Legitimacy Beyond the State?: Re-examining the Democratic Credentials of Transnational Actors (Democracy Beyond the Nation State? Transnational Actors and Global Governance)

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Legitimacy Beyond the State?

Related titles are: DEMOCRACY BEYOND THE NATION STATE? TRANSNATIONAL ACTORS AND GLOBAL GOVERNANCE (Edited by Christer Jönsson and Jonas Tallberg) Advisory board: Yale Ferguson, Jean Grugel, Richard Higgott, Margaret Keck, Robert Keohane, Morten Ougaard, Nicola Piper, Thomas Risse, and Jan Aart Scholte

Other titles in the series are: TRANSNATIONAL ACTORS IN GLOBAL GOVERNANCE: Patterns, Explanations and Implications (Edited by Christer Jönsson and Jonas Tallberg) DEMOCRACY AND PUBLIC-PRIVATE PARTNERSHIPS IN GLOBAL GOVERNANCE (Edited by Magdalena Bexell and Ulrika Mörth)

Legitimacy Beyond the State? Re-examining the Democratic Credentials of Transnational Actors Edited by

Eva Erman Stockholm University, Sweden

Anders Uhlin Lund University, Sweden

Selection, editorial matter and Introduction © Eva Erman and Anders Uhlin 2010 Foreword © Christer Jönsson, Jonas Tallberg, Eva Erman and Anders Uhlin 2010 Chapters © their authors 2010 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Saffron House, 6-10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The authors have asserted their rights to be identified as the authors of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2010 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Palgrave Macmillan in the UK is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan in the US is a division of St Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries. ISBN-13: 978–0–230–23907–4 hardback This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Antony Rowe, Chippenham and Eastbourne

Contents

List of Tables

vii

Foreword

viii

Notes on Contributors

x

List of Abbreviations

xiii

Part I Setting the Scene 1 Democratic Credentials of Transnational Actors: An Introduction Eva Erman and Anders Uhlin 2 Democratic Legitimacy of Transnational Actors: Mapping Out the Conceptual Terrain Anders Uhlin

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Part II Democratic Credentials of Different Transnational Actors 3 Democratic Legitimacy of Transnational Corporations in Global Governance Doris Fuchs, Agni Kalfagianni, and Julia Sattelberger

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4 Democratic Legitimacy of Philanthropic Foundations: US Grant-Making in the Middle East Ann Vogel

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5 Good Morals or Good Business? NGO Advocacy and the World Bank’s 10th IDA Christopher L. Pallas

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6 Transnational Social Movements and Democratic Legitimacy Brigitte Beauzamy

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7 Diaspora Groups, Transnational Activism, and Democratic Legitimacy Catarina Kinnvall and Bo Petersson

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v

vi Contents

Part III Democratic Problems and Possibilities in a Transnational Context 8 Democratic Credentials or Bridging Mechanisms? Constituents, Representatives, and the Dual Politics of Democratic Representation Enrique Peruzzotti 9 Why Adding Democratic Values is Not Enough for Global Democracy Eva Erman

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10 Conclusion: Transnational Actors and Global Democracy Eva Erman and Anders Uhlin

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Index

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List of Tables

2.1 Democratic legitimacy of transnational actors: Key democratic values 2.2 Questions for evaluating democratic legitimacy of transnational actors 4.1 Illustrative grants by the Ford Foundation for human rights, a core democratic value

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Foreword This is one in a series of three edited volumes, published simultaneously. The other two are Transnational Actors in Global Governance: Patterns, Explanations and Implications, edited by Christer Jönsson and Jonas Tallberg; and Democracy and Public-Private Partnerships in Global Governance, edited by Magdalena Bexell and Ulrika Mörth. All three owe their origin to two partly overlapping research undertakings that go under the labels of Transdemos and Transaccess. The full title of the Transdemos program, which engages political scientists from Lund and Stockholm University, is ‘Democracy Beyond the Nation State? Transnational Actors and Global Governance’ (see www.transdemos.se). The program receives generous long-term funding from the Riksbankens Jubileumsfond (RJ). Transaccess stands for ‘The Institutional Design of International Institutions: Legitimacy, Effectiveness, and Distribution in Global Governance’ (see www.statsvet.su.se/English/Research/ transaccess.html). Located at Stockholm University, this project benefits from a substantial grant from the European Research Council (ERC). The financial contributions by RJ and ERC are gratefully acknowledged. Both research initiatives commenced in 2008. Early on, the participants agreed to draw on their extensive international contacts in a joint effort to summarize extant research on transnational actors and their role in democratizing global governance. We asked potential contributors to characterize, and identify gaps in, our present knowledge, theoretically as well as empirically. Thus, we aimed at volumes that would not only outline the state of the art but also suggest new research problems and directions. The fact that, in a relatively short time, we were able to collect these three volumes testifies to the enthusiastic and obliging response to our proposal among those who were asked to participate. In April 2009, we arranged a workshop in Lund around the themes of the three volumes. In addition to most of the contributing authors, several members of the international advisory board of Transdemos participated. We are all grateful for constructive comments on draft chapters by Yale Ferguson, Robert Keohane, Morten Ougaard, Nicola Piper, and Jan Aart Scholte. The themes of the three volumes reflect the broad research questions of the Transdemos program. The first set of questions, which are also central to the Transaccess project, concern the increasing participation by transnational actors in intergovernmental organizations and viii

Foreword

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global forums. Why, in what ways, and with what consequences are transnational actors allowed into traditional global governance institutions? These questions are addressed, and expanded on, in the volume edited by Jönsson and Tallberg. A second set of questions concern the mushrooming in recent decades of so-called public–private partnerships as alternatives or complements to traditional international organizations in tackling global problem areas. Why have these hybrid organizational entities emerged at this time? What different forms can ‘partnerships’ assume? Are they really the win–win solutions they are often depicted as? The volume edited by Bexell and Mörth speaks to these and other questions concerning public–private partnerships. A final set of questions concern the character of transnational actors themselves. How is their expanding role in global governance legitimized? As transnational actors frequently claim to contribute to the democratization of global governance, it is natural to raise questions concerning their own democratic credentials. Their claims to speak on behalf of deprived and voiceless groups in the world give rise to questions concerning whom they represent and to whom they are accountable. This problematique is treated in the present volume. ‘Democracy’ is a key concept in all three volumes, as in the Transdemos program. The common notion that transnational actors may provide a remedy to the alleged ‘democratic deficit’ of global governance, in general, and international organizations, in particular, is an important focus of our inquiries. To critically examine this notion, we have solicited contributions, not only from International Relations (IR) specialists, but also from political theorists. In addition to illuminating our three themes from different angles, this raises crucial questions concerning research design. How can insights from empirical IR studies be combined with normative political theory and how can future collaborative research involving both subdisciplines be organized? These questions constitute challenges that are tentatively addressed in this series of volumes. It is our hope that the three volumes, individually or in combination, will contribute to our knowledge of an increasingly important aspect of IR and inspire new research efforts. The multifaceted role of transnational actors in global governance remains an insufficiently charted territory. January 2010 Christer Jönsson, Lund Jonas Tallberg, Stockholm Director Transdemos Director Transaccess Eva Erman, Stockholm Anders Uhlin, Lund

Notes on Contributors

Brigitte Beauzamy holds a PhD in Sociology from the Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales. She is currently a Marie Curie Fellow at the University of Warwick. Her research deals with direct action in transnational movements and the relationships between local and transnational mobilizations. She recently co-edited La Diversité Culturelle en France et au Danemark. Une Approche Comparée (2010). Eva Erman is Associate Professor of Political Science at Stockholm University and a Pro Futura Fellow at Uppsala University. Her research interests are in political philosophy and political theory, with particular focus on democratic theory, global justice, human rights, and global governance. Erman is the author of Human Rights and Democracy: Discourse Theory and Global Rights Institutions (2005) and has also published articles on communicative action, moral conflict, and discourse ethics in journals such as Political Theory and Philosophy & Social Criticism, as well as on democracy and global governance in Review of International Studies and Ethics & International Affairs. She is the chief editor of Ethics & Global Politics, an international journal seeking to integrate normative philosophy and political theory with political problems related to processes and phenomena that transgress traditional distinctions between regional, national, international, and global levels of politics. Doris Fuchs is Professor of International Relations and Development at the Westfälische Wilhelms-Universität Münster, Germany. She received her PhD in Politics and Economics in 1997 from the Claremont Graduate University and has since taught at the University of Michigan, Louisiana State University, the University of Munich, the University of Stuttgart, as well as the Leipzig Graduate School of Management. Her primary areas of research are private governance, sustainable development, food politics and policy, and corporate structural and discursive power. Among her publications are Business Power in Global Governance (2007) and An Institutional Basis for Environmental Stewardship (2003), as well as articles in Millennium, Global Environmental Politics, International Interactions, the Journal on Consumer Policy, and Energy Policy. x

Notes on Contributors

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Agni Kalfagianni is Assistant Professor at the Institute for Environmental Studies (IVM), VU University Amsterdam, The Netherlands. Her main research interests are in global food and environmental governance, with a special focus on the role of private actors, such as retail corporations. She is interested in the democratic challenges posed for global (food) governance by increasingly powerful private institutions, such as private retail standards and corporate social responsibility initiatives. Agni is the author of Transparency in the Food Chain: Policies and Politics (2006) as well as articles in Agriculture and Human Values and International Review of Retail, Distribution and Consumer Research. Catarina Kinnvall is Associate Professor at the Department of Political Science, Lund University, Sweden, and former Vice-President of the International Society of Political Psychology (ISPP). Her research interests involve political psychology, globalization, religion, and nationalism, with a particular focus on South Asia and Europe. Her publications include The Political Psychology of Globalization: Muslims in the West (2010), On Behalf of Others: The Psychology of Care in a Global World (co-edited, 2009), Globalization and Religious Nationalism in India: The Search for Ontological Security (2006), and Globalization and Democratization in Asia: The Construction of Identity (co-edited, 2002). Christopher L. Pallas is Adjunct Professor in the Graduate Program in International Affairs at the New School for Social Research in New York. In 2010 he is also a T.H. Marshall Fellow at the University of Bremen. He recently completed his doctoral research at the Centre for Civil Society at the London School of Economics. His primary research interests are global governance, transnational civil society, democracy, and African development, with a particular focus on the World Bank and advocacy NGOs. He has previously worked as an NGO Advisor in West Africa and as a consultant to US businesses looking to engage with the World Bank. His work has appeared in Development Policy Review and Development in Practice. Enrique Peruzzotti is Associate Professor at the Department of Political Science and International Studies at Torcuato Di Tella University in Buenos Aires and researcher of CONICET. His main research interests are democratic theory and Latin American politics. He has co-edited Participatory Innovation and Representative Democracy in Latin America (2009), El Retorno del Pueblo: Populismo en las Nuevas Democracias Latinoamericanas (2008), Enforcing the Rule of Law: Social Accountability in Latin America (2006), and Controlando la Política. Ciudadanos y Medios en

xii Notes on Contributors

las Nuevas Democracias (2002). He has also published numerous book chapters and articles in journals, such as Global Governance, Citizenship Studies, Journal of Democracy, and Constellations: An International Journal of Critical and Democratic Theory. He is currently working on a book-length project on democratic representation. Bo Petersson, PhD, political science, is Professor of Global Political Studies at Malmö University, Sweden. His special areas of theoretical interest include nationalism, diaspora, multiculturalism, enemy images, stereotyping, and xenophobia, and in geographical terms he has largely come to specialize in political developments in Europe, Russia, and Central Asia. His major publications in English include Stories about Strangers: Swedish Media Constructions of Socio-Cultural Risk (2006), National SelfImages and Regional Identities in Russia (2001), and Majority Cultures and the Everyday Politics of Difference (co-edited, 2008). Julia Sattelberger is Research Fellow at the Max Planck Institute for Public International Law in Heidelberg. She is currently working on her PhD project on law and governance within development cooperation and holds a degree in political science from the University of Münster. Anders Uhlin is Associate Professor of Political Science at Lund University. His main research interests are in comparative and international politics, with a special focus on processes of democratization, civil society activism, and transnational relations. He is the author of Post-Soviet Civil Society (2006), Indonesia and the ‘Third Wave of Democratization’ (1997), and co-editor of Transnational Activism in Asia (2004). He has written many book chapters and articles in journals, such as Cooperation and Conflict, Global Governance, International Political Science Review, and Third World Quarterly. Ann Vogel is Assistant Professor of Sociology at Singapore Management University. Holding a PhD from University of Washington, Seattle, her research interest is in the areas of economic sociology, industrial sociology, and social theory. Her three current research programs cover gift economy, especially non-profit volunteering and philanthropy, remittance economy, and globalization of civil society. She has published on philanthropy and civil society in British Journal of Sociology, Organization, Citizenship Studies, and Actes de la Recherche en Sciences Sociales. Her ongoing writing includes a book manuscript on the integration of film festivals into the global commodity chain of film. Vogel has also been a consultant to ILO and Unifem Singapore on foreign domestic workers, and has been writing on social mobility and gender inequality emerging in remittance-economic structures of Pakistan and Nepal.

List of Abbreviations

ACEA ADF AIDS AIPAC AMGT ATTAC BIC BMW CBs CO2 COP15 CPI CSO DAN DGAP EC EDF EU EUREP FAVDO FDI FoE GATT GEF GJM HIV IDA IGO IMF INGO IO IR IRA IRN

European Automobile Manufacturers Association African Development Foundation acquired immune deficiency syndrome America-Israel Public Affairs Committee Avrupa Milli Görus Teskilatari Association for the Taxation of Financial Transactions for the Aid of Citizens Bank Information Center Bayerische Motoren Werke Certified Bodies carbon dioxide UN Climate Change Conference consumer price index civil society organization Direct Action Network Development GAP European Commission Environmental Defense Fund European Union Euro-retailers Produce Working Group Forum of African Voluntary Development Organizations foreign direct investment Friends of the Earth General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade Global Environment Facility Global Justice Movement human immunodeficiency virus International Development Association intergovernmental organization International Monetary Fund international non-governmental organization international organization International Relations Irish Republican Army International Rivers Network xiii

xiv

List of Abbreviations

ISAF ISEAL MDB MSC NBA NGO NGOWG NOVIB NRDC NWF OECD OIC PLO PPP RSS SAS SMO TNA TNC UK UN UNDP UNESCO UNCTAD US VHP WHO WTO WWF

International Security Assistance Force International Social and Environmental Accreditation and Labelling multilateral development bank Marine Stewardship Council Narmada Bachao Andolan non-governmental organization non-governmental organization working group Nederlandse Organisatie Voor Internationale Bijstand Natural Resources Defense Council National Wildlife Federation Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development Organization of the Islamic Conference Palestine Liberation Organization public–private partnership/private–private partnership Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (the Association of National Volunteers) Scandinavian Airlines social movement organization transnational actor transnational corporation United Kingdom United Nations United Nations Development Program United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization United Nations Conference on Trade and Development United States Vishwa Hindu Parishad (World Council of Hindus) World Health Organization World Trade Organization World Wildlife Fund

Part I Setting the Scene

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1 Democratic Credentials of Transnational Actors: An Introduction Eva Erman and Anders Uhlin

Introduction From 7 to 18 December 2009, Copenhagen was the site of the 15th UN Climate Change Conference (COP15). Official delegates representing 192 states gathered to discuss how to meet the challenge of global climate change. While formal decision-making power rested with state representatives, a large number of non-state transnational actors (TNAs) were active in Copenhagen. Not only did a transnational epistemic community of scientists play an important role; representatives of nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) were also granted access to the conference as observers. As such, they were heard in plenary discussions, hosted side events and press conferences, and were invited to contribute specialist submissions to negotiations. The participation of many of the NGO activists from around the world was made possible by funding from philanthropic foundations supporting an environmental agenda. Moreover, business interests had a strong presence at the conference. On the official conference website (http://en.cop15.dk/), a number of transnational corporations (TNCs) (such as BMW, Honda, Mercedes-Benz, and SAS) were presented as sponsors of the event. Climate Consortium Denmark was the official focal point for Danish business-related activities leading up to the conference. Representatives of TNCs participated in a number of panels and workshops. Other types of TNAs tried to influence the conference from outside. Various transnational social movements mobilized people for demonstrations and other protest activities, questioning the legitimacy of the state representatives and their ability to agree on international cooperation to meet the challenge of climate change. On 12 December, an estimated 40,000 3

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Introduction

people joined a mostly peaceful march toward the suburban conference center. The democratic qualities of global governance, such as the UN Climate Change Conference, are increasingly challenged. Traditionally, international organizations have been regarded as legitimized by their ability to effectively solve problems and by the consent of nation-state governments. Today, however, there is wide agreement among scholars and practitioners that these organizations, as well as other global governance arrangements, suffer from a democratic deficit. In the discussion about democracy and democratization beyond the nation-state, TNAs – that is, non-state actors acting across state borders – are increasingly emphasized as playing a vital role (cf. Bexell et al., 2010). During recent years there has been a strong tendency toward more participation of TNAs (such as civil society and business actors) in international organizations and other forms of global governance, and most international organizations today have opened up both formal and informal avenues for this participation (Steffek et al., 2008). Our initial account of the Copenhagen conference illustrates the diversity of TNAs involved in global policy-making. However, there is still a lack of systematic research on the democratic aspects of this political engagement. Very little focus has been directed to the kinds of questions concerning democracy and democratic legitimacy that participation of different kinds of TNAs raises. This problem is a point of departure of this volume. We claim that any comprehensive analysis of the democratic potential of TNAs in global governance must examine their own democratic credentials. If the democratic qualities of the participating actors are questionable, the democratic legitimacy of the governance arrangement is in doubt. In other words, the question is whether a global governance arrangement in which the participating actors themselves are not democratically constituted could be democratically legitimate. Since most research on democratic aspects of TNA participation in global governance has focused on the democratic qualities of the global governance arrangement at large – not the participating TNAs specifically – this question has largely been left unanswered. In order to fill this void, we examine the democratic credentials of TNAs. For this purpose, different kinds of questions need to be asked. One set of questions concerns the organizational structure of these actors. To what extent are they internally democratic and/or accountable to their constituencies and members? Can their participation in international policy-making be a solution to the lack of global democracy if they suffer from an internal democratic deficit? Another set of questions

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springs from democratic theory. How do different types of TNAs fare when measured against different democratic theories and normative ideals? Are some democratic theories more suitable to transfer from the nation-state to the global level? A third set of questions cuts across the other two, being concerned with the different democratic values that are highlighted when empirically studying and theorizing the role of TNAs in global democracy, e.g., representation, participation, transparency, and accountability. What forms of representation and accountability are empirically viable and normatively desirable for different types of TNAs? These are the kind of interrelated, broad questions that will be addressed in the present volume. Existing research on democracy and global governance tends to fall into one of two categories. On the one hand, there is a huge literature within the field of normative democratic theory, which often suffers from a lack of references to empirical observations of actual processes. Most notably, the cosmopolitan democratic ideal of devising global political decision-making within a global political space is accused of being too idealistic and detached from reality. On the other hand, there is a growing empirically oriented literature on legitimacy and accountability in global governance, which tends to lack a firm base in democratic theory and normative theorizing, hence being rather technical and less concerned with the specifically democratic aspects of legitimacy and accountability. This volume aims at bridging the gap between normative democratic theory and empirical research on the legitimacy of TNAs participating in global governance. Theoretically, the book offers a framework for analyzing democratic legitimacy, which goes beyond the technical discussion of accountability mechanisms found in much contemporary research on TNAs. It deals with the representative claims of TNAs in an innovative way and critically examines how previous research on TNAs and global governance has elaborated the question of democratic legitimacy. Empirically, the book includes case studies of different kinds of TNAs, ranging from TNCs and philanthropic foundations to transnational NGOs, social movements and diaspora groups. Each case study inquires into the democratic qualities of a particular TNA in relation to different aspects of legitimacy and different democratic values, like representation, participation, transparency, accountability, and deliberation. Unlike most previous research we compare the democratic credentials of a wide spectrum of TNAs – not only NGOs, which until now have received most attention. We inquire into the question of whether different kinds of actors have, and should have, the same democratic qualities,

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or if they in fact should play different democratic roles in global governance. In the remaining part of this introductory chapter, we first review some important studies in this field and specify in what way our contribution differs from previous research. We then discuss the central concepts of TNAs, democracy and democratic legitimacy. Finally, we outline the structure of the book and highlight the specific contributions of each chapter.

Moving beyond previous research on TNAs’ democratic credentials As noted earlier, there has been an unfortunate division of labor, and consequently a lack of cross-fertilization, between democratic theory and empirical research on democracy beyond the nation-state. Furthermore, previous research on the legitimacy of transnational civil society has to a large extent failed to elaborate the democratic aspects of TNA engagement in governance beyond the nation-state, on the one hand, and has suffered from a lack of systematic comparison of different TNAs, on the other. The present volume has both a broader and a narrower focus than previous work in this field. Broader because it moves beyond the exclusive focus on civil society actors to include a wide range of TNAs in comparative perspective; narrower because, instead of dealing with legitimacy and accountability as general concepts, it focuses on the democratic conceptions of legitimacy and accountability. It is the combination of a focus on democratic credentials specifically and the coverage of a broad variety of TNAs that makes this volume innovative. The question of the legitimacy of transnational civil society actors has received some recent scholarly attention, with Alison Van Rooy (2004) and David Brown (2008) offering particularly systematic and thorough contributions. Van Roy usefully disaggregates the concept of legitimacy in relation to civil society organizations (CSOs) in a global context. She offers a rather detailed analysis of representation, understood in terms of the nature of membership as well as internal democracy of transnational CSOs. Moreover, she identifies a number of other legitimacy rules, for instance related to rights-based claims, expertise, moral authority, and independence. In a similar fashion, Brown develops approaches to assess the legitimacy and accountability of transnational CSOs. In particular, he stresses ways in which CSOs themselves can enhance their legitimacy, as single organizations as well as on the level of civil society sectors and in campaigns involving partnerships with CSOs from different sectors.

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Both Van Roy and Brown have long experience of transnational CSOs, and the books are written from an explicit civil society perspective, aiming at offering useful approaches for civil society practitioners. However, in contrast to the present volume, neither of these books tries to differentiate between democratic and non-democratic sources of legitimacy, nor do they compare the legitimacy of transnational civil society actors with the legitimacy of other types of TNAs. Focusing on accountability rather than legitimacy, Ebrahim and Weisband (2007) also make interesting contributions to this field. Unlike much other writing on accountability issues in a global context, most contributors to this volume treat accountability as a socially constructed means of control. Avoiding the technical character of rationalist accounts of the accountability of CSOs, TNCs, and international organizations, the authors emphasize the need to base accountability procedures in different cultural, social, and political contexts. However, while going beyond the focus on civil society to include other types of TNAs as well, they fail to distinguish between democratic and nondemocratic forms of accountability, which is of primary concern in this book. By contrast, Klaus Dingwerth (2007) does focus specifically on democratic legitimacy and elaborates the useful distinctions between input, throughput, and output legitimacy. Nevertheless, his focus is on public–private partnerships in the environmental area, not TNAs participating in these partnerships. Turning to less empirically oriented contributions to research on democratic credentials of TNAs, the work by Terry Macdonald (2008) deserves special attention. Within normative political theory, much literature on legitimacy on the global level of politics has tended to focus on questions of rights and duties and the distribution of social and economic goods. With a sensitive eye to empirical conditions, Macdonald sets out to develop an ambitious non-ideal normative theory, theorizing the democratic credentials of TNAs, with a focus on political power and representation. Her theory of ‘global stakeholder democracy’ focuses on NGOs, but she claims that the theory should be applicable to other actors in global governance, too. Macdonald argues that different democratic requirements should be applied to different actors, based on the forms of power exercised by the actor rather than any organizational typology. NGOs exercise different forms of power compared to states, and therefore forms of democratic representation must be different (Macdonald, 2008: 6). Relying on one version of the allaffected principle, Macdonald (2008: 40) argues that ‘individuals should be entitled to participate in any political decision-making that impacts

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Introduction

in problematic ways upon their autonomous capacities.’ This means that not all stakeholders are democratic stakeholders. Only those problematically affected in an autonomy-constraining way could claim a right to democratic participation. Whereas Macdonald’s analysis is limited to NGOs with privileged access to international organizations, our approach is much broader. NGOs and other TNAs have the potential to influence global governance in a number of ways that do not involve formal participation in global policy-making. For example, protest activities and media campaigns by transnational NGOs and social movements, and secret lobbying as well as investment decisions by TNCs, might provide these actors with more clout than does formal access to global decision-making bodies. Hence, we find it useful to broaden the focus to include not only different types of TNAs, but also different global governance contexts in which they act.

