1932. Although literacy requirements were enforced until 1970, m ost scholars consider Chile a democracy in this prior period. Valenzuela argues that after 1874 Chile had a mass electorate and high levels of contestation such that it qualified as a democratic regime.27

While these cases form a distinct group based on the fact that democratization preceded the development of a significant working class, there are similarities with the logic of democratization found in other patterns. In particular, the democratization processes in Chile and Switzerland were largely based on electoral support mobilization, similar to that we discuss in the second pattern, with the difference that the target of this mobilization was not the working class. Denmark more closely fits the pattern of middle-sector democratization with labor not playing a significant part. Nevertheless, since our purpose is to analyze the role of labor, we treat these three cases as all following the pattern of pre-labor democratization.

Switzerland. The achievement of a democratic regime at the national level in Switzerland can be dated with the Constitution of 1848.28 Before 1848, Switzerland was a decentralized confederation composed of sovereign can tons and lacking any central authority (save a token federal assembly), and the formation of a democratic regime in Switzerland was closely linked to issues of state-building. At the height of the "old regime," during the seventeenth and eighteenth centu ries, the cantonal political systems were usually characterized by some type of competitive oligarchic government whereby a small group of elites competed in elections with restricted suffrage. The first attempt to transform this system came from Napoleo n Bonaparte, who, after invading and occupying Switzerland in 1798, approved the Mediation Act in 1803. This Act expanded the number of cantons from thirteen to nineteen and permitted representative government based on near manhood suffrage in the six ne w cantons. The removal of the French by the allied forces in 1813, however, brought on the abrogation of the Mediation Act and the question of a new constitution emerged. Initially, through the Federal Pact of 1815, the Restoration re-established the de centralized and oligarchic institutions of the old regime.

The transition from the Restoration system to a democratic regime took place at both the cantonal and federal level. At the cantonal level, the opposition to democracy was quite limited, with only a narrow stratum of society which benefited from the Restoration opposed to democratization (e.g., guild masters and patricians). The logic of democratization was support mobilization as both liberals and conservatives considered an extension of the suffrage to be a means to mobilize support against one another, as well as against the traditional beneficiaries of the Restoration system. In 1830, the fall of Charles X in France spurred liberals (with significant peasant support) to make a strong push for democratization. By the following year, they had triumphed in the twelve most important cantons, where the franchise was extended to all citizens who were propertied or held a certificate of higher education. At the federal level, the achievement of democracy grew out of a conflict between liberals, who favored a secular federal state, and conservatives, who favored maintaining a decentralized republic in which the Catholic church held a central place. This conflict gave rise to the Sonderbund civil war of 1847 in which the conservative cantons were handily defeated. The victorious liberals were then able to consolidate a national state through the Constitution of 1848, incorporating into the document their long-standing goal of representative government and male suffrage at the federal level.

Denmark. In Denmark, democratization was pushed forward by an essentially bourgeois-rural coalition that demanded the replacement of an absolute monarchy with a constitutional republic governed by the people.29 In 1834, Frederick IV established four consultative provincial assemblies. Members of the assemblies were voted into power by an electorate that included "owners of city property, rural estates, and small farms, including tenants with seven acres of land; the lo west rural and urban classes were excluded."30 While the assemblies had no formal law-making power, the King was required to consult them on ordinary legislation, and their existence spurred on a broader democratic reform movem ent among urban liberals (merchants, provincial leaders, and students) and their peasant allies within the assemblies.

The final step of democratization was launched with the ascendancy of Christian VIII in December 1839, who upheld a monarchy but promised significant reforms. This change in the throne with its suggestion of political transformation galvanized opposition groups, leading them to join together as the Friends of the Peasant Association in 1841 and step-up their demands for popular government. These pressures reached a peak in 1847, when Christian VIII finally yielded and directed the preparation of a constitution. This task was completed under Frederick VII in 1848, when a parliamentary democracy was established through the June Constitution.31

Chile. Competitive elections were held in Chile as early as 1830, although democracy was restricted by property and literacy requirements, the absence of the secret vote, and the subordination of the legislature to the executive.32 Over the next several decades, the legislature gradually pushed through reforms that weakened the power of the chief executive. At the same time, career civil servants becam e increasingly autonomous within the state. Conservative landed elites were threatened by their growing power, as they were liberal in persuasion and intended to upset traditional inegalitarian relations in the countryside by curbing Church privileges. The gradual ascension of the legislature vis-a-vis the executive, however, gave the Conservatives an electoral forum from which to challenge this group.

The final step in the transition to a democratic regime, the passage of the 1874 suffrage extension, was based on electoral support mobilization. Ironically, the reform legislation was sponsored by conservative landed elites in parliament who targeted the middle rural classes for electoral mobilization and aimed to establish control of the state. According to Valenzuela, with the increased power of government bureaucrats, "Conservatives soon realized that they had no choice but to push for an expanded and freer suffrage if they were ever to succeed in capturing the state." In contrast, the more progressive Chilean officials who controlled the state "resisted attempts to expand suffrage . . . they fully realized that in a predominately rural society with traditional landlord-peasant ties, the Conservatives would overwhelm their opponents at the polls."33 In short, as Valenzuela concludes, "Chile extended the suffrage gradually, less in response to pressures from below than as a consequence of elite strategies to maximize electoral gain in the absence of alternative and less peaceful strategies."34

Electoral Support Mobilization

In a second pattern, the enfranchisement of the working class can be understood as a strategy of political entrepreneurship to mobilize a larger support base in a context of political competition. Here democratization was an elite project, and the working class was the recipient rather than the initiator of democracy. Incumbents extended the suffrage to the working class much less in response to lower class pressures than in response to political needs as they jockeyed for electoral support and attempted to gain or maintain political power. In sharp contrast to the notion that the working class leads the process of democratization, labor in these cases was divided over how to respond to elite political mobilization. A significant segment of the working class was opposed to political incorporation under elite tutelage, viewing the status of junior partner in an electoral coalition as contrary to the interests of the working class.

This pattern characterized the "final step" of the democratization processes in England, Italy, and Uruguay. The leaders who carried out the reforms -- Disraeli and Gladstone in England, Giolitti in Italy, and Batlle in Uruguay -- calculated that a suffrage extension would play into their party's hands in the electoral arena, and that it would help them with their personal political agenda. The particular agenda of the leader varied greatly across the cases, ranging from competitive constituency building of Disraeli and Gladstone, to Giolitti's Africa venture and cooptive goals, to Batlle's model country, but for all three it was a fairly well-specified political program. Labor leaders from England, Italy, and Uruguay were by no means universally blind to these moves from above. Rather, in each case, some leaders spoke out against political inclusion, arguing precisely that it was electoral support mobilization geared toward elite politicians' interests.

England. "The British case is so singular in so many ways, both in terms of the antecedents of democracy and the process of democratization, that it is virtually impossible to decide which factor(s) was (were) the most important on the basis of co mparative analysis."35 Indeed, given the exceptionally incremental nature of the process in England, there is much scholarly controversy about the point at which England crossed the threshold of "democracy," as well as about th e interpretation of the politics of reform. If the suffrage criterion is the enfranchisement of much of the working class or a mass electorate, one can argue that those conditions were met, respectively, in the Reform Acts of 1867 and 1884, which are com monly understood as a process of competitive support mobilization of Conservatives and Liberals. It is important to note, however, that some analysts see these reforms in part as a co-optive reaction to the Chartist and other working-class movements. Fu rthermore, some analysts do not place democracy until the introduction of full manhood suffrage in 1918.36

Although the democratization process in England has its beginnings much earlier (e.g., the Reform Act of 1832 and even before), the Reform Acts of 1867 and 1884 were explicitly directed at incorporating the lower classes. The 1867 Act enfranchised roughly two-thirds of the male working-class population and made the working class the majority of the electorate in the country at large.37 While primarily directed at the countryside, the suffrage extension embodied in the 1884 Act further extended the working-class vote to the point that a large majority of male workers were enfranchised.38

The Reform Act of 1867 must be understood above all in terms of the political competition between Liberal and Conservative parties. The 1832 Reform Act had extended the vote to the middle classes, so that prior to the 1867 reform the working class was largely disenfranchised. The political motive of the 1867 Act's chief sponsor, Conservative leader Disraeli, was to pre-empt the Liberal Gladstone (who had long pushed for a suffrage extension), thus threatening to mobilize a new constituency and put an end to the Liberal majority. Disraeli, in other words, thought this constituency was available for mobilization by the Conservative party. The extent of the suffrage increase in the reform bill called for by Disraeli went far beyond anything that Gladstone had ever proposed. Disraeli calculated that existing clientelist structures would safeguard traditionally Conservative areas, and that the overall effect would be to enfranchise a class that tended to vote Conservative, thus having the same effect as the Conservative-sponsored 1832 Reform Act which incorporated the middle classes.39 According to Himmelfarb, Tories widely held "the belief that the lower classes were not only naturally conservative in temperament but also naturally conservative in politics. . . . The Tories were democratic, one might say, because they assumed the demos was Tory." 40 Gladstone himself observed that Conservatives often fared best in areas with majority working-class constituencies.41 Indeed, only seven years after the enactment of the Reform Bill, Conservatives scored their first clear-cut electoral victory in thirty-three years, with the working class often voting Tory.42

Although a few observers have suggested that the working class played some role in the Reform Act of 1867, especially through the Reform League in the aftermath of the Hyde Park demonstration on 6 May 1867,43 the actual contribution of labor appears to have been extremely limited. In the first place, the effects of the Hyde Park demonstration and other scattered protests apparently did not figure prominently into the calculations of Disraeli and other leading politicians. D. G. Wright, who is often quite cautious in his conclusions, straight-forwardly summarizes the impact of societal mobilization on Disraeli as follows: "He was little influenced by the riots and demonstrations of 1866 and certainly did not suggest a Reform Bill in response to them."44 Even more important are studies which point out that the Hyde Park demonstration was primarily about the right to assembly rather than the right to vote, and, with the virtual death of Chartism by the 1850s, that the working class and labor leaders were in general indifferent to political reform.45 In fact, Conservatives often tacitly supported such demonstrations, believing that publicly displayed resistance would frighten voters and would be advantageous for their party. Indeed, Liberals and labor leaders within the Reform League itself often agreed with this assessment, and thus advocated a more passive role on the part of the working class.46 The general apathy of the working class toward the democratization question thus can be interpreted as the mirror image of the Conservative strategy, or as Himmelfarb concludes, the Conservatives were "willi ng to enfranchise the working class because they had nothing to lose and everything to gain by such a policy."47

In similar fashion, the next Reform Act of 1884 was also carried out to mobilize electoral support, but this time it had Liberal leader Gladstone as its chief sponsor. Workers had made their electoral participation felt by helping to bring about a Conservative victory in 1874, and, although the 1871-75 period was probably the only time in which most working-class voters supported the Tories, a substantial minority continued to vote Conservative throughout the 19th century.48 Disraeli's use of a suffrage extension to bring his Conservative party to power and win a base of working-class supporters offered a model for Gladstone. Just as Disraeli had cut into a natural Liberal constituency, Gladstone saw a suffrage extension to rural workers as a means to increase the Liberals' support base and draw support from a potential Tory sector. Wright summarizes this as follows, "The principle of democracy having been admitted in 1867, the Act of 1884 owed even more to cold political calculation. Liberals had long realized the need to broaden the basis of their support in the countryside, especially since the appearance of new suburban Toryism."49 In this way, then, England's two political parties carried out back-to-back suffrage extensions as part of a competitive gambit in order to draw support from a constituency normally associated more closely with the opposition.

Unlike Denmark and Sweden, where, as we shall see, enfranchised workers subsequently supported the further extension of the franchise, the English working class played little direct role in the Reform Act of 1884. The working class was subordinate within the Liberal party coalition and generally apathetic to the party's proposals for political reform. For example, Hunt notes that at the time of the passage of the Act, "the political ambitions of [the unions] were largely restricted to trade union affairs and were pursued through the existing parties with little thought of independent working-class representation. Indeed, some unions were anxious to give the impression that they avoided political controversy of almost any kind."50 Although one can point to specific working-class leaders such as Joseph Chamberlain who strongly supported the 1884 Act, there are also cases in which working-class representatives spoke out against the reform. Just before the passage of the Act, for instance, one section of the Socialist party contended "that parliamentary action was useless as a means of improving the workers' conditions."51 Hence, even after the working class was largely enfranchised, it by no means universally favored a further extension to the countryside and can hardly be said to be a champion of democracy more generally.

Italy. The 1913 transition to democracy in Italy grew out of Giolitti's attempt to broaden the base of his liberal coalition and achieve parliamentary consensus as he pursued expansionist policies abroad. Giolitti vastly extended the suffrage to include nearly all of the working class and peasantry with the hope that the Italian masses would provide patriotic support for himself, his liberal coalition, and his plan to make Italy a major world power. However, a significant part of the labor movement, which was closely linked with the Socialist party, recognized the conservative, system-supporting nature of Giolitti's suffrage extension. As a consequence, the labor movement was deeply divided over the merits of Giolitti's reform from above, with many labor leaders strongly opposed to the reform.

Like England, the final step of democratization in Italy followed a lengthy series of previous reforms. One can say that democratization began with the development of the Risorgimento system (1859-1870) when the vote was granted to literate males who paid at least eight dollars in direct taxation (which amounted to less than 2 percent of the population in 1870).52 The next step occurred following the "parliamentary revolution" of 1876, after which liberals dominated Italian politics under the Trasformismo system for the next two decades. At its core, Trasformismo was a system of political clientelism based on the formation of ad hoc parliamentary groups who used patronage and fraudulent elections to ensure electoral success. Nevertheless, in this context of electoral corruption, the Trasformismo liberals were sufficiently committed to enlightenment ideals that they extended the franchise to all literate males over twenty-one through the Reform Act of 1882. The working class did not champion this reform: following the Paris Commune it became strongly influenced by Bakunist anarchism and, adopting a revolutionary rather than reformist line, it attempted two insurrections in 1874 and 1877. The more reformist socialist party was not formed until 1892.53 Although the broadened suffrage was thus the project of liberals, eventually it was viewed as too strongly favoring the Italian Socialists and anarchists, who were gaining considerable organizational strength in the last decades of the 19th century, and thus threatening the liberal's political hegemony. In 1884, Crispi's government revised the electoral register, disenfranchising some 874,000 voters, a move adopted in part "for the repression of anarchism."54

It was the final step of this process -- Giolitti's reforms of 1912, which established universal suffrage55 and laid the basis for the democratic elections of 1913 and 1919 -- that involved support mobilization. Part of Giolitti's political strategy was to build as large a support base for the liberals as possible, and to that end he attempted to co-opt reformist elements in the Socialist party and the working class more generally. Giolitti believed that the Socialists and labor leagues could be brought into the liberal coalition as subordinate partners rather than having to rely on state repression to control these groups. According to Webster, "He strove to bring into the ministerial system all the outsiders who could bring votes and influence with them: radicals, republicans, socialists, and Catholics of varying provenance. . . . Only anarchists and syndicalists were permanently frozen out -- they explicitly advocated violence."56 By bringing new groups into the coalition, "the liberal parliamentary oligarchy would go on governing Italy. It would simply assimilate its opponents, co-opting one group after another . . . ."57

The specific timing of the 1912 reforms was tied to drawing support for upcoming elections in the immediate aftermath of Giolitti's decision to carry out warfare in Africa. Prior to his decision to invade Libya in 1911, Giolitti had already faced substantial opposition from the far right, which encouraged him to engage in a much more ambitious war of conquest. The Libyan adventure was now certain to draw criticism from the left, yet still without mollifying the right, thus potentially leaving Giolitti and his liberals isolated for the elections of 1913. Facing cross pressures from the right and left, Giolitti extended the suffrage as a means to mobilize the electoral support of Italy's previously disenfranchised sectors, including the working class.

The labor movement, which was at this time dominated by the Socialist party, was divided over how to respond to a suffrage extension initiated by Giolitti. Socialist leaders widely recognized that Giolitti's motives "had a double purpose: to temper, if not actually to tame, the revolutionary tendencies of [the Socialists], and to assure himself the necessary Socialist votes to maintain his parliamentary majorities."58 The famous debate between the Socialists Gaetano Salvemini and Filippo Turati over Giolitti's potential electoral reform illustrates this division even among reformist Socialists. Salvemini held that universal suffrage must be won by the people, rather than bestowed from above by Giolitti, to which Turati replied: "I would accept it not only from Giolitti, but, if necessary, from the Pope himself."59 While Turati's resolution was initially approved, he "was to confess in 1911 that Salvemini's prediction in regard to universal suffrage as a mere grant from above was on its way to realization."60 Soon after Giolitti's reform the merits of political democracy were again being questioned within the Socialist party, with revolutionary syndicalism re-emerging as the dominant strand. At this point, Benito Mussolini's opinion that Giolitti's grant of universal suffrage "was merely the oxygen pump administered to the dying parliamentary regime in order to prolong its life a while, but it could not be the instrument for the complete emancipation of the proletariat" gained wide currency within the labor movement.61

Uruguay. We tentatively date Uruguayan democracy in the 1910s. From available sources, it is difficult to assess the prior period in terms of the accountability of the indirectly elected president, the effective power of the legislature, and the restrictions on the size of the electorate. In 1893 and 1898 reforms increased the suffrage, improved registration procedures, and changed the electoral law.62 The electoral reforms of 1915 and the Constitution of 1919 remove d the remaining literacy requirement to the suffrage, introduced the secret ballot, and, according to González, brought Uruguay to the point of democracy.63 If we use the earlier reforms to mark the date of democracy, Uruguay must be considered a case of pre-labor democratization. With the later date, Uruguay is characterized by electoral support mobilization, with little labor role.

The 1915 electoral law was sponsored by José Batlle and his legislative allies in the Colorado party. On the one hand, Batlle's motivation for electoral reform was grounded in his basic political philosophy: genuine democracy represented an important component of his vision of a future Uruguay as embodied in his "model country" program.64 On the other hand, the extension of the suffrage must be seen as part of Batlle's long-term effort to increase working-class voter turnout in order to mobilize support for his Colorado party. Based on his championing of worker rights and progressive labor legislation, Batlle believed that the Colorado party would be an obvious electoral choice for the working class. In promoting an electoral reform that enfranchised illiterate workers and encouraging workers to vote, he sought to mobilize the working-class vote for the 1916 Constitutional Assembly elections and provide a lasting future support base for the Colorado party.

Working-class demands were not part of the politics of this final step of democratization. Indeed, workers were not particularly oriented to electoral politics as a vehicle for achieving their collective ends. During Batlle's presidency, worker demands centered on economic rather than political issues and were expressed primarily through strikes rather than the vote. Anarchism was still quite influential within the labor movement, and workers were often encouraged not to take part in electoral politics -- a proscription they appear to have largely followed. Subsequent developments underscore the way in which the democratization process was the result of a project from above. Because of the radical stance of workers, Batlle's attempt to mobilize their vote was unsuccessful. The failure of the working class to turn out in support of Battle contributed to his reform proposals being voted down in the 1916 Constituent Assembly elections. Recognizing that the secret ballot had led to an inability to ensure electoral obedience and thus played into the hands of political opponents, Battle supporters in the legislature reversed themselves and now rallied against the 1915 electoral reform, reinstating the earlier legislation. In part as a result of a new electoral law which put an end to the secret ballot and full manhood suffrage, Battle forces won a solid victory in the January 1917 legislative elections.65

Even as the Colorado party maintained the upper hand in the legislature, Blancos still held a majority in the Constituent Assembly. Ironically, it was now leaders from the National (or Blanco) party that championed the introduction of the 1915 legislation into the Constitution. The minority position of the Colorados forced them to compromise and accept a Constitution with the electoral provisions embodied in the 1915 reform. The Constitution was drafted and approved by plebiscite in 1917 and put into effect in 1919.66 Thus, in Uruguay, the particular political party that favored democratic reforms shifted from the Colorados to the Blancos, as it was discovered that the latter stood to benefit in the electoral arena from such reforms.

