One of the political phenomena that has long fascinated me is what some observers call consociationalism, or consociational democracy. Sometimes it is also labelled "elite accommodation." Arend Lijphart is one of the principal scholarly observers of this, while other names, e.g., Hans Daalder and Kenneth MacRae, have also devoted their attentions to it.

There is no single form of consociational polity, but it consists of any of a number of mechanisms intended to make it possible for citizens in a sharply divided political community to co-operate for common purposes, even when there is potential antagonism among the component communities. Such communities may be divided along ethnic, linguistic, religious or ideological lines. Rather than simply living by majority rule, particularly when there is a substantial minority which fears having its own interests constantly overlooked, a consociational polity places a premium on seeking as wide a consensus as possible in the interest of keeping domestic peace. It may do so by requiring qualified majority voting on significant issues affecting intercommunal relations, allowing for minority vetoes, power sharing within the executive body (as in Lebanon's National Pact from 1943 to 1975), and permitting substantial autonomy within the separate communities themselves over their own affairs.

There was an attempt to implement such a constitution in Cyprus when the island gained its independence from Britain in 1960. But it failed after only three years, leading to the present, longstanding stalemate that is only now easing.

However, the interesting thing about Cyprus is that, whereas in a conventional consociational polity, the elites co-operate to bridge a divide existing at the grassroots level (as in, e.g., Hugh MacLennan's Two Solitudes metaphor concerning francophones and anglophones in Montreal), in Cyprus the elites of the two communities, i.e., Greek and Turkish, only served to pull the communities farther apart when in fact they related quite well with each other on the ground. It was the ethnic nationalists in the two communities that attempted to persuade their respective constituents that they had more in common with their ethnic counterparts in Greece and Turkey than with each other. For a long time it looked as though they had succeeded in creating animosities where they had not existed before.

I myself am usually somewhat sceptical about claims of people power overturning unjust abusers of political authority. The notion that somehow the general will of the people is pure and righteous while government officials are venal and corrupt seems like a piece of Rousseauan wishful thinking. (This form of populism is at the base of the Canadian Alliance Party in this country.) But in Cyprus there certainly seems to be something to this. My father tells of growing up with Turkish Cypriot friends, with whom he still communicates quite amicably. Furthermore, the amazing stories coming out of Cyprus over the past two weeks are further evidence of the spontaneous good will that appears to be propelling recalcitrant elites towards a solution to that island's travails.

Half a century ago it was ethnic Greek nationalists who were the primary problem. More recently it has been the obstinacy of one man, Rauf Denktash, the 78-year-old Turkish Cypriot leader. Here is Gwynne Dyer writing on the "Old man and the siege mentality." And then there's the following: "Open border may seal Turkish Cyprus fate." Perhaps I've been too hard on populism.