Transnational actors, democracy, and democratic legitimacy We define TNAs as non-state actors that act across state borders. This is a broad concept covering a wide range of actors. In the early 1970s, International Relations (IR) scholars, challenging the dominant statecentric neorealist paradigm, emphasized the influence by TNCs on world politics. With a renewed interest in transnational relations in the 1990s, focus shifted to transnational civil society actors. The political impact of NGOs, advocacy networks, and social movements acting across state borders was analyzed in numerous studies. More diffuse actors, like diaspora groups and other communities of transnational migrants, also figured prominently in academic research. During the last decade, and especially since the terrorist attacks on 11 September 2001, much focus has been directed toward transnational terrorist groups and other criminal networks. There is no agreement on how to distinguish between different types of TNAs. A number of dimensions – such as the principal ideas and motivation of the actors, their internal structure, and their autonomy and power – have been put forward as distinguishing characteristics. Despite the diverging views on how best to categorize TNAs, however, most contemporary IR scholars agree that TNAs do matter in world politics (Arts et al., 2001; Risse, 2002). To the extent that TNAs are actually powerful actors which have autonomy-constraining impact on peoples’ lives, the question of democratic control of these actors becomes important. Moreover, when certain TNAs – NGOs and TNCs in particular – are given privileged access to global policy-making and this increased TNA

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participation in global governance is seen as a way to develop global democracy, questions about the democratic credentials of TNAs themselves become acute. In sum, analyzing the democratic credentials of TNAs is important to the extent that these actors have a significant influence on global governance, not necessarily because they claim to be democratic (which many do not). In order to cover types of TNAs that figure prominently in global governance but differ considerably on aspects such as principal ideas, internal structure, and power, we include chapters on TNCs, philanthropic foundations, advocacy NGOs, social movements, and diaspora groups. These are arguably the most important types of TNAs when analyzing problems of democracy and democratization in global governance. There are of course TNAs which are not included in this volume. Transnational terrorist and criminal networks are powerful actors, but they are generally considered illegitimate. Most people would argue that such actors should be abolished rather than democratized. Hence, they fall outside our analysis of democratic legitimacy. Moreover, transgovernmental actors are sometimes counted as a kind of TNA. However, unlike the other types of actors discussed here, transgovernmental actors are not non-state actors. The term transgovernmental refers to ‘sub-units of governments on those occasions when they act relatively autonomously from higher authority in international politics’ (Keohane and Nye, 1974: 41). This does not only refer to sub-units of the central government but also to local government actors. As state actors they are arguably subject to a different logic of democratic legitimacy and therefore not included in this study. Furthermore, when several types of TNAs interact with each other as well as with states and international organizations, different kinds of public–private or private–private partnerships are formed. Such networks may also have agency, but examining the democratic credentials of transnational partnerships goes beyond the scope of this volume (see Bexell and Mörth, 2010). This volume thus rests on two pillars, TNAs and democracy, and the overall aim is to investigate the dialectics between them. We examine how different TNAs could and ought to be understood from a democratic perspective, as well as how global democracy could and ought to accommodate TNAs in its normative and empirical architecture. The term global democracy should not be interpreted as one conception of democracy. Rather, it is meant to capture all conceptions of democracy beyond the nation-state, such as cosmopolitan democracy, transnational democracy and deliberative global governance. When questions are raised about global democracy, they concern

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Introduction

how best to rethink ‘the rule by the people’ in a globalized world, in order to come up with solutions to the question of how to make democracy applicable to the regulation of global issues. In the present volume, this enterprise is primarily looked upon in relation to the democratic credentials of TNAs. Before we start asking questions about TNAs and democratic legitimacy, however, we should clarify the way in which the relationship between democracy and legitimacy is defined. A democratic system consists of (at least) two parts: a political authority and a citizenry/demos, that is, a group of people subject to this authority. To say that a state has authority is thus to say that the state and its subjects have a certain kind of relationship. The concept of legitimacy is used to describe this relationship. Further, what we are concerned with here is the normative notion of political authority (morally legitimate authority) rather than the non-normative notion, i.e., de facto authority, which means that legitimacy refers to this relationship as being of a particular normative kind. While there are many ways to ground rightful authority, for example, through tacit consent (John Locke), what is of interest here is one kind of legitimacy, namely the democratic conception of legitimate authority. We think it is important to stress the distinction between democratic legitimacy and other kinds of legitimacy, because in much of the literature on the democratic deficit of global governance, these are either conflated or legitimacy is defined too vaguely, for example, as effective performance or the delivery of some rightful goods (welfare, rights and so on). The concept of legitimacy derives from the Roman and Medieval concept of ‘legitimus’ – which denoted the legitimate ruler and accommodated the concept of legality – but became intimately connected to the concept of sovereignty from the era of the absolutist monarchy. During the Enlightenment, legitimacy increasingly became a secularized concept, anchored to an idea of a free consent of the society (Delbrück, 2003: 32). What is specific about democratic legitimacy is that it is not enough for a political authority to satisfy some rightful ends, it must also derive from a rightful source, which is the people, commonly articulated through the principle of popular sovereignty. Even though the question of how best to realize this principle is highly contested among democratic theorists, it is agreed that democratic legitimacy gets its authorization from the people (Beetham, 1998). The question is: how should these democratic ideas be understood in a global context? And more specifically for our purposes, what democratic merits must TNAs hold in order to play a democratic role in global governance?

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In different ways, each of the chapters in this volume will address this latter concern.

Outline of the book The book is divided into three parts. Part I, consisting of this chapter and Chapter 2, introduces the main research problems and concepts in this field. It is intended to set the scene for the following analysis. Part II (Chapters 3–7) offers analyses of the democratic credentials of different types of TNAs. Case studies of TNCs, philanthropic foundations, advocacy NGOs, social movements, and diasporas highlight the diversity of democratic legitimacy issues related to TNAs. Part III, finally, while drawing on insights from the previous chapters, also moves beyond a focus on the democratic legitimacy of specific TNAs. It further problematizes approaches in the previous chapters and discusses theoretical implications of the analysis. Based on a review of previous research, Anders Uhlin, in Chapter 2, maps out the conceptual terrain concerning the democratic legitimacy of TNAs. He suggests a framework that goes beyond the mechanical discussion of specific accountability mechanisms found in much previous research. First, Uhlin analyzes some important dimensions that distinguish different kinds of TNAs. Thereafter, focus is directed to input, throughput and output legitimacy as well as democratic values, like representation, transparency, accountability, participation, and deliberation. Input legitimacy is concerned with the relationship between the actor and its constituencies or people affected by its activities. Throughput legitimacy refers to the actual procedures for decision-making within the actor. Output legitimacy focuses on the consequences of the actor’s decisions and other activities. The aim of this chapter is not to establish firm definitions of these terms and develop a detailed framework to be applied in the case studies included in the volume. Rather, it introduces some concepts, general perspectives and questions, which the authors of the subsequent chapters relate to and develop further. Moving on to Part II, Doris Fuchs, Agni Kalfagianni, and Julia Sattelberger in Chapter 3 investigate the democratic legitimacy of TNCs as actors in global governance. TNCs play increasingly prominent roles in both private and public rule-making on a global level. Empirically, the chapter focuses on cases of private and public environmental governance. Fuchs et al. argue that, as TNCs are not elected by a demos, their role as rule-makers is controversial and must be critically examined. According to the authors, neither input nor output legitimacy

12

Introduction

apply to self- and co-regulatory efforts by TNCs. Instead they argue that the democratic legitimacy of TNCs is best discussed in terms of the traditional democratic notions of participation, transparency, and accountability. The role of TNCs in both public and private governance, however, reveals rather strong deficits as regards these requirements for democracy. In Chapter 4, Ann Vogel examines the democratic credentials of philanthropic foundations. Using US philanthropic foundations as an empirical case, her chapter addresses the lack of accountability in philanthropy and discusses how it applies to domestic and international grant-making. Introducing the foundation as an elite actor with oligopolistic power in the arena of international non-profit organizations, she uses empirical data on foundation grants to the Middle East to explore democratic credentials and legitimacy deficits. As Vogel argues, her regional focus highlights the multi-stage performance of US philanthropy, and serves to sharpen the analytic problem of the legitimacy of these TNAs in the arena of global governance and global civil society. While examining ‘US philanthropy abroad,’ the chapter focuses on the transmission of democratic values, thus bringing into analytic interplay the problematic relationship between input and output legitimacy. Examining democratic credentials of transnational advocacy NGOs, Christopher Pallas in Chapter 5 focuses on the negotiations surrounding the 10th replenishment of funds for the World Bank’s International Development Association. Advocacy NGOs from the US, along with a handful of allies, used their political expertise and domestic influence to force cuts in IDA funding via the US Congress. Although they claimed to be acting on behalf of Southern populations, they ignored the objections of the majority of other civil society participants, including those from the global South. Pallas’ analysis of NGO behavior indicates that pre-existing missions and funding worked together to determine the policy positions espoused by different NGOs. This finding challenges the legitimacy of the claims made by many NGO activists to represent stakeholders beyond their organization’s membership or key funders. In Chapter 6, Brigitte Beauzamy examines how contemporary transnational social movements place debates about democracy at the center of their political discourses and what happens when they turn such discourses into action. Transnational activists tend to portray themselves as champions of democracy and put a high value on the democratic nature of their mobilizations, even though in many cases the exact content associated with the idea of democracy remains unclear.

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Focusing on what is commonly called the ‘Global Justice Movement,’ Beauzamy examines how democratic principles are mobilized in the movement’s self-description yet materialize differently, according to the settings in which they are to take place. For example, democracy gets a deliberative meaning in wider general assemblies, but direct democracy remains the key reference for smaller groups engaged in designing direct action. Catarina Kinnvall and Bo Petersson argue, in Chapter 7, that diaspora groups are potential key players in the relations between homeland and host states and can quite tangibly affect political developments in both, as well as have an impact on various aspects of global governance. Examining the democratic credentials of diaspora groups, the chapter explores how discourses on globalization, terror, and multicultural policies have affected the extent to which some of these groups turn to radical Islam or search for more moderate alternatives, but also how these groups are internally constituted in terms of legitimacy and accountability. Theoretically the authors focus on the relationship between diaspora politics, transnational activism, and democratic legitimacy, while empirically they examine activism among young Muslims in Europe. Part III begins with an innovative problematization of the politics of representation. In Chapter 8, Enrique Peruzzotti argues that the political landscape of democratic representation is becoming increasingly complex. New developments and claims have led to the proliferation of arenas at domestic, regional, and global levels, which create opportunities for actors to launch themselves as representatives. Generally, these newcomers are self-appointed organizations without members, which often lack a clearly defined constituency as well as an explicit electoral authorization from those they claim to represent. Peruzzotti proposes a relational understanding of democratic representation, resting on both active constituents and representatives. He distinguishes between two dimensions of democratic representation: a mirror and a creative one. The former refers to representative claims that seek to reflect an already constituted interest or identity, whereas the latter refers to abstract and normative claims that do not necessarily reflect existing constituencies. Focusing on advocacy NGOs, Peruzzotti argues that mirror notions of representation are inadequate for evaluating the contribution of such actors to the practice of democratic representation. Concluding the chapter, he suggests a redirection of the debate from the issue of democratic credentials of specific actors to the question of bridging mechanisms between constituents and representatives.

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Introduction

In Chapter 9, Eva Erman takes a critical look at democracy and democratic legitimacy in a transnational context. The demand for the democratization of global governance has led to numerous suggestions as to how to rethink democracy globally and remedy the democratic deficit of international organizations, in which TNAs should participate more actively. Rather than focusing on different TNAs, this chapter focuses on their political context of action and what democratic role they are ascribed in global democracy in the contemporary international relations literature. The aim is to examine the conceptualization of democracy and democratic legitimacy in these proposals. Erman analyzes the major tendency to defend a so-called additive view of democracy. According to this view, democracy is defined as a number of core values or qualities; and a basic presumption is that the more these values are strengthened or promoted, the more democracy we get. Popular candidates for core democratic values are inclusion, deliberation, accountability, and transparency. While Erman argues that the additive view is unclear with respect to its democratic content, the chapter is not a normative contribution to this debate but rather an attempt to identify some major pitfalls that ought to be avoided when theorizing transnational democracy and the legitimacy of global governance. In the concluding chapter, Eva Erman and Anders Uhlin analyze the theoretical and empirical findings in the volume. Drawing on the individual chapters, they offer a comprehensive analysis of the different democratic requirements applicable to different types of TNAs. They also examine potential trade-offs between different democratic values. Analyzing implications of the volume for normative theorizing on global democracy, Erman and Uhlin discuss potential roles of TNAs in formal and informal tracks linking constituencies to political authority. Moreover, they revisit the debate on the all-affected principle, which is an implicit or explicit point of departure for many arguments in this volume, as well as in much other scholarship in this field. Given the prominence of TNCs in global governance, they also discuss how the market economy may relate to global democracy. The chapter concludes with a shift of focus from democratic legitimacy to other sources of legitimacy in the context of TNA participation in global governance.

References Arts, B., M. Noortmann and B. Reinalda (eds) (2001) Non-State Actors in International Relations (Aldershot: Ashgate). Beetham, D. (1998) ‘Legitimacy,’ in E. Craig (ed.) Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy (London: Routledge).

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Bexell, M. and U. Mörth (eds) (2010) Democracy and Public-Private Partnerships in Global Governance (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan). Bexell, M., J. Tallberg and A. Uhlin (2010) ‘Democracy in global governance: The promises and pitfalls of transnational actors,’ Global Governance, 16: 81–101. Brown, L.D. (2008) Creating Credibility: Legitimacy and Accountability for Transnational Civil Society (Sterling, VA: Kumarian Press). Delbrück, J. (2003) ‘Exercising public authority beyond the state,’ Indiana Journal of Global Legal Studies, 10: 29–43. Dingwerth, K. (2007) The New Transnationalism: Transnational Governance and Democratic Legitimacy (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan). Ebrahim, A. and E. Weisband (eds) (2007) Global Accountabilities: Participation, Pluralism, and Public Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Keohane, R.O. and J.S. Nye (1974) ‘Transgovernmental relations and international organizations,’ World Politics, 27: 39–62. Macdonald, T. (2008) Global Stakeholder Democracy: Power and Representation Beyond Liberal States (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Risse, T. (2002) ‘Transnational actors and world politics,’ in W. Carlsnaess, T. Risse and B.A. Simmons (eds) Handbook of International Relations (London: Sage). Steffek, J., C. Kissling and P. Nanz (eds) (2008) Civil Society Participation in European and Global Governance: A Cure for the Democratic Deficit? (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan). Van Rooy, A. (2004) The Global Legitimacy Game: Civil Society, Globalization, and Protest (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan).

2 Democratic Legitimacy of Transnational Actors: Mapping Out the Conceptual Terrain Anders Uhlin

Introduction Global governance is not the preserve of states and state-controlled international organizations only. A number of non-state actors – like transnational corporations (TNCs), a broad variety of transnational civil society actors, philanthropic foundations and diaspora groups – are increasingly recognized as important players on the global scene. Moreover, the participation of such transnational actors (TNAs) in global governance is increasingly put forward as a solution to democratic deficits at the global level. However, the democratic credentials of these actors are also challenged. The democratic legitimacy of transnational NGOs, in particular, has been questioned, though much of the criticism applies to other types of actors as well. Debates on the democratic legitimacy of TNAs often suffer from a lack of conceptual clarity, both as to the type of actors referred to and the actual meaning of democratic legitimacy. This chapter aims at contributing to clearing the analytical ground in this field through a systematic discussion of dimensions distinguishing different types of TNAs as well as different dimensions of democratic legitimacy applicable to these actors. The first part of the chapter outlines some dimensions along which we can distinguish between different categories of TNAs. The second part takes stock of the literature on democratic credentials of TNAs and suggests a broad framework for analyzing their democratic legitimacy that goes beyond the rather technical discussion of specific accountability mechanisms. This conceptual framework draws on a constructivist perspective and uses input, ‘throughput,’ and output legitimacy as a way to organize democratic values like representation, inclusion, transparency, 16

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accountability, participation, and deliberation. The aim is not to establish fixed definitions of these terms and develop a detailed framework to be strictly applied in the case studies included in the volume. Rather, the aim is to introduce some concepts and general perspectives, which can serve as a point of departure for empirical research as well as further theoretical elaboration.

Transnational actors Examining the democratic credentials of TNAs, we need to specify what actors we have in mind. This is important because we might have different democratic requirements for different types of actors. (For further analysis, see the concluding chapter of this volume.) A TNA can be defined as a non-state actor that acts across state borders. Hence, the state system is the defining context for TNAs. We cannot conceive of TNAs without taking states into account. However, the fact that TNAs are shaped in relation to states and the inter-state system does not mean that they can be reduced to instruments of state interests. In this section I outline some dimensions along which we can distinguish between different categories of TNAs. First, principal ideas and motivation can be a distinguishing characteristic of TNAs. A conventional distinction is between instrumental values, knowledge, and normative values (cf. Risse, 2002). This way of reasoning is similar to the common distinction between for profit (business) and not for profit (civil society). TNCs, whether they are involved in extracting natural resources, producing material goods or providing immaterial services, are driven by the instrumental value to increase profit. Epistemic communities, by contrast, share common knowledge. An epistemic community can be defined as ‘a network of professionals with recognized expertise and competence in a particular domain and an authoritative claim to policy-relevant knowledge within that domain or issue-area’ (Haas, 1992: 3). Transnational civil society actors are mainly motivated by normative values and ideas. Such norms and values might be based on religious beliefs as well as ideological convictions. They might challenge the established global order, as in the case of radical transnational social movements, but also include non-confrontational, moderate norms and values which are part of dominant global discourses. Norms and values motivating transnational civil society activities may be progressive and pro-democratic, but they might just as well be reactionary and authoritarian. What distinguishes

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Democratic Legitimacy of Transnational Actors

transnational civil society actors from other types of TNAs is the significance of any type of values and ideas as a driving force behind their activities – not any particular form of ‘civil’ ideas. Hence, I do not consider the common distinction between ‘civil’ and ‘uncivil’ society to be fruitful. Second, and closely related to the previous dimension, we can identify different transnational public spheres in which different types of TNAs operate. TNCs operate in a global market economy. Transnational political parties and party alliances act in a transnational political society, characterized by the pursuit of governmental power or other aspects of formal politics. NGOs, social movements, and activist networks are the key actors of a transnational civil society, which is the arena for informal politics beyond state borders. Some TNAs may operate in more than one sphere. Philanthropic foundations, for instance, rely on economic resources accumulated in the global market economy, but their main concern is to fund (and thereby influence) activities on the (transnational) civil society arena. Third, we can distinguish between different types of TNAs based on their internal structure ranging from diffuse networks to formal institutions (Risse, 2002). TNCs, transnational political parties, and philanthropic foundations are actors with a formal hierarchical structure, as are many NGOs. Transnational social movements and activist networks, by contrast, are characterized by their lack of formalized organizational structure. Hence, the category of transnational civil society actors is very diverse in this respect, including diffuse activist networks as well as formal NGOs. At the diffuse end of this continuum we also find diaspora groups. Brubaker (2005: 5–6) outlines three core elements of what is commonly seen as constituting a diaspora: (1) dispersion in space (usually across state borders); (2) an orientation to a real or imagined ‘homeland’ as a source of value, identity, and loyalty; and (3) boundary maintenance vis-à-vis the host society. This indicates that diaspora groups constitute a form of TNA, but unless they have organized in formal organizations or interest groups, which some of them have, they tend to lack any formal structure to the extent that their agency might be in question. The distinction between diffuse networks and formal institutional structures is related to, but not necessarily the same as, the distinction between horizontal and hierarchical relations within associations. It is often claimed that networks are more horizontal, whereas formal organizations tend to be more hierarchical. A network, however, can also be fairly hierarchical, with pronounced center–periphery relations.

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Fourth, the degree of autonomy of an actor could be considered an important aspect when identifying different types of TNAs. However, I argue that the degree of autonomy should be treated as an open empirical question in each specific case, rather than a defining characteristic of a certain type of TNA. We should distinguish between dimensions defining the type of TNA and dimensions accounting for variations not only across, but also within, types of TNAs; and I believe that autonomy is best viewed as belonging to the latter dimension. While many TNCs have considerable clout as autonomous actors, some TNCs are probably so closely associated with their home state that it is questionable to what extent they can be considered autonomous actors. Transnational (as well as domestic) NGOs are often heavily dependent on funding from states, international organizations, or philanthropic foundations. While this does not necessarily mean that they cannot be seen as autonomous actors, their degree of autonomy is more limited, compared to those civil society groups which are self-financed. There is also the phenomenon of quasi-NGOs, organizations taking the form of an NGO, but established and controlled by states or TNCs. Such organizations are instruments of other actors and have no agency on their own. Except for such obvious cases of state or business controlled quasi-NGOs, it is reasonable to treat transnational civil society associations as actors, although with varying degrees of autonomy. As concluded by Risse (2002: 262), ‘[m]ost of the contemporary work in international affairs no longer disputes that TNAs influence decisions and outcomes.’ Not even DeMars (2005), who in an innovative contribution maintains that the main feature of NGOs is their participation in transnational networks, in which they are used by other actors as ‘wild cards’ in world politics, claims that NGOs lack autonomy. On the contrary, he argues that whereas ‘NGOs are constituted by their partners’ (DeMars, 2005: 44), and carry the latent agendas of these partners, they enjoy operational autonomy and can play off partners against each other (DeMars, 2005: 49). Fifth, the autonomy of TNAs is related to their power. Obviously, the power and influence of TNAs vary greatly, ranging from the largest TNCs, generally considered to have much more clout than most states in world politics, to seemingly powerless, poorly funded southern-based transnational NGOs. The power of TNAs can be analyzed in terms of dominance and structural power relations as well as discursive and communicative power (Piper and Uhlin, 2004: 8–12). Such analyses are necessary in order to establish what demands for democratic legitimacy are appropriate (cf. Macdonald, 2008). The more powerful a TNA is, the stronger the need for democratic legitimacy. Actors which do

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not wield any power are not subject to demands that they should be democratic. (For further analysis, see the concluding chapter of this volume.) The power of an actor, however, does not help us distinguish between different types of TNAs. Powerful and less powerful actors can be found within all categories. TNCs are commonly perceived as powerful actors in world politics. They have instrumental, structural, and discursive power. Through their economic resources and mobility they have power over states. They may influence global governance through lobbying and agenda-setting, but also through direct participation in global rule-making in public–private partnerships and other global governance processes. TNCs also have discursive power when they frame political problems in public debates (Fuchs, 2005). Transnational philanthropic foundations – especially the well-known American foundations like Ford, Soros, and Gates – have similar power resources as TNCs and often explicitly try to influence politics through the funding of civil society activities around the world. Transnational civil society actors can also be powerful actors, although (with the exception of some large well-funded transnational NGOs) they lack the economic resources of TNCs and foundations. Instead, they typically exercise discursive power, and increasingly such actors are given formal access to arenas for global policy-making. Sixth, and closely related to the previous dimension, TNAs vary in their degree of politicization. This is an important aspect when discussing democratic requirements for TNAs. Highly politicized TNAs, which take part in decision- or rule-making for a larger community, are subject to stricter demands of democracy than are non-political TNAs. (For further analysis, see the concluding chapter of this volume.) TNCs operate in the global market economy, but due to their often fundamental impact on political processes and more generally on peoples’ lives, they should be considered political actors, although they differ from political parties and civil society groups. The category of transnational civil society actors refers to highly politicized as well as non-political actors. The former include transnational social movements and activist networks as well as transnational advocacy NGOs and labor unions, which try to lobby political decision-makers and influence global policy-making within different issue-areas. Service-delivering NGOs, by contrast, are less directed toward influencing global policy and more inclined to provide specific welfare and relief services to groups of disadvantaged people around the world. Finally, another potential dimension that I think is best viewed as accounting for variation within as well as across types of TNAs is the

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spatial extension of the actor. Some TNAs are genuinely global actors, whereas other TNAs are confined to a specific region. Having clarified the concept of TNA and considered dimensions for distinguishing different categories of TNAs, we now turn to the concept of democratic legitimacy.