Middle-Sector Democratization

In contrast to the first two patterns, in which democracy was primarily the result of the strategic considerations of those in power, the transition to democracy in this pattern must be understood in terms of the petitions and demands of still excluded groups. In cases that follow this pattern, democratization was largely a product of the efforts of middle-sector groups, which explicitly demanded and led the struggle for a competitive and inclusive regime. Political reform was thus brought about as a defensive response to middle-sector pressures for inclusion, which, in taking the form of democracy, also included the working class.

The relationship of the working class to middle-sector democratic movements varied across the cases. The Argentine working class, largely espousing anarchist ideologies, was skeptical about the merits of "bourgeois democracy." In Spain, the working class was divided with one current similarly influenced by anarchism and much of the socialist current allied with the authoritarian regime until the final moment of the transition to democracy. Only in France did the working class play a strong pro-democratic role.

France. Since the establishment of universal suffrage in the aftermath of the French Revolution, the process of democratization in France subsequently followed several reversals and new initiatives. Although the French Revolution occurred before the appearance of a significant working class, that historical experience meant that the working class would develop as a class-conscious actor that played a central role in the subsequent ebbs and flows of democratization. We consider here two periods of democratic innovation: the establishment of the Second Republic in 1848 and the democratic constitution in 1875 (followed by elections in 1876 and 1877).67

Though the working class was very small, it played a critical role in the establishment of democracy under the Second Republic. Manhood suffrage was first established for the constituent assembly elections of April 1848 and reaffirmed in the constitution that it promulgated. This democracy lasted only for the presidential elections of December 1848 and the parliamentary elections of May 1849, after which the good showing of the democratic-socialist alliance led conservatives to roll back the suffrage and fostered rightist support for Napoleon's coup of December 1851.

The context of this democratization was the Republican challenge to the monarchists. The Republican movement consisted of a broad range of middle-sector groups that championed representative government and an extension of the suffrage. The class-conscious workers largely supported the Republican movement and also put a number of working-class issues on the agenda. The 1847 campaign for broadening the suffrage was radicalized in the beginning of 1848, culminating in the February insurrection. The Republicans, who seized power and set up a provisional government, were socially conservative. "Popular pressures nevertheless forced the government to introduce measures which, in the context of the period, were radical." These included manhood suffrage and a number of social reforms of particular interest to the working class, such as a reduced working day and "national workshops as part of a guaranteed right to work."68

This first experiment with manhood suffrage rapidly led to polarization. The April 1848 elections created a constituent assembly "that was dominated by Conservatives, whether Republican or Monarchist."69 The assembly replaced the provisional government with a conservative executive commission, arousing the suspicion and dissatisfaction of the workers. When the government limited access to the national workshops, the working class responded with a second insurrection in June. Though the insurrection was defeated, it left a legacy of polarization and antagonism. Fearing continued working-class revolt and anarchy, conservatives carried out increasing levels of repression over the next two years.70 In 1850, France reverted to a restricted democracy when conservatives introduced a new electoral law that disenfranchised 2.8 million men, mostly workers, including 62% of the electorate in Paris and 40-51% in other relatively industrialized areas.71

Although the working class had a key role in the above events, it is important to note that the overall position of the working class belies easy generalizations. As Aminzade points out regarding the suffrage reforms of 1848, "Industrialization strengthened the political role of workers and bourgeois, but the former did not express an inevitable inclination for democracy, nor did the latter display a uniform preference for liberalism....wage laborers experienced a diversity of work settings and embraced a variety of political ideologies, including the authoritarian populism of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte."72 Indeed, there was little working-class resistance to the coup of 1851, and some in the working class did in fact welcome Napoleon's rule.73 Nevertheless, one can say that the working class played an important role in 1848 re-extension of the franchise.

The transition to democracy in 1877 was also led by middle sectors with some working-class support, though not as prominently as in 1848. This final transition to democracy had as its historical backdrop the authoritarian regime of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte (1851-1870). Under Napoleon, elections with manhood suffrage were regularly held, but most forms of political contestation and organization were limited by law or harshly repressed in practice. Thus, unlike most pre-democratic regimes of the first wave, this regime was non-democratic because it lacked basic contestation rights, rather than broad political inclusion. In the 1860s, due to economic hard times and a series of diplomatic setbacks, Napoleon liberalized the regime as a means of mobilizing domestic support.74 The revival of Republican and working class opposition may have also contributed to his decision to liberalize in order to gain popularity. 75 Although this move was conservative in its intentions and by no means brought France to the point of a democracy, it did serve to open up some political space for domestic opposition and helped trigger renewed calls for the formation of a republican government. This political opposition formed the basis for the Republican movement which would champion the struggle for democracy in the 1870s.

The key event that brought about the fall of the old regime was France's defeat in the Franco-Prussian war and Napoleon's capture at Sedan, which created a political vacuum in Paris. Two crucial events followed. First, the Third Republic was established in September 1870 with a provisional leadership (ironically often monarchical elites). National Assembly elections were scheduled for February 1871, the elected members of which were then given a mandate to determine the form of a new national political regime within a four year period. Second, the conservative results of the February elections triggered a major working-class uprising and the attempt by the Commune to orchestrate a revolutionary seizure of power. In May 1871, Versailles troops successfully pacified the Commune, killing some 20,000 people in a one week period.76

Against this background, the successful establishment of a democratic constitution in 1875 can be understood in terms of both divisions within the governing monarchical elites and the efforts of the Republican movement. The former represented nearly two-thirds of the members elected to the National Assembly in 1871.77 Though they opposed a democratic republic, divisions primarily between the Legitimist and Orleanist factions over who should be named king led to political stalemate and an inability to restore a monarchy, which played into the hands of the Republicans. In January 1875, as the Assembly's mandate was coming to an end, and in the context of pressures from Republican forces and mounting rumors of a military coup, the Wallon amendment was passed (by the margin of one vote) which paved the way for the three laws that made up the Third Republic's constitution of 1875 and laid the basis for the democratic parliamentary elections of 1876 and 1877.

The real push for a democracy, of course, came from the Republicans. In this regard, it is essential to recognize that by 1871 the middle class-led Republican movement was "a broad national coalition of capitalists, petty producers, and peasants."78 Although the Republicans sometimes collaborated with the working class, this was merely a tactical alliance, and labor was not an important element in the Republican coalition.79 For its part, the working class did not consistently support the Republican cause. As Elwitt writes, "Many among the dispersed working class found radical democracy attractive. Others saw in Napoleon III's social projects equal promise for the future."80

Argentina. In Argentina, the transition to democracy was accomplished with the electoral reform of 1912 (the Sáenz Peńa law) which established manhood suffrage, the secret ballot, prohibitions against fraudulent electoral practices, and compulsory voting. This reform replaced a highly restrictive political system established in the 19th century: from the 1880s until the 1912 transition, the Argentine political system was dominated by an exclusive circle of conservative oligarchs who controlled the country's only major political party, openly rigged elections, and generally made decisions through informal agreements. Although elections were held during this time, political power was essentially derived from socioeconomic status.81

The push to change this exclusionary system came from the politically moderate Radical Civic Union (UCR), which was composed of middle-sector groups with only marginal working-class support.82 From the 1890s until the passage of the 1912 reform law, the Radicals persistently called for free elections, having democracy as their goal. During this time, they attempted to seize power coercively, orchestrating two failed coups against conservative power holders and threatening a revolution. In contrast to the constant demands for political inclusion by the middle sectors, the labor movement, organized into Socialist, Anarchist, and Syndicalist parties, was generally ambivalent about or even hostile to democracy, often viewing it as a means of elite cooptation. Although during the early 20th century significant labor protest did occur, it was centered around class-based issues rather than political concerns. Further, by 1910, severe repression and restrictions had served to marginalize organized labor and limit its capacity to mobilize (after this time the Syndicalists emerged as the leading working-class party). Thus, at the time of the electoral reform, labor was on the defensive and was in a poor position to pressure elites for political reform.83

The conservative elites who promoted the reform of 1912 did so in reaction to the demands of the emergent middle sectors. Yet, they did so also with the understanding that the political status quo would be maintained and reinforced. "Despite its apparently democratic implications," Peter Smith writes, "the [electoral reform] was clearly meant to strengthen and perpetuate the prevailing oligarchic system."84 Smith describes the general feeling among conservative power holders as follows:

Whereas power had previously been parceled out to competing factions within the landed aristocracy, it would now be shared between the aristocracy and rising middle-class groups (to the virtual exclusion of the lower classes). . . . There would be no class warfare: disagreements under the new system ought to be muted, controlled, undemagogic, settled gracefully by "gentlemen." And the retention of Conservative majorities would ensure that the socioeconomic elite would continue to run the political system. All the rules would stay intact. 85

David Rock further points out that while Sáenz Peńa (the reform bill's sponsor) believed that the Radicals might succeed in taking power through a revolt, they would not be able to win an election. Thus, the overall effect of the legislation would be to undercut the revolutionary tendencies of the UCR.86 To the extent that one can say the working class played a role in the reform bill, it is because conservatives viewed the working class as providing a possible future support base for the middle-class Radicals -- not because of any explicit demands for democracy by the working class. In fact, it was believed that the 1912 reform would divide the middle and lower classes and in the process pacify both groups. In short, the establishment of democracy in Argentina was in part a response to middle-class pressures, and was carried out from above by elites who believed that a franchise extension would not threaten their hold on power.

Spain. The Spanish transition to a democratic regime in 1931 is the clearest example of middle-sector opposition driving forward the democratization process against the will of regime incumbents. In this case, middle-sector groups -- under the banner of a democratic republican movement -- directly forced a defensive extrication on the part of the Primo military dictatorship and prevented a subsequent stabilization of a new non-democratic order by monarchist forces. Spain is also a clear instance in which the labor movement played little positive role in the democratization process. The Socialist party (PSOE), which was strongly linked to the labor movement through the Workers' General Union (UGT), collaborated with Primo's government and was not a part of the democratic opposition until after the middle-class republicans had already largely succeeded in their efforts. In addition, workers not affiliated with the Socialists often embraced anarcho-syndicalism and thus were indifferent to the struggle for "bourgeois" democracy.

Although the 1931 transition was an abrupt shift from an authoritarian regime to a democratic regime, the roots of this transition rest with a much longer historical process of democratization.87 The achievement of a weak parliamentary monarchy in 1833, followed by the Constitution of 1837 which extended the vote to wealthy male individuals, can be seen as the first steps in this process. The next major advance came with the September 1868 officers' revolt that led to establishment of the First Republic (1868-1874) and the adoption of a constitution based on universal suffrage and broad individual liberties and rights the following year. Although the First Republic embraced democratic principles, we do not consider it to be a democratic regime due to the fact that rural oligarchs continued to openly rig elections and suppress association to such an extent that the democratic principles of the Republic were abandoned in practice.88 The failure of the Republic brought about a political reversal under the Restoration regime (1875-1923). During the Restoration, parliamentary elections were regularly held, based on an electorate that was restricted by tax and residence requirements until 1890. The goal of mobilizing middle-class support motivated the liberal reforms of 1890, including the reintroduction of manhood suffrage without qualifications.89 Despite the achievement of manhood suffrage in 1890, this regime cannot be considered democratic. Under the Restoration, national elections were carried out through an arrangement known as the Turno, in which Spain's two main political parties -- the Liberals and Conservatives -- simply alternated in power at each election. Furthermore, elections and voting were so thoroughly controlled by local political bosses (caciques) that electoral contests were negotiated before elections, with the press often publishing the results before polls were opened.90

The coup of Primo de Rivera in September 1923 put an end to this long tradition of semi-competitive and competitive politics in Spain. Of the first wave cases considered in this paper, the Primo dictatorship most closely resembles the pre-democratic regimes typically found in the third wave cases: a military regime based on alliance between top generals and technocratic sectors oriented toward economic growth (though Primo also drew support from the crown, which, of course, was not characteristic of the third wave). Hence, the transition to democracy here involved a more rapid regime change (i.e., from a full-blown authoritarian regime to democratic one) than is usually true for cases of the first wave.

At the time of 1923 coup, the bulk of the labor movement was divided between the socialists of the PSOE and the anarchists of the Anarcho-Syndicalist Union (CNT). The latter was founded in 1911, after the violent repression of the semana trájica of 1909, which had the effect of radicalizing the working class and favoring the "apolitical," anarchist faction.91 Neither the socialist nor anarchis t faction constituted a pro-democratic opposition during the dictatorship. The anarchists were committed to revolution, often favoring terrorist tactics, and rejected political democracy; under Primo this group would bear the brunt of the state's repress ive activities.92 The socialists, by contrast, initially accepted and collaborated with the military government, forming an important pillar of support for Primo as he stabilized his rule.93 They had been passive in the face of the 1923 coup, and, once in power, Primo quickly succeeded in co-opting both the PSOE and the UGT. While some PSOE leaders were leery of working with Primo, the majority adopted a collaborationist stance, best represented by Julian Besteiro. Besteiro felt that collaboration with the regime would strengthen the Socialist party, and that it was the role of the bourgeoisie, not the working class, to establish political democracy.94 Taken together, as Carr notes, repression against the anarchists and the acceptance of the dictatorship by the PSOE can explain why the working class was "so docile" during the Primo years.95

It follows that democratic opposition to the Primo dictatorship had to come from outside of the labor movement. The first important opposition came from traditional politicians and intellectuals. In mid-1920s, it blossomed into a full-blown republican movement with a support base among the middle sectors. By 1928, this opposition movement, along with simultaneous discontent within the army toward Primo's leadership, helped to discredit Primo and destabilize the regime. In January 1929, Primo, facing widespread societal opposition, resigned in disgrace.96 In the subsequent events leading up to the establishment of a democratic regime, the middle-sector Republican movement maintained its leading role, preventing the creation of a new non-democratic regime by monarchis t elites and pushing the king to permit democratic municipal elections in April 1931. During this time, the PSOE was a somewhat reluctant democratic organization, joining the Republican forces at the last moment before the April elections. Thus, althoug h the Socialists emerged as one of the main beneficiaries of democracy after the 1931 elections, they had little role in actually producing the democratic regime itself.

Joint Project

The last pattern is the only one in which the working class can be said to have played an initiating role. These are cases in which the working class had already been partially enfranchised and labor-affiliated parties managed to extend the franchise to the point of full manhood or universal suffrage. In Sweden and Denmark, manhood suffrage had already been achieved in one house of bicameral systems, so that the working classes, through the social democratic party, were able to use existing democratic institutions to pursue the goal of achieving political incorporation in both legislative houses. In Norway, the suffrage had been extended to include a part of the working class which used its electoral clout to help carry out the final extension of the suffrage. Even in these three cases, however, one must bear in mind that the final step of democratization was not the result of solely working class efforts. On their own, the social democrats could not pass these measures, which in the end depended on the acquiescence of other groups and political elites. In all three democratizations, the elite groups or political parties that collaborated in the final reforms did so with the belief that they would remain in power.

Although these are cases of transition through a joint project, in which both elite and labor projects were central to the democratization process, the balance between the importance of working-class demands and social democratic pressure on the one hand and elite calculations or strategies on the other varied among the three cases. The importance of labor and the social democrats was greatest in Sweden, where their protests posed the threat of social revolution and came closest to forcing the hand of elite actors. This role was least in Norway, where the working class was still quite small, not fully incorporated into either house of parliament, and thus unable to take advantage of existing democratic institutions to the same extent as its counterparts in the other two cases. The balance was somewhere in between in Denmark, where social democrats used their dominant position in the lower house to push forward democratic reforms in a divided upper house.

Norway. The establishment of a democratic regime in Norway occurred in the period from 1814 to 1898. The main reforms that constituted the democratization process can be understood in terms of the dynamics of party competition and electoral mobil ization, with the working class playing some role in the final step of democratization.

In 1814, Norway, ceded to Sweden by Denmark, gained political autonomy in all but external affairs and adopted a constitution which provided for an indirectly elected parliament (Storting) and a suffrage that enfranchised about 45 percent of adult males, the most liberal in Europe.97 Despite the establishment of a parliament, in practice government at this time was dominated by the Swedish king, who retained the right to dissolve parliament at will, and a central administrative elite.98 In the 1860s, an opposition movement against "the regime of the officials,"99 and in favor of parliamentary sovereignty vis-a-vis the king, came together. Based on a weak and fractious coalition of rural populists and liberal urban middle sectors, the movement found temporary unity in its anti-oligarchic, anti-Swedish position. The 1884 reforms took place within this context of political struggle, which led to "unprecedented mobilization of new voters on each side."100

Despite some efforts, the Left opposition, as it became known, was at first only marginally successful at mobilizing the working class, which was quite small and neither organized nor very politicized. From their side, the workers took little initiative in demanding political reform. The first worker associations were not formed until the 1870s, and these were mostly charitable or philanthropic, and were led by other classes. "At most, they served to ventilate the question of extending the franchise."101 By the end of the 1870s, however, the left was able to win a majority in the Storting, and in 1881 proposed an extension of the suffrage, but an income qualification that was almost twice as high in urban as rural areas was included in the reform. According to Derry, wealthy farmers "would have offered bitter opposition to any more extensive change, and their attitude was not challenged by any vociferous demand among the unenfranchised."102

With the left and the right finally organized into the Venstre and Conservative parties respectively, a new reform was passed in 1884 as a result of fierce struggle that almost erupted into civil war and finally culminated in impeachment proceedings against the King's Council. The new law not only established parliamentary sovereignty, but expanded the franchise, increasing the number of urban voters by 49 percent. This extension of the suffrage, which included many workers and employees, has been interpreted in terms of the Venstre's need for working-class votes.103

The final step in the democratization project occurred in 1898 with the introduction of manhood suffrage (with minor qualifications), followed in 1905 by the achievement of independence from Sweden and the adoption of direct elections to the Storting. The working class played some role in these developments, beginning to find an independent, pro-democratic voice with the creation of the Labor Party in 1887, though in the first several years the party met with little worker receptivity. An indispensable factor, however, was the political strategy of the Venstre. Almost immediately after the 1884 reform, the coalition that made up the party, always divided by rural-urban and religious cleavages, fell apart, and the moderate wing left to form a new party.104 Having difficulty in maintaining control over parliament, the weakened Venstre championed two issues to rebuild electoral support following the party split. The first was the nationalist issue, concerning the demand for autonomy in external relations, which remained at the forefront of Norwegian politics and even gained added immediacy within the Venstre at this time as Norway moved to become a major sea power and trading economy.105 The second was the issue of manhood suffrage, which in turn was also expected to "add weight to nationalist demands."106

The 1898 reform can be seen as a joint project, with Venstre electoral and political-economic strategy interacting with working-class preferences for an extended franchise. The working-class vote was potentially available to the Venstre as a way to attract support both for the party in elections and for the nationalist cause: even as the party was breaking apart, the working class increasingly offered its support, eventually forming an alliance with a branch of urban radicals. At the same time, the still tiny Labor Party (which won no seats and fewer than 1000 votes, or 0.6%, in 1897107) supported full manhood suffrage. In presenting an alternative for additional defections from the Venstre, it thereby defined a basis on which the Venstre would have to compete for workers' votes. In the end, then, manhood suffrage was established in 1898 as a result of the combination of Venstre strategy supported by labor demands for an extended franchise.

