Britain enjoys a textbook reputation as the historic home and model representative of a stable two-party system. From the factors most frequently cited by way of explanation – the electoral system, the absence of cross-cutting social cleavages – it is implied that this uncommon state of affairs is a natural and permanent part of British politics. This reputation is, in fact, somewhat exaggerated. At no time have MPs or parliamentary candidates in Britain been confined to two parties only (in contrast to the United States); and for most of the period since the introduction of the majority male franchise and the beginning of mass parties in 1884 the configuration of party forces in the Commons would be best described as multi-party (1884–1922), three-party (1922–31), or dominant one-party (1931–45). Britain's experience of a stable two-party politics has therefore been both recent and relatively short-lived; it is only since the Second World War that two parties – Conservative and Labour – have alternated in exclusive incumbency of government office on the basis of an evenly balanced duopoly of electoral support and parliamentary seats.

Why do some elites endure whereas other die? This is a question to which many historians and social theorists have addressed themselves in trying to explain the severe conflicts that have plagued particular societies. It is, of course, a truism that certain societies are more prone to conflicts and to instability than others. But even within such societies there often lies, beneath the all too evident turbulence, a considerable stability of certain groups and institutions. The change that occurs in the wake of crises often distributes its impact on different sectors of society so unevenly that sweeping changes sometimes completely by-pass, or are successfully resisted, by certain groups. The result is that some groups and institutions manage to preserve their dominant positions and their privileges even while the society as a whole is experiencing crises, instability and change.

The 1972 Democratic National Convention operated under much-heralded reform rules requiring, in effect, ‘quotas’ of blacks, women and youth in state delegations. The goal of these reforms obviously relates to deep normative concerns – improving representation, ‘democratizing’ conventions, etc. Their success in realizing this goal is obviously an empirical question, and it is one which has attracted considerable academic attention. Among the myriad of commentators, Jeane Kirkpatrick boasts the richest data base and the most subtle theoretical model. Her conclusion is that the reforms were largely a failure, insofar as they did little to improve the representation of Democratic party opinion by Convention delegates. On that point the data speak for themselves. The question to be raised here is simply whether these data really speak to the full range of normative concerns that might motivate quota requirements. This comment will discuss two other goals that convention quotas might serve, quite apart from their impact on representation of opinion.

This brief paper has two purposes. The first is to suggest some reasons why the study of time is important and should be of interest to political analysts. The second is to present some data which link one aspect of temporal analysis, political impatience, with a range of political orientations and behaviors. Although the magnitude of the correlations reported is not large, the patterns of association suggest a syndrome to which more attention may be profitably turned.