Democratic legitimacy The literature on the democratic credentials of TNAs is mainly concerned with transnational civil society actors, particularly NGOs. Less attention has been devoted to the democratic credentials of other TNAs like TNCs, foundations, and diaspora groups. Hence, most examples given in the following overview refer to a civil society context. However, I maintain that the analysis is relevant for other types of TNAs as well. Legitimacy is the broadest and least well-defined concept in this literature (see, e.g., Van Rooy, 2004). Writing about legitimacy in international relations, Clark (2007: 2) suggests that the ‘core principles of legitimacy express rudimentary social agreement about who is entitled to participate in international relations, and also about appropriate forms in their conduct.’ Hence, ‘the actors within international society are engaged in endless strategies of legitimation, in order to present certain activities or actions as legitimate’ (Clark, 2007: 2). Here I focus on the legitimacy of a certain type of actor in international society – TNAs – and a certain form of legitimacy – democratic legitimacy. I treat democratic legitimacy as an overarching concept covering more specific aspects of democratic credentials like representation, participation, and accountability. However, much of the literature on the legitimacy of TNAs does not differentiate between democratic legitimacy and more general bases of legitimacy. The legitimacy of transnational NGOs, for instance, is often associated with their expertise and knowledge in specific issue-areas (Van Rooy, 2004: 81; Collingwood, 2006: 448) and their compliance with regulations (Brown, 2008: 35). While these are important qualities of the actors, they do not necessarily make them democratic. Neither does financial and political independence (Van Rooy, 2004: 116–9; Collingwood, 2006: 447), which is related to their qualities as actors (having agency) rather than to democratic qualities. Furthermore, the legitimacy of TNAs is sometimes seen in comparison to other types of actors. NGO legitimacy can be derived from the failing legitimacy of states (Collingwood, 2006: 453). It has been argued that representatives of NGOs have less to gain from abusing their positions compared to business and state actors; and hence

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they typically enjoy more public trust (Brown, 2008: 2). While these aspects might be sources of legitimacy, they are not necessarily related to democracy. Sources of legitimacy, frequently mentioned in the literature, that are of immediate democratic relevance include the representation of constituencies and the representation of democratic values and norms (cf. Van Rooy, 2004: Ch. 3; Collingwood, 2006: 447–8; Brown, 2008: 35). Membership-based NGOs represent their constituencies. Many transnational NGOs gain democratic legitimacy through their grassroots links and by giving voice to and empowering marginalized groups. Representation of values and norms, such as notions of universal human dignity and global justice, may give transnational civil society actors a moral authority which can be seen as a form of democratic legitimacy. These forms of democratic legitimacy, as we will discuss in this volume, might be compromised by insufficient and biased participation, a lack of transparency, representation, and accountability, and poor or no deliberation, and so on. In order to clear the analytical ground and map the conceptual terrain in this field, I should clarify my position on a number of methodological issues. I depart from a social constructivist perspective. Many writers in this field, not least concerning different forms of accountability appropriate for TNAs, attempt to offer technical solutions to be applied universally. However, I argue that there are no objective technical solutions to legitimacy problems that can be designed by experts independent of the context. By contrast, legitimacy should be viewed as a social construction. Creating legitimacy involves highly contested processes and struggles between actors with different interests and world-views (cf. Lister, 2003). We need to examine how different demands for, and claims to, democratic legitimacy are socially constructed, and what the underlying ideals and interests of legitimacy claims and mechanisms are. Moreover, as argued above, we should distinguish democratic legitimacy from legitimacy in general. What we are interested in here are forms of legitimacy that make sense in relation to democratic values rooted in democratic theory. Rather than privileging one model of democracy, we should consider different normative models of democracy, including representative, participatory and deliberative variants. When examining the democratic credentials of TNAs, we should assess not only formal and informal decision-making processes, but also processes of deliberation and broader political participation. This is

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important in order not to privilege one particular model of democracy. Furthermore, focusing on different models of democracy and different democratic values, we can analyze potential trade-offs between democratic values proposed from different theoretical perspectives. For instance, broadened participation might have a negative effect on accountability, and participation and deliberation do not necessarily go well together. (This is discussed further in the concluding chapter.) In order to organize the various concepts related to democratic legitimacy, I find it useful to distinguish between input legitimacy (the relationship between the collective actor and its constituencies or people affected by its activities), throughput legitimacy (the actual procedures for decision-making within the collective actor), and output legitimacy (the consequences of the actor’s decisions and other activities) (cf. Zürn, 1998: 236; Scharpf, 1999; Held and Koenig-Archibugi, 2005: 2; Dingwerth, 2007: 14–15). Focusing on input legitimacy we ask questions like: Do power-wielders/decision-makers represent their constituencies? Are they democratically elected? Do they give voice to marginalized people? Do they represent democratic ideas? Who are included/excluded? Throughput legitimacy raises questions such as: Are decision-making processes and other activities open and transparent? Are power-wielders/decision-makers accountable to relevant stakeholders? Are there opportunities for direct participation? Are the procedures characterized by authentic deliberation? Output legitimacy, finally, directs our attention to questions like: What are the democratic consequences of the actor’s activities? Does it have pro- or anti-democratic effects on global governance or no effect at all? Differentiating between input, throughput, and output legitimacy, we can identify key democratic values highlighted in most research on democracy beyond the nation-state. The input, throughput, and output distinction is helpful in disentangling the concept of democratic legitimacy and identifying different aspects of democracy. However, applying these analytical distinctions does not mean that it is sufficient to analyze one democratic value separated from all the others. Obviously, the different democratic values organized under the input, throughput, and output headings are interrelated, and we need to analyze relationships between them – not only separate components of democratic legitimacy. The following mapping of the conceptual terrain concerning democratic legitimacy of TNAs is structured according to the scheme presented in Table 2.1.

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Table 2.1

Democratic legitimacy of transnational actors: Key democratic values

Input legitimacy

Throughput legitimacy

Output legitimacy

Representation Inclusion

Transparency Accountability Participation Deliberation

Democratic consequences

Input legitimacy Representation Representation is a key value in liberal democratic theory. In principle it refers to the general relationship between a collective actor and the people on whose behalf it claims to speak. In representative democracies at the nation-state level elections constitute the central mechanism through which governments acquire representative legitimacy. Clearly applicable to democracy within nation-states and (arguably) to visions of global democracy as well, the relevance of the ideal of representation is less obvious when it comes to non-state actors. In the debate on democratic credentials of transnational civil society actors, problems of representation have often been highlighted. Critics of NGOs point out that their membership might be very limited, perhaps excluding most of the people to whom the NGO claims to give voice. The lack of representiveness within transnational activist networks is often described as a division between the ‘global north’ and the ‘global south.’ Structural inequalities based on class, gender, nationality, ethnicity, religion, and so on may be reproduced within transnational civil society. As noted by Scholte (2008: 15) (observing CSOs targeting the IMF), this civil society ‘generally mirrors rather than counters social hierarchies in global politics at large.’ Moreover, unlike governments in democratic states, the leadership of many civil society groups is not elected by any constituency, although some membershipbased organizations may have regular elections of leadership positions. However, the relevance of electoral representation for civil society actors can be questioned. Peruzzotti (2006: 48–9; cf. Chapter 8, this volume) argues that civil society as a social sphere is fundamentally different from political society. The representative politics characterizing political society (in representative democracies) is not applicable to civil society. NGOs and other civil society actors organize to demand accountability from political society, but they should not themselves represent any

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constituency, and hence should not be bounded by the formal rules and accountability mechanisms found in political society. Hence, there is a need to go beyond the conventional literature and rethink the concept of representation. Peruzzotti (2006: 52–3) argues that the question ‘Who do you represent?’ is not appropriate for civil society organizations. Instead we should ask ‘What do you represent?’ Similarly, Keck (2004: 45) argues that civil society activists in global governance institutions represent ‘positions rather than populations, ideas rather than constituencies.’ This is what she calls ‘discursive representation’ (cf. Dryzek and Niemeyer, 2008). Charnovitz (2006: 36) agrees, claiming that the usefulness of NGO ideas is more important than how well those ideas represent the NGO’s membership or constituency. Hence, many scholars prefer other concepts than representation when exploring the democratic qualities of transnational NGOs. Carlarne and Carlarne (2006) refer to ‘credibility building’ instead of representation. Jordan and van Tuijl (2000) claim that ‘political responsibility’ is a better concept than representation and accountability in this context. One of the most theoretically sophisticated attempts to deal with the problem of NGO (and other TNA) representation is the theory of ‘global stakeholder democracy’ elaborated by Macdonald (2008). She argues that elections are not an appropriate method for conferring representative legitimacy to non-state actors, since the intensity of interests typically vary between individuals. Fortunately, there are several non-electoral mechanisms of authorization and accountability that are more suitable, including codes of conduct, stakeholder assemblies, surveys, and so on. However, Macdonald (2008: 193) admits that these actual practices of NGO authorization and accountability are not fully democratic. To conclude this section, we should consider innovative as well as conventional aspects of representation when assessing the input legitimacy of TNAs. The following questions should be asked when analyzing democratic representation: How representative is the actor of its constituency? What is the quality of electoral representation? What is the quality of non-electoral mechanisms of authorization by stakeholders? To what extent does the actor represent a relevant discourse?

Inclusion Another concept that is frequently referred to in discussions of input legitimacy is inclusion. Whereas representative democrats tend to stress formal mechanisms for representation (election of leadership in

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particular), participatory democrats are more concerned with the actual inclusion of affected people. Hence, they do not consider representation a problem but focus on direct citizen participation. Compared to those favoring representative democracy, participatory democrats tend to be more concerned about avoiding exclusion and marginalization based on gender, ethnicity, class, and so on. Therefore, a focus on power structures excluding certain groups of people from real political participation is required. We can distinguish between the scope and quality of participation (Dingwerth, 2007: 28). The quality of participation is a throughput related aspect to be discussed below. The scope of participation – what I label inclusion – refers to the fundamental question of identifying the proper constituency or demos concerning a specific issue. Who should have the right to participate in decision-making, and who do actually participate? Ideally, all those significantly affected by a decision should participate directly in decision-making. It should, however, be noted that the ‘all-affected principle’ suffers from both practical and normative problems (Agné, 2006; Näsström, 2010; further discussed in Chapter 10). If the direct participation of all significantly affected stakeholders is not possible, a requirement from the perspective of participatory democracy is that the voices of marginalized affected people are included. The criterion of inclusiveness is important for deliberative democracy, too. Whereas some deliberative democrats seem to be satisfied with genuine deliberation taking place among representative political elites, others stress the importance of including all affected people in authentic deliberation. For some, the requirement of inclusion refers to arguments rather than individuals (Nanz and Steffek, 2005: 377). In sum, when analyzing inclusion we should ask the following questions: To what extent are those significantly affected included in decisionmaking, deliberation, and other activities? To what extent does the actor give voice to marginalized people?

Throughput legitimacy Transparency The degree of transparency, in this context, could be defined as ‘the extent to which individuals who may be significantly affected by a decision are able to learn about the decision-making process, including its existence, subject matter, structure and current status’ (Dingwerth, 2007: 30). Transparency can be measured along three dimensions

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(cf. Nelson, 2001: 1838); fullness (i.e., no or few and specified exceptions to public disclosure), accessibility (ideally at many sites, in different languages and free of charge), and timeliness (i.e., information should be made available well before a decision is taken in order for stakeholders to have a chance to influence the decision). This kind of openness could be seen as a basic precondition for other aspects of democracy. It is a common demand on non-democratic organizations to increase their transparency as a first step toward democratization. Transparency is important for the realization of other democratic values, not least accountability. Hence, an important question for empirical research on TNAs is to what extent decision-making processes and other activities are open and transparent.

Accountability Accountability is one of the most frequently used concepts in the literature on the democratic credentials of TNAs. We can distinguish between prospective (forward-looking) and retrospective (backwardlooking) forms of responsibility. The latter is called accountability (Bexell, 2005: 68). It means that ‘some actors have the right to hold other actors to a set of standards, to judge whether they have fulfilled their responsibilities in light of these standards, and to impose sanctions if they determine that these responsibilities have not been met’ (Grant and Keohane, 2005: 29). Thus, the components of accountability are standards, information, and sanctions. Effective accountability requires mechanisms for information and communication between decisionmakers and stakeholders and mechanisms for imposing penalties (Held and Koenig-Archibugi, 2005: 3). Accountability should be distinguished from other constraints on abuses of power like unilateral use of force and ‘checks and balances’ (Grant and Keohane, 2005: 30). A common concept in the field of public administration (cf. Mulgan, 2000), accountability has more recently been applied to NGOs (cf. Unerman and O’Dwyer, 2006), and in recent years the accountability of TNAs has been a hotly debated issue, too. Demands for greater accountability, not least of transnational NGOs, have frequently been voiced. This has made some scholars talk about an ‘accountability syndrome’ facing TNAs (Anheier and Hawkes, 2008: 125). Transnational accountability is much more complex than domestic accountability, and it is not obvious that accountability mechanisms can be transferred from domestic to transnational politics. Some scholars even argue that in the context of globalization, accountability is the problem,

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not the solution (Anheier and Hawkes, 2008: 130–1). The complexity and conceptual confusion may cause problems, because different conceptions of accountability can lead to conflicting expectations and undermine organizational effectiveness – what Koppell (2005) labels ‘multiple accountabilities disorder.’ Accountability can be constructed in many different ways. Grant and Keohane (2005) distinguish between participation and delegation models of accountability. The former refers to external accountability to those affected by the activities of the actor exercising power, whereas the latter deals with internal accountability to the principals who have delegated authority to the power-wielders. On a general level Grant and Keohane (2005) outline seven mechanisms of accountability in world politics: Hierarchical, supervisory, fiscal, legal, market, peer, and public reputational. They argue that these accountability mechanisms are applicable to various degrees to all kinds of actors in global governance, including multilateral organizations, NGOs, transgovernmental networks, firms, and states (Grant and Keohane, 2005: 40). The literature on (transnational) NGOs is full of more specific accountability mechanisms and principles, including certification, rating, codes of conduct, monitoring and evaluation, disclosure of statements and reports (i.e., transparency), and social auditing (including stakeholder dialogue) (cf. Ebrahim, 2003; Lee, 2004: 8–9). The literature on accountability of TNAs often lacks elaborate theorizing referring to established theoretical perspectives within IR. Nevertheless there are several theoretical perspectives which are potentially applicable to transnational accountability problems. Rational choice theory focuses on principal–agent relations. Global governance theory emphasizes governance networks and regimes. Constructivists are concerned with accountability discourses. From a critical political economy perspective, attention is directed toward processes of capital accumulation and legitimation (Mason, 2008). At least implicitly, much literature in this field, especially on NGO and business accountability, has had a rationalist perspective focusing on technocratic solutions to perceived accountability problems. More recent research (e.g., Ebrahim and Weisband, 2007) has taken a more interpretive and hermeneutic approach, viewing accountability as a socially constructed means of control. This is also the approach taken in this chapter. From a constructivist perspective we can examine accountability discourses and more specifically how they reproduce existing power structures or how they may serve to alter power relations, empowering previously marginalized people. As argued by Ebrahim and Weisband (2007), socially constructed

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accountability mechanisms can be used by the weak as well as by the powerful. Central to the debate on accountability is the concept of stakeholders. Identifying the stakeholders of a TNA is a way of answering the question: To whom should the actor be accountable? We can distinguish between internal and external stakeholders (Kovach, 2006: 201). Referring to transnational NGOs, three main types of stakeholders can be identified: Donors, members, and the subjects of an organization’s intervention (Peruzzotti, 2006: 53). However, conceptualizing transnational NGO accountability in terms of a principal–agent relation is not appropriate, because transnational NGOs typically have a diverse set of stakeholders, and it is not clear which stakeholder should be prioritized as the principal (Brown and Moore, 2001: 572). It should also be pointed out that accountability to a broad and diffuse set of stakeholders risks undermining accountability, since being accountable to all means being accountable to no one (Bexell, 2005: 137). A basic tension in the construction of accountability mechanisms for TNAs is between, on the one hand, legal regulatory frameworks and, on the other hand, self-regulation. Many governments try to control and manipulate civil society and, from a democratic perspective, one should be cautious about excessive state control and regulation of civil society groups. Civil society actors themselves tend to prefer self-regulation (e.g., codes of ethics) to other methods of enhancing their accountability. Self-defined standards of legitimacy and accountability do not have to apply only to individual organizations. There are also examples of initiatives to enhance legitimacy and accountability that apply to NGO sectors or campaigns as well as cross-sector partnerships (Brown, 2008). However, there are few examples of effective self-regulatory mechanisms (Heinrich et al., 2008: 334–5). When examining conventional accountability discourses from a democracy perspective, we find that traditional models of accountability tend to privilege powerful stakeholders and fail to address participatory aspects of accountability (cf. Kovach, 2006: 197). Accountability is often seen as technocratic supervision and control. Hence, there is a need to democratize accountability beyond the nation-state. As a starting point we should realize that NGO (and other TNA) accountability is a political issue. This is not evident in much of the technical discussions on specific accountability mechanisms (Jordan and van Tuijl, 2006: 4–5). Many scholars writing on accountability in a transnational context deliberately exclude democratic accountability (e.g., Ebrahim, 2003: 815). Grant and Keohane’s influential work, for instance, deals

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with accountability in world politics – not democratic accountability. Their view of democracy beyond the nation-state is that there is no global demos and therefore there can be no global democracy (Grant and Keohane, 2005: 34). Hence, we must be satisfied with non-democratic accountability mechanisms that, at least, can limit the abuse of power in global governance. When they claim that multilateral organizations are the most accountable actors in global governance (Grant and Keohane, 2005: 37), we should remember that they do not refer to democratic accountability. To conclude, I suggest that when examining the democratic accountability of TNAs, we should ask the following questions: (1) According to what principles is the actor accountable? (This refers to standards, codes of conduct, certification, rating, and so on.) (2) To which stakeholders is the actor accountable? (3) Does accountability involve control and sanctions or does it imply voluntary responsiveness?

Participation Whereas I take inclusion to refer to the scope of participation, i.e., the general relationship between an organization and its constituencies or people significantly affected by its activities, I use the concept participation in relation to specific decision-making procedures or other activities within the organization, i.e., throughput legitimacy. Hence, I am here concerned with the quality of participation (cf. Dingwerth, 2007: 28). How do people participate in decision-making? Only by passively receiving information, or through the election of representatives, or in a more active and direct way favored by participatory democrats? Political participation does not have to be limited to formal decision-making or processes of deliberation. Within many social movements, for instance, participation can include various forms of protest activities. A number of non-violent but still confrontational social movement activities have been questioned from a democratic perspective. Those adhering to a representative model of democracy typically consider civil disobedience undemocratic (unless it is targeting an authoritarian regime). But such methods can also be seen as a practice of direct or participatory democracy. Generally speaking, forms of direct participation would lead to more democratic legitimacy than indirect participation, but the issue is more complex than that. Appropriate forms of participation must be contextually determined. In sum, when examining the throughput legitimacy of an actor, we should ask: What are the forms and quality of participation?

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Deliberation Deliberation, according to Chambers (2003: 309) ‘is debate and discussion aimed at producing reasonable, well-informed opinions in which participants are willing to revise preferences in light of discussion, new information, and claims made by fellow participants.’ Hence, authentic deliberation must be non-coercive and induce reflection (cf. Dryzek, 2000: 2). Critical reflection should be distinguished from justification of a position. Powerful participants in a deliberative process may acknowledge criticism put forward by less powerful participants by giving reasons for the positions taken, but this might just be a rationalization of a fixed position (Nanz and Steffek, 2005: 376). Critical reflection requires a genuine willingness to adjust one’s position in response to rational arguments. Trade-offs between deliberation and other democratic values have been noted. Dingwerth (2007: 202–3) argues that there are trade-offs between inclusion and deliberation, transparency and deliberation, and accountability and deliberation. Mutz (2006) devotes a whole book to the argument that participation and deliberation are difficult to combine. The possible tension between participation and deliberation is a highly relevant question in relation to transnational civil society. Whereas some global social movements do have deliberative qualities (cf. della Porta, 2005), the coercive and confrontational methods of the more radical parts of transnational civil society are seen as problematic from the perspective of deliberative democratic theory. The tools of arguing and communicative action are central to the deliberative democratic ideal. However, passions and emotions – not only reason – are central for the mobilization of social movements. Furthermore, the activities of social movements are sometimes confrontational and coercive and, hence, do not fit well within a deliberative democratic framework. From a social movement (and activist) perspective, the ideal of deliberative democracy can be criticized on the ground that deliberation does not work in societies characterized by structural inequalities. Direct activism is often necessary to achieve social change (Young, 2001). While paying attention to such potential problems with deliberation, the main question to ask from this perspective is: To what extent is deliberation characterized by critical reflection?

Output legitimacy When examining democratic credentials of TNAs with the overarching aim to analyze their possible contribution to the democratization of global governance, the output legitimacy of the actors must be of central

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concern. By output legitimacy I do not refer to effectiveness. Increased effectiveness might be a source of strengthened legitimacy, but it does not increase the democratic legitimacy of the actor. The participation of TNAs in global policy-making may serve two different purposes: Increasing the ‘epistemic quality’ of the decisions taken (i.e., a non-democratic aspect related to effectiveness) or strengthening democratic accountability. These two functions of TNAs in global governance are not always easily combined (Steffek and Ferretti, 2009). There might be a trade-off between democratic and non-democratic aspects of output legitimacy. The focus here is on democratic output legitimacy, i.e., democratic consequences of the activities of TNAs. Transnational civil society actors are generally considered the most promising type of TNA when it comes to potential to have a democratizing impact on global governance (cf. Scholte, 2005; Smith, 2008). Such actors may serve as a ‘transmission belt’ between citizens and global policy-makers (Steffek et al., 2008). Transnational social movements and NGOs may give voice to previously marginalized people in world politics. The activities of transnational civil society actors targeting powerful global actors may increase the accountability of these actors. Transnational civil society may also play a constitutive role in the construction and diffusion of democratic norms. However, it is important to stress that transnational civil society actors do not necessarily have such output-related democratic legitimacy. It is an empirical question to what extent the activities of a specific TNA have pro- or anti-democratic consequences. A TNA may be weak on the input and throughput aspects of democratic legitimacy, but still contribute to the strengthening of democracy in global governance, hence having some output-related democratic legitimacy. Many civil society groups, for instance, may through their advocacy and ‘watchdog’ activities contribute to increased transparency and accountability of international organizations although these groups themselves are weak on internal democracy. It is also reasonable to argue that it is not of much importance that a TNA has strong input and throughput democratic credentials, if its activities do not have any positive democratic effect on global governance at large. We can even conceive of actors with relatively strong democratic input and throughput legitimacy having a negative effect on global democracy. Hence, the dimension of output legitimacy should not be left out of the picture when analyzing democratic qualities of TNAs. We should ask the questions: What are the democratic consequences of the actor’s activities? Does the actor contribute to the democratization of global governance and, if so, how?

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Concluding remarks on democratic legitimacy The analysis of democratic legitimacy can be summed up in a number of questions which can help us evaluate the democratic credentials of TNAs (see Table 2.2). The questions identify different dimensions of democratic legitimacy, but they are not intended to be operational criteria for empirical research ‘measuring’ the democratic legitimacy of different TNAs. The constructivist perspective challenges us to apply the

Table 2.2

Questions for evaluating democratic legitimacy of transnational actors

Input Legitimacy Representation How representative is the actor of its constituency? What is the quality of electoral representation? What is the quality of non-electoral mechanisms of authorization by stakeholders? To what extent does the actor represent a relevant discourse? Inclusion To what extent are those significantly affected included in decision-making, deliberation, and other activities? To what extent does the actor give voice to marginalized people? Throughput Legitimacy Transparency To what extent are decision-making processes and other activities open and transparent? Accountability According to what principles is the actor accountable? To which stakeholders is the actor accountable? Does accountability involve control and sanctions or voluntary responsiveness? Participation What are the forms and quality of participation? Deliberation To what extent is deliberation characterized by critical reflection? Output Legitimacy Consequences What are the democratic consequences of the actor’s activities? Does the actor contribute to the democratization of global governance, and if so, how?

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different aspects of democratic legitimacy in a context sensitive way. Forms of democratic legitimacy differ not only across different types of TNAs, but also between different social, cultural, and political settings. An overarching question should be how the different sources of democratic legitimacy are socially constructed. We should inquire into the interests and values behind different demands for, and claims to, democratic legitimacy and ask how specific mechanisms for representation, participation, accountability, and so on could be reconstructed in a more democratic way.

Summing up and looking ahead In an effort to bring some order to the conceptual muddle in the literature on democratic credentials of TNAs, I first tried to clarify the meaning of the concept TNA through outlining some dimensions along which to compare different types of TNAs. TNAs could be distinguished based on their principal ideas and motivation, the transnational public sphere in which they operate, their internal structure, their degree of autonomy, power, and politicization, as well as their spatial extension. I then turned to the issue of democratic legitimacy, arguing in favor of a constructivist perspective. I suggested that the well-known distinction between input, throughput, and output legitimacy is a useful way to organize different aspects of democratic legitimacy. Representation is important, but for many TNAs non-electoral mechanisms and the representation of discourses rather than constituencies seem more relevant. Inclusion is more important from the perspectives of participatory and deliberative democracy. Transparency is an essential factor within all models of democracy, but transparency by itself does not mean democracy. An organization can be very open and transparent, but still elitist and exclusive when it comes to decision-making. Questions of accountability should focus on what principles of accountability are applied, which are the stakeholders, and to what extent accountability mechanisms are voluntary or involve some sanctions. Instead of, or in combination with, analyses of formal decision-making processes, we could focus on other forms of political participation and processes of deliberation. However, there seems to be trade-offs between deliberation and many other democratic values, including participation. The democratic consequences of the activities of TNAs must also be considered. TNAs with poor internal democratic credentials may still have a democratizing impact on global governance and vice versa.

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The following chapters in this volume elaborate further on some of the concepts introduced in this chapter and address some of the questions posed here. In the concluding chapter we return to a systematic analysis of what forms of democratic legitimacy are appropriate for different types of TNAs, and what potential trade-offs there are between different democratic values.

References Agné, H. (2006) ‘A dogma of democratic theory and globalization: Why politics need not include everyone it affects,’ European Journal of International Relations, 12: 433–58. Anheier, H. and A. Hawkes (2008) ‘Accountability in a globalising world: International non-governmental organizations and foundations,’ in M. Albrow et al. (eds) Global Civil Society 2007/8 (London: Sage). Bexell, M. (2005) Exploring Responsibility: Public and Private in Human Rights Protection (Lund: Department of Political Science, Lund University). Brown, L. D. (2008) Creating Credibility: Legitimacy and Accountability for Transnational Civil Society (Sterling, VA: Kumarian Press). Brown, L. D. and M. H. Moore (2001) ‘Accountability, strategy, and international nongovernmental organizations,’ Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Quarterly, 30: 569–87. Brubaker, R. (2005) ‘The “Diaspora” Diaspora,’ Ethnic and Racial Studies, 28: 1–19. Carlarne, C. and J. Carlarne (2006) ‘In-credible government: Legitimacy, democracy, and non-governmental organizations,’ Public Organization Review, 6: 347–71. Chambers, S. (2003) ‘Deliberative Democratic Theory,’ Annual Review of Political Science, 6: 307–26. Charnovitz, S. (2006) ‘Accountability of non-governmental organizations in global governance,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Clark, I. (2007) Legitimacy in International Society (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Collingwood, V. (2006) ‘Non-governmental organizations, power and legitimacy in international society,’ Review of International Studies, 32: 439–54. della Porta, D. (2005) ‘Deliberation in movement: Why and how to study deliberative democracy and social movements,’ Acta Politica, 40: 336–50. DeMars, W. E. (2005) NGOs and Transnational Networks: Wild Cards in World Politics (London and Ann Arbor: Pluto Press). Dingwerth, K. (2007) The New Transnationalism: Transnational Governance and Democratic Legitimacy (Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan). Dryzek, J. S. (2000) Deliberative Democracy and Beyond: Liberals, Critics, Contestations (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Dryzek, J. S. and S. Niemeyer (2008) ‘Discursive representation,’ American Political Science Review, 102: 481–93. Ebrahim, A. (2003) ‘Accountability in practice: Mechanisms for NGOs,’ World Development, 31: 813–29.