Denmark. In Denmark, as we saw, pressures for a constitutional democracy were led by a coalition of urban liberals and peasants in the mid-1830s, culminating in the July constitution of 1848 which established manhood suffrage. From 1848 to 1864, the National Liberal Party of the urban middle sectors dominated Danish politics in alliance with the peasant-oriented Venstre. In 1866, a democratic setback occurred when the franchise was restricted for the Landsting (the upper chamber of the bicameral system), although in the lower house (the Folketing) the suffrage requirements were unchanged. The context for this reversal was the defeat in the Dano-Prussian War of 1864, for which Liberals were held accountable, although rural-urban cleavages had gradually weakened the governing coalition even before this event.108

In the closing three decades of the 19th century, two issues became important to reformers: the appointment of ministers from the majority party in the lower, democratic chamber rather than the upper, now non-democratic chamber, as was the practice; and the restoration of full suffrage for elections to the upper house. The reform movement gathered strength with the change in the party system that reflected the creation and growth of the working class and pro-reform parties to the left of the Venstre. One may recall that because the suffrage requirements for the Folketing were unchanged from 1848, "the Danish working class was born largely enfranchised."109 Yet the incipient working class overwhelmingly voted for the urban-based Right in the Folketing until the 1880s.110 In the 1870s, workers' organizations were formed, including the Social Democratic Party; and after the mid-1890s the Social Democrats began to play "a critical role in realigning urban workers from the right to the left," shifting their support from Conservatives to urban liberals as well as Social Democrats, both of which championed the restoration of manhood suffrage in the Landsting.111 The political realignment of the working class was reflected in the party system. In the 1890s, an urban radical wing within the Venstre gained strength, and a coalition was formed between the "Reform Venstre" and the Social Democrats, with the Social Democrats the subordinate partner. In 1901, with the Social Democrats winning 19% of the vote and Conservatives winning just 8 seats out of 102, the King was forced to permit the formation of the first Venstre government. Ministerial responsibility to the Folketing was thus secured.

The suffrage reform for the upper house occurred in 1915, after the political realignment took a further step. In 1905, the Venstre, moving to the political center, split, producing a pro-reform coalition between the new Radical Venstre and the Social Democrats. By 1913, this coalition enjoyed new success, with the Social Democrats becoming the leading party in terms of popular votes and the allied Radicals forming the government. In 1914 the Conservatives lost their Landsting majority to the Venstre, which offered little resistance to reform of the upper chamber, since a suffrage extension stood to broaden its constituency among the rural poor. The following year, a constitutional amendment introduced universal suffrage (male and female) for both chambers. The democratic transition in Denmark can thus be seen as the outcome of goals of both the growing Social Democratic Party, with its working-class constituency, and the Radical Venstre, with a base among urban intellectuals, middle class progressives and rural smallholders, as well as the electoral strategy of the increasingly conservative Venstre.

Sweden. Swedish democratization closely followed the first wave logic of gradual regime reform, as the franchise was extended through a series of Reforms Acts in 1866, 1909, and 1918 in a manner similar to England.112 A lthough labor played no role in the initial Reform Act of 1866, one can make a case for a significant labor role in the Reform Act of 1909, and its role was clearly decisive in the final step of 1918. Indeed, of all the first wave cases considered in the paper, the strongest case to be made for the labor-driven origins of democracy is Sweden.

The Parliament Reform of 1866 replaced the long-standing four-estates system with a bicameral parliamentary system, but established only limited suffrage. The First Chamber was indirectly elected by taxpayers according to taxable income, with wealthy individuals granted as many as 5000 votes. Property qualifications restricted the electorate for the Second Chamber.113 The Reform Act was directed primarily at the incipient urban bourgeoisie and the middle peasantry, which were now incorporated into the Second Chamber, and was enacted before the historical appearance of a significant Swedish working class. Although the reform was sponsored by a moderate liberal, Louis de Geer, opposition to the bill was not very great, and the legislation "is best viewed as a shrewd conservative accommodation" that would not change the existing socio-economic order, and that indeed initially changed very little in terms of the composition of the Riksdag.114 In fact, for many conservatives, "control of one house out of two was in some ways better than one Estate out of four."115

The reform of 1907/9 116 represented what has been called "a great compromise."117 In the 1890s the suffrage became a major issue, pushed especially by the creation of suffrage associations, two "Peopl es' Parliaments," and the Liberal and Social Democratic parties, whose lower-middle and working-class constituencies, respectively, were excluded by the suffrage restrictions. Though they disagreed over tactics, with the Liberals rejecting the use of the political strike favored by the Social Democrats, the two parties cooperated on the suffrage issue. Popular pressure and labor agitation thus played an important role in the passage of this legislation. In 1902, for example, the Social Democrats and t he trade unions organized a successful general strike explicitly over the direction of suffrage reform. For its part, the Liberal party was making headway in the Second Chamber, and repeatedly, though unsuccessfully, introduced measures for political re form. In 1905, the Liberals edged out the Conservatives in the lower chamber as the Social Democrats also started to gain seats, and for the first time a Liberal prime minister formed a government. Yet, although the Liberals had favored manhood suffrage , they did not succeed in this effort: Karl Staaff and his Liberal governments failed in the attempt to pass a reform for the lower house in 1906.

The reform of 1907/9 was finally passed by a Conservative government, both responding to opposition pressure and pursuing its own strategy. Karl Lindman and his Conservative Ministry that took office a year after the Liberals' 1906 failure saw an opportunity to pass a political reform on its own terms. The conservative reform represented an accommodation that conceded manhood suffrage in the lower chamber while it also contained several measures that guaranteed ongoing Conservative power, such as proportional representation, and multiple votes and tax-payers' suffrage in the upper house. At the same time, the combination of reforms fashioned in the compromise dealt a major blow to the Liberals, who in this decade remained the other major party, weakening particularly the dominant reformist wing and breaking up their alliance with the Social Democrats, who, unlike their erstwhile partners, rejected the reform.118

The Third Reform of Parliament in 1918 was the definitive breakthrough, establishing universal suffrage without major qualifications in both Chambers.119 Like the 1909 reform, the 1918 legislation was the result of the coincidence of interests of various groups, although worker demonstrations were even more central in this final step of democratization. In 1917, Liberals and Social Democrats again formed a coalition in the Second Chamber and the following year put forward a bill to extend the suffrage. The bill, however, was defeated in the First Chamber. It was only after the economic crisis of 1918 and ensuing worker protests for democracy led by the Social Democrats that the Reform Act was passed. Indeed, in November 1918, labor protests reached such a point as to be perceived as a revolutionary threat by Sweden's Conservative party and upper classes. In this very month, Conservative leaders renounced their opposition to a fully democratic regime for fear that Sweden might follow the revolutionary examples of Russia, Germany, and Austria-Hungary.120 Yet, as Verner emphasizes, the Right capitulated in 1918 only once it was "satisfied that the power it was transferring would not be fully exercised." In fact, he points out, "The formal transfer of power, as implied by the reforms, was not immediately followed by important changes in policy. . . . The Social Democrats, despite having been the largest party in the Second Chamber since 1915 and part of the 1917 coalition, were unable to form a strong Socialist Government until 1932." Nevertheless, the 1918 reform is the strongest example of a working-class role in the first wave of democratization.

A Further Note on First Wave Comparisons

As is evident from the above, the date used to signal the achievement of democracy is tricky to establish consistently across cases yet may affect the assessment of labor's role in democratization. Five cases have been especially problematic in this regard. It should be emphasized that in two of them (Sweden, Denmark), alternative dates would have put the transition earlier, and one of them (Denmark) would no longer be classified in the category that describes a significant labor contribution ("joint project"). Uruguay, as mentioned, would also be reclassified (from "electoral support mobilization" to "pre-labor democratization"), but this change would not affect our assessment of labor's role. The alternative dates for the remaining two countries are later. In Chile, the literacy requirement was removed in 1970, so that with this date Chile could not be included among the first wave cases. In England, the alternative date is 1918, when a Liberal government removed the final restrictions on full manhood suffrage. With this date, England would be reclassified as a "joint project."

In sharp contrast to those analyses which see democratization as a product of working class pressures, or at least problematize the role of the working class in demanding democracy, most of the literature specifically on the third wave emphasizes elite strategic choice, downplaying or ignoring the role of labor in democratization. The "transitions literature," as this current work on the third wave has come to be known, has as its best representative the essay by O'Donnell and Schmitter, which established a framework that is implicitly or explicitly followed in most other contributions. Without denying differences and subtleties, one could say that certain emphases within O'Donnell and Schmitter's essay have been selected and elaborated by other authors so that it is possible to aggregate various contributions and in broad strokes map out a basic characterization and set of claims in this literature as a whole.

Aside from cases in which the authoritarian regime is said to suffer an internal collapse or breakdown, the transitions literature has tended to conceive of the democratization process in terms of three stages. The first stage is marked by an internal split among authoritarian incumbents, who divide into factions over questions of how to achieve legitimization and the general problem of how to consolidate the authoritarian regime.121 In a second step, a liberalization process is initiated by incumbents, occurring at the point when the relevant faction proposing such a solution to the legitimatization-consolidation problem gains the upper hand in the regime. While this liberalization process is understood to be a lessening or lightening of repression, and not an actual project for democracy, it puts the regime on a kind of slippery slope, starting a process which opens up some space for the opposition and for a dynamic which pushes political change further than the incumbents had originally intended. The final stage, then, is seen as an elite strategic game in which authoritarian incumbents "negotiate" or "bargain" formally or informally with opposition leaders. In this game of interacting strategies, mass action (including labor protest) is generally considered only insofar as it affects the strategic resources available to the actors who actually play the elite bargaining game.122

At the risk of caricaturing unfairly, four related points about the transition literature can be made. First, born under the imperative of possibilism and an escape from what seemed like an over-determined structuralism that had pessimistic implications for democracy, this literature has often emphasized the role of leadership and crafting, thus signaling the importance of individuals, rather than collective actors. Articulating a perspective that has been generally accepted, O'Donnell and Schmitter argue that transitions are periods of high indeterminacy, characterized by the distinctive importance of individual choice and leadership talent.123 In their view, "elite dispositions, calculations, and pacts . . . largely determine whether or not an opening [to democracy] will occur at all," and claim that "the catalyst" for any ensuing social mobilization "comes first from gestures by exemplary individuals, who begin testing the boundaries of behavior initially imposed by the incumbent regime."124 The essay of Giuseppe Di Palma likewise argues that "democratization is ultimately a matter of political crafting," and urges scholars to focus on the role of "innovative political action" in their analyses.125 In another volume, explicitly on elites and democracy, Burton, Gunther, and Higley write that, "in the final analysis . . . a central conclusion of these studies is the great responsibility of national elites for achieving, or failing to achieve, the degree of consensus and unity necessary for the establishment and consolidation of democracy."126

Second, actors tend to be defined strategically with respect to the position they adopt in the "transition game," thus sidelining questions about class-defined actors. One crucial implication of such a strategic understanding of actors is that the categories of analysis have changed. Whereas the first wave has typically been analyzed in terms of class-based actors, in analyses of the third wave the old categories of upper class and lower class, or bourgeoisie and working class, have tended to be replaced by incumbents and opposition, hard-liners and maximalists, or soft-liners and moderates. There is an apparent logic here, which we have alluded to above: prior to the democratic transitions of the first wave, the lower classes were politically excluded, whereas in cases of the third wave all classes were excluded. Thus, first wave democratization seems like a class issue and was finally "about" admitting the excluded lower classes into an ongoing political game, whereas third wave democratization seems not to be a class issue but rather a transition that was "about" changing the regime so that all could participate. Nevertheless, we will argue that the inference that the labor role was unimportant or merely secondary is misleading.

Third, despite an emphasis on formal or informal "negotiations" between government and opposition, the transition literature has tended to be state-centric, thus leaving little room for societal actors. This can be seen in the typologies of "modes of transition" found in the literature. Beginning with Juan Linz's distinction between transition by reforma and transition by ruptura 127, scholars have often classified transitions either as initiated and to some degree controlled by i ncumbents or as a result of a regime collapse (usually unspecified or at least underanalyzed and rarely connected to societal mobilization). While other scholars have introduced additional intermediate types, the transitions continue to be seen in terms of the degree to which the rules of the authoritarian incumbents are followed,128 or in terms of the degree to which the incumbents must "negotiate" the content of the transition.129 Huntington is one of the few who use a typology with a category that explicitly includes a role for the opposition that is non-residual, making room for the possibility that the opposition may initiate the transition.130 Similarly, the typology developed by Terry Karl explicitly points to the role of mass actors.131

Finally in much of the literature the analysis begins only with the set of rule changes that ultimately lead to a democratic regime.132 Even within this framework, greater emphasis has often been placed on the closing end-game, a time horizon that reinforces the above perspectives on state and elites actors. The analogy with the emergence of bureaucratic-authoritarian regimes may be illustrative.133 From a s imilar perspective the rise of these military regimes would be seen in terms of the decisions made by particular groups of officers, of coup plotters, or, on the other hand, in terms of the "negative" role of the civilian leadership and its inability to " craft" or exercise effective leadership. Indeed, to some extent the Linz-Stepan volume on democratic breakdowns adopts such a perspective134 at the expense of arguments that point to the role of political stalemate, political p olarization, and, more generally, the role of collective actors.135 This emphasis on the end-game of the transition, then, necessarily points to the role of leaders, the crucial actions of incumbents, and their strategies, at t he same time that it begs the question of the role of other actors in producing the situation and dynamics in which these final steps are carried out.

In short, it would seem that the analytical approach generally taken in the transitions literature cannot easily address the question posed in this paper. Like all analytical approaches, these strategic choice models privilege some facets of reality over others, and thus are well-suited to address certain questions and not others. These frameworks are not very useful for present purposes since their basic theoretical assumptions and orienting concepts preclude the problematization of the labor question in the first place. Precisely because the labor question has not been given much direct attention, primary research on this topic still needs to be carried out. In the analysis that follows we have, of course, had to rely on existing secondary accounts and therefore offer the following analysis tentatively as preliminary interpretations.

The cases of third wave democratization examined below indicate that labor has been a principle force for democratization. Its role is not adequately characterized as a "background" or "environmental" variable that serves to condition the "real" game of strategic choice among incumbents and opposition leaders. Nor can it be understood merely as one component or "layer" of a resurrected civil society moving into the interstices of political space opened by incumbents and following the lead of many other groups. Rather, labor has played an important, if not always decisive, role in most of our third wave cases, and this role extends to various stages in the transition process.

In addressing the role of labor, it is important to remember that although labor was not the main beneficiary of third wave democratization, as it often was in the first wave, in many ways it was the main victim of the authoritarian regime, a principle raison d'ętre of which was to address the "problem" of massive labor mobilization and remove labor from the political arena. Furthermore, economic policy under many of these authoritarian regimes turned decidedly and often dramatically against the working class, producing a backlog of economic as well as political grievances. In this way, third wave democratization does raise a class issue even though under the prior regime the working class was not singled out for political exclusion, which, in fact, was universalized. Hence, third wave transitions may be studied in terms similar to those employed for the first wave: the opposition role of labor and the project from above.

Just as we saw different patterns in the first wave cases, the role of labor was not the same across the third wave. The role of labor may be divided into two phases: 1) its contribution to the delegitimation and destabilization of the authoritarian regime and hence its role in "provoking" the transition; and 2) the oppositional role of labor during the transition process itself. With respect to the first, the case analyses indicate that in some but not all countries the legitimization and consolidation problems of third wave authoritarian regimes were preceded and at least partially caused by explicit opposition from society, which demanded a response from authoritarian incumbents.136 Regarding the second phase, labor's opposition role also varied: sometimes it played a leading role, coordinating and galvanizing the anti-authoritarian opposition; in other cases it played less of a leading role, but nevertheless was important in affecting the pace and rhythm of the transition and providing a more leftist democratic alternative.

With regard to the role of incumbent actors in the transition, it is useful to distinguish among three alternatives. At one extreme are cases in which incumbents failed to pursue any explicit and autonomous project from above, thus playing an essentially "negative" role of retreating from former positions and bargaining for the terms of their withdrawal in the democratization process. In these cases, the elite role was merely one of defensively extricating themselves from power once the regime was destabilized. At the other extreme, incumbents carried out explicitly stated projects that defined a context, set of procedures, and timetable for the establishment of democracy. Such projects were largely initiated autonomously by incumbents and implemented to conclusion, at which point democracy was achieved. In the middle are cases in which the project of incumbents was less-e xplicit or well-defined, though there may have been some notion of future goals and some piecemeal moves in a democratizing direction. In these intermediate cases, ad hoc steps were taken that could be said to constitute vague projects from above, but th ese were ultimately aborted as incumbents lost control over the transition process.

The analysis of the third wave cases will proceed, then, in terms of explicating the labor role and the way it interacted with the incumbent project. These two dimensions are empirically related in the cases under consideration, yielding three patterns of third wave democratization (see Table 3).

Table 3: Patterns of Third Wave Democratization*

	Destabilization and Extrication	Transition Game	Parallel Tracks
Elite Project in Processes of Democratization	No Project, Defensive Exit	Project Derailed; Negociated Exit	Explicit Project and Timetable; Planned Exit
Labor Role in Process of Democratization	Destabilizes Authoritarian Regime; Triggers Transition	Important Opposition Actor; Advances Trans ition and Expands Contestation	Early on Leads and Coordinates Democratic Opposition; Possible Role in Triggering Elite Project
Cases	Spain 1977 Peru 1980 Argentina 1983	Uruguay 1984 Brazil 1985	Chile 1990

*As indicated in the text, Portugal (1976) is a hybrid case.

Before turning to an examination of the third wave cases, it is important to be explicit about our conception of the transition. While at a minimum a democratic regime did not appear until classical elections were held, the emphasis in the analysis will be on an earlier point when authoritarian incumbents took decisive action to step down and yield to a relatively free electoral regime. What we have in mind is a proximate, concrete decision to relinquish power in a relatively short period of time, such as the decision to elect a constituent assembly or to hold relatively free elections, thus ceding power to democratically elected leaders.137 The emphasis on the decision to exit often places the focus of analysis on a point prior to the negotiations and decisions about the final details of the new regime, a later point that figures prominently in some analyses. Except in Portugal, none of the authoritarian incumbents was overthrown, and we are more interested in why the decision was taken to step down in favor of a democratic regime than in how the final end-game was played out. The present emphasis is thus on the decision to introduce a new democratic regime, rather than the particular features of the new democracy and the way they were established. For the first wave, we were not concerned, for instance, with the way a social democratic party may have conceded, or been too weak to prevent, the introduction of PR that preserved conservative power in the face of a democratized suffrage. Similarly for the third wave, we are not here concerned with such things as the distribution of power and the substance of negotiations once the decision to hold elections had been definitively made. For both waves, these are important issues in themselves and may furthermore have had an impact on subsequent political dynamics and democratic consolidation. Nevertheless, they do not fall within the purview of the present analysis.

Destabilization and Extrication

In one pattern of third wave democratization, characterizing Peru, Argentina, and Spain, massive labor protests destabilized authoritarianism and opened the way for the establishment of democracy. In these cases, the working class was the initial and most important anti-authoritarian actor, leading an offensive in the form of strikes and protests against the regime. Regime incumbents were unable to ignore such working-class opposition or formulate a response to these challenges from below. In each case, then, the regime was destabilized and incumbents made the decision to relinquish power, clearly pursuing a defensive extrication, in which the goal was ultimately to step down, salvaging whatever terms they could. These terms varied, with the Peruvian and particularly the Argentine incumbents coming away with much less then the Spanish civilian incumbents, who were capable of transforming themselves into a democratic actor. In Peru, labor protest propelled the regime into crisis, and the government then moved quickly to announce elections for a constituent assembly which would assume direction for the transition. In Argentina, the government first tried to respond to labor protest by forestalling the crisis and invading the Malvinas in an appeal to nationalist sentiment. When that failed, the government quickly called for the elections that marked the regime transition. In Spain, labor protest produced a severe challenge to the regime even before the death of Franco and undermined the initial responses of Juan Carlos and Arias after Franco's death. Suárez then came to power and within four months built a consensus around a mechanism and timetable for replacing the authoritarian regime.