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Ebrahim, A. and E. Weisband (eds) (2007) Global Accountabilities: Participation, Pluralism, and Public Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Fuchs, D. (2005) ‘Commanding heights? The strength and fragility of business power in global politics,’ Millennium: Journal of International Studies, 33: 771–801. Grant, R. W. and R. O. Keohane (2005) ‘Accountability and abuses of power in world politics,’ American Political Science Review, 99: 29–43. Haas, P. M. (1992) ‘Introduction: Epistemic communities and international policy coordination,’ International Organization, 46: 1–35. Heinrich, V. F., J. M. Mati and L. D. Brown (2008) ‘The varying contexts for civil society accountability: Insights from a global analysis of country-level assessments,’ in V. F. Heinrich and L. Fioramonti (eds) CIVICUS Global Survey of the State of Civil Society, Volume 2: Comparative Perspectives (Bloomfield: Kumarian Press). Held, D. and M. Koenig-Archibugi (2005) ‘Introduction,’ in D. Held and M. Koenig-Archibugi (eds) Global Governance and Public Accountability (London: Blackwell). Jordan, L. and P. van Tuijl (2000) ‘Political responsibility in transnational NGO advocacy,’ World Development, 28: 2051–65. Jordan, L. and P. van Tuijl (2006) ‘Rights and responsibilities in the political landscape of NGO accountability: Introduction and overview,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability. Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Keck, M. E. (2004) ‘Governance regimes and the politics of discursive representation,’ in N. Piper and A. Uhlin (eds) Transnational Activism in Asia: Problems of Power and Democracy (London: Routledge). Koppell, J. G. S. (2005) ‘Pathologies of accountability: ICANN and the challenge of “Multiple Accountabilities Disorder”,’ Public Administration Review, 65: 94–108. Kovach, H. (2006) ‘Addressing accountability at the global level: The challenges facing international NGOs,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Lee, J. (2004) NGO Accountability: Rights and Responsibilities (Geneva: Centre for Applied Studies in International Negotiations). Lister, S. (2003) ‘NGO legitimacy: Technical issue or social construct?’ Critique of Anthropology, 23: 175–92. Macdonald, T. (2008) Global Stakeholder Democracy: Power and Representation Beyond Liberal States (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Mason, M. (2008) ‘The governance of transnational environmental harm: Addressing new modes of accountability/responsibility,’ Global Environmental Politics, 8: 8–24. Mulgan, R. (2000) ‘ “Accountability”: An ever-expanding concept?,’ Public Administration, 78: 555–73. Mutz, D. C. (2006) Hearing the Other Side: Deliberative versus Participatory Democracy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Nanz, P. and J. Steffek (2005) ‘Assessing the democratic quality of deliberation in international governance: Criteria and research strategies,’ Acta Politica, 40: 368–83.

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Nelson, P. J. (2001) ‘Transparency mechanisms at the multilateral development banks,’ World Development, 29: 1835–47. Näsström, S. (2010) ‘The challenge of the all-affected principle,’ Political Studies, doi: 10.1111/j.1467–9248.2010.00845.x. Peruzzotti, E. (2006) ‘Civil society, representation and accountability: Restating current debates on the representativeness and accountability of civic associations,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Piper, N. and A. Uhlin (2004) ‘New perspectives on transnational activism,’ in N. Piper and A. Uhlin (eds) Transnational Activism in Asia: Problems of Power and Democracy (London: Routledge). Risse, T. (2002) ‘Transnational actors and world politics,’ in W. Carlsnaess, T. Risse and B. A. Simmons (eds) Handbook of International Relations (London: Sage). Scharpf, F. (1999) Governing in Europe: Effective and Democratic? (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Scholte, J. A. (2005) ‘Civil society and democratically accountable global governance,’ in D. Held and M. Koenig-Archibugi (eds) Global Governance and Public Accountability (London: Blackwell). Scholte, J. A. (2008) ‘Civil ociety and IMF accountability,’ CSGR Working Paper 244/08. Smith, J. (2008) Social Movements for Global Democracy (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press). Steffek, J. and M. P. Ferretti (2009) ‘Accountability or “Good Decisions”? The competing goals of civil society participation in international governance,’ Global Society, 23: 37–57. Steffek, J., C. Kissling and P. Nanz (eds) (2008) Civil Society Participation in European and Global Governance: A Cure for the Democratic Deficit? (Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan). Unerman, J. and B. O’Dwyer (2006) ‘On James Bond and the importance of NGO accountability,’ Accounting, Auditing & Accountability Journal, 19: 305–18. Van Rooy, A. (2004) The Global Legitimacy Game: Civil Society, Globalization, and Protest (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan). Young, I. M. (2001) ‘Activist challenges to deliberative democracy,’ Political Theory, 29: 670–90. Zürn, M. (1998) Regieren jenseits des Nationalstaates: Globalisierung und Denationalisierung als Chance (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp).

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Part II Democratic Credentials of Different Transnational Actors

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3 Democratic Legitimacy of Transnational Corporations in Global Governance Doris Fuchs, Agni Kalfagianni, and Julia Sattelberger

Introduction The objective of this chapter is to explore the democratic legitimacy of transnational corporations (TNCs) in global governance. In pursuit of this objective, the chapter investigates political activities of TNCs within transnational processes of private and public governance. It starts from the recognition that, global governance is increasingly being created not only by (inter)governmental actors but also by private actors. Corporations, in particular, have become key players in the global governance system. On the one hand, they have acquired and expanded a ‘new’ role as a political actor through the creation of private governance institutions, such as private standards, or public–private or private– private partnerships (PPPs). On the other hand, they have expanded their ‘traditional’ political power in terms of influence exercised on public governance output, due to their advantage over other actors in terms of resources, such as exclusive information and financial and human resources. As a result of the central role that TNCs play as political actors in global governance structures and processes today, the question of the democratic legitimacy of their political activities moves into the spotlight. Democracy, after all, is one of the major political achievements of mankind. With the shift of political decision-making to the global level and to non-state actors, as captured in the global governance literature, there is an urgent need to address the question of how to maintain basic requirements of participation, transparency, and accountability. This chapter explores the democratic legitimacy of TNCs as political actors in two settings. First, it analyzes the legitimacy implications of TNCs’ standard-setting activities in processes of private governance. 41

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From a power theoretical perspective, these activities can be seen as adding rule-setting power to the structural power of TNCs, which has mainly taken the form of agenda-setting power in the past. Secondly, the chapter analyzes the legitimacy implications of TNCs’ lobbying activities in processes of public governance. These activities are frequently discussed as exercises of instrumental power in power theoretic analyses of governance. Interestingly, the implications of the exercise of political power by TNCs in processes of public governance received substantial attention in the literature in the context of globalization and the growth in size and reach of corporations in the 1970s and 1980s. Since the late 1990s, the focus – especially in international relations – tended to shift more toward TNCs’ ‘new’ political activities in terms of private governance. There, however, the recognition that these activities also meant an exercise of power and had to be analyzed in terms of their legitimacy implications came only belatedly. Our chapter aims to bring the old discussion back in, and to combine the analysis of the democratic legitimacy of TNCs in processes of public and private governance. In both settings, TNCs today exercise an unprecedented degree of power and, therefore, both settings deserve scrutiny. Moreover, it is interesting to explore to what extent we can identify notable differences between the two settings. Due to space constraints, this chapter analyzes the democratic legitimacy of TNCs with respect to processes of environmental governance. As a first case, it explores TNCs’ political role in the context of private retail food standards, specifically the GlobalGap and the Marine Stewardship Council (MSC). In the second case, the chapter analyzes TNCs’ political role in the context of the creation of the Proposal for a Regulation of the European Parliament and of the Council setting emission performance standards for new passenger cars as part of the Community’s integrated approach to reduce CO2 emissions from lightduty vehicles (COM, 2007: 856)1 of the European Union (EU). Such a focus on global environmental governance means, of course, that we cannot easily generalize from our analysis to other areas of governance. At the same time, such a focus is valuable in its own right, as sustainable development is one of the core challenges for societies around the globe, and previous research has shown that the activities of TNCs in private and public governance have highly ambivalent implications for sustainability. In assessing the democratic legitimacy of TNCs within global governance, the chapter uses the criteria of participation, transparency, and

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accountability, proposed by Porter and Ronit (2010). Each of these criteria is specified further below. Of course, one will rarely find a case in which all of them are completely fulfilled or not fulfilled at all. Likewise, it is impossible to define a quantitative threshold for their fulfillment across different private governance institutions. Accordingly, we use the criteria and their further specifications to identify areas in which the conditions are fulfilled or become problematic. Our evaluation of the seriousness of the identified problems then guides our overall assessment. The result of this assessment is that the current political activities of TNCs raise serious concerns with respect to both processes of private and public governance, if one applies the three criteria of participation, transparency, and accountability. The chapter explicitly does not apply the concepts of output and throughput legitimacy in its analysis. As we argue below, output legitimacy is a faulty concept that cannot provide a basis for assessing the democratic legitimacy of political activities of TNCs within global governance. Instead, we argue that the notions of participation, transparency, and accountability, traditionally applied in processes of domestic governance, necessarily have to form the basis for analyses of democratic legitimacy in global governance as well. Only when these criteria are fulfilled in some manner, can we justifiably refer to democratic ideas.2 The next section presents a conceptual overview on the new role of TNCs as political actors in global governance. Then, section three turns to the question of democratic legitimacy and introduces the concepts of participation, transparency, and accountability as criteria for assessing the democratic legitimacy of actors in public and private governance. The section also scrutinizes and dismisses alternative criteria, in particular output legitimacy. Section four pursues the empirical analysis of the democratic legitimacy of global private and public governance on the basis of the criteria developed in section three. Finally, section five concludes by summarizing our findings and delineating their implications for research and policy.

The new role of TNCs as political actors In the context of globalization and global governance, the political role of TNCs has gained new momentum and subsequently regained scientific interest. Globalization has fostered a growing number of corporations with increasing resources: Studies highlight that the number of TNCs and the level of corporate dominated FDI inflows have increased more than tenfold from the 1970s until today (UNCTAD,

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2008). Due to their enlarged economic power, TNCs are frequently seen as important global actors with a potential of significant political influence. However, these economic indicators can only serve as extremely rough and indirect measures of businesses’ political role in global governance, since a narrow focus on their economic capabilities neglects the question of how private actors are able to translate their economic power into political influence through political activities within global governance. There are several ways for TNCs to pursue their interests within governance processes: On the one hand, studies indicate that private actors use ‘traditional’ channels of influence and try to lobby policy-makers to influence public policy output. Recent analyses have shown that these activities have increased greatly at all levels of governance (Fuchs, 2005). Although an increase in lobbying activities may perhaps not translate directly into political influence, the extent of activities in this area makes it seem highly likely that business interests play a prominent role within today’s public decision-making processes. On the other hand, some scholars have emphasized that TNCs are increasingly able to set their own private rules through a range of ‘new’ political activities, such as self-regulation, quasi-regulations, and PPPs (Cutler et al., 1999).3 Thereby, TNCs have become subjects rather than objects of regulatory norms. After all, these private governance institutions are more than business practices companies use to organize their activities. They reflect rules and standards that have fundamental implications for the allocation of values and resources in society, the core business of politics according to Easton (1953). These developments highlight that TNCs have become prominent political actors within global governance. While business might provide skills and abilities that contribute to global problem-solving, however, it should be considered that private economic interests and public interests frequently do diverge. In practice, the political activities of business do not necessarily lead to general improvements in public welfare. Therefore, the democratic legitimacy of today’s political role of business actors, specifically TNCs, needs to be discussed.

Evaluating the democratic legitimacy of TNCs as actors in global governance Since TNCs are not elected by a demos, their influential role within public and private policy-making is controversial, and the scientific community has paid considerable attention to the question of the

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democratic legitimacy of their involvement in governance. But how can we assess the democratic legitimacy of private actors’ engagement in rule making? Clearly, input legitimacy cannot apply to private governance institutions. Accordingly, some scholars have pointed to the concept of output legitimacy as a solution. However, we argue below that this concept does not allow the evaluation of democratic legitimacy of governance activities by TNCs either. As an alternative concept, this chapter suggests applying the criteria of participation, transparency, and accountability, proposed by Porter and Ronit (2010), as the best available indicators for the assessment of the democratic legitimacy of the political role of TNCs (see also Schaller, 2007). In the following, we discuss the three dimensions and operationalize them for the empirical analysis. Participation Participation as an indicator of democratic legitimacy requires access to the policy process of all actors who are potentially affected by a decision. Democratic norms call for inclusion, because political outcomes can only be considered legitimate if those who must abide by or adjust to them have had a part in their formation (Young, 2000). Moreover, inclusion needs to be accompanied by political equality to ensure that all actors have an equal right to express their interests and concerns (Young, 2000). Regarding the processes of public and private decisionmaking in global governance, then, participation requires an assessment of patterns of inclusion and exclusion of state actors, civil society organizations, and business actors, since these groups are directly or indirectly affected by public decisions and private rule-setting mechanisms. In our empirical study, we evaluate participation as an indicator of the democratic legitimacy of public and private governance institutions, focusing on the role of TNCs within the political process. More specifically, we assess TNCs’ formal and informal influence on public decision-making processes, exploring their access to informal meetings or formal hearings as well as activities on a consultative basis. In private governance institutions initiated by TNCs, we evaluate participation in terms of access provision to other groups affected by the given institution. In all cases, political equality as a participation qualifier is evaluated alongside access. Transparency The second indicator we apply in our assessment of the democratic legitimacy of public and private governance mechanisms in the light

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of TNCs’ political activities is transparency. Transparency refers to the provision of timely, reliable, and accessible information on the governance and performance characteristics of public and private governance institutions. Governance-related transparency refers to access to information within and about decision-making processes and structures. Performance-related transparency refers to the provision of information on the associated public benefits gained by the implementation of a public or private governance mechanism. Both types of transparency enhance public scrutiny and the visibility of complex processes and their outcomes, thereby also strengthening meaningful participation and ensuring accountability. We consider transparency timely when there is reference to recent events as well as when critical information is available before important decisions are to be made. Reliability of information depends on the existence of external mechanisms of information control, instead of simply self-reporting. Finally, we evaluate accessibility to a wide public, consisting of all stakeholders affected by the governance institution, on the basis of the channels through which information is communicated. Such channels include, for instance, the internet, mass media, forums, seminars, conferences, and so on.

Accountability Finally, we consider accountability as a third central condition for the exercise of democratic control and, therefore, for the democratic legitimacy of public and private governance institutions. Accountability is required not only in terms of the internal and external auditing of governance processes and their implementation, but also in terms of the relationship between the governance mechanism and the affected public and other relevant stakeholders. Within public governance, the accountability of policy makers is – at least in theory – controlled by the public and their power to vote decision-makers out of office, if a public governance institution performs badly. However, we also consider ‘democratic control’ a necessary requirement for private governance, and thus for the democratic legitimacy of TNCs’ political participation in all processes of global governance. Within processes of private governance, internal accountability can be established through the responsiveness of governing boards to their constituencies. In terms of external accountability, scholars note the ‘role of intermediary organisations as institutions that are particularly suited to develop and maintain standards of accountability,’ such as auditing

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organizations or certification bodies (Furger, 1997: 449). Such actors only tend to control whether or not the rules of a governance institution have been violated. They do not check the implications of a private governance institution for the affected public. Thus additional mechanisms of accountability, enabling the affected public or its representatives to intervene and adjust the governance institution are needed. In sum, we use the criteria of participation, transparency, and accountability to evaluate the democratic legitimacy of TNCs’ political role in private and public governance arrangements. For each criterion, we have defined a number of conditions to be fulfilled. Yet, a perfect fulfillment of each condition is probably more than one can expect. At the same time, it is impossible to define quantitative thresholds for these conditions. Rather, one can analyze whether the conditions are fulfilled, somewhat fulfilled or not fulfilled. When one or more of the conditions identified above are not fulfilled, we conclude that democratic legitimacy cannot be attributed to the governance institution under study.

Debunking output legitimacy Having introduced the analytical framework for evaluating the democratic legitimacy of TNCs within global governance in this chapter, we now explain why we prefer this conceptualization over others. Traditionally, democratic legitimacy in policy processes is conceived as deriving from democratic procedures and institutional arrangements. These procedures and institutional arrangements (e.g., individual rights, elections, and so on) ensure the autonomy of the individual and the community, which are fundamental for the self-governance of a democratic society. Related to this is the idea of the autonomy of the individual and the equality of every member of the community to participate in political decision-making. In modern governance arrangements, and especially in the case of private governance, however, this conceptualization cannot be applied to assess the democratic legitimacy of governance. In consequence, scholars have suggested the concept of ‘output legitimacy’ as a complement to the notion of ‘input legitimacy’ outlined above (Scharpf, 1998).4 According to output-oriented arguments, democratic legitimacy derives from the effectiveness of the specific governance institutions in designing policies that promote the public good. However, there are two presumptions related to this concept of legitimacy: first, that the

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involved actors primarily pursue the public good instead of their private interest and, second, that the public good is served effectively (Scharpf, 2003). On this basis, proponents of the concepts of output legitimacy argue that the effectiveness of a governance mechanism can serve as a source of democratic legitimacy. However, we argue that it is difficult, if not impossible, to evaluate the effectiveness of a governance mechanism in fostering the public good objectively. After all, different stakeholders will tend to define the public good differently. In food governance, for instance, different actors tend to delineate quite different sustainability criteria. While retailers tend to emphasize food safety and traceability, environmental NGOs tend to stress ecological aspects, while development NGOs and farmers, especially in the South, will point to the importance of rural livelihoods. In other words, the definition of consensual objectives of a private governance institution requires processes of discussion and negotiation. The effectiveness of a private governance institution, therefore, cannot be objectively measured without such a process either. In consequence, criteria of participation, transparency, and accountability move to the forefront again, in order to allow a democratically legitimate participatory, transparent, and responsive deliberative process to define the objectives. Similarly, measuring the effectiveness of the governance institution against its self-set objectives does not provide a way out of the dilemma. What if these self-set objectives were illegal, meaningless, or even hurtful to those affected? In sum, we argue that the concept of output legitimacy is fundamentally flawed, and that it is more appropriate to measure the democratic legitimacy of private actors in governance processes on the basis of participation, transparency, and accountability.

Empirical illustration As a next step, we will illustrate our theoretical argument with reference to empirical cases of private and public governance, specifically private and public environmental governance. For private environmental governance, we focus on the GlobalGap and MSC, and for public environmental governance on the EU’s CO2 proposal. Our analysis is based on expert interviews and content analyses of public information provided on the internet and in publicly available documentation. In addition, we draw on findings provided by previous empirical case studies on the governance institutions.

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The democratic legitimacy of TNCs’ activities in private governance In the context of globalization and global governance, a new form of private rule-setting power of business actors can be recognized. On top of their ‘traditional’ potential to influence public policy output through lobbying activities, TNCs are increasingly able to set their own private rules and standards. The political activities of business that lead to the implementation of private governance mechanisms affect not only other business actors but also the public. Therefore, they need to be analyzed with regard to their democratic legitimacy. Standards are defined as a rule of measurement established by regulation or authority (Jones and Hill, 1994). Private standards tend to be voluntary in nature and rely on certification mechanisms to identify actors complying with the principles defined in the standard. GlobalGap and MSC are examples of such standards in global food governance. In the following section, the role of TNCs within them will be analyzed with a view to their democratic legitimacy. Before we proceed with the analysis, let us present the examined standards in more detail. GlobalGap was developed in 1997 by a group of retailers belonging to the Euro-retailers Produce Working Group (EUREP). While initially applying only to fruits and vegetables, the standard now covers meat products and fish from aquaculture as well. Completion and verification of a checklist consisting of 254 questions is required in order to acquire GlobalGap certification. This checklist is divided into 41 ‘major musts,’ 122 ‘minor musts’ as well as 91 recommendations ‘shoulds.’ Traceability and food safety are covered by major must practices, while minor musts and shoulds include environmental and animal welfare issues. Currently, GlobalGap covers over 80,000 producers in 80 countries. As a business-to-business standard it is not visible to consumers. The Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) is a label for sustainable fishery, created in 1997 as a result of an agreement between Unilever and the WWF. The idea behind MSC is to address the worldwide decline in fish stocks by awarding sustainably managed fisheries with a certification and a label that could be affixed to retail products (Ponte, 2007: 161). The standard is based on three principles (maintenance of the target fish stock, minimal environmental impact, and effective management) and 31 performance indicators. It can be applied to a wide range of fisheries found across the world coasts, oceans, and freshwater bodies (Leadbitter et al., 2006). At the moment, MSC aims at specific fisheries rather than species that could come from multiple fisheries and does not cover aquaculture (Iles, 2007). Moreover, it is currently quite small in its

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fishery coverage and is mostly active in Europe, but its endorsement by major retailers is expected to change this situation in the future. In the next section, the role of business within the two cases of private governance is analyzed with regard to its implications for participation, transparency, and accountability. Participation Participation in GlobalGap is based on membership. Currently, it has 42 retail and food service members (European, except for one Japanese and two US), 149 producer/supplier members (41 from outside Europe), and 100 associate members, such as certification bodies, consulting, and crop protection industry.5 Not all members have equal rights in decision-making processes, however. Until 2001, the standard had a retail dominated governance structure, but since then retailers and producers participate equally. More specifically, both the Steering Committee and the GlobalGap Sector Committees have 50 per cent retailer and 50 per cent supplier representation. The Committee members are elected by closed ballot of current retailer and supplier members. Each constituency elects its own representatives. Associate members are allowed access to the committees but lack formal decision-making power. Despite equal participation rights for retailers and suppliers, members from developing countries are underrepresented in GlobalGap. More specifically, only eight producer/supplier members are from Africa, seven from Asia and 16 from Central and South America, at the moment. In the sector committee for crops, responsible for revising the standard, the majority of both retailer and producer members is from Europe (17 out of 25). In 2007, however, GlobalGap initiated a special project to provide more opportunities for African smallholder representation in the standard-setting process.6 As part of this project, it has appointed a Smallholder Observer and Ambassador for Africa whose role is to participate in meetings, give input on the standard as it stands now, and make proposals for the future. GlobalGap has also initiated a smallholder Task Force with the objective to incorporate different stakeholder views and experiences related to GlobalGap implementation in smallholder agriculture, and to consider options for the next revision of the standard in 2011 (GlobalGap News, February 2009). Even though such initiatives are welcome, it will take time to evaluate whether they constitute effective and sufficient measures to strengthen the representation of developing countries within GlobalGap’s governance arrangements, and to incorporate their voice in its future development.

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MSC is a multi-stakeholder initiative, developed from a partnership between Unilever and WWF. Since 2000, it is governed by the Board of Trustees comprised of global fisheries experts, who approve plans, targets, strategies, financial accountability, and appoint chief board and committee members (Owens, 2008). In contrast to GlobalGap, MSC is not a membership organization. Moreover, trustees are not elected but appointed by cooptation.7 This self-recruitment principle has been criticized by experts, who observe that MSC’s governance structure functions much like a corporate board of directors, rather than a stakeholder council (Gulbrandsen, 2008). Other institutional organs of MSC include the Technical Advisory Board and the Stakeholder Council, which advise the Board. In addition to the three governance bodies, committees and working groups are set up to address specific regional or topical issues. Their members come from the MSC Board, Technical Advisory Board and Stakeholder Council, and may include other experts who are invited to advise MSC.8 Similar to GlobalGap, however, critical commentators observe discrimination in access for representatives from developing countries (Ponte, 2007). More specifically, almost all trustees are from the United States, Europe, or Australia (one from Latin America), although some of them are focusing on fisheries in Africa or the Southern Ocean. In addition, only one of about ten workshops carried out since 1997 took place in a developing country (South Africa) (Ponte, 2007).9 MSC has initiated efforts to overcome such criticisms by introducing special programs to improve developing countries’ access to MSC certification and global sustainable seafood markets, and assist small scale fisheries to gain access to data and resources needed for certification. Even though these efforts might improve market access, they do not guarantee more equal representation in decision-making processes, however.10 In sum, both private standards examined in this chapter are relatively open in terms of access, which means that the condition of access as an indicator for participation seems to be fulfilled at first sight. Farmers’ associations are partners of the GlobalGap governance structure, while MSC includes by definition multiple stakeholders. Both standards, however, are dominated by Northern stakeholders. The Western inception of the standards as well as existing resource asymmetries prevent equal participation of actors from developing countries in both cases. In consequence, the criterion of participation as inclusive and equal access of all actors affected by the standards is not satisfied from a democratic legitimacy perspective.