Peru. Peru's recent experiment with democracy beginning in 1980 (and ending in 1992) represented the first Latin American transition of the third wave. The role of labor in Peru was essential to undermining authoritarianism and can be pinpointed directly with a single major general strike that convinced military leaders that they could not maintain a climate of stability and forced them to call for a return to civilian rule.

Unlike most third wave cases analyzed in this paper, the authoritarian regime in Peru did not initially engage in the systematic repression of labor. Rather, during the first phase (1968-1975) of military rule under the leadership of General Velasco, Peruvian authoritarianism had a distinctly "populist" character in which increased organization of labor was permitted.138 In his attempt to carry out a major reform agenda, Velasco appears to have viewed the Communist-led General Confederation of Peruvian Workers (CGTP) as an important constituency to be mobilized against landed and industrial elites. At the same time, however, the Velasco government moved to establish corporatist structures that placed state agencies in charge of workers' organizations and the management of labor-capital disputes. In this regard, the military government aimed to moderate radical elements and undermine the strength of independent parties within the labor movement.139

The initial reaction of the Peruvian Communist Party (PCP) and CGTP to Velasco was one of guarded support for his reform efforts. While offering support, the PCP-CGTP nonetheless "called for `an authentic, popular nationalist and democratic government,' which the military regime was not yet thought to constitute."140 By 1973, a conjuncture of factors -- the onset of a severe economic downturn, increasing attempts to replace the CGTP with the state-controlled Central Organization of the Peruvian Revolution (CTRP) union, and Velasco's becoming gravely ill -- all combined to move the rank and file into a position of increased opposition.141 This year witnessed a substantial increase in strikes (roughly double the average for the previous five years)142 which had the effect of bringing on a more general climate of instability. This context of instability, in turn, facilitated the fall of the Velasco government in August 1975, ushering General Morales Bermúdez to power and the second phase of Peruvian authoritarianism.

Under the Morales Bermúdez government, state-labor relations quickly became antagonistic and in short order led to the emergence of labor as a major anti-authoritarian actor. The new administration represented a sharp reversal away from the populism of the first phase, adopting anti-labor policies and carrying out repression against labor more characteristic of other third wave authoritarian regimes.143 After a brief period of recovery, the working class responded to this new brand of authoritarianism with a series of mobilizations in the second half of 1976, including important strikes by fishermen, municipal workers, and telepostal workers.144 These strikes symbolized the labor movement's new posture of direct and confrontational opposition against the authoritarian regime.

The single most important event in triggering the Peruvian democratic transition of 1980 was the dramatic and highly successful general strike of 19 July 1977 (the first in Peru since 1919 and the largest strike in the country's history).145 This strike united nearly all trade union bodies, and completely paralyzed industrial activity in Lima. In addition to workplace concerns, the demands of the strike included a call for basic democratic freedoms.146 According to Henry Dietz, "The 1977 strike carried the unmistakable message that attempts by the military to slow or avoid a transfer of power to civilians would result in only greater turmoil that would further undermine the military's already weak credibility."147 The all-out general strike is a clear-cut example of the working class taking the lead in the anti-authoritarian opposition, as other societal actors for the most part began to mobilize in the opposition only after this working-class initiative (joining with labor to form a fractious coalition known as the "popular movement"). Indeed, in the aftermath of the strike, members from the traditional political parties and economic elite used the presence of working-class mobilization to argue that a return to democracy was necessary to restore political order and economic growth.148

As a result of the July general strike, "Morales Bermúdez was obliged to announce a timetable for a return to civilian rule."149 In August, the government lifted a state of emergency and announced that Constituent Assembly elections would be held in June 1978. Until the assembly elections of June 1978, strikes and popular mobilization continued, reaching a peak with a second highly successful general strike in May 1978. With the June elections, the military government had effectively extricated itself, as the transition was under way and responsibility for its conduct rested with the constituent assembly. At this point, mobilization declined "because the assembly marked an important step in the military's road back to the barracks -- the one aim which united the fragile coalition of groups which made up the 'popular movement'"150 -- and the political parties took center stage. In July 1979, all citizens over 18 years of age were enfranchised, and the elections that followed in May 1980 marked the completion of the transition to democracy.

Argentina. It is generally argued that the 1983 return to democracy in Argentina stemmed directly from the defeat of the Argentine military in the Falkland Islands/Malvinas War. According to this view, the disastrous failure of the ruling generals "precipitated the sudden collapse of the regime and thus led to a new democratic transition in 1983."151 While it is certainly the case that the democratic transition followed regime collapse in the aftermath of military defeat, such a characterization ignores the factors that brought on the military excursion in the first place. Adequate research on this topic is lacking; however, there are two points at which labor may be said to have played an important role. First, labor protest contributed to a division within the military between hard-liners and soft-liners, a division which, according to many analysts, the decision to invade the Malvinas was in turn intended to overcome.152 In a second argument, which has been made alongside the first, some analysts have suggested that labor protest was directly responsible for the decision of leading generals to initiate the Malvinas invasion. Either way, like the prior military regime (1966- 1973), there is evidence that this one a decade later was destabilized by labor protest.

Since the 1940s, when Perón came to power on the shoulders of working-class support, the labor question had been at the very core of Argentine politics, and it certainly remained central in 1976, when the military intervened to overthrow the first Peronist government it had allowed to come to power in the intervening three decades. Massive worker demonstrations and strikes occurred throughout the Peronist government from 1973-1976, and, as Epstein points out, the inauguration of military rule was a response to this worker activism: "the image of a weak government at the mercy of the trade unions . . . convinced the military of the need to act politically to end what to them was an unacceptable situation."153 The importance of the labor question could be seen in the fact that a new labor law was under active consideration by the military government within a month of the March coup. Despite the clear centrality of this issue, most transition analysts have, as G. Munck points out, largely missed these dynamics, though, as he adds, a few have stressed that "the military regime in Argentina always feared the possibility of a social explosion led by the workers."154

The labor issue was directly connected to the economic model adopted by the new government headed by General Videla:155 based on ecoomic liberalization and free markets, the model constituted an assault on unions that was ultimately embodied in the new labor law. An alternative approach, taken by a military faction centered around the allies of General Viola, invoked an older pattern of state-labor relations worked out under the previous military regimes, in which labor moderation could be bought with some concessions regarding a still limited but more positive role for unions, rather than an all-out attack. Within six months of the coup, as the first guidelines of the labor law project were unveiled, this faction found one wing of the labor movement willing to enter a dialogue over this possibility. By March 1977, the Commission of 25 was formed to unite union leaders opposed to the Videla government, and a year later those sections of the union movement willing to cooperate with the military coalesced around the National Labor Commission (CNT). Thus, though factions within the military formed along various lines, the major cleavage that was to emerge cannot be understood apart from the historic and ongoing position of labor in Argentine politics.

Despite incipient factionalism, military unity was maintained through the initial years of the "dirty war," a period of hard-line policies of political repression and economic policy. The weakness and ineffectiveness of any soft-line faction was seen in the two documents published at the end of 1979: a political document and a labor law, both of which, quite pointedly, failed to produce any project for liberalization or opening. Indeed, the labor law has been described as completing the unprecedented onslaught against labor.156

During the next two years, the labor movement constituted a significant pro-democratic opposition and became an important factor in bringing to the surface the embryonic factions within the military. Despite government repression, the trade-union movement had remained active after the coup and quickly initiated a series of a series of "defensive strikes" designed to prevent government assaults on strategic labor sectors.157 In the context of the consideration of the new labor law, the "25" had organized, on April 27, 1979, the first general strike under the military dictatorship.158 At this stage, striker demands centered primarily on wage policy, rather than on political demands related to the form of the regime itself. Hence, the strike raised the issue of the government's ability to keep labor in line, but it did not yet mark the emergence of labor as an anti-authoritarian or pro-democratic force. In the event, the strike was forcefully crushed. The anticipation of the labor law spurred labor unity with the formation of the CUTA in September; and in reaction to the published law, the CUTA immediately undertook overtly oppositional activities on a number of fronts: it announced a plan of action to fight the new law through "national plebiscites" in the work place; it initiated contact with political parties, labor lawyers, and the ILO; and it undertook organizational work, developing regional labor groupings. At the same time, labor activity increased at the level of individual unions. In this way, labor was clearly out in front in mobilizing opposition and attempting to coordinate other social sectors, at the same time that the political parties rejected the initiative and business groups were divided.159 It should be remembered that this increase in oppositional activity in response to the labor law was a result not of a policy of liberalization, for the very labor law was indication that the hard-line faction remained dominant, but rather of what G. Munck has referred to as the declining despotic power of the state, as the dirty war unleashed against the left and labor wound down.160

Open divisions within the ruling authoritarian regime emerged in this context of labor protest as well as economic deterioration. The incipient cleavage within the government became more concrete under the impact of financial crisis, economic recession, a big increase in rank-and-file labor protest, and an impending presidential succession. The fragile labor unity having collapsed, one labor faction, the CNT, was willing to enter a dialogue with the Viola military faction, which favored a retreat from the hard-line economic model and a certain normalization of unions; the other labor faction, now organized as the CGT, "displayed growing boldness, worked to develop thicker organizational networks through contact with various actors within society, and made direct calls for a change in labor policy and of the regime itself."161

In this context, the presidential succession of the soft-liner General Viola in March 1981 became the focus for ideologically based antagonisms among top officers. In the short time he was president, Viola backed away from the regime's previous hard-line economic and political policies--adopting a more pragmatic economic approach and entering into talks with political party and conciliatory union leaders.162 Yet the failure of Viola's promise of conciliation and dialogue, once he became president, drove more cautious, moderate social sectors, the CNT as well as parties, into positions of overt opposition, where they came to join the CGT, which had remained heavily engaged in organizing opposition and protest. In July the CGT mounted another general strike, and under CGT leadership, the opposition fostered an intractable climate of instability and a sense that "civil society was getting out of control" so that opposition to Viola grew even within his own branch of the military.163 On November 7, the CGT called another mass mobilization, and two days later Viola was forced to resign.

Viola's ouster exposed deep divisions within the regime that had compromised the military's institutional control of government. With the defeat of the soft-liners, the new president, General Galtieri, returned to a hard-line authoritarian stance. In the face of these ongoing divisions, Galtieri attempted to woo the support of the navy with the Malvinas invasion.164 The first argument, then, is that "diverse views on how to deal with society produced internal divisions within the Armed Forces."165 Labor's pro-democratic opposition and protest led to the destabilization of the authoritarian regime by reinforcing and intensifying these splits, which the disastrous military adventure was intended to repair.

A second argument suggests that labor protest was directly responsible for the decision of the generals to initiate the Malvinas invasion. As R. Munck put it, "the military adventure of the generals cannot be explained in purely 'military' terms . . . . It was the constant level of working-class resistance since 1976, which was moving from a defensive to an offensive phase by 1982, which alone explains [the] bizarre political gamble by the armed forces."166

The ouster of Viola marked the self-conscious return of the military regime to its "sources" and as such only provoked further opposition. The CGT took steps to coordinate joint action with the parties, now organized in the Multipartidaria. On 30 March 1982, the CGT, along with human rights groups and political parties, staged the largest demonstration since the 1976 coup. By this time, then, "the CGT's massive demonstrations were threatening the stability of the government and appeared to have pushed the military rulers to take a desperate step. . . ."167 In order to shore up support in the face of this oppositional offensive, Galtieri resorted to igniting a long-standing nationalist cause behind which he hope to rally the country: the issue of British control of off-shore islands. Only three days later, on April 2, the Argentine armed forces initiated the Malvinas invasion. Though few are as explicit as R. Munck or G. Munck, many scholars acknowledge that this invasion had its origins in domestic politics related to regime destabilization. O'Donnell, for instance, sees it as an example of a regime "projecting [its] internal problems outward."168 Leading accounts by journalists and participant observers also trace the invasion directly to societal mobilization and increasing regime destabilization.169

In either interpretation, the invasion was a response to a regime already in trouble, and the pressure from at least one faction of the labor movement was, directly or at a step removed, a large part of the problem. The invasion was launched with an eye toward addressing either splits within the military that centered at least in part in Argentina's historic labor question or the challenge of accelerating popular mobilization in opposition to the authoritarian regime, mobilization in which the CGT played a crucial, initiating and coordinating role. Thus, the pro-democratic protest of labor played an important role in destabilizing the authoritarian regime, a role which is missed by focusing on regime collapse by military defeat. As O'Donnell and Schmitter have also recognized, "It is more accurate to interpret [the Malvinas invasion] as the result of an already tottering regime launching a fuite en avant than as a cause for the regime's having reached such an impasse."170

The military gamble, of course, failed. Not only did Argentina lose the ensuing war against Britain, but it accelerated rather than stemmed the destabilization or implosion of the regime. Nor did the invasion defuse labor protest. Though the labor movement supported the military campaign itself, it remained active in opposition to the regime throughout the war. By mid-June 1982, with the clear-cut loss in the war and ongoing massive mobilization, the discredited military quickly moved to extricate itself and announced that general elections would be held in October 1983 on the basis of the 1853 Constitution. Although the interim government of General Bignone attempted (and nearly succeeded) to play a larger role in negotiating the military's extrication than is generally recognized,171 the military did not intervene in the ensuing electoral campaign. The victory of a new president, Raúl Alfonsín, in these elections marked the completion of the democratization process.

Spain. According to most authors, Spain is a "prototypical case" of democratization from above.172 Indeed, the Spanish transition to democracy in 1977 is in many ways the case that inspired the elite-centered approach t o the analysis of contemporary democratization. It thus can be viewed as a critical test case for the present argument regarding the key role of labor in third wave democratization. The dominant interpretation of Spain sees the process of democratizatio n as beginning roughly with the death of Franco in November 1975 and the emergence of Juan Carlos as king the following year. According to this prevailing interpretation, in the uncertain environment that followed Franco's death, skilled elite leadership explains the crafting of a successful democratization. In particular, it was the ability of regime moderates--most notably Adolfo Suárez--to pursue democratic negotiations simultaneously with both the moderates from the "democratic opposition" and the continuistas of the Franco establishment that fostered a democratic regime.173 Further, the fact that Suárez pursued these negotiations and reforms in a rapid yet incremental fashion had the effect of garnering both s upport and momentum for democratization.

This interpretation misses the crucial role played by labor in the whole process of regime change. First, by the early 1970s, even before the death of Franco, labor pressures for an end to authoritarian rule had reached such a point that the regime was p ut in a deepening state of crisis. Second, the truly dramatic protests of labor served to undermine regime attempts to establish a system of "Francoism without Franco." Finally, once the regime was destabilized, elements of the labor movement helped define a more moderate opposition strategy that enabled Suárez to negotiate the final agreements leading up to the democratic elections of June 1977. As Maravall states:

popular pressure 'from below' played a crucial part in the transition, especially that coming from the workers' movement. It was a causal factor in the Francoist crisis, in the non-viability of any mere 'liberalization' policy, in the willingness on the part of the 'democratic right' to negotiate the transition and carry through reform up to the point of breaking with Francoism, and in the initiative displayed by the Left up to the 1977 elections.174

Although one could see the beginnings of labor discontent and the first episodes of working-class protests in the 1950s,175 it was the following decade of the 1960s that witnessed a huge increase in labor mobilization, eventually to the point where Spain had one of the highest per-capita strike rates in Europe. During this time, "strikes became a regular feature of Spanish life," even though illegal and punishable under the Penal Code.176 By the late 1960s, the Workers' Commissions (CCOO) -- an illegal trade union dominated by the Communist Party -- had established itself as the leading representative of the labor opposition. In October 1967, the CCOO led a demonstration in Madrid in which "more than 100,000 workers marched through the streets of the capital shouting 'free trade unions,' 'Franco no, democracy yes.'"177 The end of this decade also saw a shift in the strategy of the labor movement from protests for workplace demands to insurrectionary tactics aimed at toppling the regime. Communist Party and affiliated labor leaders began to discuss openly the possibility of a ruptura democrática (i.e., democratic rupture). This represented an important transformation, as many in the opposition now believed it was possible to overthrow the regime through a wor king-class insurrection.

In part as a consequence of ongoing labor protest and the labor strategy of ruptura, serious divisions emerged within the regime between soft-liners, who believed that the regime must be opened to survive, and hard-liners, who resisted any change . Hard-liners initially emerged dominant as Franco decided to pursue the long-term continuation of authoritarianism through the establishment of a future Francoist monarchy with Juan Carlos as king. The emergence of Carrero Blanco as de facto prime mini ster in October 1969 marked the first step in these preparations.

The emergence of Carrero Blanco also corresponded to the beginning of what would become a true regime crisis. During 1970, worker strikes occurred in dramatic proportions, totaling over 1,500 in number.178 At the same time, terrorist activities were on the rise. According to Carr and Fusi, "Carrero responded to these conflicts and challenges with tougher police measures. . . . The government had no political answer to this increasing level of conflict."179 Backed by this kind of protest, soft-liners became increasingly vocal in pressing for a change of policy. In late 1972 and early 1973, Franco and Carrero answered by giving speeches that suggested some type of political opening would be forthcoming.

Sustained labor protest in 1973 helped keep the regime on the defensive, searching for a new formula for stability. With the assassination of Carrero Blanco in December 1973, Franco chose to appoint a regime moderate, Carlos Arias Navarro, as the new Premier, apparently signaling a new strategy of political opening. Despite his frequent statements calling for regime liberalization, Arias actually accomplished very little in terms of democratization. Indeed, it seems that all along Arias's strategy was to establish some type of dictablanda, or softer dictatorship. Labor activism was crucial to preventing the stabilization of such a political system. Strikes increased dramatically under Arias, as 1974 witnessed the largest number in Spanish history. In 1975, the strike record was once again broken. In reaction to this labor protest, the hard-liners retrenched, favoring a severe crackdown on the protests and driving a deeper wedge in the regime. It was in this context that Franco fell ill. According to Carr and Fusi, "When the news of Franco's illness broke . . . everything seemed to show that the regime was in crisis. The government was floundering in a vain attempt to contain within the political system severe conflicts, knowing that if it failed to do so it was doomed; yet, paralyzed by fears of the bunker, it was unable to move."180

In the opening months of 1976, labor strikes and demonstrations once again reached new, unprecedented levels. Carr and Fusi assert that "the ministry remained impotent" when confronted with this labor offensive,181 in which an estimated 50 million hours were lost to strikes from January to March alone.182 In this context of regime destabilization, "the strategies of mere liberalization could have little chance of success."183 Labor protest in fact undermined the strategy of limited liberalization pursued by Arias. When he resigned in July, it had become clear that "if a catastrophic clash between the irresistible force of the left and the immovable object of the right was to be avoided, it was essential that rapid progress be made to the introduction of democracy."184

By the time Suárez became prime minister, then, the labor movement had done much both to destabilize the authoritarian regime and to reject any government attempt to respond in a way short of a democratic transition. It seemed quite clear that the government had to find some means of effecting a speedy transition to democracy. In about two months, Suárez did just that and got his cabinet to approve a transition project that committed the government to holding elections in less than year. In this development as well, the strategy of the labor movement was crucial. Even before Suárez came to power, the democratic opposition -- led by the Communist party, affiliated trade unions, and the Socialist party -- recognized that it could not directly overthrow the government and abandoned the strategy of ruptura democrática in favor of a ruptura pactada that envisioned a provisional government and a constituent Cortes to determine the successor regime.185 The reform project that Suárez proposed in October 1976 and that the Cortes passed in November paralleled this project, providing for the election of the latter, but rejecting the former.

The shift by labor from confrontation to negotiation has been identified as a major component of Suárez's ability to carry out a successful regime transition. Although in the final months of the transition, the labor and the left opposition lost power to the more moderate opposition, their role in bringing about and shaping the transition should not be underestimated. They had precipitated the transition, and in many ways the ruptura pactada strategy gave the transition its particular form. Indeed, it is interesting that Spain is one of the few cases in which discussions and negotiations took place between the government and left parties, including the Communist party, which was legalized in the course of the transition. Once Suárez had engineered a consensus behind the transition project, the rest followed according to the timetable adopted. In June 1977 free elections to a democratic Cortes were held, and the new constitution that was subsequently written provided the institutional st ructure of the new democracy.