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Transparency Transparency is evaluated in this chapter on the basis of the provision of timely, reliable, and accessible information on the governance and performance characteristics of the standards. In the cases examined here, the main source of information regarding the standards is the web. The accessibility of information varies, however. More specifically, as computer penetration rates in a substantial share of the developing world are comparatively low, we expect differences in the visibility of standards between Northern and Southern publics. Next to the web, both GlobalGap and MSC hold seminars and conferences, which are open to the public upon registration. Again, resource-poor groups are likely to face accessibility difficulties due to information and transportation costs, however. In addition, both GlobalGap and MSC provide extensive and detailed information on governance structures, membership, and goals. Both standards allow access to minutes of conferences, roundtables, and short video archives. MSC also publishes information on its board meetings. In both cases, most of the documents related to the development and monitoring of standards are only available to insiders, however. Moreover, no protocols of caucus group meetings are available. Likewise, information on the processes themselves, especially while they are going on, is rarely available. In addition, information to the general public is usually provided after decisions have been made, restraining its timeliness and constraining meaningful intervention from the part of civil society. Regarding performance-related transparency both standards suffer from even more severe limitations. Detailed information on how well the standards perform is typically lacking and, when provided, it is usually based on self-reporting. GlobalGap, for instance, holds a series of ‘Success Stories’ where it presents its social and market impact, including the launching of new certificates, pilot projects, and corporate social responsibility initiatives. Such stories constitute selected elements, however, and they do not represent the overall GlobalGap performance. Likewise, MSC has been criticized for withholding information on catch patterns, patterns of industry adoption of practices, by-catch and habitat damage problems, and individual producer activities (Iles, 2007). However, since 2005 MSC has initiated an effort to undergo evaluation of its performance environmental impact from external auditors. Moreover, it currently collaborates with the International Social and Environmental Accreditation and Labelling (ISEAL) Alliance to explore the development of a Code of Good Practice on Measuring the Impact of Certification.11

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In sum, transparency is provided in both cases, but only to a limited extent. Detailed information on governance structures, membership, and projects is available on the web. Moreover, conferences and seminars are open to all, and relevant information is published on the web, even though board and/or caucus group meetings are not made public. As this type of information provision requires technological and budgetary resources, however, accessibility is not provided equally to all relevant parties. Likewise, both standards suffer from limitations in performance-related transparency, although MSC has taken first steps to correct that failure. The reliability of information is also higher in MSC due to external evaluations of the standard’s performance. Accountability In both cases of private governance examined in this chapter, stakeholders need to report on their activities on a somewhat regular basis. Thus, the standards provide a basis for internal accountability. Information about the extent to which peer pressure is actually used to ensure compliance is not publicly available, however. Moreover, external accountability in the narrow sense is provided as well, as both standards rely on third party certification for monitoring and enforcing compliance with the standard. More specifically, a company wishing to be certified by GlobalGap and MSC appoints an accredited certification body to audit the company. GlobalGap, for instance, signs service agreements with independent Certified Bodies (CBs), which act as independent auditing companies. CBs are not permitted to support certified or controlled farms on a consultation basis and must have at least three years of product experience in the food industry. Likewise, MSC requires assessments to be carried out by independent, third-party certifiers. The certification bodies of both GlobalGap and MSC have to be accredited by independent accreditation bodies to certify against the standards.12 Usually a certified company is audited at least once a year. The person or body deciding to grant, suspend, revoke, or renew certification should be independent of the auditor.13 Little information on the extent to which these mechanisms prevent non-complying companies from becoming certified is available, however. Moreover, critical observers point to weaknesses of third-party certification mechanisms, one of which is the dependence of certifiers on contracts. Furthermore, the certification organizations are trained by the standard owners, in most cases, while the methodology used in the certification process is considered an intellectual property right of the standard, and thus

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details remain confidential. This observation also applies to the cases examined here. A fundamental question, moreover, is to whom accountability is provided. In other words, who has the instruments available to demand compliance in the case of private food governance? In the case of GlobalGap, farmers and retailers participating in the standard are the typical stakeholders, who can hold the standard accountable. In the case of multi-stakeholder initiatives, such as MSC, the group able to demand accountability is by definition broader. Yet, the analysis of the distribution of participation above shows that in both cases far from all groups potentially affected by the standards are represented. Moreover, the difficulties in attaining transparency from a developing country perspective reinforce access inequality. Publication of external evaluations of standards’ performance, as in the case of MSC, could improve accountability to some extent. Even in that case, however, evaluations are made on the basis of the standard’s own terms of references and do not cover externalities or unintended consequences. In sum, the picture with respect to the accountability of private food standards is mixed. Internal and even narrowly defined external accountability frequently exist. Indeed, peer review mechanisms or auditing of standards are a feature of most of the standards and initiatives, including the two cases considered here. Yet, broader external accountability is fundamentally limited. In terms of this broader notion of accountability, then, private food governance institutions tend to exhibit little democratic legitimacy. Having analyzed the democratic legitimacy of TNCs’ activities within private governance, we now turn to scrutinizing business political activities within processes of public governance.

The democratic legitimacy of TNCs’ activities in public governance The pluralist study of interest group participation and influence on public policy-making has a long tradition within political science (Dahl, 1961). The political activity through which business traditionally exercises its influence on policy output is lobbying, combined with campaign and party finance. Although increasing in the context of globalization, business lobbying activities to influence public governance are frequently ignored in a global governance focus. However, studies indicate that lobbying is still an extremely important political activity of business (Fuchs, 2007). Therefore, this chapter scrutinizes the democratic legitimacy of business’ political activities within public

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governance with regard to the CO2 proposal of the European Commission as part of the European Climate and Energy Package aiming to reduce CO2 emissions by 20 per cent by 2020. In 1998, the European Automobile Manufacturers Association (ACEA) and the European Commission agreed on a voluntary commitment to reduce CO2 emissions from cars down to 140 g/km by 2008. However, since it was foreseeable that the car industry would not be able to fulfill the agreed targets within the given time frame, the European Commission decided that binding legislation was necessary. In December 2007, it presented a new proposal on how to regulate the CO2 emissions for new cars that formulated a binding target at 120 g/km emissions by 2012 as well as suggestions for penalties for manufacturers who fail to meet the targets. The presentation of the Commission’s new strategy was accompanied by heavy lobbying by representatives of the automotive industry, who addressed their activities not only to members of the European Commission and the European Parliament but also to political decision-makers at the national level. The German car industry especially made intense efforts to exercise influence on the three relevant decision-making bodies to intervene in the development of the new proposal. After a year of controversial debates over the Commission’s proposal within the central Committees of the European Parliament and between the Parliament and the European Council, a compromise agreement was reached in December 2008 that only gradually phases in the desired targets. Thus, the agreement limits CO2 emissions to 120 g/km for 65 per cent of new cars in 2012, 75 per cent in 2013, 80 per cent in 2014, and 100 per cent in 2015. On top of that, the final agreement substantially reduced the fines for non-compliance compared to the Commission’s original proposal (EurActiv, 2009). Against this background, we assess the democratic legitimacy of TNCs’ political activities within this process of public governance by applying the framework developed above. Specifically, we focus on the legislative lobbying activities of TNCs aiming to influence the decision-making process in the European Parliament between January 2008 and January 2009.14 Participation We evaluate the participatory dimension of democratic legitimacy by examining the legislative lobbying process within the European Parliament. Within public governance, there are several ways for business actors to participate in decision-making processes. TNCs serve as consultants for policy-makers within formal decision-making processes.

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Moreover, they are active in informal meetings outside the institutional setting. Either way, to have the capability to participate in the decisionmaking process and to influence public policy output, business representatives need to have access to the political decision-makers. Access does not necessarily translate into effective influence, of course. However, it is a crucial precondition for the potential to exercise influence (Lowi, 1969; Richardson and Jordan, 1979; Bouwen, 2004). The evidence indicates that, in the examined case, TNCs primarily exercised influence on policy-makers on an informal basis. While there were some hearings with external experts during the decision-making process, the major share of participation did not take place via general, institutionalized processes, but depended on an invitation of representatives of the European Parliament. Business actors pursued their interests primarily through informal meetings with decision-makers and through their participation in the ‘Forum for the Automobile and Society.’ This sector-specific forum, financed by the car industry, is aimed at bringing together decision-makers and representatives from the car industry to exchange information on topical and future issues regarding the role of the car industry (FAS, 2009). Importantly, civil society organizations are missing from this Forum, and comparable forums for state-interest group interaction with a more inclusive nature were not established on this issue. What does it mean if informal rather than formal contacts and processes of communication dominate in public governance? The mere participation in the Forum and informal meetings with representatives of the European Parliament does not guarantee the successful influence of the automotive industry on public policy-making, of course. Yet, the predominance of informal modes of access raises questions about checks on the influence of private interest, and about the balance between different private interests. Indeed, given the favorable output of the policy process for business interests, it seems plausible to conclude that business actors were able to play a decisive role within the specific policy process via their lobbying activities in the informal settings. From the perspective of democratic theory, it would seem that the findings on the exercise of influence by TNCs in the examined case of private environmental governance raises serious concerns regarding democratic legitimacy, since the equal participation of all affected interest groups was not guaranteed. With regard to the condition of equal access, we can therefore argue that this condition is not fulfilled sufficiently. Business actors had predominant access to decision-makers through informal channels, in particular due to businesses’ extensive

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resources in relation to civil society actors. However, the access of other societal groups was not guaranteed. Transparency In the examined case, the results of the empirical analysis indicate that a relatively high degree of governance-related transparency can be found on a formal level. For instance, the parliamentary debate on the CO2 proposal was open to the public, and all amendments made during the decision-making process could be accessed online. Furthermore, the nominations of key decision-making positions within the political process, such as the rapporteur of the European Parliament for the CO2 proposal and the shadow rapporteurs for the different coalitions, were publicly accessible. However, the results of the conducted interviews also highlight that a lot of lobbying actually proceeded behind the formal scenes, and many agreements were made informally before the official deadlines. To access timely information on these informal decision processes, and to be able to intervene in the political developments at opportune moments, actors needed a network of informal contacts. Due to the significant role of informal channels of participation by private actors, then, the whole policy process became less traceable and transparent for the public. Moreover, the analysis indicates that information on the governance performance, the second indicator of transparency, was accessible to the public in the examined case. Before the European Commission presents a new legislative proposal, it assesses the potential consequences the legislation might have for the public. In the research example, the impact assessment for the CO2 proposal was accessible online (impact assessment FII/2007/0297). However, in regard to the technical information providing the basis for the impact assessment, political decision-makers relied on the data provided by the relevant business actors. Although information provided by business should not be seen as unreliable and biased per se, it is also clear that business has its own interest. Thus, the rationale of why a certain policy is being implemented, instead of others, can never be considered as a completely objective process. The one-sided dependence of decision-makers on the provision of information by TNCs needs to be challenged from the perspective of democratic legitimacy. From a perspective of transparency, however, the lack of public information on the data sources for the impact assessment must be a cause for serious concern. In sum, it can be argued that the governance-related transparency in the examined case of public decision-making was given on a formal

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level. However, it appears that relevant decisions were, in fact, taken outside institutionalized forums, therefore reducing the overall level of transparency. Moreover, the empirical results indicate that transparency may frequently be limited in terms of the performance assessments of a proposed governance institution, due to the one-sided reliance on information provided by TNCs. Therefore, with respect to transparency, our analysis indicates serious challenges to the democratic legitimacy of public environmental governance and the role of TNCs in it. Accountability As in any case of public decision-making, political decision-makers can theoretically be held accountable for the performance of the CO2 proposal by the citizens of the EU, who have the ability to vote decisionmakers out of office, if the legislative initiative performs badly. However, to be able to fulfill this control function, the public needs reliable information, on the basis of which it can exercise control effectively. Accordingly, it can be argued that, due to the partially intransparent governance structures, effective control by the people existed only to a limited extent. Transparency, then, is a necessary condition for accountability. Although the final decision was obviously taken by the members of the European Parliament, who can be held accountable for their decisions, the procedural and performance-related information, necessary for the meaningful exercise of processes to ensure accountability, was at least partially lacking. We therefore argue, with respect to the question of accountability, that the informal and intransparent participatory role of TNCs within the decision-making process of the CO2 proposal can be assessed as weakening the control function of the public.

Conclusion In this chapter, we have scrutinized the democratic legitimacy of the increasingly political role of TNCs within processes of private and public governance. Assessing the democratic legitimacy of business activities with regard to the dimensions of participation, transparency, and accountability, we found a general democratic deficit in the involvement of private actors within processes of global environmental governance. The participation of business interest groups within (public) policy-making has always been of concern in the scientific as well as the popular debate. Yet, due to the increasing political influence of TNCs as a result of the ongoing transnationalization and globalization of the economy, this issue has arguably gained urgency.

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Regarding the role of TNCs within private governance institutions, we found that concerns have to be raised regarding the unequal participation and lack of transparency in the development of private standards, as well as problems in attributing accountability to private governance institutions. Moreover, transparency and accountability can only be attributed in private governance schemes when it is restricted to the policy output, and therefore narrowly defined. Private governance, then, needs to be evaluated critically, with respect to its democratic legitimacy. With a view to the democratic legitimacy of TNCs’ political role in public governance, our findings indicate that business actors mainly participate in decision-making processes on an informal basis through lobbying beyond the public sphere. As a result, a lack of transparency can be noticed with respect to the question of whether and how TNCs are able to participate and influence public decision-making. This lack of transparency, in turn, weakens the possibility of external monitoring. Therefore, the increasing political activities of TNCs in public decision-making should cause substantial concern from the perspective of democratic theory, as well. In sum, we find that both private and public environmental governance in a world with large resource asymmetries between private and politically active interests are associated with substantial weaknesses regarding their democratic legitimacy. Therefore, we argue that the democratic legitimacy of the political role of TNCs, in particular, in today’s governance processes needs to be critically evaluated. Furthermore, we hope to be able to demonstrate with our analysis, that the size and resources of today’s TNCs do not only cause concern in terms of market concentration and the establishment of oligopolies from the perspective of economic competition, but just as much from the perspective of political competition. The difficulty of establishing democratic governance processes in a globalized world does not escape us. However, we aim to emphasize that the development of effective mechanisms to improve participation, transparency, and accountability within global governance will have to take into account the asymmetrical power relationships among the different actors involved. Our analysis serves as a reminder, however, that the legitimate participation of business within public and private governance cannot be achieved without establishing checks and balances, which in today’s world have to include control mechanisms of corporate power. In general, a higher degree of transparency and regulation within public as well as private governance is needed. With respect to the role of business within public governance, efforts to make the lobbying process

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more transparent through a voluntary register and code of conduct for lobbyists exist, to be sure (COM, 2008: 323). In the past, however, these efforts have been far too weak and there is reason to doubt that the new voluntary agreement will be more effective. With a view to improving transparency within private governance, possible mechanisms include, for instance, investment in collective action and networking and other forms of strategic alliances among civil society actors that help balance the power exercised by corporations (Cook and Iliopoulos, 2000; Fulton, 2001; Johnson and Berdegue, 2004; Levins, 2002). More fundamentally, any attempt to attribute democratic legitimacy to private actors in global governance will have to answer the question: Legitimate to whom? In this respect, any analysis has to take a position on the definition of the relevant public. In a world of globalization and (global) governance, then, whose voice is being heard and whose interests are being served within processes of public and private global governance continue to be crucial questions to be asked from the perspective of democratic legitimacy.

Notes 1. In the following the legislative initiative will be abbreviated as ‘CO2 proposal.’ 2. These criteria are subsumed under the term ‘throughput legitimacy’ in the Introduction and Chapter 2 of this volume. However, since this term correlates with the concepts of input and output legitimacy (where we question the appropriateness of the latter), we prefer not to adopt this terminology and name the specific criteria instead. 3. Such activities have existed before, but to a much lesser extent and, most of the time, with much more engagement of public actors (Cutler et al., 1999). 4. A number of different conceptualizations of output legitimacy exist within the literature today. Our critique in this chapter focuses on the original concept of output legitimacy relating democratic legitimacy to the effectiveness of a governance institution (Scharpf, 1998), because this concept is still quite prevalent in the literature, and has been applied in rather naïve manner to private governance institutions by some authors. A different conceptualization of output legitimacy can be found in Chapter 2 of this volume. 5. http://www2.globalgap.org (accessed 28 April 2009). 6. http://www.africa-observer.info/ (accessed 28 April 2009). 7. In April 2009, there were four trustees from the fishing industry, three from environmental NGOs (WWF), three from science, two from retail, and one miscellaneous (www.msc.org/about-us/governance/structure/boardof-trustees/whos-on-the-msc-board, accessed 19 April 2009). 8. http://www.msc.org/about-us/governance/structure (accessed 28 April 2009).

Doris Fuchs, Agni Kalfagianni, and Julia Sattelberger 61 9. Recently a ‘Sustainable Fisheries Fund’ has been set up, independently of MSC, to help developing country fisheries to go through the certification process (Ponte, 2007). 10. http://www.msc.org/about-us/credibility/working-with-developing-countries (accessed 29 April 2009). 11. http://www.msc.org/about-us/credibility/measuring-environmental-impacts (accessed 14 May 2009). 12. As GlobalGap is an associate member of the International Accreditation Forum (IAF), however, it has the capacity to accredit the Certification Bodies itself. IAF is the world association of Conformity Assessment Accreditation Bodies in the fields of management systems, products, services, personnel, and other similar programs of conformity assessment. IAF members accredit certification or registration bodies that issue certificates attesting that an organization’s management, products, or personnel comply with a specified standard (called conformity assessment) (see http://www.iaf.nu/ accessed 27 July 2009). 13. GlobalGap reports, for instance, that it has removed certification bodies from its list due to misconduct, and will continue to do so to maintain the integrity of the system (see http://www.globalgap.org/cms/front_content. php?idart=86&idcat=71&lang=1&client=1 accessed 27 July 2009). 14. Due to the restricted scope of this chapter, the analysis does not consider business’ lobbying activities aiming to influence decision-makers in the European Commission or the European Council, and thus only catches one facet of the complex lobbying activities of business during the political process.

References Bouwen, P. (2004) ‘Exchanging access goods for access: A comparative study of business lobbying in the European Union Institutions,’ European Journal of Political Research, 43: 337–69. COM (2007) ‘Proposal for a Regulation of the European Parliament and of the Council setting emission performance standards for new passenger cars as part of the community’s integrated approach to reduce CO2 emissions from light-duty vehicles’ http://eur-lex.europa.eu/LexUriServ/LexUriServ. do?uri=COM:2007:0856:FIN:EN:PDF (accessed 14 July 2009). COM (2008) ‘European transparency initiative. A framework for relations with interest representatives (Register and code of conduct)’ http://ec.europa.eu/ transparency/docs/323_en.pdf (accessed 19 July 2009). Cook, M.L. and C. Iliopoulos (2000) ‘Ill-defined property rights in collective action: The case of US agricultural cooperatives,’ in M.L. Cook, C. Iliopoulos, and C. Menard (eds) Institutions, Contracts and Organizations: Perspectives from New Institutional Economics (Cheltenham: Edward Elgar). Cutler, A.C., V. Haufler and T. Porter (1999) Private Authority and International Affairs (Albany: State University of New York Press). Dahl, R.A. (1961) Who Governs? Power and Democracy in an American City (New Haven: Yale University Press). Easton, D. (1953) The Political System (New York: Knopf).

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EurActiv (2009) ‘Cars & CO2’ http://www.euractiv.com/de/verkehr/autos-co2/ article-162421 (accessed 12 July 2009). FAS (2009) ‘Forum for the automotive and society’ http://www.autoandsociety. com/index.php (accessed 16 July 2009). Fuchs, D. (2005) Understanding Business Power in Global Governance (Baden-Baden: Nomos). Fuchs, D. (2007) Business Power in Global Governance (Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers). Fulton, M. (2001) ‘Traditional versus new generation cooperatives,’ in C.D. Merrett and N. Walzer (eds) A Cooperative Approach to Local Economic Development (Westport: Praeger). Furger, F. (1997) ‘Accountability and systems of self-governance: The case of the maritime industry,’ Law and Policy, 19: 445–76. GlobalGap News (2009) February Issue, www.globalgap.org (accessed 5 August 2009). Gulbrandsen, H.L. (2008) ‘Accountability arrangements in non-state standards organisations,’ Organization, 15: 563–83. Iles, A. (2007) ‘Making the seafood industry more sustainable: Creating production chain transparency and accountability,’ Journal of Cleaner Production, 15: 577–89. Impact Assessment FII/2007/0297 http://www.europarl.europa.eu/oeil/ OpenDetailFiche.do?ficheId=1482&language=en (accessed 17 July 2009). Johnson, N. and J.A. Berdegue (2004) ‘Property rights, collective action and agribusiness,’ 2020 Focus 11, Brief 13, Washington DC: International Food Policy Research Institute (IFPRI). Jones, E. and L.D. Hill (1994) ‘Re-engineering marketing policies in food and agriculture: Issues and alternatives for grain grading policies,’ in D.I. Padberg (ed.) Re-engineering Marketing Policies for Food and Agriculture: Food an Agricultural Marketing Consortium, FAMC 94-1 (College Station, TX: A&M University). Leadbitter, D., G. Gomez and F. McGilvray (2006) ‘Sustainable fisheries and the East Asian seas: Can the private sector play a role?’ Ocean and Coastal Management, 49: 662–75. Levins, R. (2002) ‘Collective bargaining by farmers: Fresh look?’ Choices, Winter: 15–18. Lowi, T.J. (1969) The End of Liberalism (New York: W.W. Norton & Company). Owens, M.C. (2008) ‘Sustainable seafood labelling: An analysis of the Marine Stewardship Council,’ Graduate School of International Relations and Pacific Studies, University of California (San Diego), http://irps.ucsd.edu/assets/021/ 8419.pdf (accessed 10 November 2008). Ponte, S. (2007) ‘Greener than Thou: The political economy of fish ecolabelling and its local manifestations in South Africa,’ World Development, 36: 159–75. Porter, T. and K. Ronit (eds) (2010) The Challenges of Global Business Authority: Democratic Renewal, Stalemate or Decay? (New York: SUNY Press). Richardson, J.J. and G.A. Jordan (1979) Governing Under Pressure (Oxford: Blackwell). Schaller, S. (2007) ‘The democratic legitimacy of private governance: An analysis of the ethical trading initiative,’ INEF Report 91/2007, Institute for Development and Peace, University of Duisburg-Essen.

Doris Fuchs, Agni Kalfagianni, and Julia Sattelberger 63 Scharpf, F. (1998) ‘Demokratie in der transnationalen Politik,’ in U. Beck (ed.) Politik der Globalisierung (Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp). Scharpf, F. (2003) ‘Legitimate diversity: The New Challenge of European Integration,’ Zeitschrift für Staats-und Europawissenschaften, 1: 32–60. UNCTAD (2008) World Investment Report: Transnational Corporations, and the Infrastructure Challenge http://www.unctad.org/en/docs/wir2008_en.pdf (accessed 5 August 2009). Young, I.M. (2000) Inclusion and Democracy (Oxford: Oxford University Press).

4 Democratic Legitimacy of Philanthropic Foundations: US Grant-Making in the Middle East Ann Vogel

‘It is foundations alone that are effectively accountable to no one.’ (Fleishman, 2004: 114)

Introduction This chapter addresses the transnational agency of philanthropy. It focuses on philanthropic foundations1 rather than on philanthropists and limits the analysis to the case of US philanthropy and its international grant-making activities in the Middle East. Foundations have largely escaped the contemporary debate of democratic legitimacy and democratic credentials of transnational actors (TNAs) in the arena of global governance. However, substantial debate on foundation legitimacy within the US exists (cf. Prewitt et al., 2006). As ‘actors abroad,’ foundations have also been studied empirically and theorized as agents of US hegemony, particularly with reference to science and knowledge networks, Cold War foreign policy, and economic development (cf. Ahmad, 1991; Dezalay and Garth, 1998). In the current discourse on ‘the accountability of world politics’ (Keohane, 2006), foundations have still to be located as agents leaving their mark on global governance institutions and civil society organizations (CSOs) (cf. Price, 2003; Scholte, 2004; Jönsson, 2008). It is indeed difficult to find a single policy arena at the global level – be it human rights, environmental policy, or health and anti-poverty initiatives – where foundations are not participating. A recent example as to how foundations network in order to ‘remake’ whole societal subsectors can be seen in the Partnership for Higher Education in Africa, an initiative launched in 2000 by Carnegie 64

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Corporation and the Rockefeller, Ford, and MacArthur foundations, to develop higher education in the wake of democratic and economic reforms for the first time in 30 years across many African nations (http:// www.foundation-partnership.org/). Philanthropists’ contributions to the making of a global civil society, as well as the shape of some of the core global governance institutions, cannot be ignored. George Soros’s Open Society Institute and his Foundation Network that jump-started NGO activities in post-1989 Eastern and Central Europe is a key example of such activity, illustrating well the magnitude and reach of philanthropy. The oldest and most prestigious large independent US foundations have been not only audiences or participants but also instigators of global governance institutions. Sutton (1987) argues that the large foundations with international scope all do three things, which establish their efficacy and their power: firstly, they engage in building of competencies or capacities; secondly, they fund demonstrations and pilot projects to be replicated by other agencies and in other contexts; thirdly, they support research and policy analysis that may provide solution to human problems (See also Simmons, 2004). Since the mid-twentieth century, the Ford Foundation has had an international agenda for the advancement of human welfare and tackling humankind’s most pressing problems. It can perhaps be seen as the first foundation that defined and tackled global social challenges. Apart from financing global governance institutions – including socalled mega grants for agencies set up under institutions like the United Nations’ World Food Program – foundations act as important political players. This is consistent with their societal role domestically and in the foreign policy arena of the US state (e.g., Parmar, 1999). The Rockefeller Foundation, the second one established in modernday philanthropy after the Carnegie Corporation, is a further case in point. Some of its organizational elements became templates for global governance institutions such as the World Health Organization (WHO). Other organizations have been directly funded or endowed by it. For example, the Population Council, which conducts biomedical, public health, and social-scientific research and spearheads initiatives for access to reproductive health by women in developing countries, was established in 1952 with finance from the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, while its administrative and programmatic layout is based on the Medical Science Division’s program by the Rockefeller Foundation. Further examples include the Rockefeller Foundation’s financing of future nonUS officials’ training at the World Bank and the ‘Green Revolution,’ an initiative carried out by both Rockefeller and Ford Foundations.

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One reason behind the neglect of philanthropy in current debates on global democracy may be the historical overemphasis on transnational advocacy which, starting in the 1990s, highlighted the role of CSOs in transnational political space. Pressure groups that seek to influence governments and intergovernmental negotiations cannot be taken as typical of all the actors in a global civil society. Recent awareness in this regard is evident in research on ‘private governance,’ but private actors such as foundations are still not adequately conceptualized. In Ruggie’s account, for example, transnational companies developing HIV/AIDS vaccine and the Global Fund to Fight AIDS are mentioned without a proper acknowledgement of the instigator role of major philanthropic contributions, including institution-building and the central role on the board of trustees by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (2004: 517).2 This oversight is illustrative of the general lack of observations of foundations as brokers in globe-spanning networks of a diversity of civil society actors, where they bring together the various agents who feature in democratization debates. As argued by Scholte (2004: 225), such networks, ‘like any other political entity,’ involve power hierarchies and struggles, and research on foundation communities and networks, including those that involve grant beneficiaries and the whole spectrum of foundations, is needed (Bernholz, 1999: 361; Ann Vogel, 2009a). Given the neglect of foundations in research on democracy in global governance, I start with a discussion of the legitimacy of foundations, applying the concepts of input, output, and throughput legitimacy (see Uhlin, Chapter 2 this volume). Thereafter, I provide an account of international grant-making for NGOs in the Middle East (1995–2008) as an empirical illustration of the multi-layered action arenas of philanthropic foundations.

The legitimacy of philanthropic foundations Foundations are regulated non-market actors. Their mode of operation is a unilateral gift transfer with reference to a ‘public good’ and a process enabled by structural socio-economic inequality. Most foundation types and their processes are institutional forms of patronage and paternalism, sanctioned by the power of their wealth (economic power) and their authority status obtained in the economy, which morally obliges philanthropic elites to steward society by ‘economically oriented action’ (Weber, 1980: 31). Most of the independent foundations make no claim to a democratic principle of organization. Yet, as some have cautioned, the US foundation sector is not monolithic (Prewitt, 2006a),

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and many foundations have made conscious attempts to generate wider representation of constituencies based on social identity (e.g., ethnicity or gender) and seen in minority organizations with activistcontrolled boards such as the Haymarket People’s Fund (Ostrander, 1995). As Rabinowitz (1990: 20) notes, however, ‘[f]or most of the heavily endowed foundations, programs that would qualify under the rubric of progressive social change are only incidental to the larger purposes of the organization.’ It is those elite foundations which matter in the global governance arena and which are unnamed subjects in the global civil society discourse. Based on Nielsen (1985), Frumkin (2006: 102) summarizes the foundation legitimacy as follows: Foundations are profoundly undemocratic in that they do not give their grant recipients or the communities in which they operate the ability to recall them or reverse their behavior. In fact, almost all philanthropy is profoundly undemocratic in that wealthy elites use their resources to enact their personal vision of the public good . . . and explains further how this behavior is organized: Some foundations may convene experts and listen to the opinions of others before making major commitments, but, by and large, philanthropic decision making is a private affair. The meetings of foundation boards are not open to the public, board members do not stand for public election, and these organizations operate largely as they see fit, or how their founders, families, or trustees judge most efficacious. In fact, it is notoriously difficult to obtain information which would enable studies of micro-processes of foundations’ organizational behavior. Where their archives are accessible (e.g., for the Rockefeller Foundation), foundations still enjoy a lengthy period of data protection. US Internal Revenue requirements are only partially useful in that they provide insight into employment and financial indicators (e.g., assets and grants).3 Actual political decision-making, including program scope and grant allocation, is largely not observed and documented. This aura of privacy and lack of transparency indicates low levels of democratic throughput legitimacy, contrasting sharply with the influence foundations have obtained in public policy arenas (cf. Fleishman, 2004; Prewitt et al., 2006).

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Foundations have gained legitimacy through their problem-solving capacity and ability to deliver public goods that states failed to provide (Karl, 1997; Smith and Lipsky, 1993). This makes sense where trust in government is low and coupled with the relatively low cultural expectations by citizens on the state to create public goods. This institutionalized pattern not only characterizes the US polity but also US philanthropy, as it continues to globalize, imprinting its cultural logic onto other countries’ NGO sectors and civil society at large (Vogel, 2006). The actual interchange between organizational development of the NGO sector, including legitimization processes, and US state agency have varied over time, of course. It appears that the emergent ‘accountability regime’ for foundations, and in broad terms NGOs, is driven by the state (e.g., Sarbanes-Oxley Act of 2002) and supported by managerial and administrative professionals, seeking to establish a risk management system that preempts the occasional scandals, as well as donor and volunteer fatigue within the more macro context of public accountability. This regime is technocratic, as it is far removed from more liberal and leftist concerns over the societal legitimacy of foundations as providers of public goods. Its operational radius encloses transparency and measurability of means-ends relationships (e.g., Anheier and Hawkes, 2009). Within this ‘accountability regime’ the notion of ‘the social impact’ has gained some currency, with some members of the NGO populations aiming to develop and legitimize performance measures to track output legitimacy. Legal compliance, fiduciary role, and administrative oversight are key components to NGO and foundation philanthropy. Several works on legitimacy and accountability, written over the past decade or so, provide concrete arguments for the weak legitimacy of foundations from a democratic point of view. As Hammack (2006: 49) points out, though, ‘their diversity and their close integration with the American nonprofit sector as a whole – together with the commitment of America’s political culture to the rights of individuals and of private property – have enabled them to defend their legitimacy to this day.’ Nevertheless, critical voices from many corners are manifest (for an overview see Hammack, 2006). To illustrate some of the more general claims, Frumkin’s remarks (see above) suggest that foundations score very low on input and throughput legitimacy. Fleishman (2004: 105) records similar observations from his field studies, noting foundations’ unwillingness to measure their own social impact, which indicates low output legitimacy of this actor but is consistent with organizational

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theories of actors in institutional (compared to technical) environments where values dominate over means–goal relationships (Scott, 1991). Output legitimacy is also questioned with respect to the redistributive effects of charitable tax-exemption for foundations, as they do not fully redistribute from the wealthy to the poor (cf. Wolpert in Prewitt, 2006a: 123–49). In defense, some private foundations have done two things: either they have targeted the poor in their programs directly (as beneficiaries of NGO grant recipients and in a widening arena of humanitarian aid), or they have engaged in ‘sunsetting’ their foundations, i.e., spending the endowment down more swiftly, in order to achieve higher credibility in the eyes of those demanding faster payout. At the global level, an accountability regime has emerged with respect to cross-border philanthropy, with a number of large international non-governmental organizations (INGOs) endorsing the ‘Accountability Charter for International Advocacy NGOs and Networks’ (IANGO Charter) in 2006. This step follows from an earlier movement within the US and European foundation sectors, which formulated the ‘Principles of Accountability for International Philanthropy’ (Anheier and Hawkes, 2009). Comparing the defining principles for good governance across these documents, we find long lists of criteria, including ‘good governance’ itself. Moreover, we find values such as ‘integrity, understanding, respect, responsiveness, fairness, cooperation and collaboration, and effectiveness’ on the list by the European Foundation Centre and Council of Foundations, supplemented with cultural-exchange sensitive descriptions. The difference between the INGO and the philanthropy charters is probably best summarized as a matter of rights for the INGOs (‘respect for universal principles (such as freedom of speech and assembly)’, ‘non-discrimination,’ public criticism and corruption) and a contrasting language of negotiation by philanthropies. Overall, the global-level accountability discourse has mainly focused on procedural accountability.4 At times, some academics have challenged the technocratic definition, asking for ‘moral accountability’ as something that ‘is closely related to its legitimate right to speak for and on behalf of others.’ This suggests the idea that who wants ‘to promote democracy and the rule of law, . . . must itself be democratically organized and soundly governed’ (Kaldor in Anheier and Hawkes, 2009: 206–7). Yet, so far there is little sign of discursive integration of technocratic and public-administrative accountability with legitimacy by political authority.

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Legitimacy and accountability concerns differ for philanthropy at home and abroad. In international grant-making, foundations step outside of domestic accountability relationships as they effectively roam the foreign-policy arena of the US state and weaken their own standing, if challenging their state over national interests. Such institutional– environmental constraints in this domain emerge from additional state policies (e.g., post-9/11 anti-terrorism regulation, affecting charitable financial flows) but also from foundations’ positioning vis-à-vis the ‘hosting’ states, particularly where foundations attempt to realize democratic ideals in authoritarian contexts by supporting NGOs, thereby offering a medium of protection from the rulers (Pitner, 2000). Technocratic accountability, however, may perhaps be less demanding, because of foreign audiences and weaker regulatory regimes and underdeveloped NGO watchdog mechanisms, which may heighten the role of the patron. With even larger asymmetric power (funding is scarce and non-competitive), the US foundation may have a higher potential to democratize CSOs, while it does not necessarily enhance its own democratic credentials as an actor. Rather its role may be experienced as ambivalent, with the perception of US ‘empire’ being further enhanced through the deeds of US philanthropy, which effectively works as force of secularization and science in developing countries.5 Cooperating with faith-based philanthropy and re-interpreting giving traditions – e.g., through the recent trend of Arab diaspora philanthropy where Jewish and Arab-Americans do the giving (Haklai, 2008) – opens up the opportunity for foundations to buffer legitimacy questions or, alternatively, enter into debate (e.g., Ibrahim and Sherif, 2008). US foundations enter critical territory where they are perceived as agents of Empire and where anti-American sentiment is substantial. The Middle East as an international grant-making region can illustrate the legitimacy and accountability challenges that modern foundations meet. As one of the most difficult regions for US foreign policy and agents of socio-economic development, the Middle East puts inter-state level conflicts (e.g., the Arab–Israeli conflict, the upsurge of radical Islam, wars, and the presence of authoritarian rule in oil-rich monarchies) right at the doorstep of philanthropic actors. The region presents challenges to both Western culture and law, in which the foundation as actor is embedded, and values like democracy and human rights, which philanthropy aims to promulgate. On top, foreign-policy tip-toeing by the US government adds special constraints (Miller, 2009). The remaining part of this chapter will analyze international grant-making by US foundations in the Middle East.

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Multi-level performance of transnational philanthropy: US grant-making in the Middle East Not all transnational agency of foundations is captured by international grant-making, but there are practical reasons to start with funding observations. A key reason is that philanthropy is a political and economic actor that works at multiple levels. While being historically transnational agents, foundations interweave relationships between the domestic and the international terrain and between programs and activities. As I have demonstrated elsewhere, this is relevant to accounts of US ‘empire’ (Vogel, 2006). On the empirical side, systematic data beyond those permitting case studies on relationships between foundations and global governance institutions are not available but, if they were, would come with case-selection problems. International grant-making data allow analysis of a better spread of observations, more appropriate for world- and region-level analysis of transnational agency. Grant-making operations are certainly a key foundation activity – but perhaps only the output end of a long process of formulating policy, programs, consulting, and advocating with a range of other actors. Grant-making patterns are still the most powerful indicator, because the majority of the money follows the program behind which lies a political agenda. International grant-making International grant-making totaled 5.4 billion dollars in 2007.6 This figure includes grants directly given to overseas recipients and funding for US-based programs. Compared to 2002, when international grantmaking was first recognized as a separate funding arena, it increased by 50 per cent (inflation-adjusted) and grew over the past five years at a higher rate than domestic giving, even when outliers like the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation are removed.7 International development and relief ranked before environment, health, and international affairs as funding areas. About 46 per cent of all international grants in a 2006 sample were reported as consistent with the Millennium Development Goals (Foundation Center and Council on Foundations, 2008).8 In the following, I focus on international grant-making in the Middle East, examining grants targeting the region. These grants have been listed from 1995 onward in electronic form by The Chronicle of Philanthropy, the leading newspaper of the philanthropy world (http:// philanthropy.com/). The search includes grants for organizations in countries that are commonly referred to as belonging to the Arab and Muslim worlds as well as the Middle East. Only a few countries in the

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region have never been grant beneficiaries (e.g., United Arab Emirates). In Northern Africa, only Morocco, Egypt, and Sudan are included. I also include the US, because US-based organizations can be grant beneficiaries or manage funds that eventually reach NGOs in countries and are a sign of internationalization of global giving by the US gift economy. Europe is included because, like the US, it is the seat of global governance institutions. The analysis of Chronicle grants show that US philanthropic foundations awarded a fairly small number of 866 grants during the period 1995–2008, which combine into a pecuniary power of ca. 327 million dollars.9 The average annual grant number is 62, with an annual average of 24 million dollars. Overall, the total grant size grew from ca. 2 million dollars in 1995 to ca. 47 million dollars in 2008. In 2007, grants peak totaling ca. 79 million dollars. The Chronicle includes observations on aspects of the grant-making and grant-receiving organizations, including the program under which the grant-maker records a grant and the purpose of the grant. With secondary information and coding it was possible to establish that the 866 grants made between 1995 and 2008 come from only 94 foundations, of which 53 are independent.

The Middle East and transnational philanthropy In order of number of grants awarded including years 1995 through 2008, slightly over a third goes to CSOs in the US, a fifth goes to Israel, and roughly a tenth goes to Gaza/West Bank and Egypt respectively. European organizations receive about 6 per cent of all grants and so does Pakistan. Global governance institutions based in Europe and the US receive five grants, respectively. This ranking changes when funded organizations are distinguished by final destination and intermediary status. The number of grants to Israel increases to a third of the total grants; Egypt and Gaza/West Bank get the second-largest share, receiving one fifth each. Sudan, Pakistan, Lebanon, and Afghanistan receive between 7 and 4 per cent of all grants. Morocco, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, and Qatar receive only small numbers of grants. When considering funding flows, one can learn two things about philanthropy for Middle East CSOs: First, some countries (specifically Iraq, Yemen, Qatar, and Iran) do not receive US philanthropic monies directly at all. Second, about 43 per cent of the grants awarded are made to organizations in the US and Europe. The US in particular takes a significant role in the direction and diffusion of grants targeting the Middle East region. Eleven grants were given to global governance institutions in

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both the US and Europe and 55 to organizations in Europe (e.g., INGOs and universities). These grants were overwhelmingly country-specific, addressing mainly needs in Pakistan and Egypt. When studying this pattern of international grant-making in dollars, one can see a different distribution of grants. By 1995-CPI inflationadjusted dollars, 73 per cent of the grants go to US-based organizations that are not global governance institutions.10 The second-biggest recipients are CSOs in Israel (14 per cent) followed by Gaza/West Bank (4 per cent), Egypt (3 per cent), European CSOs (2 per cent), Lebanon and global governance institutions in Europe (1 per cent). Funding for US-based global governance institutions is around 1 per cent of grant total or 1 million dollars, a sum which increases to 3.5 million dollars when Europe-based institutions are included. Global governance institutions funded under Middle East programs include UNESCO, UNDP, WHO, UN, and U.N. Watch. In the following, we illustrate the purpose of the grant-making to these institutions.

Funding for global governance institutions in the Middle East U.N. Watch in Geneva received a grant from Richard and Rhoda Goldman Fund ‘for fellowship program for four people to engage in advocacy and diplomacy activities on behalf of Israel and Jewish people’ (ca. 454,000 dollars in 2006). The UN and the UNDP (seat in New York), received grants from the Ford Foundation, totaling 1 million dollars during 1996–2006. The purposes included promotion of independent media and peace initiative in Yemen, human rights training for judiciary, police, and other public officials in Egypt, and research and discussion activities on economic-development options for Egypt. The Getty in California funded UNESCO toward a conservation plan for Shalamar Gardens in Lahore, Pakistan (ca. 58,500 dollars in 2005). Three grants to the WHO in Geneva, by the Edna McConnell Clark Foundation, the Rotary Foundation of Rotary International, and the United Nations Foundation, awarded mainly in 2003, totaled nearly 2 million dollars. These grants address work with governments like Morocco’s on tropical disease, Iraq’s on building a health care system, and Pakistan’s efforts to fight polio. While global governance funding with the Middle East region as target appears very small, overall US philanthropy for these institutions is large. An additional search in the Chronicle of Philanthropy for grants without region specification to UN organizations and WHO shows 480 grants for UN and 79 grants for the WHO between 1995 and 2008.

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Looking at the last seven years of funding, 2001–9, for which data are available, the magnitude of the foundations’ impact on global governance institutions becomes clearer. The biggest philanthropic gift to the UN was made by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (66 million current dollars) to the UN’s World Food Program in 2008. Another grant by the Gates Foundation in 2007 awarded 30 million current dollars to the UN Foundation for preservation of crop biodiversity. Of the 120 grants to global governance institutions between 2001 and 2009, 29 were above 1 million dollar grants. The smallest and most recent grant was given by the Jolie-Pitt Foundation to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees in Geneva ‘for its efforts to help families in Pakistan displaced by conflict’ (Chronicle of Philanthropy). These million-plus dollar grants total 198 million current dollars. This translates into 157 million in 1995-CPI based inflation-adjusted dollars, which can be compared with 267 million dollars to Middle East programs between 2001 and 2009. Of the 267 million dollars, the grants to global governance institutions with Middle East specification total 3.3 million dollars. This shows that the arena of global governance is substantial, with money for regions and country-specified CSO targets flowing through larger programs which are managed by global governance institutions. In terms of grant numbers and dollars, Middle East philanthropy has not been a big policy item for US foundations in the past decade and a half, and CSOs by country vary greatly in the philanthropic aid they have received. However, the focus on the narrowest triangle of the Arab–Israeli conflict in international grant-making for Egypt, Israel, and the Palestinians is dominating the pattern. Most grant money has been routed through US recipients and intermediary organizations rather than being directed at CSO actors in the countries of the Arab and Muslim worlds. Middle East funding through global governance institutions has been small. Further analysis of foundations shows that the Middle East international grant-making arena is dominated by 94 foundations which award three quarters of all grants. Among them are ‘the big ones,’ such as Ford Foundation, John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, and Carnegie Corporation of New York. Ford Foundation produces nearly half of all Middle East grants (i.e., 400 awards). The top nine (defined as foundations making 15 or more grants) issue 42 per cent of all grants, but only two foundations, Ford and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, when it comes to the size of the award. Transnational agency by foundations, however, must also be examined in terms of the substantial goals and agendas they fund, including the type of organizations they award

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with grants. This dimension will be considered specifically under the aspect of democratization of CSOs abroad. Democratization efforts and global civil society-making in the Middle East The list of grantees in our data shows a diverse set of recipients in addition to UN programs and WHO: NGOs, INGOs, public charities, independent foundations, community foundations, global advocacy networks, religious charities, so-called ‘friends-of’ organizations, cultural associations (both local and bilateral), universities, research think tanks, research policy centers, community federations, welfare associations, and governments (mainly Egypt). These actors are empirical referents in global civil society discourse. We use the project description of the grant as proxy for the CSO agendas that foundations fund. The grants could be summarized into five large funding areas.11 Support for socio-economic development, including community development and education, is the smallest funded category (6 million dollars), followed by humanitarian aid and social welfare (32.2 million dollars), public health and rights-based education (44.3 million dollars). The two largest categories of funding are what we call civil-society promotion (72.6 million dollars) and, top-ranked, the arena of arts, culture, and educational philanthropy (171.8 million dollars), which includes 92 million dollars for universities and other research institutions. While the tradition of US foundation grant-making as educational and scientific philanthropy is reflected in as small and as specific as the Middle East international grant-making arena, it is important to point out the political aspect of this education. Civil-society promotion includes funding for causes, such as civil-society development, empowerment of social groups and NGO activists, fostering of human rights and social justice programs of certain CSOs which address specific regional geopolitics, and NGO advocacy en large. The 345 grants (72.6 million dollars in total) in the funding area we identified as civil-society promotion make up 40 per cent of all grants and one fifth of all grant dollars during 1995–2008. About 55.4 million of these are awarded for such purposes as NGO collaboration, advocacy, network development, human rights, and legal aid. The remainder goes to peace and security initiatives, conflict resolution, promotion of women’s and girls’ rights and social positions, self-governance issues, as well as the development of independent media and the promotion of the journalistic profession. A large number of countries benefit from these grants.12 By content and CSO purpose, the civil-society promotion awards are grants with political character, fostering NGO development along the

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democracy and human rights agendas of the global-governance institutions and the West. The largest donor is the Ford Foundation, which provides over half of all grant dollars in the area of civil-society promotion in only 49 grants. Its largest two grants, with a combined size of 31 million dollars, went to the New Israel Fund in 2004 and 2007, a leading NGO on democratic change and religious pluralism in Israel. Geopolitics in the Middle East plays out in foundation philanthropy in the form of a split between big foundation philanthropy and diaspora-based philanthropy, which is often guided by and based on US foundation management. While Ford and John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundations fund what can essentially be considered the empowerment of the Palestinians and the Arab-Israelis, the Richard and Rhoda Goldman Fund is instrumental in the funding of the cause of the Israeli state. Some of the grants are to fund news-reporting or documentation of conflicts and war crimes, and almost all of them implicitly refer to projects providing ‘the correct view’ of history. Most grants are made to CSOs in either Israel or Gaza/West Bank, without any routing through US or European institutions. The Ford Foundation is the second largest grant-maker for women’s empowerment, channeling funds toward a diversity of organizations in mainly Egypt, Gaza, West Bank, and Lebanon. It has a much broader agenda than Hadassah Foundation, the largest grant-maker on women’s issues in Jewish diaspora philanthropy, which has made its 44 grants exclusively to Israeli CSOs, some of them addressing Arab-Israeli women causes. Apart from promotion of ‘civil society proper,’ we should also examine the funding for the arts sector, the higher education and research sectors, religion, and the promotion and preservation of cultural and ethnic identity (328 grants worth 172 million dollars in total). The largest single area of funding is international grant-making for universities and research institutes, which reflects the key role foundations play in science and education. The major grant-makers are the Ford Foundation, John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, Koret Foundation, and Richard and Rhoda Goldman Fund, of which the first two are ‘old hands’ in university funding. The largest grants – mainly made by American-Jewish independent foundations – comprise nearly 77 million dollars for endowments by Israeli universities, but universities across the Middle East, most prominently in Beirut and Cairo, receive the remaining 15 million dollars. Possibly distinct for Middle East philanthropy is the promotion of diaspora learning, which comprises 68 million dollars for NGOs promoting Jewish identity and ranks second after university funding (92.4 million dollars) and before

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NGO-proliferation funding (55.4 million dollars), as discussed above. The bulk of this money provides for free travel for Jewish-American youth to Israel. The mega gifts, which comprise 94 per cent of the total funding for this funding subcategory, were made during 2007–8 by three foundations to Birthright Israel, a Jewish organization in New York. The arts projects supported in Gaza, West Bank, and Lebanon, go mainly to NGOs and their artistic programs, which often have political character.

Foundations as democratic transnational actors in the Middle East? It is not possible to provide a full explanation of the funding patterns, specifically as trends differ by country. This brief discussion does not take into account foreign aid and other actors, such as European aid and philanthropy (see Vogel, 2009b). Many of the grants can be made intelligible as course of action in response to US foreign policy with respect to oil, the Israeli state and the conflict over Palestine, the petro-dollar monarchies and the emergence of anti-American and anti-Western terrorism from the region. At the same time, global-governance action, e.g., the Millennium Project, is associated with international grant-making, as foundations have pledged funding and programming support, but this arena of foreign aid is not exclusive to US goals. Hence we cannot provide an account of US philanthropy relative to other aid. However, this brief empirical discussion permits us to point to the transnational character of foundation agency at multiple levels. Funding global governance institutions’ global and regional agendas as well as CSOs and governments in specific regions, such as the Middle East, foundations unleash their power by spreading funding to a large number of organizations of very different size and background – a plethora of organizations, including governments at times, which is consistent with the fuzzier definitions of global civil society (e.g., Keane, 2003). They are in part responsible for the often perplexing diversity of global civil society. The analysis of grant details, specifically of targeted projects, shows that many of the grants are designed to encourage associational activity pertaining to civil-society activity that is political in character (Schofer and Longhofer, 2009). In that, US foundations follow the political spirit which de Toqueville described so well for early US society (Alexander, 2006). By funding purposes, substantive issues of democracy and development as outlined at the global level are pursued in the Middle East. Grants targeting global and national civil societies, including funding for human rights advocacy, are often distinguished by incidence of

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multiple grants, indicating key targets by foundations and trusted relationships. The human rights and governance and civil society program grants alone indicate that philanthropy targets NGOs multi-nationally, helping to fund initiative in all governance arenas. Although the Ford Foundation’s grants for the New Israel Fund dwarf the financial size of the grants in the same category for the remaining ten countries, including the larger Middle East region, there are still 167 grants that have been dispersed widely through the Ford Foundation’s human rights and governance and civil society programs. Table 4.1 illustrates the Ford Foundation’s role in human rights promotion in the Middle East, pointing to possibilities of NGO empowerment through philanthropy as political citizenship. It can be concluded that a democracy agenda by US philanthropy is well in place for the Middle East and routed through different CSO-funding channels such as ‘arts and politics.’ Funding networks of artists is a visible major strategy to establish political relations apart from cultural ones as well as promote an NGO-based arts sector (vs. a government one). Some grants are more subtle contributions to establishing cultures of oppressed social groups as well as providing outlets for people in post-war or still pending conflict zones, thus helping to knit together civil societies torn apart by war and terrorism. Do such ‘democracy interventions’ give the philanthropy foundation democratic legitimacy? Foundations generally lack input and throughput legitimacy unless they are specifically defined as social-change foundations, which set themselves apart from ‘the establishment’ in the foundation world (Ostrander, 1999). But such organizations hardly matter in the arena of global governance financing and foreign aid. It is the private foundation that we must associate with the foreign policy agenda of the US state and the practiced influence of American democratic values on global governance institutions. While these foundations are publicly accountable to the government as the agents of public trust, their accountability as political citizens in the civil sphere is theoretically to the grantees. As pointed out earlier, this second type of accountability is a historical debate within the US, addressing the power of money in democratic society. As the number of foundations and wealthy individuals has grown over the last century, foundations’ tax-exempt status has been the platform on which greater accountability toward the public benefit is demanded. But with respect to participatory democracy, foundations’ hierarchical social relations have only been altered in a number of smaller social-change and socialmovement foundations, where future grant beneficiaries are drawn into

Table 4.1

Illustrative grants by the Ford Foundation for human rights, a core democratic value

Year

Grant amount

Grantee

Grant-making program

Grantee’s project description

2004

429,453

Agenda-the Israeli Center for Strategic Communication (Israel)

Human rights

2002

423,569

New Israel Fund (Washington, D.C.)