Within a year of becoming prime minister, then, Suárez oversaw the transition to a democratically elected regime. It is the certainly the case that Suárez used the legal instruments of the Francoist system to bring about its liquidation and demonstrated impressive leadership skill in his ability to negotiate a broad consensus around the transition. Yet, to begin the story of Spanish democratization from this point and to emphasize continuity and skilled leadership is to focus on the final step of a much longer process and to miss the important role of labor and the degree to which it succeeded in destabilizing the authoritarian regime, forcing incumbents to undertake a rather speedy extrication.

Transition Game

The Uruguayan and Brazilian transitions seem to fit most closely the model of an elite strategic game. Two traits are particularly relevant from the present perspective. First, from the beginning the military sought some sort of legitimation through a chosen subset of politicians and electoral institutions -- an elected executive and/or legislature. In this sense, these were hybrid regimes, with at least some minimal recourse to a restricted electoral arena and some minimal space open for selected political parties, whether long-established (Uruguay)186 or newly formed under government guidance (Brazil). In these regimes legitimacy issues were present from the beginning, and military incum bents kept up a facade of civilian rule (primarily through a rubber-stamp legislature in Brazil and, at least initially, a figurehead president in Uruguay) and pursued legalistic maneuvering. Under these circumstances, the transitions were indeed charact erized by elite strategic games involving a quite protracted series of moves and countermoves and formal and informal negotiations among incumbents and party leaders. Secondly, in line with the standard model, labor protest seemed to constitute simply one "layer" of opposition, making its appearance relatively late in a larger process of civic activation and rejuvenation and following that of party leaders, who were the first ones on the scene since from the beginning they figured centrally in the government's project.

Nevertheless, this account understates the role of mass popular opposition in general and of labor in particular. With regard to the first, the democradura project adopted by both military governments was undermined by popular opposition expressed in the limited and controlled electoral arena that remained open: the 1980 plebiscite marked the first failure of the government project of Uruguay, and the opposition gains in the 1974 elections portended the failure of the government project in Brazil. Henceforth, both regimes were thrown on the defensive, with incumbents continually scrambling to alter their project and change the rules of the political game in the face of an opposition increasingly on the offensive. Given the pattern and target of repression, the space for social movements -- and particularly labor -- opened later. Nevertheless, once it emerged, the role of labor was forceful and dramatic, pushing the transition to conclusion. Furthermore, in both cases the activities of labor opposition worked to undermine government attempts to control and limit the party system and created room for the entry of a political left. This was particularly important in a context in which formal (Uruguay) or informal (Brazil) negotiations between government and the leaders of major parties could well have led to an agreement to exclude left parties. Indeed, in both cases the communist party remained banned. Nevertheless, in Brazil labor protest gave rise to a new socialist party based in the new union movement, and in Uruguay the reconsti tution of the labor movement and its protest activities provided a front for the banned Frente Amplio, its participation in various opposition fora, and finally its legalization and participation in the final negotiations, allowing the stalled transition to proceed.

Brazil. In Brazil, movement toward a democratic regime was initiated autonomously by the authoritarian incumbents.187 Initially, the military embarked on a democradura project in an attempt to legitimate its rule, first holding indirect presidential elections, then in 1965 moving to institutionalize a new two-party system, followed two years later by a new constitution. By 1968, with hard-line generals gaining political power, a more harshly repressive period was inaugurated, in response to opposition stemming both from leaders of what had been designated as a safe, controlled system of two officially recognized and approved parties188 and from popular mobilization, including the first labor strike and a guerrilla threat. In 1974, the military soft-liners once again gained the upper hand, and, during the presidency of General Geisel, reinstituted a democradura project and a period of "decompression." Thus, for ten years, political dynamics and rhythm followed the relative political fortunes of hard-liners and soft-liners within the military and the activities of leaders within the officially recognized parties in the limited legislative and electoral space that was allowed.

The decompression policy ushered in a period of political opening in which repression was eased and greater political criticism and opposition activity became possible. The immediate result, in the 1974 elections, was the unexpected success of the official opposition party and the government party's loss of the two-thirds majority necessary for amending the constitution. The 1976 municipal elections resulted in further opposition gains in urban areas. Within civil society, many groups opposed the government and began raising their voices in favor of a democratic transition. In the face of this failure to engineer a carefully controlled democradura and political opening that would favor the government party, congress was closed and the so-called April package of further manipulation of the electoral law was decreed in an attempt by Geisel to keep the democradura on track and prevent its derailment by either regime hard-liners or opposition forces.

It is at this point that the labor movement burst onto the political scene and the process of liberalization (or the lifting of certain authoritarian restrictions) was transformed into a process of democratization, in which the party system was opened and the electoral system was freed and which would culminate in the (indirect) election of a civilian president in 1985. It is difficult to determine how decisive the activities of the labor movement were in these developments given inroads already made by the opposition party and the activities of other groups in civil society. Nevertheless, we argue that it played an important role that fundamentally shaped the transition process.

Although not very visible since the 1968 strike, a new form of labor resistance began in the early 1970s. During this time, especially within the multinational automobile plants, workers carried out slow-downs and rapid in-factory strikes to protest wage and employment policies.189 By 1978, these underground actions crystallized into the new trade union movement. According to Keck, "'new unionism'...signaled the existence of massive, organized discontent with the regime, and it constituted powerful evidence that democratization was necessary to resolve the potential for social conflict.190 A new stage of labor activity began in 1977 with the wage recuperation campaign, which exposed and protested the manipulated cost-of-living figures the government had been using to index wages. Given this government role in setting wage policy and its duplicity in its use of the inflation index, this action clearly went beyond bread-and-butter issues and had direct political implications. The following year, the metal-workers' in-factory strike triggered a series of other strikes that eventually encompassed nearly one-quarter of a million workers over a nine-week period. By the end of 1978, over one-half million workers went out on strike.191 One of the largest strike waves in Brazilian history followed in 1979, involving the participation of over three million strikers in over one hundred strikes.192 This dramatic reemergence of the labor movement placed it at the forefront of a broad segment of social movements then emerging in opposition to the authoritarian regime.193

Although it was not the only group active in the opposition,194 after these strikes of the late 1970s the labor movement became a central political player. Though many of its actions began as worker demands, the protests quickly became more general and more overtly political. Initially factory based, the movement led by labor spread in two complementary directions. The first was beyond the union sector to the larger working-class neighborhoods and communities. From the 1978-9 strikes the workers galvanized a broader opposition, winning not only passive support but the active involvement of church groups and the larger community in providing material support. In turn, the labor movement came to move beyond an emphasis on shop-floor, wage, and industrial relations issues and to champion the demands and concerns of the lower classes more generally. In this way, though lawyers, human rights activists, intellectuals, some businessmen and so forth were already seeking a democratic transition, the labor movement identified itself with a very broad constituency and was important in building and leading a more united mass opposition movement against government.195 In addition, in the wake of the strikes labor leaders became important national political figures articulating broad political demands.196

Hence, labor played an important autonomous role in the Brazilian transition. It not only provided a resource for the strategic moves of traditional party leaders, but it expanded the political game beyond the purview of elites, organizing a mass opposition movement and providing a constant source of pressure on the government (seen in a relatively high level of strikes that was sustained even through the harder line and increased repression of 1980-81 and the deep recession of 1982-83). With the government caught on the defensive and scrambling to divide the opposition after its two-party democradura project was derailed, the labor movement further frustrated the government's attempt to exorcise the left by organizing an avowedly socialist Workers' Party. This party served as an "instrument of struggle for the conquest of political power," an overtly political strategy predicated on the demand for and attainment of a democratic regime.197 Thus, the role of labor had spread from the unionized sector not only to the broader social movement but also to a political organization. By 1983, labor mobilization culminated in a strike of over three million workers and, the following year, in worker participation in a massive campaign for direct presidential elections. Though the campaign was not successful in its immediate goals, it did contribute to deepening the succession crisis faced by the regime and to forcing the government to allow an opposition victory in the Electoral College whose delegates were designated to chose the next president in 1985.198

Uruguay. Unlike the other Latin American countries of the third wave, Uruguay's authoritarian regime did not have its origin in a military coup, but rather in the two-sided process of the erosion of democracy199 and the gradual take-over by a military gaining increasing autonomy as it conducted an "internal war" against urban guerrillas. This onset gave rise to a military-dominated regime that continued to seek electoral legitimation and the collaboration of political parties. As in Brazil, the Uruguayan military committed itself to regularly scheduled elections and developed projects to outline and mold a new regime. At the same time, the labor movement was an important pro-democratic actor in the transition process, emerging as the first real anti-authoritarian force and subsequently playing an important part in the events leading up to the installation of a democratic regime in 1985.

In the gradual coup that unfolded in the years prior to 1973, the military increasingly held de facto power behind a civilian facade. It has been suggested that even the 1971 elections were held at the pleasure of the military, which sought new electoral legitimation.200 In 1973 the "coup" was completed, when the military closed parliament and dissolved political parties. Even then, however, the military's continued orientation toward legitimation through the traditional parties 201 (excluding the left) could be seen: the elected president was retained in office, a commitment to holding the elections scheduled for 1976 was reiterated, and a Council of State made up of members of the traditional political parties was nominated to replace the legislature. In 1976 the tattered remains of the electoral facade were swept away with the postponement of the elections and the appointment of a new president. However, this move was taken as a first step in the elaboration of a new political project, one that continued to rely on electoral legitimation and the cooperation of the traditional parties.202 In accordance with this plan for "limited redemocratization" under the control of the military,203 a new body, consisting of the Council of State and the military junta, was charged with drafting a new constitution. A new plan provided for a timetable by which the constitution would be submitted to a plebiscite in 1980 and elections would be held the following year with the participation of the traditional parties, which between them would nominate and present a single candidate.

With the unexpected defeat of the constitution in the plebiscite, the project from above entered a new phase. The next four years have often been analyzed as an elite strategic game in which formal negotiations between military incumbents and party leaders took place, ultimately leading to the installation of a democratic regime. Following the plebiscite, the government came up with a new plan. Once again relying on party collaboration, the military initiated negotiations with the traditional parties,204 and proposed a transition in 1985 according to a new constitution it would negotiate with the parties. To rehabilitate the parties, which were a key component of this plan, a new law, written in collaboration with party leaders, called for primary elections in 1982. The primaries dealt the military its second defeat: instead of resulting in the intended purge of the parties that would favor the collaborating factions, the outcome was a victory for the factions less friendly to the government. The following years have been analyzed in terms of the "coup poker" strategies of the parties, the alternating harder and softer lines of the government, the moves and countermoves of an elite strategic game. With stops and starts, formal negotiations took place between the military and party leaders, culminating in the Naval Club Pact, signed by the participants -- which in the end came to include the left parties, except for the Communists.205 In accord with the agreements laid down in that Pact, elections were held in 1984 and a new democratic government took power in 1985.

Uruguay is one of the few countries where a formal agreement of transition was negotiated between the regime and party leaders of the democratic opposition. The model of elite strategic action therefore seems particularly appropriate. Yet, there is also a story from below that further research should elaborate, and in this story the labor movement has an important part. That labor was an avid pro-democratic actor can be seen in its initial resistance. The day the military made the final move to assure its political control by closing the legislature in 1973, workers began a general strike against the dictatorship, thus emerging as the only group to register its opposition publicly. For two weeks thousands of workers occupied factories, perpetrated acts of sabotage, and closed down the economy until the strike was broken.206 If the labor movement was not heard from for the next decade, it was due to the ensuing repression in which unions were dismantled and ma ny leaders were arrested or in exile.

With the repression, the role of mass actors disappeared for the next seven years. Their reemergence can be discussed in connection with three events. The first was the stunning defeat dealt the military in the 1980 plebiscite. The project from above failed not because of opposition parties, which hardly had an opportunity to mobilize, but because the electorate used the vote to reject that project.207 The terms of the plebiscite were hardly fair. The government mounted a massive media campaign at the same time that the levels of repression and fear remained hig h and those engaging in any political activity ran a substantial risk of arrest.208 Only at the last minute were the traditional parties allowed to campaign. And yet the constitution was rejected by the people. It has been su ggested that although unions were severely repressed at the time, workers played an important clandestine role in mobilizing for the "no" victory.209 Though further research is necessary on this point, one can say that despite the appearance of "surrogates" for the exiled or imprisoned political leaders of the non-collaborating parties and factions,210 the plebiscite was clearly a case of mass action and a victory from below.

The second event was the party primaries of 1982, when again the people used the vote to deliver a defeat to those factions of the two participating traditional parties that were open to collaboration with the military government. Here, one might speculate that the role specifically of labor may have been quite significant. A law of the previous year authorized unions at the enterprise level. Though the law was very restrictive, in a contested decision workers decided not to reject it but to use it both to organize and to gain some legal protection. From the outset, these unions had a political program of democracy, so that the primaries took place in a period of increasing labor mobilization.211

The third development, then, was the reactivation of social movements and the appearance of organized mass protest. The limited liberalization following the plebiscite created some space for opposition groups in civil society to begin to mobilize. Starting in April 1982 the cooperativists became one of the first mass movements to organize and make its presence felt, first mobilizing for particularistic issues and, by the end of the year, engaging in more explicitly anti-dictatorship protests. At the same time, the union movement was beginning to be revived, first at the enterprise level and then at the national level when the Inter-Union Plenary of Workers (PIT) was formed. On May Day, 1983, the PIT carried out the first major demonstration since 1973, attracting an estimated 100,000 to 200,000 people 212 and explicitly calling for the immediate return of democratic liberties.213 The May Day demonstration catapulted the PIT to the leadership of the social movement and, according to Caetano and Rilla, represented a qualitative change in the politics of transition.214 Given its links with the grass-roots, the PIT had a special capacity for mass mobilization and became one of the most important axes in the struggle against the authoritarian regime.215

For the next year, it could be said that mass actors, especially the PIT, set the pace and led the pro-democracy opposition. One could argue that in the face of the constant pressure from mass protest, the military was ultimately forced to retreat. In the 1980 plebiscite and in the 1982 primaries, popular action had dealt the military severe blows, each time forcing it to scuttle its political project. Each time, however, the military came back with a new political plan. In the beginning of 1983, the military still thought it could mold a new regime and determined to write a new constitution during the course of the year.216 That goal too proved impossible, and by the end of the year important sectors of the military had dropped the idea of a political project and began to focus instead on the problem of "the best exit."217

These tendencies seem to have been given a decisive impetus by the general strike called by the PIT in January 1984. The result of the strike was a substantial change in the correlation of forces. Up to that point, the military persisted in taking a hard line and was unwilling to compromise in the Parque Hotel negotiations it initiated in May 1983. Those negotiations therefore broke down, and the military increased repression in the context of the growing mobilization. After the general strike of January 1984, however, things changed substantially. Shortly thereafter the government lifted censorship and allowed the communist leader of the left-wing Frente Amplio to return to the country.

The strike also changed the relationship between the traditional parties and the social movement. Sanguinetti, the leader of the opposition faction of the Colorado Party, in effect apologized to the PIT for his party's opposition to the successful Januar y strike and proposed a reorganization and coordination of the democratic opposition to coordinate the activities of the parties (including the left) and the PIT in a new multipartidaria.218

During the next months the multipartidaria entered pre-negotiations with the government while it kept up the pressure by calling a series of symbolic one-day strikes, the most important occurring at the end of June. These succeeded in pressuring the government to make a series of concessions, including, at the end of July, legalizing the Frente Amplio and its constituent parties, except for the Communist Party and the Tupamaros. Negotiations came to a rapid conclusion in the Naval Club Pact, in which the military got very little, other than the exclusion in the upcoming transition elections of the most popular Blanco candidate as well as some frentistas.219

Parallel Tracks

A final pattern is characterized by the fulfillment of an explicit government transition project according to its specified timetable and with few if any negotiations between incumbents and the opposition. In this pattern more than the others, then, the transition takes place according to the rules laid down by authoritarian incumbents, to use Valenzuela's terms.220 An interesting feature of this pattern is that while the transition follows an explicit government project and occurs within parameters defined "from above," labor in some ways emerges as the most important pro-democratic force and plays a key role in leading, mobilizing, and coordinating the opposition, even if it is not successful in altering the course of the transition from the rules defined by the regime. In other words, labor is an extremely important, and perhaps the most consistent, force for democracy -- although its role is least decisive. In addition, the evidence provides some hints that the decision by incumbents to initiate the democratic project may have been in part a response to labor protest, although the role of labor in provoking the project from above remains an important future research question.

This pattern -- which we call "parallel tracks" to highlight the autonomous, largely non-intersecting transition projects of both elites and labor -- accommodates the Chilean case. It also has certain commonalities with the military government in Portugal from April 1974 until July 1976. Shortly after seizing power, the officers announced that constituent assembly elections would be held, and the subsequent transition can be viewed as occurring within the rules and timetable they initially established. Needless to say, this is only one phase of a more complicated story in Portugal and that transition will be discussed separately. The Chilean transition to democracy in 1990 explicitly followed the rules laid down in the military government's 1980 Constitution. This Constitution called for a plebiscite to be held in 1988 in which the electorate would decide whether to prolong the authoritarian regime under Pinochet's leadership until 1997 or to opt instead for democratic elections to be carried out within a short period of time. Although Pinochet did not anticipate the victory of the "no" vote rejecting a continuation of his presidency, the plebiscite and its acceptance by Pinochet and other regime incumbents meant that the democratic transition was completely within the framework of the government's 1980 project. The labor movement, for its part, appears to have played some role in deepening Pinochet's project in a democratic direction, carrying out protest that may have moved him from a vague project in 1977 to an explicit transition project by 1980. Further, the Chilean labor movement was arguably the most democratic, and played the largest role in galvanizing the anti-authoritarian opposition, of all third wave cases.

Chile. The Chilean government transition project emerged out of the efforts of General Pinochet to institutionalize military power and his own personal leadership following the coup of 11 September 1973. Although it was not immediately clear that Pinochet would secure his position as President of the Republic, during the first years of the military regime he gradually consolidated his power, eventually establishing an institutional framework whereby he personally oversaw all key governmental decisions.221 By 1976, Pinochet's personal authority was so great relative to the power of the military institution as a whole that some observers have likened his rule to patrimonial domination.222 While this probably overstates the case, the important point to note for present purposes is that the incumbent role in the process of Chilean democratization would largely revolve around the individual decisions of Pinochet.