Human rights

2001

129,080

Arab Association for Human Rights (Israel)

Human rights

2001

153,174

over 18 months to Hands Along the Nile Development Services (Akron, Ohio)

Human rights

To help Israeli social-change nongovernmental organizations develop their communications programs For the organizing and educational activities of Palestinian Israeli nongovernmental groups, including activities related to the United Nations World Conference Against Racism For efforts to promote human rights in Israel and to achieve equality for Palestinians who are Israeli citizens To conduct discussions on democracy and human rights in Egypt

Note: Dollar amounts are inflation-adjusted (1995-CPI as base).

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participation in decision-making to varying degrees. Most private foundations follow a stewardship model akin to business leadership and venture capitalism. Instead of radical structural change at the level of organization, foundations tend to band in self-regulatory networks to monitor ethical behavior in line with non-profit management criteria. In their decisionmaking processes they tend to consult with other professional elites, increasingly so academics whom they have nurtured. To understand the relative low profile of the accountability discourse for foundations, one must consider, first, its aforementioned absorption into a technocratic process of accountability surveillance and, second, the constitution of the American polity. American citizens are much more comfortable with the existence of benevolent elites than, say, Europeans, because economic processes across economy and society follow the cultural logic of equality of opportunity and emphasize the virtue of individualism. This discourse is also reflected among those who embrace social-movement philanthropy, as indicated by this reference by a prominent scholar to the possible transformation of donor–grantee relationships into ‘more democratic’ ones: We argued that philanthropy at its best is a reciprocal relationship where all parties give and get, where all bring something of value to a mutually shared interest, and where there is a common commitment to some cause or concern in the community. (Ostrander, 1999) Yet, such apparently reflective thought proves neither a challenge in the form of a transformation of the socio-economic basis of philanthropy, nor a diversion from the associational-democratic principle on which the national non-profit sector is based. Indeed, it remains within the parameter of American pragmatism. It is therefore difficult to argue that it is the international system that allows foundations as TNAs to eschew accountability. Instead, under the umbrella of the US state they move to realize American values and goals. In transnational space and regional grant-making, foundations may still appear less problematic than domestic elites, particularly where authoritarian regimes act oppressively on democratizing forces. In the Middle East and in global governance institutions, many influential US foundations make significant contributions to the stimulation of democracy and contribute to global-governance mechanisms by funding at several levels of global civil society building of world

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society. Civil-society promotion from the bottom-up contributes to democratization of global governance, not least by enabling CSOs to join platforms in arenas in which they advocate for certain constituencies. At the same time, democratization of foreign CSOs helps to build democratic actors that, at an aggregate level, have a propensity to be non-adversarial to US society at minimum. International grant-making builds actors with democratic skills, which can be used to enter a discourse about democracy at national and global levels. More pertinent than the question of whether the foundations are democratic transnational agents is the question of whether the portfolio of political citizenship promoted through CSO funding allows for, and alerts to, the diversity of democratic understandings and institutions as possible goals for actors who seek democratization in their own polities. With associational CSO and even philanthropy now being taught, it looks as if the balance tips toward the US version of democratic culture and forms of political engagement, recognizable in templates of American civil society as well as some Anglo-Saxon types of capitalist societies. Thus, it seems essential to examine what ‘schools of citizenship’ have been taught through further research on how foundations use their power in the arena pertaining to the discourse on democracy, and how their influence measures up against local, grass-roots version and other powerful, potential funders’ visions and institutional legacies.

Conclusion With respect to the organizational mobilization of CSOs, foundations try to achieve high output legitimacy, as they enable others to realize and promote democratic goals and strengthen democratic values. Philanthropic foundations are likely to play a conservative role, as they also work in foreign-policy environments that are politically challenging. Even a relatively volatile terrain such as Middle East civil society shows focused grant-making toward actors of established worth, such as universities and research institutes, as well as NGOs and INGOs that promise to make vital contributions to social and political reform and realize goals in a long-term fashion. Contemporary foundations are powerful actors in domestic, foreignpolicy, and the global civil society arenas. The systemic dimensions of their large action space, including an explanation of this emergence, is yet to be explored, including foundations’ ability to achieve legitimacy as elite actors in democratic and non-democratic contexts, while also

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being widely accepted as major resource of CSOs in global civil society which is contested and viewed with suspicion. Future analysis should aim at providing rich qualitative information on democratic aspects of foundation work, especially concerning their discourses of legitimacy and accountability and their according actions. Empirical observations point to the potential argument for high output legitimacy but, as there is the possibility that foundations support CSOs only ritualistically or for their own benefit as elite actors in a contested arena, the grant-making for democratization agendas needs to be further explored. Explicit questions to answer include who is left out of the funding pool and how foundations deal with disagreement and conflicting agendas. For that, transparency – not formalized ritualistic accountability – will be needed.

Notes 1. Commonly defined as the transfer of private wealth in form of gifts or grants, ‘philanthropy’ describes acts of generosity toward individuals and organizations pursuing a public or social cause. Foundations in the US are non-profit organizations regulated under charitable law, 501(c) 3. There are currently over 72,000 US grant-making foundations (for overview see Prewitt, 2006b). 2. Grants and gifts in the area of global health by the Gates Foundation make up about half of all grants for international causes by US philanthropy (cf. Foundation Center and Council on Foundations, 2008). 3. Initiatives like ‘Guidestar’ provide broader data on non-profit organizations, for example, board membership, but information is hardly complete (http:// www2.guidestar.org/). 4. For a dazzling list of ‘accountability initiatives’ from all over the world, see (Anheier and Hawkes, 2009). 5. Religion is the biggest charitable cause in the US, but among the big foundations education and research funding predominates. 6. All dollars discussed in this chapter are US dollars. 7. The US foundation sector’s international grant-making field is highly skewed. Within US philanthropy, a great number of independent, community, and corporate foundations are active grant-makers. Among them a handful of the large foundations substantially organize most of the grant money. 8. http://www.unmillenniumproject.org/goals/index.htm 9. Specific information on how the data were prepared for analysis, including use of secondary data, can be obtained from the author. 10. The 25 grants with missing values were excluded from this analysis. 11. Tables for the full analysis are available from the author. 12. The countries benefiting are the US, Israel, and Afghanistan, Egypt, Gaza/ West Bank, Iran, Iraq, Jordan, Lebanon, Pakistan, Qatar, Sudan, Turkey, and Yemen.

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References Ahmad, S. (1991). American foundations and the development of the social sciences between the wars. Sociology – the Journal of the British Sociological Association, 25(3), 511–20. Alexander, J. C. (2006). The Civil Sphere (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Anheier, H. K., and Hawkes, A. (2009). Accountability in a Globalising World: International Non-Governmental Organisations and Foundations. In J. Eurich and A. Brink (eds.), Leadership in sozialen Organisationen. (Opladen: VS Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften), pp. 193–212. Bernholz, L. (1999). The future of foundation history: suggestions for research practice. In E. C. Lagemann (ed.), Philanthropic Foundations: New Scholarship New Possibilities (Bloomington: Indiana University Press), pp. 359–76. Dezalay, Y., and Garth, B. (1998). Human rights and hegemonic philanthropy. Actes De La Recherche En Sciences Sociales (121–22, ff.23). Fleishman, J. L. (2004). Simply doing good or doing good well: Stewardship, hubris and foundation governance. In H. P. Karoff (ed.), Just Money: A critique of contemporary American philanthropy (Boston, M.A.: The Philanthropy Initiative). Foundation Center and Council on Foundations. (2008). International Grantmaking IV: Highlights. Retrieved 1 November 2009. Frumkin, P. (2006). Accountability and legitimacy in American Foundation Philanthropy. In K. Prewitt, M. Dogan, S. Heydemann, and S. Toepler (eds.), The Legitimacy of Philanthropic Foundations: United States and European Perspectives (New York: Russel Sage Foundation), pp. 99–122. Haklai, O. (2008). Helping the enemy? Why transnational Jewish philanthropic foundations donate to Palestinian NGOs in Israel. Nations and Nationalism, 14(3), 581–99. Hammack, D. C. (2006). American debates on the legitimacy of foundations. In K. Prewitt, M. Dogan, S. Heydemann and S. Toepler (eds.), The Legitimacy of Philanthropic Foundations: United States and European Perspectives (New York: Russel Sage Foundation), pp. 49–98. Ibrahim, B., and Sherif, D. H. (2008). From Charity to Social Change: Trends in Arab Philanthropy (Cairo, New York: American University in Cairo Press). Jönsson, C. (2008). Democracy beyond the nation-state? Transnational actors and global governance. Statsvetenskaplig Tidskrift, 110(1), 83–97. Karl, B. D. (1997). Philanthropy and the maintenance of democratic elites. Minerva, 35(3), 207–20. Keane, J. (2003). Global Civil Society? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Keohane, R. O. (2006). Accountability in world politics. Scandinavian Political Studies, 29(2), 75–87. Miller, A. D. (2009). The Much Too Promised Land: America’s Elusive Search for ArabIsraeli Peace (New York: Bantam). Nielsen, W. (1985). The Golden Donors: A New Anatomy of the Great Foundations (New York: E.P. Dutton). Ostrander, S. A. (1995). Money for Change: Social Movement Philanthropy at Haymarket People’s Fund (Philadelphia: Temple University Press).

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Ostrander, S. A. (1999). When grantees become grantors: Accountability, democracy, and social movement philanthropy. In E. C. Lagemann (ed.), Philanthropic Foundations: New Scholarship New Possibilities (Bloomington: Indiana University Press), pp. 257–70. Parmar, I. (1999). The Carnegie Corporation and the mobilisation of opinion in the United States’ rise to globalism, 1939–1945. Minerva, 37(4), 355–78. Pitner, J. (2000). NGO’s Dilemmas. Middle East Report (214), 34–7. Prewitt, K. (2006a). American Foundations: What justifies their unique privileges and powers. In K. Prewitt, M. Dogan, S. Heydemann, and S. Toepler (eds.), The Legitimacy of Philanthropic Foundations: United States and European Perspectives (New York: Russel Sage Foundation), pp. 27–48. Prewitt, K. (2006b). Foundations. In W. W. Powell and R. Steinberg (eds.), The Nonprofit Sector: A Research Handbook (New Haven: Yale University Press), pp. 355–77. Prewitt, K., Dogan, M., Heydemann, S., and Toepler, S. (eds.). (2006). The Legitimacy of Philanthropic Foundations: United States and European Perspectives (New York: Russell Sage Foundation). Price, R. (2003). Transnational Civil Society and Advocacy in World Politics. World Politics, 55(4), 579–606. Rabinowitz, A. (1990). Social Change Philanthropy in America (Westport, CT: Quorum Books and Greenwood Publishing). Schofer, E., and Longhofer, W. (2009). The structural sources of academic life. Unpublished paper, http://weslonghofer.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/ sourcesofassociation-ajs-r1-3-5.pdf Scholte, J. A. (2004). Civil society and democratically accountable global governance. Government and Opposition, 39(2), 211–33. Scott, W. R. (1991). Unpacking institutional arguments. In P. DiMaggio and W. W. Powell (eds.), The New Institutionalism in Organizational Analysis (Chicago: University of Chicago Press), pp. 164–82. Simmons, A. (2004). Global giving. In H. P. Karoff (ed.), Just Money: A Critique of Contemporary American Philanthropy (Boston, MA: The Philanthropy Initiative), pp. 203–33. Smith, S. R., and Lipsky, M. (1993). Nonprofits for Hire: The Welfare State in the Age of Contracting (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press). Sutton, F. (1987). International philanthropy in a large foundation. In J. Salzman (ed.), Philanthropy and American Society’: Selected Papers (New York: Center for American Cultural Studies, Columbia University), pp. 139–61. Vogel, A. (2006). Who’s making global civil society: Philanthropy and US empire in world society. British Journal of Sociology, 57(4), 635–55. Vogel, A. (2009a). Foundations at the Philanthropy/Science Interchange: The Rockefeller Foundation and its Visiting Professors Program in Economics for Europe’s Postwar Reconstruction in the 1940s. Unpublished Manuscript under review. Singapore Management University. Vogel, A. (2009b). Play it as it Lays: US American Philanthropy for the Middle East, 1995–2009. Unpublished Manuscript. Singapore Management University. Weber, M. (1980). Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft (Tuebingen: Mohr).

5 Good Morals or Good Business? NGO Advocacy and the World Bank’s 10th IDA Christopher L. Pallas

Introduction This chapter considers one form of civil society organization (CSO), non-governmental organizations (NGOs), and their role in international advocacy. In particular, this chapter examines whether NGO advocacy improves citizen input into transnational policy-making. It also examines the implications of such improvement (or the lack thereof) on the democratic legitimacy of NGOs themselves. As Uhlin discusses in Chapter 2 of this volume, one of the major components of democratic legitimacy is input legitimacy: the relationship between the actor and its constituencies or people affected by its activities. Input legitimacy involves both representation and inclusivity. As Dahl (1999: 21) has noted, most modern forms of state-based democracy require some form of delegation, and the representation of diverse viewpoints by means of designated intermediaries. This pattern holds true in the international realm, wherein stakeholders are routinely represented by governments, bureaucrats, and NGOs. Although some commentators have held out hope for a stateless anarchy or global deliberative space, more empirically-rooted visions of global governance assume that representative mechanisms will remain a necessary part of global governance for the foreseeable future (e.g., cf. Dahl, 1999; Rischard, 2002; Moravcsik, 2004; Held, 2006). Inclusivity plays an equally important role, given that many of the critiques of transnational policy-making center on its exclusion of weaker stakeholders, particularly those from the global South. Practically speaking, NGOs themselves frequently claim to be acting to improve inclusivity, bringing the voices of indigenous people, victims 85

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of a particular disease, or other socially or economically marginalized populations into transnational decision-making (Spiro, 1995; Marschall, 1999; Grzybowski, 2000). This chapter explores NGOs’ capacity for representation and inclusion by examining the means by which NGOs engaged in advocacy choose their policy positions and by examining the factors governing organizational participation in advocacy activities. Thus the chapter assesses both the representative and inclusive credentials of individual NGOs and the aggregate impact of NGO advocacy on stakeholder input. To make this analysis, the chapter examines the particularly divisive NGO advocacy campaign associated with the 10th replenishment of funds for the World Bank’s International Development Association (IDA-10), which took place between 1992 and 1995 and resulted both in significant cuts to World Bank funding and in the creation of the World Bank’s Inspection Panel. Looking at the broad group of NGOs involved in the campaign, this chapter asks: along what lines do divisions form among NGOs regarding policy objectives? As will be shown, identifying the fault lines in the NGO coalition provides an indicator of how NGOs choose their policy positions. It is also a preliminary step in examining how and when organizations form alliances. Both questions provide insight into the motivations and behavior of NGOs, thereby helping to address questions of input. The need for such research is highlighted by gaps in the literature. Much of the writing on global civil society focuses on the behavior of NGOs and the impact of advocacy campaigns or networks. Relatively less attention has been paid to the means by which such campaigns have formed. North–South alliances have received significant scrutiny but North–North and South–South cooperation are under-researched, at least in those instances in which they presage global activism. The research on transnational civil society networks, moreover, tends to begin by identifying a particularly prominent or successful campaign and working backwards. Those members present at the finish of the campaign are identified and their interests and actions are traced back to their roots. This can lead to a kind of victor’s history in which seceding partners, discarded ideas, and false starts can be overlooked if they played no role in the final victory. The history of the victory becomes conflated with a history of the network or the issue. Similarly, in such analysis, data on the desires of affected populations are often provided by NGOs themselves. Although copious research exists connecting grassroots dissent with the formation of organizations and the execution of activist agendas at the national level, when

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studying global phenomena the researcher may find that tracing the details of the activist agenda back to distant and unorganized stakeholders is extremely challenging. Unsurprisingly, most studies of global civil society treat NGOs as reasonable proxies for the grassroots interests of the stakeholders they claim to represent. This trend is exemplified by the incorporation of accounts written by NGO staff into academic texts (e.g., Fox and Brown, 1998; Pincus and Winters, 2002; Walker and Thompson, 2008). Practitioner accounts generally provide excellent detail, firsthand information, and solid analysis. However, it is difficult to imagine that they represent a comprehensive sampling of perspectives.1 Combined with the tendency to sample only those NGOs involved in a winning coalition, this practice can erroneously create or magnify the impression that NGOs are reasonable representatives of stakeholder interests and that they help include new voices in transnational policy-making.

The IDA-10 This chapter challenges assumptions of NGO representivity and inclusiveness by analyzing the fractiousness in the IDA-10. The International Development Association (IDA) is the World Bank’s soft loan arm, providing loans to the poorest of developing countries at concessional rates. Because its loans are, by design, unprofitable, it requires a replenishment of funds every three years. Since the 1970s, IDA donors have used these replenishments to promote change at the World Bank by withholding or threatening to withhold funds until the Bank makes the requested change in policy or behavior. In the late 1980s, NGOs also became involved in the IDA negotiations. A variety of organizations sought to leverage their relationships with donor governments to promote certain reforms at the World Bank. Early successes by the environmental movement, which resulted in the adoption of new environmental safeguards at the World Bank, emboldened other groups to become involved in subsequent negotiations. Between 1992 and 1995, over 40 CSOs from both the global North and the global South became involved in the IDA’s 10th replenishment, lobbying Bank staff or donor country governments in pursuit of a variety of policy changes at the Bank; the vast majority of these were professional NGOs. Although these groups worked harmoniously on certain issues for most of 1992, after October of that year the broad civil society coalition began to split into two general factions. From 1993 onwards, they would pursue distinct agendas. One side focused on

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improving aid effectiveness, including promoting targeted interventions to address specific elements of poverty (such as health or education) and improving grassroots participation in development planning. This faction supported the renewal or expansion of IDA funding, primarily on the grounds that IDA provided an essential source of aid to developing nations. The other faction ostensibly shared this value for development effectiveness, but its members focused heavily on ways Bank lending had contributed to environmental destruction or human rights abuses. Their policy agendas focused on increasing the Bank’s accountability, particularly through a stronger role for watchdog NGOs. This faction sought to reduce or eliminate IDA funding, claiming that the Bank’s lending did more harm than good and that the Bank’s power and influence needed to be reduced pending wholesale reform. Both sides claimed to represent the same group of stakeholders, the citizens of the poor nations receiving IDA funds. Nonetheless, their policy prescriptions vis-à-vis the IDA-10 funding were diametrically opposed. In analyzing this division, I find that mission and funding worked together to determine the policy positions espoused by different organizations and their decisions to participate in advocacy. Organizations chose their policy positions largely on the basis of pre-existing missions and at the expense of genuine responsiveness to the borrowing country populations most affected by Bank policy. Material interests drove the decisions to participate in different aspects of the campaign; organizations participated when their participation was externally funded, supported by paying members, or when they expected a return on investment. The result was that neither individual organizations nor NGOs as a group were particularly responsive to stakeholder interests. To reach this conclusion, I examined the three explanations given by informants2 for the divisions within the initial IDA-10 coalition: values and mission; North–South tensions; and funding. This chapter tests each of these claims in turn and finds that a combination of mission and funding provides the most convincing explanation of NGO behavior during the IDA-10. It concludes with an analysis of the impacts of these findings on NGOs’ claims to democratic legitimacy.

Values and mission The idea of mission as a driver of the divisions between NGOs resonates strongly with the statements of the interviewees for this study. The interviewed NGO staff were quick to associate the policy positions of their organizations with a particular set of values, such as the preservation of

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life, social justice, or environmental conservation. These values, in turn, were reflected in the organization’s chosen mission. Where the association between policy, values, and mission was not explicit, it was often implicit in the examples staff gave of either Bank malfeasance or positive Bank contributions to development or in the ways in which they contrasted their organization with other organizations. NGO leaders, along with outside observers including former staff from the World Bank and US government, described two main groups of NGOs, identified by their mission: environmental and development NGOs. Some observers also delineated a third group of faith-based organizations or justice advocates.

Environmental organizations Environmental NGOs formed the core of the anti-replenishment faction. These organizations varied in their methodologies and priority issues but, in general, their environmentalism emphasized conservation. Their advocacy efforts focused heavily on preventing the depletion of natural resources, particularly woodlands.3 Ending the construction of coal-fired power plants and promoting improved end-use efficiency as an alternative to new power generation were also core elements of their agenda prior to the IDA-10. They attacked hydroelectric power as well: Greenpeace, Friends of the Earth (FoE), Environmental Defense Fund (EDF), and others worked with the International Rivers Network (IRN)4 in opposing the Yacyreta dam in Argentina in September 1992.5 EDF and IRN also led international opposition to the Narmada dam project in India. Some of the NGOs involved were ideologically opposed to the idea of development requiring industrialization and economic growth. In his book Mortgaging the Earth published just after the IDA campaign, Bruce Rich of EDF described economic development and industrialization as misguided efforts antithetical to most of human experience. He concluded that ‘primitive, non-Western modes of living are largely superior to modern ones’ (Rich, 1994: pp. 203, 240–1). This combination of environmental conservation and development skepticism was also shared by Narmada Bachao Andolan, the sole Southern NGO to take an active part in campaigning against the IDA-10 replenishment. Their value for conservation and their opposition to large-scale development made environmental organizations logical opponents of the IDA-10 replenishment. The IDA was the World Bank’s primary means of lending to the world’s poorest countries, many of which had large

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rural populations or relatively large amounts of wilderness. On the one hand, IDA had a track record of supporting some of the projects most derided by environmentalists, including commercial forestry programs, power plant construction, and hydroelectric dams. On the other hand, it was an instrument of the Bank’s overall agenda of development, which focused on economic indicators and had become increasingly neoliberal. Their suspicion of industrial development and their desire to protect the rights of the rural poor enabled environmental actors to ignore claims from Southern governments or NGOs about the importance of Bank funding. Environmentalists recognized the popularity of IDA and initially were reluctant to oppose it outright. Incremental reform seemed a better goal, until outrage over the Bank’s refusal to cancel funding for Sardar Sarovar, a particularly controversial Bank-funded dam project, prompted a more radical course of action. Not all environmental groups opposed the IDA-10 replenishment. For instance, the influential Bank Information Center (BIC) stayed neutral despite its explicit environmental bent. However, this was not necessarily a contradiction of its environmental values so much as their subordination to another purpose. Although BIC was environmentally inclined, its primary mission was to act as a clearinghouse for information for all NGOs. It worked more closely with anti-IDA environmental NGOs than with other groups, but explicit partisanship might have jeopardized its core mission. According to NGO and government staffers, BIC did not itself engage in lobbying donor deputies or Bank executive directors, although it did arrange meetings for others to do so. The Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC) also demonstrated a similar pattern. The NRDC had worked closely with the Sierra Club on previous reform efforts and during the IDA-10 it partnered with EDF, National Wildlife Federation (NWF), and FoE. However, its core mission was the reform of the Bank’s energy policies and forestry lending; broader issues of governance reform at the Bank were secondary priorities. Because US Treasury proposals for Bank reform reflected the NRDC’s priorities, the NRDC agreed to support the full IDA replenishment if a reform agenda could be agreed.6 The World Wildlife Fund (WWF) deviated more significantly from the line pursued by other environmental organizations. EDF, NWF, and FoE coordinated many of their lobbying positions and often borrowed from one another’s research, particularly when one organization had a superior network among some project-affected populations or better connections to potential overseas partners. The WWF, however, had conducted its own independent research on issues of sustainability and structural

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adjustment. It maintained its own ground-level contacts; it formulated its positions independently. While WWF promoted sustainability it did not support the anti-IDA agenda. To the contrary, David Reed, director of WWF’s International Institutions Policy Program, wrote to the US Treasury that WWF felt that it was necessary to ‘reinforce the contribution of IDA resources.’7 WWF’s position stressed poverty alleviation, public accountability, and changes in structural adjustment policy, with relatively little space devoted to environmental conservation. Reed’s testimony before Congress in May 1993 reinforced this position. He noted that ‘it is crucial to ensure the uninterrupted flow of IDA resources to alleviate poverty and to prevent further poverty-induced environmental degradation.’8 Because it was a prominent environmental NGO taking a moderate position on the Bank, WWF was, in the words of one senior NGO staffer interviewed for this research, the ‘biggest problem’ obstructing a unified environmentalist position. In short, the efforts of the majority of environmental actors to impede or eliminate IDA funding show a great degree of consistency, and strong logical links between values and the resulting policy positions. The core organizations involved shared a strong emphasis on environmental conservation, which led them to oppose many development initiatives. This trait was reinforced by a willingness to question the very concept of development. At the same time, however, not all environmental organizations developed anti-IDA policies. Some environmental organizations, particularly the WWF, shared some of the dominant environmental perspectives and values but instead chose neutral or pro-IDA positions.