Once having secured his position within the regime, Pinochet's next task was to institutionalize the regime in power. The first major suggestion of his plan for achieving this end came with the July 1977 Chacarillas speech, which held that the regime would go through several liberalizing phases, ultimately culminating in civilian rule by 1985. This proposed plan, however, did not yet constitute a transition project. It remained vague, lacking specific formulations for how the transition would proceed, and it was never directly implemented. Indeed, at this point, Pinochet had no intentions of allowing for anything more than a future exclusionary democracy within which the military would maintain substantial leverage.223

Available evidence suggests that growing labor pressures may have played an important role in pushing Pinochet from the rather limited liberalization project suggested in 1977 to the more explicit, long-term transition project enacted in 1980. Although some observers argue that until 1982 the Chilean dictatorship ruled without significant opposition,224 in fact political opposition dates back to working-class activism not long after the installation of the dictatorship. By 1975, following a period of harsh repression against the labor movement, conservative labor leaders, which the military had targeted for political cooptation, came out in opposition to the dictatorship.225 In the aftermath of the Chacarillas speech, during late 1977 and 1978, substantial rank and file labor unrest occurred in the large copper mines, followed by strikes and protests among textile, port, and metal workers. After simple repression failed to break this labor activism, the government was led to restructure institutions for managing industrial relations by holding union elections and introducing a new labor legislation in 1978 and 1979. These moves were part of a broader strategy by the government designed to win legitimacy in the face of international condemnation for human rights violations (also widely condemned at the domestic level by church leaders) commonly associated with assaults on the labor movement.226

The 1978-1979 period also witnessed important divisions in the regime over questions of whether to pursue institutionalization through constitutional means or to rely on simple military coercion in order to maintain social order. By 1980, this debate had polarized the regime, such that there was an "imminent need" for Pinochet to take some action one way or other.227 Unfortunately, the relationship between these regime divisions and labor mobilization have not been adequately explored in the literature. Some observers have suggested, nevertheless, that domestic opposition was a major concern of the government, and that it helped foster the regime polarization of this period.228 Given labor's important and early role in the anti-authoritarian opposition, this would indicate that its contribution to the legitimization problems of the regime may have been quite significant. Furthermore, the ongoing presence of labor opposition may have figured into Pinochet's final decision to seek out an explicit transition project to institutionalize the regime, since repression appeared to fail to prevent working-class protest. In August 1980, Pinochet responded by suddenly calling for a constitutional project and announcing it would be approved by plebiscite in one month.229 The 1980 Constitution put an end to internal debate and was the cornerstone of the project from above. It extended Pinochet's rule until at least 1989 and ensured that he would maintain dictatorial powers. Most importantly, it made the continuation of the current regime after 1989 contingent on the results of a plebiscite to be held in 1988. A vote for regime continuation would have enabled Pinochet to remain in power until 1997. On the other hand, in the event of a negative vote, the Constitution called for competitive elections for President and Congress within a short period of time.

The labor movement continued its leadership of the Chilean democratic opposition after the 1980 project from above was in place. In 1981 and 1982, the government passed amendments to the labor legislation that liberalized the labor market (e.g., allowing employers to fire workers at will and eliminating previously guaranteed wage and salary increases230). The result of these measures, in conjunction with a severe economic downturn, was that "workers . . . perceived themselves as a class repressed by economic and legal structures imposed by the authoritarian state. . . . Even the rank-and-file saw the need to obtain the workers' reinclusion in the economic and social system, a reinclusion that required a democratic reorganization of the political system."231 In 1983, the Confederation of Copper Workers (CTC) initiated a massive protest "with the goal of showing the workers' rejection of the economic and political system on a massive scale."232 Labor leaders called "for the participation of all popular organizations and even the public at large. The objectives of the movement were generalized to appeal to all sectors, the principal one being a call for the return to democracy."233 The overwhelming success of the protest led labor leaders to quickly call for a second protest, which also attracted broad citizen participation. At this point, "the union movement . . . became the cement binding different social forces that had been passive, or that had earlier acted in a disorganized way."234

Until 1986, the labor movement remained at the forefront of the opposition, leading and coordinating the protest against the regime. The central place of labor can be seen, for instance, in the national strike at the end of 1984 and the days of protest beginning in September 1985. During this time, the example of the labor movement played a key role in reactivating traditional political parties and organizations and bringing them into the democratic opposition.

By 1986, the reactivation of society was substantial enough that labor represented only one of several major groups that joined together as a broad-based social coalition for the return of democracy. After this point, the labor movement ceded leadership of the opposition to party leaders, both because the labor movement was often singled-out for government repression, which limited its capacity to mobilize and play its earlier leadership role, and because the political parties were institutionally more capable of organizing society for the 1988 plebiscite. In February 1988, a group of sixteen parties came together as the Coalition of Parties for the No Vote, a broad front which then headed the opposition to Pinochet's ratification.235 The steps laid out in the 1980 Constitution were ultimately respected by Pinochet following the victory of the "no" vote on 5 October 1988. Accordingly, general elections were scheduled for December 1989, and with the assumption of power by Patricio Aylwin on 11 March 1990, the transition to democracy was completed.

Portugal

The Portuguese transition is particularly difficult to characterize. If Spain is normally understood as the prototype of democratization via reforma (in which incremental reforms are negotiated within a context of substantial continuity), then Portugal is often considered the model case of ruptura (in which the authoritarian regime rapidly collapses and a democratic regime is installed in its place).236 Portugal was indeed a ruptura in the sense that the 25 April 1974 military coup led by the Armed Forces Movement (MFA) brought about the i mmediate demise of the Caetano dictatorship and an extremely rapid collapse of the basic authoritarian regime structures that had characterized the country for some four decades. However, this characterization may describe the fall of Salazarism but is s ilent regarding establishment of democracy. More than in the other cases, the transition in Portugal was a two-phased process in which a) the government was forced from power, and b) a non-democratic successor government pursued an explicit transition p roject that eventually led to the formation of a democratic regime.

With these two phases Portugal is both a unique and hybrid case, evoking certain parallels with two of the other patterns we have analyzed. First, Portugal bears some resemblance to the pattern of "destabilization and extrication" discussed above. Authoritarian incumbents associated with the Salazarist dictatorship had no democratization project; rather the regime was destabilized and the incumbents were forced from power. In this account, one can view the military officers as a pro-democratic group that destabilized the regime. Portugal is obviously different from other cases of destabilization and extrication in that the unique form of "protest" of military officers -- i.e., the coup -- necessarily meant the forced extrication took an extreme form. Thus, after the destabilization, incumbents never adopted an extrication strategy to manage their retreat; instead the government was overthrown and the military assumed power.

The fact that the government fell through an internal coup does not settle the question about the role of labor protest, which we have identified in other cases of destabilization and extrication. Most scholars have not linked the MFA coup with labor protest. For instance, it is Maxwell's assessment that "no mass movement brought the old regime down. . . . The dictatorship was toppled by the army, not by Communists or anyone else."237 Leading explanations of the demise of the authoritarianism typically place central importance on intra-regime and especially intra-military dynamics.238 Nonetheless, at the very least labor did play a role in contributing to a general climate of instability in which the coup occurred. Beginning in the mid-1960s, and especially after the transition from Salazar to Caetano in 1968, (illegal) labor strikes became a pervasive feature of Portuguese society.239 Stoleroff maintains that these strikes had a "democratic . . . political character" and that most trade-unionists before 1974 embraced "'anti-fascist,' democratic perspectives. . . ."240 In late 1973, working class activism expanded even further, precisely the time when some observers place the beginning of the deterioration of the Caetano regime.241 According to Baylora, "between December 1973 and April 1974 the country was paralyzed by frequent strikes,"242 and there is some suggestion that these strikes led MFA officers to act when they did, before the "population" seized power on its own and put the country in a state of civil war. 243 In short, as Raby suggests, although the opposition did not "make the coup" of 1974, "it had done much to create the crisis of the regime which the MFA exploited."244

Second, Portugal has some commonalities with the pattern we have described as parallel tracks: after the coup the new military government quickly developed and carried out a project from above; at the same time, a major labor mobilization occurred which, given the factionalism within the military, may have helped to keep this project on its track. This case differs from Chile in terms of its timing: the MFA immediately committed itself to hold constituent assembly elections based on universal suffrage within one year to decide the nature of the new regime. In line with its project and despite both revolutionary mass mobilization and divisions within the government, the MFA carried out constituent assembly elections in April 1975 and removed itself from power before the promulgation of a democratic constitution in April 1976 and the democratic elections the following July.

During this period, the working class was on a parallel track. Toward the end of the Salazar government and increasingly under Caetano, corporatist structures gradually eroded, enabling the working class to find an independent voice. In 1970, the general trade union confederation, the Intersindical, was founded. Through the Intersindical the Communist party built a nationwide base among the working class and pursued clandestine anti-fascist activities. Once the dictatorship fell, the Communist-led working class was thus well-positioned to undertake autonomous political action. On the one hand, the working class headed a massive wave of mobilization and protest after the coup that helped undermine the corporatist structures of the Salazarist regime. As Stoleroff writes, "Within days of the coup, the union movement came to life in such a way as to establish itself as one of the principal actors of the transition to democracy and to determine in a large part the class character of this process."245 Schmitter acknowledges that the burst of mass mobilization that followed the coup made it "virtually impossible" for the transition to stop short of full democratization.246 On the other hand, as in Chile, this mobilization did not affect the timetable mapped out in initial project from above. In the end, this project, and not working class mobilization, ultimately determined the pace and steps of the transition.

The Portuguese case, however, departed from our pattern of parallel tracks in two respects. First, the period from April 1974 until late 1975 was wrought with conflict and divisions within the MFA which threatened to undermine the regime's democratic project. These conflicts were not between "hard-line" and "soft-line" regime factions in the sense that O'Donnell and Schmitter use the terms, for all major military factions appear to have embraced some type of non-military government as a goal. Rather, the conflict was between radical officers, who aspired to some kind revolutionary democracy or socialism, and moderate officers, who strove for liberal democracy. The fall of General Spinola (who first took power after the April 1974 coup) in September 1974 represented a shift in power from the moderate to the radical faction of the MFA. This radical faction--itself quite divided--threatened to replace the democratic project with a revolutionary (and potentially non-democratic) project, but in the end the radicals went ahead with the April 1975 constituent elections. In November 1975 regime moderates carried out a counter-coup and oversaw the final steps of the original project: the promulgation of the new constitution, democratic elections, and installation of the newly elected government.

A second deviation from the pattern of parallel tracks concerns the massive mobilization of the Portuguese Communist Party (PCP) and the working class during the transition events. Whereas the Chilean working class fully embraced democratic principles, the Portuguese labor movement became increasingly radicalized after the MFA coup, eventually to t he point where an insurrectionary seizure of power became the leading goal. The overthrow of Caetano was followed by scores of spontaneous strikes as the working class demanded the disintegration of the economic structures of the old regime.247 Initially, the Spinola government attempted, with little success, to contain this mobilization. After the MFA radicals gained power in the government, the PCP, which was the major force within the Intersindical and was allied with the radical officers, also attempted to contain working class protest. Again these efforts met only mixed success. After the April 1975 elections, in which the Communists showed poorly, the PCP and their allies in the MFA became increasingly isolated. This isolation, along with the revolutionary momentum of the working class, led to an attempted revolutionary seizure of power, which was defeated in November 1975. Thus, labor played a somewhat equivocal role in which worker protest was more revolutionary than pro-democratic but nonetheless may have reinforced the MFA's commitment to its own project of democratization.

Conclusion

This paper has examined the role of the working class in the process of democratization in light of the different approaches and hypotheses that have been presented in the literature. Some analysts have suggested that working-class pressure was central, indeed crucial, and others have virtually ignored it or treated it as a factor subordinate to the much more important role of elite strategy. In examining a number of European and Latin Ame rican cases in both the first and third waves of democratization, this paper has made the following points.

First, as a general proposition -- and with some variation across cases -- an elite project was more important than working-class demands as the source of democratization in the first wave. Indeed, in most cases the story of democratization could be told with scant reference to the working class, which either played no significant role (in cases where democratization occurred prior to the creation of a working class or where a radical working class rejected liberal democracy) or entered the story primarily as a target of elite mobilization. In only a few cases was the working class an autonomous pro-democratic actor, primarily (though not exclusively) in those where it had already been partially incorporated as a political participant.

Second, as a general proposition labor was a more important actor in third wave democratization than is generally indicated by the scant attention it has received in most of the comparative and theoretical literature specifically analyzing the third wave. While the interaction between authoritarian incumbents and party leaders was an important aspect of the transition, one should not underestimate the role of labor as a mass actor, sometimes destabilizing the authoritarian regime and sometimes leading the pro-democracy opposition. It is worth noting here that labor often appears as important in the case study literature, but at the level of generalizations and more comparative or theoretical statements labor has -- misleadingly in our view -- been given a very subordinate place, to the extent it is mentioned at all, with undue emphasis on elite interaction.

Third, as a general proposition, labor was a more important democratic actor in the third wave than in the first wave of democratization, and this despite the fact that in the first wave the event that is typically used to signal the advent of democracy represents a more particularistic benefit to the working class than does the transition in the third wave.

How can these findings be explained? Why have the hypotheses about the labor role been explored in analyses that include -- or even emphasize -- first wave cases but, with few exceptions, been virtually ignored in the theoretical or comparative literature on the third wave? And why was the role of labor greater in the third than in the first wave?

The two waves of democratization consisted of different transition processes, which may have led analysts to identify actors differently, thus drawing attention to the working class in the first wave and concealing it in the third. First wave democratization in most cases consisted of incremental steps over a long period of time. Prior to the transition to a full democracy, these countries had restricted democracies, or what Dahl called competitive oligarchies, in which virtually all the components of democracy were in place, with the exception that mass participation was still lacking.248 Most countries that experienced third wave democratization also had long histories of democratization and had had prior democratic regimes. Yet in these cases of democratic restoration, the antecedent regimes were primarily autocracies, with few if any of the required components of democracy in place.249 These different types of pre-democratic regimes gave rise to distinct processes of transition: the class-defined extension of participation in the reformist transition more typical of the first wave, and, in the third wave, the more comprehensive (re)introduction of virtually all the components of democracy affecting virtually all sectors of society. Thus, the transition in most first wave cases was a class-based process and in third wave cases it was not.

Figure 1: Analytic Framing of First and Third Wave Democratization

In the first wave, then, the politics of inclusion could have two different sources. On the one hand, the outs could play a participation game, seeking admission to the formal political arena. On the other hand, the ins (which in these cases includes both "government" and "opposition") could play a support mobilization game, wheth er it be stimulated by electoral competition among in-groups or for other reasons. In the first wave cases analyzed here, both of these alternatives are found. However, even where the participation game was played, the working class was rarely an import ant actor. Either the middle classes sought participation in a broadly defined suffrage that almost by default included the working class, or, in the most direct role of our first wave cases, an already partially enfranchised working class fought for the further inclusion of the remaining out-groups. Thus, most first wave transitions to democracy were due to the initiatives of classes other than the working class. That is, with the exception of the final step in Scandinavia and the Second Republic in France, the working class did not play a determinative role, but at most a marginal one.

In the third wave transitions, where the antecedent regime was an autocracy, analysts have tended to identify actors differently, since the politics of ins versus outs pitted authoritarian incumbents of the state against a repressed civil society. Thus, in third wave analyses, actors have tended to be identified not by class but in terms closer to a state-society distinction. The main distinction has typically been between the authoritarian (usually military) incumbents of the state and the democratic opposition in society. The former have been differentiated by political persuasion into hardliners and softliners, and the latter primarily into party leaders and social movements (or sometimes strategically into moderate and maximalist opposition). With this identification of the actors, the class question is submerged.

Unlike first wave democratization, the third wave transition process was a game of regime change rather than a game of inclusion, and it too could take two different forms. The ins could play a restructuring game, by which they sought to change the capacity for collective action of social groups. Different approaches were adopted both for systems of interest representation (those more corporative and those more atomized through the market) and for the limitation of contestation through the party system (by restricting the party system, particularly excluding the left). The restructuring game aimed at legitimation and institutionalization, but stopped short of democratization. The outs on the other hand could play a transformation game, which, unlike the restructuring game of the ins, had an explicit goal of democracy. Both of these games were played in the third wave, but one must conclude that democratization was ul timately due to the action of outs, since only they fought for it.

Where does labor fit into this picture? As Figure 1 indicates, the out group was large--constituting most of civil society. While much of the transitions literature has emphasized negotiations and strategic action by party leaders, it is important to an alyze collective actors in the opposition and to disaggregate the category of social movements. Of the social movements, labor typically had the best organization and links to the grass roots; accordingly while labor was only one of many prodemocratic gr oups, it often played a central and leading role in directing and sometimes coordinating the mass actors in the transition process.

The greater role of labor in the third wave may be explained by a combination of structural and ideological factors. Most obviously, first wave democratization occurred at an earlier point in the process of industrialization, when the working class was smaller. The extreme, of course, is the first pattern within the first wave: those cases of democratization prior to the creation of a working class of a significant size. Even in the other patterns, however, the working class was small relative to the third wave; organization was less developed; and union rights were still to be won. Third wave cases, by contrast, occurred not only when the working class was larger, but, given that these countries had experienced earlier more open or democratic periods, these transitions also took place at a time when the labor movement had already been organized and labor had already emerged as an economic and political actor.

The world ideological context no doubt helps explain the greater role of labor in the third wave. While they did not affect all cases in the same way, the salience of anarchism, anarcho-syndicalism, and more generally revolutionary ideologies was a factor in explaining labor's indifference to democratic struggle in some first wave cases, particularly those in the pattern labelled middle-sector democratization. By contrast, in the third wave, socialism and communism had long since become the dominant ideological currents within most of these labor movements, and any remaining ambivalence about democracy was superseded with the advent first of Eurocommunism and then of Gorbachev. Furthermore, labor repression during the authoritarian period reinforced this ideological shift to an appreciation of democratic rights and civil liberties, sometimes earlier dismissed as "bourgeois liberties" but now seen as preconditions for even the minimal functioning of an authentic labor movement and control on state power.

Finally, and relatedly, a kind of reverse paradox may help explain the greater labor role in the third than the first wave. We have argued that labor was a less important actor in first wave democratization, which involved in the end a particularistic benefit to the working class, than in the third wave, which did not single out labor in the same way. Yet in a certain way the labor issue may be more central to third than first wave transitions.

Although most first wave transitions constituted a class process in so far as they consisted of the inclusion of the working or lower classes, the meaning of that inclusion was ambiguous. The ambiguity of the politics of inclusion stems from the fact, noted above, that it could be a support mobilization game or a participation game. In the face of this "ambiguous reform" the working class was often in a position of viewing democratization, or the workers' own enfranchisement, in terms of a response to the initiative of another class, rather than as a class demand or class project. When the working-class outs proposed and militated for their own enfranchisement (for instance, the Chartists), the movement was defeated. Instead, first wave transitions to democracy came about primarily at the initiative of other classes pursuing their own goals, to which working-class participation was a means. As such these transitions posed a dilemma for the working class regarding how to respond. In the first wave, the working class was more likely to be targeted for inclusion as a support base or brought along by the middle sectors, but in most cases it was not the subject of its own democratic inclusion.

In a somewhat paradoxical way, in the third wave the issue of labor participation was perhaps even more central to the question of regime change. Third wave transitions did not represent the first installation of democratic regimes in most of these countries, and the labor question was salient because of the way in which prior democracies broke down: in large measure, democracy had not been sustained largely because of class polarization. Put another way, the authoritarian regimes were instituted as a conservative reaction that sought to remove labor from the political arena. The labor question was important for labor itself, which often suffered the brunt of the repression under authoritarian rule; for other pro-democracy actors, who feared a repetition of the destabilizing participation of labor and a continued, or subsequent, authoritarian reaction; and for the more conservative, authoritarian forces, which had been the strongest anti-labor actors in the first place. That is, the labor question arose in the origins, practices, and demise of the authoritarian regime. It is in this context that labor was a more active militant in a larger, more universalistic and more sweeping transition process, emerging much more consistently than in the first wave as a subject in the democratization process.

4A notable exception of a study which does focus on the role of labor in the third wave is J. Samuel Valenzuela, "Labor Movements in Transitions to Democracy: A Framework for Analysis," Comparative Politics 21:4 (July 1989), pp. 445 - 472. Nevertheless, this work also adopts a similar framework, emphasizing intra-elite political processes.

5Following Hermet, classical elections are those in which mass electorate at regular intervals choose among alternatives to select leading government decision makers. See Guy Hermet, "State-Controlled Elections: A Framework," in Guy Hermet, Richard Rose, and Alain Rouquié, eds., Elections without Choice (New York: John Wiley, 1978), p. 3. Such elections are relatively unrestricted in terms of contestation-the extent to which elections are fair and relatively free of fraud in conduct and supported by a guaranteed array of basic freedoms such as association and expression-and inclusion-the extent of the suffrage or who may vote. See Robert A. Dahl, Polyarchy: Participation and Opposition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1971).

6It should be noted that systematic comparative information on several arrangements crucial for holding free and fair elections is extremely difficult to assemble. This information particularly concerns issues such as registration procedures, secret voting, the oversight of elections, and patronage politics and "semi-coercive" voting. Since we cannot handle these issues systematically across all cases, we unfortunately have not been able to consider these issues in our coding of the cases, except where country specialists have indicated that these are a particular problem. Accordingly, the dates we use for democratization correspond to those widely accepted in the literature. The major controversy of which we are aware concerns England. Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens, for instance, set the date for democracy at the reforms of 1918, whereas we focus on the Reform Acts of 1867 and 1884. For a discussion of Chile see below.

7Huntington defines a "wave of democratization" as "a group of transitions from nondemocratic regimes to democratic regimes that occur within a specified period of time and that significantly outnumber transitions in the opposite direction during that period of time." Huntington, The Third Wave, p. 15.

8Göran Therborn, "The Rule of Capital and the Rise of Democracy," p. 80.

9Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens, Capitalist Democracy, pp. 8, 46, and 59. It should be emphasized that neither Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens nor Therborn present a monocausal explanation of democracy. Quite the contrary: both studies present more nuanced pictures, emphasizing other factors as well. Furthermore, both assert that the working class, while an important pro-democratic actor, is incapable of achieving democracy alone but is dependent either on allies from other classes or on the decision of those in power, who saw that democracy would be to their advantage.

10Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens and Therborn arrive at their conclusions through a larger set of cases than those examined here. While these authors do not analyze cases in terms of waves, their works include second wave transitions and countries in Central America, the Caribbean, and "Europe overseas" (the British settler colonies). Furthermore, they use a slightly different definition of democracy, with the result that in a couple of cases the transitions in particular countries are not the same as those analyzed here (see footnote 6 and 27). Therefore, the present analysis, in focusing on somewhat different cases, is not a direct test of the general proposition presented by these authors, but an exploration of our first wave cases.

11Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens, Capitalist Development, p. 270.

12Ibid, p. 182.

13Göran Therborn, "The Travail of Latin American Democracy," New Left Review 113 - 114 (January - April 1979), p. 85.

14Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens, Capitalist Development, p. 87.

15It bears emphasis that in the discussion of the British settler colonies almost no reference is made to working classes (see ibid, pp. 121 - 140).

16Ibid, p. 104.

17Ibid, pp. 120 - 1.

18Ibid, p. 91.

19Ibid, p. 282. Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens attempt to explain this contradiction by reference to their structural argument that "the weaker role of the working class in South America corresponds to a weaker and less stable development of democracy" (p. 282). This argument may help explain subsequent differences in democratic consolidation but it does not address their assertion regarding the working class as the leading force for democracy.

20Of course, another strand of the Marxist literature sees political democracy as a weapon for the working class and argues that socialism could be achieved through electoral victory. These opposing strands of Marxism reflect ambiguities in the writings of Marx and Engels themselves on the question of democracy and working class suffrage. For a review of the Marxist literature on democracy see Adam Przeworski, Capitalism and Social Democracy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), ch. 1; and Alan Hunt, ed., Marxism and Democracy (Atlantic Highlands, N.J.: Humanities Press, 1980).

21See Bob Jessop, "The Political Indeterminacy of Democracy," in Alan Hunt, ed., Marxism and Democracy, p. 59.

22Antonio Gramsci, Selections from Prison Notebooks (New York: International Publishers, 1971). See also Nicos Poulantzas, Political Power and Social Classes (London: Verso, 1978)

23Stein Rokkan, Citizens, Elections, Parties (New York: David McKay Company, 1970), p. 31.

24Reinhard Bendix, Nation-Building and Citizenship (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1964), p. 97.

25E. E. Schattschneider, Party Government (New York: Holt, Reinhart, and Winston, 1942), p. 48.

26We put "final" in quotation marks because, while it is the last in a series of steps before which a country can be considered democratic, it is also merely a minimum requirement of democracy, and the process of democratization continued.

27J. Samuel Valenzuela, Democratizació vía reforma: la expansión del sufragio en Chile (Buenos Aires: IDES, 1985). Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens and Therborn, by contrast, consider the literacy requirement sufficiently restrictive that they do not score Chile as a democracy until it was removed. While we agree that this is a serious restriction, making Chile a very difficult case to classify, it did not exclude the lower classes as such and large percentages of the working class and peasantry in fact voted. Another issue has to do with the longstanding pattern of presidential interference in the conduct of the elections. While it continued, it was under attack by 1874, and the final coup de grâce came as a result of the 1891 civil war and the establishment of the "parliamentary republic." Dating democracy in the 1890s would not change the basic interpretation of the lack of a working-class role.

28General accounts of the Swiss democratization process can be found in E. Bonjour, H. S. Offler, and G. R. Potter, A Short History of Switzerland (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1952); Charles Gillard, A History of Switzerland, translated by D. L. B. Hartley, (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1955); and Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens, Capitalist Development, pp. 85 - 7.

29This discussion draws on Kenneth E. Miller, Government and Politics in Denmark (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1968), pp. 29 - 34; John Fitzmaurice, Politics in Denmark (London: C. Hurst & Company, 1981), pp. 12 - 15; Stewart Oakley, A Short History of Denmark (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1972), ch. 13; W. Glyn Jones, Denmark: A Modern History (London: Croom Helm, 1986), ch. 2; and Gregory M. Luebbert, Liberalism, Fascism, or Social Democracy: Social Classes and the Political Origins of Regimes in Interwar Europe (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), pp. 73 - 75.

30Miller, Government and Politics in Denmark, p. 31.

31Christiansen notes that it was only after this Constitution was instituted "that political movements of any importance could be observed among the urban workers." See Niels Finn Christiansen, "The Role of Labour Movement in the Process of Democratisation in Denmark, 1848 - 1901," in Bo Stråth, ed., Democratisation in Scandinavia in Comparison (Gothenburg: Gothenburg University, 1988), pp. 14 - 5.

32This discussion of Chile follows Valenzuela, Democratización vía reforma; Arturo Valenzuela, "The Origins of Democracy: Theoretical Reflections on the Chilean Case," Working Paper 129, Latin America Program, The Wilson Center, Washington, D.C.; and J. Samuel Valenzuela, "Labor Formation and Politics: Chilean and French Cases in Comparative Perspective," Ph.D. Dissertation, Columbia University, 1979, see esp. p. 283.

33A. Valenzuela, "The Origins of Democracy," p. 19.

34Ibid, pp. 19 - 20. See also J. Samuel Valenzuela, "Labor Formation and Politics: Chilean and French Cases in Comparative Perspective," Ph.D. Dissertation, Columbia University, 1979.

35Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens, Capitalist Development, p. 95.

36See Ibid, pp. 95 - 97.

37Gertrude Himmelfarb, "The Politics of Democracy: The English Reform Act of 1867," Journal of British Studies 6: 1 (November 1966), p. 107.

38Michael Mann, The Sources of Social Power, Vol. II: The Rise of Classes and Nation-States, 1760-1914 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), p. 617; Richard Price, "Britain," in Marcel Van der Linden and Jürgen Rojahn, eds. The Formation of Labour Movements, 1970-1914: An International Perspective (Leiden and New York: E. J. Brill, 1990), p. 8.

39G. Kitson Clark, The Making of Victorian England (London: Methuen, 1965), 210 - 211: D. G. Wright, Democracy and Reform: 1815 - 1885 (London: Longman, 1970), p. 63. See also Maurice Cowling, Disraeli, Gladstone and Revolution: The Passing of the Second Reform Bill (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967).

40Gertrude Himmelfarb, "The Politics of Democracy," p. 113.

41Ibid, p. 114.

42Wright, Democracy and Reform, p. 89.

43The strongest statement of this position is Royden Harrison, Before the Socialists: Studies in Labour and Politics, 1861 - 1881 (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1965), esp. ch. 3.

44Wright, Democracy and Reform, pp. 74 - 75. See also Cowling, Disraeli, Gladstone and Revolution, pp. 3-5.

44Cowling, Disraeli, Gladstone and Revolution, p. 26 - 8.

47Himmelfarb, "The Politics of Democracy," p. 128.

48Luebbert, Liberalism, Fascism, or Social Democracy, p. 15 - 16; E. H. Hunt, British Labour History, 1815 - 1914 (Atlantic Highlands, N.J.: Humanities Press, 1981), p. 271.

49Wright, Democracy and Reform, p. 13. See also G. D. H. Cole, British Working Class Politics, 1832 - 1914 (London: George Routledge and Sons, 1941)

50Hunt, British Labour History, p. 260.

51Cole, British Working Class Politics, p. 89.

52This discussion of Italy draws on especially A. William Salomone, Italy in the Giolittian Era: Italian Democracy in the Making, 1900 - 1914 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1945; Christopher Seton-Watson, Italy from Liberalism to Fascism (London: Methuen, 1967); and R. A. Webster, Industrial Imperialism in Italy, 1908-1915 (Berkeley, University of California Press, 1975).

53Franco Andreucci, "Italy," in Marcel Van Der Linden and Jürgen Rojahn, eds. The Formation of Labour Movements, p. 192.

54Seton-Watson, Italy from Liberalism to Fascism, p. 167.

55The 1912 Reform Act enfranchised all men under thirty who had served in the armed forces, and all other citizens over thirty. This increased the electorate from three to eight and a half million. Gaetano Salvemini, "Introductory Essay," in Salomone, Italy in the Giolittian Era, p. xv.

56Webster, Industrial Imperialism in Italy, p. 24.

57Ibid, p. 23.

58Salomone, Italy in the Giolittian Era, p. 58.

59Ibid, p. 70.

60Ibid, p. 58.

61Ibid, p. 77.

62Philip B. Taylor, Jr., Government and Politics of Uruguay (New Orleans: Tulane University Press, 1960), p. 17.

63Benjamín Nahum, La época Batllista, 1905-1929 (Montevideo: Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, 1977), pp. 75-6; Luís E. Gonzáles, Political Structures and Democracy in Uruguay (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1991), p. 4. It should be noted that different authors use different dates to refer to these same events, depending on when they were adopted or implemented.

64This discussion draws on Ruth Berins Collier and David Collier, Shaping the Political Arena: Critical Junctures, the Labor Movement, and Regime Dynamics in Latin America (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), pp. 273 - 288.

65See Gerardo Caetano, La repúlica conservador, 1916 - 1929, Vol. 1 (Montevideo: Editorial Fin de Siglo, 1992), part 1.

66Ibid, part 2 (esp. pp. 61 - 79).

67We place the establishment of democracy with the 1877 elections, rather than with the elections of 1876, because the parliament formed through the elections of 1876 was dissolved by the President. Only with the elections of 1877 did France satisfy the legislative component of our definition of democracy. On this period see Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens, Capitalist Development, p. 90.

68Roger Price, 1848 in France (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1975), p. 28.

69Ibid, p. 31.

70Ibid, p. 42.

71Ibid, p. 44.

72Ronald Aminzade, Ballots and Barricades: Class Formation and Republican Politics in France, 1830-1871 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), p. 257.

73Roger Price, The French Second Republic: A Social History (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1972), pp. 288 - 289.

74Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens, Capitalist Development, p. 90.

75Ronald Aminzade, Ballots and Barricades, p. 211.

76R. D. Anderson, France 1870 - 1914: Politics and Society (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1977), p. 8. The Degree to which the Commune may have had some effect on the decision to introduce manhood suffrage four years later has not been adequately explored in the literature. It is interesting that Rueschemeyer, Stephens, and Stephens, who make the strongest argument about a working class role in democratization, give it no weight.

77A brief overview of the elitist parliamentary politics leading up to the 1875 constitution can be found in David Thomson, Democracy in France since 1870 (London: Oxford University Press, 1964), esp. pp. 75 - 91.

78Sanford Elwitt, The Making of the Third Republic: Class and Politics in France, 1866 - 1884 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1975), p. 21.

79Ibid, p. 42.

80Ibid, p. 44.

81Peter H. Smith, "The Breakdown of Democracy in Argentina, 1916 - 1930," in Juan J. Linz and Alfred Stepan, eds., The Breakdown of Democratic Regimes: Latin America (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1978), pp. 9 - 11. See also Karen L. Remmer, Party Competition in Argentina and Chile: Political Recruitment and Public Policy, 1890 - 1930 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1984), ch. 4; David Rock, Politics in Argentina 1890 - 1930: The Rise and Fall of Radicalism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975), ch. 2; and Peter H. Smith, Argentina and the Failure of Democracy: Conflict Among Political Elites, 1904 - 1955 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1974).

82David Rock, Politics in Argentina 1890 - 1930, p. 43. On the Radicals during this time period see ch. 3.

83On the labor movement at this time see Rock, Politics in Argentina 1890 - 1930, ch. 4.

84Smith, Argentina and the Failure of Democracy, p. 9.

85Smith, "The Breakdown," pp. 11 - 12.

86Rock, Politics in Argentina 1890 - 1930, pp. 34 - 35.

87On the historical process of democratization in Spain see Raymond Carr, Modern Spain, 1875 - 1980 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980); and Robert W. Kern, Liberals, Reformers and Caciques in Restoration Spain, 1875 - 1909 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1974), ch. 1.

88If one were to use the 1868 date as the establishment of democracy, then Spain could be considered a case of pre-labor democratization.

89Santiago Castillo, "Spain," in Van der Linden and Rojahn, eds. The Formation of Labour Movements, p. 210.

90On the Restoration regime see Carr, Modern Spain, ch. 1; and Xavier Tusell Gómez, "The Functioning of the Cacique System in Andalusia, 1890 - 1931," in Stanley G. Panye, ed., Politics and Society in Twentieth-Century Spain (New York: New Viewpoints, 1976), pp. 1 - 28.

91Castillo, "Spain," p. 238.

92Carr, Modern Spain, p. 103; and Gerald Meaker, "Anarchists versus Syndicalists: Conflicts within the Confederación Nacional del Trabajo, 1917 - 1923," in Panye, ed., Politics and Society in Twentieth-Century Spain, pp. 29 - 72.

93On the Socialists' collaboration with the Primo Dictatorship see Paul Preston, The Coming of the Spanish Civil War: Reform, Reaction and Revolution in the Second Republic, 1931 - 1936 (New York: Harper and Row, 1978), ch. 1.

94Ibid, pp. 13 - 14.

95Carr, Modern Spain, p. 103.

96Though the PSOE had begun to distance itself from Primo once the regime was in crisis, it played little role in producing his fall.

97Einar A. Terjessen, "Norway," in Van der Linden and Rojahn, eds. The Formation of Labour Movements, p. 111.

98Stein Rokkan, "Norway: Numerical Democracy and Corporate Pluralism," in Robert A. Dahl, ed., Political Oppositions in Western Democracies (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1966), p. 74 - 75.

99Rokkan, "Norway," p. 75.

100Idem.

101T. K. Derry, A History of Modern Norway, 1814 - 1972 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1973), p. 134.

102Ibid, p. 137.

103Terjessen, "Norway," p. 112.

104Luebbert, Liberalism, p. 66 - 68 and pp. 121 - 122.

105Norwegian trade and navigation expanded substantially at the end of the century, far outstripping that of Sweden. See Andrew McLaren Carstairs, A Short History of Electoral Systems in Western Europe (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1980), p. 88.

106Derry, A History of Modern Norway, p. 155.

107Thomas Mackie and Richard Rose, The International Almanac of Electoral History (New York: Facts on File, Inc., 1982), pp. 294 - 295.

108Ibid, Luebbert, Liberalism, pp. 75 - 77.

109Ibid, p. 134.

110Ibid, p. 78, 136; and Vagn Dybdahl, "Summary and Conclusions," in Partier og Erhverv: Studier i Partiorganisation og Byervervenes Politiske Aktivitet, ca. 1880-ca. 1913 Volume 2 (Udgivet af Erhvervsarkivet: Universitersforlaaget i Aarhus, 1969), pp. 6 - 17. The Social Democratic Party was founded in 1876, but it did not gain a seat in the Folketing until 1884 and did not attempt to become a mass party until that victory. Gerd Callessen, "Denmark," in Van der Linden and Rojahn, The Formation of Labour Movements, p. 140 - 141.

111Luebbert, Liberalism, p. 136.

112Timothy Tilton, "Social Origins of Liberal Democracy: The Swedish Case," American Political Science Review 68 (1974), p. 567. For good historical overviews of these franchise extensions, see Douglas Verney, Parliamentary Reform in Sweden, 1866 - 1921 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1957); Dankwart Rustow, The Politics of Compromise (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1955); and Dankwart A. Rustow, "Sweden's Transition to Democracy: Some Notes toward a Genetic Theory," Scandinavian Political Studies 6 (1971), pp. 9 - 26.

113Rustow, The Politics of Compromise, pp. 20 - 24. Although the 1866 qualifications for the Second Chamber were not changed prior to 1909, workers gradually entered the ranks of those qualified to vote as the wages of artisans and industrial workers rose. From 1872 to 1908 the per cent enfranchised males over 21 years of age rose from 22% in rural areas and 22% in urban areas to 33% and 45% respectively. See Birger Simonson, "Sweden," in Van der Linden and Rojahn, eds. The Formation of Labour Movements, p. 88.

114Tilton, "Social Origins of Liberal Democracy," p. 567.

115Verney, Parliamentary Reform in Sweden, p. 89.

116Introduced and initially approved in 1907, final passage required the approval of the next parliament.

117Rustow, "Sweden's Transition to Democracy", p. 20.

118Luebbert, Liberalism, pp. 70 - 72.

119In the First Chamber, members were indirectly elected through commune elections. See Verney, Parliamentary Reform in Sweden, p. 213.

120Tilton, "Social Origins of Liberal Democracy," p. 568.

121It is interesting to note that O'Donnell and Schmitter, who are most closely associated with this argument, recognize that in some cases this "initial" split among authoritarian incumbents may be a reaction to opposition protest. Yet they treat this opposition as prior to the sequence of events they define as initiating the transition, and hence as exogenous to their model and not included in their analysis. O'Donnell and Schmitter, Transitions, pp. 19 - 20.

122O'Donnell and Schmitter make the point that "the greatest challenge to the transitional regime is likely to come from the new or revived identities and capacity for collective action of the working class…" O'Donnell and Schmitter, Transitions, p. 52. However, they devote only two paragraphs to this theme and go on to emphasize the ephemeral nature of the "popular upsurge" and the subsequent "decline of the people"-of which the working class is just one component. Other authors undertaking comparative analyses and theoretical accounts have not picked up on O'Donnell and Schmitter's initial point.

123O'Donnell and Schmitter, Transitions, p. 3 -5.

124Ibid, pp. 48 - 49.

125Di Palma, To Craft Democracies, p. 8.

126Michael Burton, Richard Gunther, and John Higley, "Elites and Democratic Consolidation in Latin America and Southern Europe: An Overview," in Higley and Gunther, eds., Elites and Democratic Consolidation, p. 342.

127Juan I. Linz, "Crisis, Breakdown, and Reequilibration" in Linz and Stepan, The Breakdown of Democratic Regimes, p. 35.

128J. Samuel Valenzuela, "Democratic Consolidation in Post-Transitional Settings: Notion, Process, and Facilitating Conditions," in Scott Mainwaring, Guillermo O'Donnell, and J. Samuel Valenzuela, eds., Issues in Democratic Consolidation (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1992).

129Donald Share and Scott Mainwaring, "Transitions Through Transaction: Democratization in Brazil and Spain," in Wayne A. Selcher, ed., Political Liberalization in Brazil: Dynamics, Dilemmas, and Future Prospects (Boulder: Westview, 1986).

130Huntington, The Third Wave. Interestingly, Huntington (p. 114) suggests that his typology is the same as that of Share and Mainwaring, failing to realize that his category of "transplacement" is definitionally more opposition-centered than any category of Share and Mainwaring.

131Terry Lynn Karl, "Dilemmas of Democratization in Latin America," Comparative Politics 23:1 (October 1990), p. 8.

132This starting point is more arbitrary than is generally recognized. The period prior to such rule changes is often not itself one of lack of change. Nor is it always clear which rule change actually signals the beginning of the democratization process, given frequent ups and downs throughout the life of authoritarian regimes.

133See especially, Guillermo A. O'Donnell, Modernization and Bureaucratic-Authoritarianism: Studies in South American Politics (Berkeley, Institute of International Studies, University of California, Berkeley, 1973); and David Collier, ed., The New Authoritarianism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979).

134Juan J. Linz and Alfred Stepan, ed., The Breakdown of Democratic Regimes. However, in his essay, Linz also recognizes a causal role for more temporally remote, "structural" causes.

135For example, Collier and Collier, Shaping the Political Arena.

136This contrasts with the view found in the existing literature which implies that the legitimation and consolidation problems of authoritarian regimes, as well as associated internal splits between incumbents, stem from inherent "deficiencies" of authoritarian rule (e.g., authoritarian regimes do no enjoy a number of intermediations that are available to democratic regimes) or military defeat in international conflict. See O'Donnell and Schmitter, Transitions, pp. 17 - 8. The assumption that the limitations of authoritarian regimes exist largely independent of societal opposition has it origins in the earlier work of O'Donnell and Schmitter. See Guillermo O'Donnell, "Tensions in the Bureaucratic-Authoritarian State and the Question of Democracy," in D. Collier, ed., The New Authoritarianism; and Philippe C. Schmitter, "Liberation by Golpe: Retrospective Thoughts on the Demise of Authoritarian Rule in Portugal," Armed Forces and Society 2: 1 (November 1975), pp. 5 - 33.

137Thus, in most cases, we stop the analysis with what Shain and Linz class the interim or caretaker government. See Yossi Shain and Juan Linz, eds., Between States: Interim Governments in Democratic Transitions (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995).

138For a good overview of the Velasco administration's relationship with labor see Nigel Haworth, "The Peruvian Working Class, 1968 - 1979," in David Booth and Bernardo Sorj, eds., Military Reformism and Social Classes: The Peruvian Experience, 1968 - 1980 (London: Macmillan, 1983). More generally on Velasco's reforms see Abraham F. Lowenthal, The Peruvian Experiment (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975); Cynthia McClintock and Alfred C. Stepan, The State and Society: Peru in Comparative Perspective (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978).

139Nigel Haworth, "Political Transition and the Peruvian Labor Movement," in Edward C. Epstein, ed., Labor Autonomy and the State in Latin America (Boston: Unwin Hyman), p. 202.

140Haworth, "The Peruvian Working Class," p. 107.

141Julio Cotler, "Military Interventions and 'Transfer of Power to Civilians' in Peru," in O'Donnell, Schmitter, and Whitehead, eds., Transitions From Authoritarian Rule: Latin America (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1986), p. 154; and Nigel Haworth, "Political Transition and the Peruvian Labor Movement," p. 202.

142See the strike statistics in David Scott Palmer, Peru: The Authoritarian Tradition (New York: Praeger, 1980), p. 114.

143On the anti-labor policies of Morales Bermúdez see Haworth, "The Peruvian Working Class," p. 110.

144Henry Pease García, Los caminos del poder: tres años de crisis en la escena política (Lima: DESCO, 1979), pp. 225 - 227.

145Cynthia McClintock, "Peru: Precarious Regimes, Authoritarian and Democratic," in Diamond, Linz, and Lipset, eds., p. 351. Also see Pease García, Los caminos del poder, pp. 232 - 237; and Latin American Bureau, Peru: Paths to Poverty (London: Latin American Bureau, 1985), pp. 71 - 72.

146Pease García, Los caminos del poder, p. 235.

147Henry Dietz, "Elites in an Unconsolidated Democracy: Peru during the 1980s," in Higley and Gunther, eds., Elites and Democratic Consolidations, p. 241.

148Cotler, "Military Interventions," p. 163.

149Latin American Bureau, Peru: Paths to Poverty, p. 70.

150Ibid., p. 76.

151Marcelo Cavarozzi, "Patterns of Elite Negotiation and Confrontation in Argentina and Chile," in Higley and Gunther, eds., Elites and Democratic Consolidation, p. 22.

152Andres Fontana, Fuerzas, armadas, partidos y transición a la democracia en Argentina (Buenos Aires: Estudios CEDES, 1984), p. 35; Ariel Colombo and V. Palermo, Participación política y pluralismo en la Argentina contemporánea (Buenos Aires: Centro Editor de América Latina, 1985), p. 81.

153Edward C. Epstein, "Labor Populism and Hegemonic Crisis in Argentina," in Epstein, ed., Labor Autonomy and the State in Latin America, p. 26.

154Gerardo L. Munck, "State Power and Labor Politics in the Context of Military Rule: Organized Labor, Peronism and the Armed Forces in Argentina, 1976 - 1983" (Ph.D Dissertation, University of California, San Diego, 1990) ch. 5, fn. 16, pp. 384 - 85.

155Several analysts have seen the economic model not only as a technocratic response to the economic situation but also as an explicit political strategy to weaken the power of the working class. See, for instance, Juan Villarreal, "Changes in Argentine Society: The Heritage of the Dictatorship," in Monica Peralta-Ramos and Carlos Waisman, From Military Rule to Liberal Democracy in Argentina (Boulder: Westview, 1987); Philip O'Brien and Paul Cammack, eds., Generals in Retreat (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1985); and William Smith, Authoritarianism and the Crisis of the Argentine Political Economy, (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1989).

156G. Munck, "State Power and Labor Politics," ch. 5, pp. 268 - 284.

157Epstein, "Labor Populism," pp. 26 - 27; Ronaldo Munck, Argentina: From Anarchism to Peronism (London: Zed Books, 1987), p. 212. "Belying the image of a society immobilized by repression individual strikes began almost immediately after the 1976 coup. Impressively, given the risk of engaging in (or even reporting) overt protest, the newspapers recorded at least 90 strikes and stoppages during the Videla presidency [1976 - 1981]," James W. McGuire, "Interim Government and Democratic Consolidation: Argentina in Comparative Perspective," in Shain and Linz, eds., Interim Government, fn. 15.

158Despite the divisions within the formal union bureaucracy, the rank-and-file was increasingly taking over the leadership in the factories, and by 1979, the more conservative CNT was unable to stop workers from opposing the military. See Epstein, "Labor Populism," pp. 26 - 27.

159G. Munck, "State Power and Labor Politics," ch. 5.

160G. Munck, "State Power and Labor Politics," ch. 5, p. 269.

161G. Munck, "State Power and Labor Politics," ch. 5, pp. 305 - 306.

162McGuire, "Interim Government and Democratic Consolidation," p. 10.

163G. Munck, "State Power and Labor Politics," ch. 5, p. 318 - 319.

164McGuire, "Interim Government and Democratic Consolidation," pp. 11 - 12.

165G. Munck, "State Power and Labor Politics," ch. 5, p. 326.

166Ronaldo Munck, Latin America: The Transition to Democracy (London: Zed Books, 1989), pp. 78, 79.

167G. Munck, "State Power and Labor Politics," p. 327.

168Guillermo O'Donnell, "Transitions, Continuities, and Paradoxes," in Mainwaring, O'Donnell, and Valenzuela, eds., Issues in Democratic Consolidation, p. 24.

169R. Munck, Latin America, p. 79.

170O'Donnell and Schmitter, Transitions, p. 18.

171See McGuire, "Interim Government and Democratic Consolidation."

172See, for example, Huntington, The Third Wave, pp. 125 - 127; Share and Mainwaring, "Transitions"; Juan Linz, "Some Comparative Thoughts on the Transition to Democracy in Portugal and Spain," in Jorge Braga de Macedo and Simon Serfaty, eds., Portugal Since the Revolution: Economic and Political Perspectives (Boulder: Westview, 1981); Kenneth Medhurst, "Spain's Evolutionary Pathway from Dictatorship to Democracy," in Pridham, ed., New Mediterranean Democracies; Alfred Stepan, "Paths Toward Redemocratization," in O'Donnell, Schmitter, and Whitehead, eds., Transitions From Authoritarian Rule: Comparative Perspectives (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1986), p. 74; William C. Smith, "The Political Transition in Brazil: From Authoritarian Liberalization to Democratization," in Baloyra, ed., Comparing New Democracies, p. 183; and Di Palma, To Craft Democracies, pp. 6 - 8; Richard Gunther, "Spain: The Very Model of the Modern Elite Settlement," in Gunther and Higley, eds., Elites and Democratic Consolidation; and Karl and Schmitter, "Modes of Transition." The interpretation of the Spanish case that come closest to the analysis presented here is José Maravall, The Transition to Democracy in Spain (London and Canberra: Croom Helm, 1982)

173These "negotiations" were largely informal discussions. In fact, a formal pact was not negotiated during this period. The Moncloa Pacts were economic pacts-essentially between Suárez and the left-that came after the political transition to democracy was completed.

174Maravall, The Transition to Democracy, p. 14.

175The first dramatic labor eruption was the Barcelona transport boycott and strike in March 1951. The emergence of technocrats to the cabinet at the expense of the traditional dominance of the Falange in February 1957-which is sometimes viewed as the initial liberalization of the regime-has been linked to labor protest. See Paul Preston, The Triumph of Democracy in Spain (London: Methuen, 1986), p. 7.

176Raymond Carr and Juan Pablo Fusi Aizpurua, Spain: Dictatorship to Democracy (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1979), p. 139.

177David Gilmour, The Transformation of Spain (London: Quaret Books, 1985), p. 93.

178For strike data, see Jose Maravall, Dictatorship and Dissent (London: Tavistock Publications, 1978), p. 33.

179Carr and Fusi, Spain: Dictatorship to Democracy, p. 192.

180Ibid, pp. 205 - 206.

181Ibid, p. 210.

182Maravall, Dictatorship, p. 33.

183Maravall, Transition to Democracy, p. 10.

184Preston, The Triumph of Democracy, p. 91.

185See Preston, The Triumph of Democracy, p. 95; and Carr and Fusi, Spain: Dictatorship to Democracy, p. 214. Carr and Fusi state that the "ruptura pactada" was apparently coined by Communist leader Santiago Carrillo in an interview in March 1976.

186In Uruguay, the parties dissolved in 1977, but selected members of the traditional parties were appointed to form a new body that replaced the closed parliament.

187Good Overviews of the 1964 - 1985 military period are found in Thomas Skidmore, The Military in Politics, 1964 - 1985 (New York, 1988); and Alfred Stepan, ed., Democratizing Brazil: Problems of Transition and Consolidation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989).

188Interestingly, one of the major sources of opposition came not only from the MDB, the factionalized official opposition party, which sometimes participated in, sometimes cooperated with, and sometimes criticized the government, and sometimes participated in and sometimes boycotted elections held under continually changing and manipulated rules, but also from Carlos Lacerda, who was probably the most outspoken rightist and opponent of the more "populist" pre-1964 democratic governments. In 1967 he organized the Broad Front and announced his candidacy for president.

189Maria Helena Moreira Alves, "Trade Unions in Brazil: A Search for Autonomy and Organization," in Epstein, ed., Labor Autonomy, p. 53.

190Margaret E. Keck, The Workers' Party and Democratization in Brazil (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), p. 42.

191Maria Helena Moreira Alves, State and Opposition in Military Brazil (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1985), pp. 194 - 197.

192Ibid., p. 199. See also Ronaldo Munck, "The Labor Movement and the Crisis of the Dictatorship in Brazil," in Thomas C. Bruneau and Philippe Faucher, eds., Authoritarian Capitalism: Brazil's Contemporary Economic and Political Development (Boulder: Westview, 1981), pp. 226 - 227.

193Alves, State and Opposition, p. 203; Keck, The Workers' Party, p. 51.

194Many other groups had taken advantage of the Geisel decompression policies to oppose the military regime. Most notable among these were the Bar, the Church, and, somewhat later, elements of the business community.

195Gay W. Seidman, Manufacturing Militance: Workers' Movements in Brazil and South Africa, 1970 - 1985 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), p. 197.

196Ibid, p. 37.

197Ibid, p. 169.

198Ibid, p. 37.

199Charles Guy Gillespie, Negotiating Democracy: Politicians and Generals in Uruguay (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), p. 33.

200Juan Rial, Partidos políticos, democracia y autoritarismo, vol. I (Montevideo: CIESU/Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, 1984), p. 57.

201These were the Blancos and the Colorados, which had dominated Uruguayan politics since the 19th century.

202It is interesting that the dismissal of the president in 1976 was due to the military's preference for this party-based legitimation and its opposition to the president's proposal for a non-party, corporative regime.

203Juan Rial, Partidos políticos, vol. I, pp. 73 - 74.

204In addition to the traditional Blancos and Colorados, a small "acceptable" party was included.

205One of the few points on which the military was finally able to prevail in the negotiations was the exclusion of a popular Blanco as presidential candidate in upcoming transition elections. The negotiations around this issue led to the inclusion of the left parties, who were willing to accept this condition, and the further boycott of the negotiations by the Blancos. Although the Blancos dropped out of the negotiations, they came to accept the terms of the pact, in practice in not in principle.

206Gillespie, Negotiating Democracy, p. 52.

207Juan Rial, Partidos politicos, vol. II, p. 57.

208Of the Latin American countries with repressive military regimes in the 1960s and 1970s, Uruguay and the highest level of arrests per capita in the years following the military take-over. See Gillespie, Negotiating Democracy, p. 50 - 1.

209Gerónimo De Sierra, El Uruguay post-dictadura: estado-política-actores (Montevideo: Facultad de Ciencias Sociales, Universidad de la Republica, 1992), p. 218.

210Gillespie, Negotiating Democracy, pp. 70 - 71.

211De Sierra, El Uruguay post-dictadura, ch. 8.

212Ibid, p. 220; Gillespie, Negotiating Democracy, p. 131.

213Martin Gargiulo, "The Uruguayan Labor Movement in the Post-Authoritarian Period," in Epstein, ed., Labor Autonomy, p. 226.

214Gerardo Caetano and José Rilla, Breve historia de le dictadura (1973 - 1985) (Montevideo: CLAEH/Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, 1991), p. 91.

215Jorge Chagas and Mario Tonarelli, El sindicalismo Uruguayo bajo la dictadura, 1973 - 1987 (Montevideo: Ediciones del Nuevo Mundo, 1989), pp. 231 - 232.

216Caetano and Rilla, Breve historia de la dictadura, p. 91.

217Ibid., p. 95.

218Chagas and Tonarelli, El sindicalismo Uruguayo, p. 240; Gillespie, Negotiating Democracy, p. 135.

219While the military also salvaged a few transitory arrangements, it was explicitly recognized that these would remain in effect only until the another constitution was written by the new government and ratified in a plebiscite in 1985. See De Sierra, El Uruguay post-dictadura, pp. 26 - 27.

220Valenzuela, "Democratic Consolidation,"

221See Artura Valenzuela, "The Military in Power: The Consolidation of One-man Rule," in Paul Drake and Ivan Jaksic, eds., The Struggle for Democracy in Chile, 1982 - 1990 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1991).

222See Karen Remmer, "Neopatrimonialism: The Politics of Military Rule in Chile, 1973 - 1987," Comparative Politics 21: 2 (1989), pp. 149 - 170.

223Manuel Antonio Garretón, The Chilean Political Process, Translated by Charon Kellum in collaboration with Gilbert W. Merkx (Boston: Unwin Hyman, 1989), pp. 137 - 138; Genaro Arriagada Herrera, "The Legal and Institutional Framework of the Armed Forces," in J. Samuel Valenzuela and Arturo Valenzuela, eds., Military Rule in Chile: Dictatorship and Oppositions (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1986), pp. 118 - 124.

224For example, Paul W. Drake and Ivan Jaksic, "Introduction: Transformation and Transition in Chile, 1982 - 1990," in Drake and Jaksic, eds., The Struggle for Democracy in Chile, p. 4; and Manuel Antonio Garretón M., "Popular Mobilization and the Military Regime in Chile: The Complexities of the Invisible Trasition," in Susan Eckstein, ed., Power and Popular Protest (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989), pp. 265 - 266.

225Here we follow Manuel Barrera and J. Samuel Valenzuela, "The Development of Labor Movement Opposition to the Military Regime," in J. Samuel Valenzuela and Arturo Valenzuela, eds., Military Rule in Chile.

226In fact, the 1978 threatened boycott of Chilean international trade arose in American labor circles which had substantial contacts with Chilean labor leaders.

227Garretón, The Chilean Political Process, p. 138.

228See, for example, ibid.

229Ibid, pp. 138 - 139. On the 1980 constitution see also Gerardo Munck, "Explaining Variations in Transitions from Authoritarian Rule."

230Barrera Valenzuela, "The Development," p. 258.

231Jaime Ruíz-Tagle, "Trade Unionism and the State under the Chilean Military Regime," in Epstein, ed., Labor Autonomy, p. 88.

232Ibid, p. 90.

233Barrera and Valenzuela, "The Development," pp. 260 - 261.

234Ruíz-Tagle, "Trade Unionism and the State," p. 90.

235G. Munck, "Explaining Variations."

236Kenneth Maxwell, "Regime Overthrow and the Prospects for Democratic Transition in Portugal," in O'Donnell, Schmitter, and Whitehead, eds., Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Southern Europe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986); Valenzuela, "Democratic Consolidation"; Huntington, The Third Wave; and Linz, "Some Comparative Thoughts."

237Maxwell, "Regime Overthrow," p. 109.

238For example, Maxwell, "Regime Overthrow"; Philippe C. Schmitter, "Liberation by Golpe"; and Antonio Rangel Bandeira, "The Portuguese Armed Forces Movement: Historical Antecedents, Professional Demands, and Class Conflict," Politics and Society 6: 1 (1976).

239Alan Stoleroff, "Labor and Democratization in Portugal: Problems of the Union-Party Relationship," paper prepared for the Conference on "Labor Movements and the Transition to Democracy," University of Notre Dame, Kellogg Institute, April 1988. See also D. L. Raby, Fascism and Resistance in Portugal: Communists, Liberals and Military Dissidents in the Opposition to Salazar, 1941 - 1974 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988), pp. 241 - 244.

240Stoleroff, "Labor and Democratization," pp. 12 - 13.

241Baloyra, "Democratic Transition in Comparative Perspective," in Baloyra, ed., Comparing New Democracies, p. 32.

242Ibid.

243Bill Lomax, "Ideology and Illusion in the Portuguese Revolution: The Role of the Left," in Lawrence S. Graham and Douglas L. Wheeler, eds., In Search of Modern Portugal (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1983), p. 113.

244Raby, Fascism and Resistance, p. 249.

245Stoleroff, "Labor and Democratization," pp. 19 - 20.

246Philippe Schmitter, "An Introduction to Southern European Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Italy, Greece, Portugal, Spain, and Turkey," in O'Donnell, Schmitter, and Whitehead, eds., Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Southern Europe, p. 7.

247For a useful overview of the working class in the events following the MFA coup see John R. Logan, "Worker Mobilization and Party Politics: Revolutionary Portugal in Perspective," Lawrence S. Graham and Douglas L. Wheeler, eds., In Search of Modern Portugal (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1983).

248A few first wave cases were exceptions in this regard, with France primarily lacking sufficient contestation rather than participation and Spain (1931) more similar to third wave cases.

249We saw that Brazil is a partial exception in that it could be characterized as a proto-democradura, featuring the one democratic component lacking in the typical first wave cases: a mass electorate. In addition it was characterized by substantial attention to legalism (though not constitutionalism), a controlled legislature (gaining in autonomy only to the transition itself), and severely limited contestation (until the transition election three years prior to the indirect election of the first civilian president).