Development organizations Development NGOs involved in the 10th IDA ranged from servicedelivery organizations to advocacy groups. The most active were Bread for the World, Church World Service, Lutheran World Relief, Interaction, and Oxfam UK. These were joined by a host of other organizations, including US and European-based actors like CARE and NOVIB, and numerous parties from the developing world, such as the Malaysian-based Third World Network and the Inter-Africa Group. The two values which seemed to be shared by all development organizations were a concern for poverty alleviation and a desire to empower the poor. Unlike some environmental NGOs, development organizations believed that poverty was real and objective, not just socially constructed or relative. Some had been involved in efforts to develop and popularize new metrics of poverty measurement. For

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others, particularly the highly professionalized service-delivery NGOs, identifying and addressing poverty was an essential part of their business model. For the representatives of Southern organizations, poverty was an inescapable reality of daily life in their home countries. As a result, the overwhelming majority of development NGOs supported full replenishment of the IDA. In October 1992 the NGO Working Group on the World Bank (NGOWG), an independent body consisting largely of development-focused NGOs, expressed its ‘deep and abiding concern about the inadequacy of funds on concessional terms being made available by the North to tackle poverty in the South,’ a situation which would be exacerbated by ‘cuts in real terms under the current round of negotiations for the IDA-10.’9 This sentiment was echoed by those NGOs testifying before Congress. CARE, a venerable and extremely large service-delivery NGO, described the IDA as ‘the largest and most important single source of concessional development capital for the poorest countries.’10 David Beckmann, president of Bread for the World, even used the opportunity of an IDA hearing to call for a general increase in US foreign aid.11 In general, support for the 10th IDA was more consistent among development NGOs than opposition was among environmentalists. There were several development organizations that took an initial position calling for Bank reform, but they never followed up with a clear position for or against the IDA replenishment. However, given the relatively limited advocacy capacities of most development organizations in the early 1990s, such silence most likely resulted from lack of resources, such as staff time or travel funds. Only one development NGO, the Ireland-based Catholic group Trocaire, took a more aggressively critical stance. It issued several strong anti-Bank statements in July 1992. As with other Irish NGOs, however, there is no evidence that Trocaire was involved later, in 1993, when cancellation of the IDA was being discussed more explicitly.

Faith-based organizations To limit a values-based typology of the NGOs involved in the 10th IDA solely to environment and development would make for a rather blunt parsing. It would ignore the role of faith-based organizations, which had quite distinct values. Numerous faith-based organizations were involved in the IDA-10 process. The Columbian Missionaries, the Irish Missionary Union, and the Church of Ireland Bishops’ Appeal all lobbied representatives of donor governments. The Aga Khan Foundation and the US-based Islamic African Relief Agency signed the NGOWG

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letter. Bread for the World and Church World Services, already described as development NGOs above, also represented faith perspectives. In general, the driving principles of these groups appear to have been social justice, specifically a concern for the well-being of disadvantaged and marginalized people. A statement from the US Catholic Conference of Bishops, for instance, denounced structural adjustment on the basis that ‘it is the poorest of the poor who suffer most’ from its effects.12 Such concerns, however, do not seem to have manifested themselves in a consistent set of policy positions or consistent participation in the policy process. One informant asserted that faith-based groups involved in the IDA aligned themselves with whichever of the two major camps, environment or development, was more persuasive. Presumably, this meant whichever side made a better case for the social justice benefits of its agenda. While environmentalists were successful in making this case early in 1992, the potential cancellation of the IDA funding changed the stakes of the game, pushing some faith-based groups to realign themselves with development activists. The only faith-based groups to hold consistent positions on the Bank and on IDA were those, like Bread for the World and Church World Service, with a standing interest in development.

A values-based division? A strong correlation exists between the ideological categories presented here and the related organizations’ positions on the 10th IDA replenishment, at least with regards to the environmental and development categories. The idea that an organization’s policy positions should be driven by values and mission was also the perspective preferred by most of the informants for this research, particularly for explaining their own actions. Moreover, the concept has a certain intuitive merit: environmental organizations should, it would seem, care more about the environment, and development organizations should prioritize development. Closer examination, however, reveals the pitfalls in this argument. Neither general values nor specific mission are necessarily good predictors of an organization’s decision to participate or withdraw from advocacy, even if it can predict the organization’s policy preferences. It does not explain why so many non-US organizations ceased to participate later in the policy process. Moreover, it does not fully account for WWF’s deviation from the environmental line. In short, values and mission do not explain all of the observed NGO behavior.

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To the extent that values and mission do drive policy formation, the findings cast doubt on organizations’ representivity. The missions and interests discussed here, for most organizations, predated the IDA10. These pre-existing agendas and related views allowed groups to reinterpret or filter local demands, or paternalistically determine local populations’ ‘best interests’ while ignoring their stated desires. Despite a stated value for human well-being, development and environmental groups chose quite divergent positions on the most salient issue of the 10th replenishment, funding for the IDA itself. It seems likely that groups in each category viewed human well-being through a lens formed by their particular mission, with environmentalists believing that well-being could be best met through conservation and development groups believing it would be best met through Western-style development. It is difficult to know which understanding, if either, reflected the desires of the people affected by the policy.

North versus South In 1992, the Forum of African Voluntary Development Organizations (FAVDO) prefaced a pro-IDA statement by declaring that Southern NGOs had ‘reached different conclusions from their Northern counterparts.’13 Informants from certain US-based NGOs suggested that Southern NGOs held pro-IDA positions because of pressure from their governments. Statements such as these imply a North–South division between NGOs. Assumptions of North–South differences are also found in the political science literature. For instance, the globality of global civil society is often defined by the mutual involvement of Northern and Southern NGOs (cf. Korten, 1998; Florini and Simmons, 2000). Keck and Sikkink’s (1998) boomerang theory, in which some civil society actors convince their governments to apply pressure to foreign states obstructing the efforts of other civil society organizations, implies that civil society will use the governments of strong states to change the behavior of weak ones. Their examples consistently feature interventions by Northern NGOs in Southern issues. In order to evaluate any North–South division in the IDA-10, however, it is necessary to define the terms ‘North’ and ‘South.’ In the case of the World Bank, ‘Northern nations’ refers to IDA donors, while ‘Southern nations’ refers to IDA borrowers. This is the definition used in this research, and it seems congruent with the intentions of the informants cited here.

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A North–South divide on environmental issues was explicit at the government level in the early 1990s, with developing country governments strongly opposing nascent efforts on the part of bilateral donors to link development aid to environmental reform.14 However, this division was not clearly mirrored among NGOs. Although Northern NGOs were key players in the global environmental movement, NGOs based in the global South were also involved. Both Northern and Southern actors attracted media attention for their environmental stances during the period of the IDA-10 negotiations. Greenpeace, prior to the Rio Earth Summit in June 1992, publicly exhorted developing nation governments to embrace environmental preservation.15 FoE joined Greenpeace in using the summit to attract attention to pressing environmental issues.16 In June 1992, EDF and IRN lobbied against a hydroelectric project in Malawi, resulting in a ‘no’ vote on the project by the US representative on the World Bank’s board.17 However, Southern NGOs were also involved in environmental claims at Rio. The Third World Network and the Forum of Brazilian NGOs partnered with Greenpeace and FoE in working to attract media attention to environmental concerns.18 In 1993, the India-based Narmada Bachao Andolan issued strong attacks on the environmental impacts of the Bank’s Sardar Sarovar project. In discussions of development, the field was even more mixed. Development was not exclusively a Southern issue. A statement issued in October 1992 by the NGOWG on the World Bank, closely echoed development versus environment sentiments previous articulated by Southern government representatives. However, it was signed by 18 NGOs based in donor nations as well as 14 from developing nations. Some Northern NGOs also displayed a mix of environmental and development priorities during the 1993 US Congressional hearings on the World Bank and 10th IDA. American NGOs like FoE, EDF, and the NWF pushed for a reduction in the World Bank’s power and funding, and stressed the Bank’s negative environmental and social impacts. Yet other US-based organizations like Interaction, Church World Service, and CARE joined the Africa-based FAVDO in stressing the importance of the IDA for the development of poor countries and the welfare of their citizens.19 In short, there is no clear evidence of division between NGOs along North–South lines on the issue of the environment versus development. Although the environment was seen as a Northern issue in intergovernmental debates, some non-governmental actors from the global South

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supported environmental positions. At the same time, many NGOs from the global North prioritized development over the environment. No other issue shows a strong North–South divide at either the government or NGO level. This lack of clear North–South division effectively negates the idea of geography as a source of division among NGOs or a consistent driver of NGO policy-making during the 10th IDA.

Funding A final possible parsing offered by IDA-10 participants was material interests. Some informants suggested that NGOs selected their policy positions in accordance with their financial incentives. One indicated that the seeming divide between environmental and development organizations was, in fact, predominantly a divide between advocacy groups and service-delivery organizations. The former, funded primarily by foundations or member donations, were able to take more radical reformist positions than the latter, which relied on flows of aid funding. This opinion was echoed by staff at certain environmental NGOs, who accused development organizations of being motivated by financial gain. The data, however, indicates a more nuanced reality. It suggests that nearly all of the organizations involved in the IDA, including both service-delivery and advocacy NGOs, had financial incentives to advocate the policy positions they promoted. In some cases, particularly among advocacy groups funded by foundations, donors made explicit indications of the policy positions they wished their funds to support, or facilitated the participation of NGOs whose stated aims aligned with those of the foundation. In other cases, such as groups receiving funding from the government or members, there was less direct pressure to assume an explicit position. Nonetheless, the organizations had a strong interest in preserving the possibility for future funding or the loyalty of current donors. It is unclear that funding drove the policy preferences of most actors, but it may have been instrumental in defining the agendas of some. Moreover, it appears to have been a key driver of participation, thus determining the matrix of organizations lobbying on the IDA. Correlating funding and policy If funding and advocacy are correlated, one would expect that NGOs involved in the IDA would fall into three general categories: NGOs dependent on funding from governments or international organizations (IOs), who back government or IO positions or advocate greater IDA funding; foundation-funded organizations which back the aims

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or agenda of the foundation(s) funding them; and member-supported organizations whose positions reflect the desires of the majority of their members. Such a categorization matches almost perfectly with the divisions observed in IDA-10 lobbying. Organizations like Oxfam, CARE, and the WWF, which received some or all of their funding from bilateral and multilateral aid, gave unanimous support to the IDA-10. Organizations like the EDF, FoE, NWF, and the international advocacy arm of the Sierra Club had all received foundation funding for international environmental advocacy and the reform of multilateral development banks; all organizations with such funding opposed the IDA. Member-funded organizations divided according to the interests of their members: Greenpeace, Rainforest Action Network, and NWF (which received more funding from members than foundations) were supported primarily by American environmentalists and took anti-IDA pro-environmental positions. Narmada Bachao Andolan was funded by dam opponents in India and opposed the IDA, which was helping fund the dam. Bread for the World, along with the US Conference of Catholic Bishops and other faith groups, were supported by members interested in social justice and supported IDA funding as a means of helping the poor. Claims of causation The idea of a causal relationship between organizational funding and position-taking was elaborated upon by several informants. One environmental leader used funding to explain the divisions among environmentalists, noting that ‘the big project-oriented NGOs like World Wildlife Fund, Nature Conservancy International, and Conservation International . . . looked to the Bank as a funder for their projects and that kind of thing. So they were never particularly strong advocates [for reform].’ Another noted a perennial tension between his organization and groups focused on ensuring that sufficient money is given for development. Organizations who received funding from aid were thought to oppose the cuts even if they did not receive direct funding from the World Bank, because they believed IDA cuts could precipitate a more general decline in US aid levels. According to one informant: These groups were afraid to criticize the World Bank, even though they might have lots of criticisms . . . they were reluctant to come out publicly and say critical things about the World Bank, or be too critical because they were afraid that would play into the hands of the right wing, the Reaganites, and so on who didn’t like foreign aid.

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Although some of these claims came in the form of critiques from antiIDA activists, they were validated by aid organizations and their allies. InterAction represented over 150 development and relief NGOs during the IDA-10. It sat on the NGOWG and had worked with World Bank staff in 1990 on the reform of the Bank’s participation policies. Its representatives were also invited to meet with US legislators and to testify in Congressional hearings. According to a source involved with the organization, the most commonly held concern among its members during the IDA-10 time period was maintaining financing for their activities. Moreover, the anti-IDA activists who speculated on the financial motivations of service-delivery organizations were themselves subject to financial pressures. One informant stated that environmental activists, including the core groups opposing the IDA, are continually ‘competing for money, funding, and publicity.’ Such conflicts never became public, but they could escalate to the point where activists sought to co-opt the support of their competitors’ donors and draw away their funding. Another NGO member noted that foundation donors rewarded vigorous advocacy. One anti-IDA leader, the informant joked, seemed to be ‘paid by the column-inch’ for the press coverage he generated. In the case of member-funded organizations, the advocacy agenda was decided or affirmed by members. NBA was supported by Indian donors, although the organization itself admits that these were not necessarily the project-affected people in the Narmada valley it claimed to represent.20 NWF and Bread for the World had annual meetings at which members could vote, as well as regular correspondence with members. Greenpeace did not have such democratic agenda-setting processes, but its very public position-taking created a clear brand that members chose to support. Faith-based organizations were also member-supported, either directly by congregants or individual donors or indirectly via a denomination. They had clear brand identity of their own: an adherence to faith tenets which set them apart (in either principle or practice) from secular organizations (cf. Pallas, 2005).

The Charles Stewart Mott Foundation The Charles Stewart Mott Foundation had a particularly strong effect on the IDA-10. Mott provided funds to the EDF, the NWF, NRDC, the Sierra Club, and FoE, as well as to the Bank Information Center, which arranged meetings and disseminated information on the others’ behalf. Typically advocacy organizations themselves initiate contact

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with potential funders, seeking grants to support the advocacy organizations’ existing agendas. In this case, however, Mott sought out these environmental actors as part of a strategic agenda developed by the foundation in the mid-1980s to promote global environmental reform. Thus Mott’s funding was reflective of the foundation’s strategy rather than a serendipitous clustering of grant requests. As the description of one of Mott’s grants to FoE notes, it is ‘one of a cluster of grants aimed at improving multilateral development bank lending policies and practices so that they are environmentally sustainable and socially equitable.’21 Mott funds also helped develop the support of non-US actors for MDB reform. Three grants to FoE, given in 1991 and 1992, specify that the money is to be used to ‘strengthen multilateral development bank campaign activities in Japan’ and for ‘outreach to Third World groups.’22 EDF was likewise given funds to ‘empower Third World nongovernmental organizations to monitor, influence and change internationally financed development projects.’23 The NWF, which received strong support from members, also passed some of its Mott funding on to overseas partners. Relatively few groups outside of the US environmental movement opposed the IDA or took strong reformist positions; the implication is that the activities of some of those who did was facilitated, cultivated, or amplified by Mott funding.

A principal–agent relationship? There is also evidence of a principal–agent relationship between Mott and its grant recipients. There is no doubt that Mott funding supported a substantial portion of the anti-IDA activism during the 10th IDA or that Mott was pursuing its own strategic agenda. The question of a principal–agent relationship, however, examines the extent to which Mott funding influenced the behavior of the groups involved. Several of the groups involved insist that Mott had little control over their actions: ‘they had no influence whatever on us [the Mottfunded environmentalists],’ asserted one senior staffer, because ‘the people working on these issues [were] strong-willed and professional.’ Nonetheless, there are several indications that Mott had a principal– agent relationship with its aid recipients, leading them into behaviors they would not have undertaken on their own in order to facilitate the outcomes Mott favored. These include coordinated policy-setting on the part of grant recipients and the initiation of new activities in response to Mott requests.

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Coordinating policy All of the NGO informants interviewed for this research were asked about their relationships with other non-governmental actors and the extent to which they coordinated policy positions or lobbying activities with like-minded organizations. Only the core group of environmental activists, EDF, NWF, NRDC, FoE, and the Sierra Club, reported regular meetings to coordinate policy and tactics. The groups shared information among themselves and would allow the members best informed about a particular policy or project to influence the position of the coalition as a whole. Thus the impact of any given organization in this coalition could be multiplied five-fold. The groups also used coordination to magnify their political footprint. For instance, when Bruce Rich of EDF spoke before the Senate hearing on the IDA-10 replenishment in June 1993, he spoke on behalf of the Sierra Club and NWF as well. He began his testimony by reminding the senators present that these three organizations ‘have more than 5.7 million members and supporters nationwide.’24 In an earlier hearing he testified on behalf of EDF and the Sierra Club, while noting that his testimony was ‘congruent’ with the positions of NWF and FoE.25 This coordination was a direct result of Mott influence. Maureen Smyth, who oversaw the Mott grants, strongly suggested that the Mottfunded NGOs coordinate their activities. When Mott began working with the NGOs, each group had a niche area but their agendas overlapped. Smyth believed that groups could do more if they coordinated. One staffer who worked on the NRDC effort described the organization’s partnership with the other four major IDA opponents, saying that ‘some of that [partnership] was by design,’ a result of Mott’s influence. At least one informant indicated that his organization would not have participated in such meetings without Mott’s influence. Tellingly, such regular coordination has largely ended since Mott funding ceased. Initiating activities As noted, Mott sought out the five NGOs it funded for World Bank work. According to a staffer at one recipient NGO, Mott ‘liked this international financial institution’s work’ and gave money specifically for such work, rather than because of any broader relationship with the organization. The foundation’s funding led its grant recipients to initiate activities they would not otherwise have undertaken. ‘Mott was the major contributor,’ according to another member of staff, ‘if it hadn’t been for Mott, the whole community wouldn’t have been able to do what it did.’

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Mott’s influence was most clearly demonstrated in the creation of 50 Years Is Enough, a loosely organized campaign for the intensive reform or elimination of the World Bank and IMF, inspired by the two institutions’ 50th birthdays in 1992. The campaign began organizing in 1993 and announced a platform in 1994. IRN, Development GAP, FoE, EDF, and Oxfam America were key participants. Although the campaign, which still exists, describes itself as the spontaneous creation of energized activists,26 it actually resulted from pressure from the Charles Stewart Mott Foundation. In 1992 the Development GAP coordinated a forum where a variety of NGOs discussed their agendas with potential foundation funders. That forum highlighted the potential synergy between environmental groups and others which, like DGAP, had some sort of economic justice agenda. Mott approached the Development GAP and asked that a new, coordinated campaign be developed, and DGAP agreed. In June 1993, Mott provided DGAP with 130,000 dollars for work on ‘global economic justice.’ In early 1994 it provided IRN, which was already receiving Mott funding for ‘General Purposes,’ 90,000 dollars for the ‘Media Outreach Project of the “50 Years” Campaign.’27 The campaign became a major source of negative publicity for the Bank over the rest of the decade, influencing policy-makers’ opinions of the World Bank in the key 1992–5 period, during which a series of US cuts to its IDA-10 contribution took place (cf. Mallaby, 2004).

Funding, policy, and participation The data indicate a clear link between funding and activism. Organizations pursued the positions which they had a material incentive to pursue, either choosing their positions or deciding their participation on the basis of financial interests. These findings confirm and elaborate on work by Cooley and Ron (2002). They report that the need to fund the organization, particularly to pay staff and overhead costs, along with the need to compete with other organizations for scarce funding resources, causes most NGOs to prioritize economic concerns over mission, values, or other aspects of identity (cf. Price, 2003: pp. 582–3). The accusations of some actors notwithstanding, however, it seems unlikely that the majority of NGOs involved in the IDA-10 chose their policies on a purely mercenary basis. Many organizations chose positions that supported their financial goals, but causality is difficult to prove. Organizations’ pre-existing missions seem to have had a stronger impact on their policy preferences. The pattern of participation indicates that the significance of funding (as opposed to mission) increases as the costs of activism increase.

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Numerous organizations with an interest in IDA-10 related issues, such as poverty alleviation or debt relief, were involved in low-cost ways early in the IDA process. Many smaller faith-based organizations and developing world NGOs signed the NGOWG letter, or other similar position statements. However, organizations engaged in sustained advocacy only when their activities were likely to be expected by paying members, when they believed that the policies being negotiated would affect their future revenue, or when outside funding subsidized the costs of activism. The influence of the Charles Stewart Mott Foundation further demonstrates the impact of funding on participation. Mott funded the core group of American NGOs opposed to the IDA, and its funding may have helped them cultivate the support of overseas partners. Mott chose its partners for their pre-existing agendas, but it induced them to modify their existing behavior. In response to Mott influence, Mott clients initiated new advocacy activities and coordinated their policy positions in ways that increased their political impact. In short, during the 10th IDA time period, funding appears to have had an important influence on advocacy activity. According to participants in the process itself, funding interests may explain the seeming contradiction between the mission of certain NGOs, such as the WWF, and the positions they espoused. Similarly, it helps explain the choices organizations made to participate in or withdraw from different advocacy activities. The role of Mott is particularly significant because it implies that the majority of NGOs opposing the 10th IDA were functioning as the clients or agents of a single entity, rather than representing the interests of a diverse group of stakeholders. All of these findings have implications for the legitimacy of NGOs as stakeholder representatives. The links between mission and position, analyzed earlier in this chapter, indicate that individual NGOs may not be very responsive to the populations that their work impacts. The findings on funding indicate the composition of any given campaign may reflect the variety of the participants’ financial incentives, rather than a cross-section of stakeholder interests.

NGOs and stakeholder input One of the most striking elements of NGO participation in the 10th IDA is the sharp divisions that manifested themselves over the question of continued funding for the IDA. Participants in the process

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noted this division themselves and explained it as a function of differences between Northern and Southern interests, competition between environmental, development, and faith-based values, or the result of organizations’ concerns with funding. However, only divisions over values or mission and funding sources correlate with the divides observed in this case. With regard to values and mission, it may be true that organizations seek to preserve consistency vis-à-vis their values and mission. However, it is important to note that this may also be a form of branding: a public identity shaped for the market of potential funders. The data indicate that the funding environment is highly competitive for all types of NGOs, whether they are seeking to win the attention of foundations, the contracts of aid providers, or the loyalty of members. In such an environment, defining and maintaining a clear mission is a necessary part of establishing a value proposition for potential donors. Telling donors the benefits of their donation implicitly requires telling them what they are gaining with one particular organization that cannot be gained elsewhere. This is not to say that NGO staff develop or evolve their organization’s mission with money in mind. Instead it seems probable that the perpetual process of applying for grants, bidding for contracts, and advertising for members has an inescapable impact on NGOs, with mission being honed and shaped by the need to compete. Thus staff could genuinely seek only that funding reflective of their organization’s present mission, yet their actions could still be explained and predicted in financial terms, because the public mission which they are using as their compass has itself been adjusted to reflect the donor-influenced characteristics of the funding market. Even if organizations remain consistent in their values and mission, this by no means guarantees their responsiveness to the populations affected by their activism. To the contrary, an organization’s focus on a particular mission may lead it to reinterpret the stated desires of a people impacted by a given policy, or even determine such peoples’ ‘needs’ without reference to their stated desires. Although most organizations claim to be acting for the good of certain stakeholders, it may not be a good determined by those stakeholders themselves. Furthermore, if NGO participation in a given campaign is facilitated by donor funding, money is still the proximate cause of NGO action. It determines which organizations are active in any given campaign. Thus, rather than representing a cross-section of stakeholder interests, it will represent a sampling of financial incentives. The role of third-party donors in structuring those incentives may be particularly

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significant, leading to international campaigns that primarily reflect wealthy populations or funding bodies. In the case of the 10th IDA, policy-makers were given the impression that five prominent NGOs had each chosen to engage on the issues surrounding the World Bank replenishment. Arguably, however, EDF, NWF, the Sierra Club, FoE, and the NRDC represented not a consensus of five independent actors but rather the agenda of a single entity, the Charles Stewart Mott Foundation, which had carefully selected its agents and incentivized them to work collaboratively. In short, the data raise a series of questions about the capacity of nongovernmental organizations to act on behalf of anyone other than a narrow group of funders or members, thus casting doubt on their ability to represent marginalized populations and include them in transnational policy-making. Transnational advocacy campaigns are particularly suspect, given that the NGOs involved are likely to be driven by a pre-existing mission and third-party funding, rather than grassroots voices.

The democratic credentials of NGOs In Chapter 2 of this volume, Uhlin describes democratic legitimacy as having three parts: input, throughput, and output. This chapter has focused primarily on NGOs’ capacity to represent marginalized populations and include them in transnational policy-making. Both representivity and inclusivity are elements of democratic input; however, the findings in this chapter also have implications for NGOs’ throughput legitimacy. As noted in Erman and Uhlin’s introduction to this volume, input legitimacy is concerned with the relationship between the actor and its constituencies. What this chapter shows is that identifying such constituencies is not always easy. Non-governmental actors engaged in advocacy generally have a specified, nominal constituency. These are the persons on whose behalf they claim to work. At the same time, the data in this chapter indicate that NGOs also have an authoritative constituency. These are the persons to whom the organization is directly reliant for its continued functioning or existence, such as members, funders, and staff. The two groups overlap, but the authoritative group is often smaller than the nominal one. Academics and practitioners imply (and sometimes explicitly state) that the nominal constituency is authoritative, that is, that international advocacy is initiated by the grassroots and guided by clear signals

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from the interested stakeholders. The reality can be quite different. As seen, NGO advocacy can exist primarily in response to organizations’ pre-existing missions as determined by staff and, in some organizations, paying or voting members. Decisions to undertake advocacy are also constrained (and occasionally prompted) by funding considerations, giving funders a particular type of power. The disparity in influence between the nominal and authoritative constituencies challenges the inclusivity of NGO-driven advocacy. When NGOs grant disproportionate power to their authoritative constituency in determining organizational agendas, they hinder the development of an open and participatory decision-making process involving all of their nominal members. These power dynamics also undermine NGOs’ representivity. As described in this chapter, individual organizations pursuing predetermined goals are likely to ignore or reinterpret local needs. Collectively, NGO activism on an issue will reflect the financial incentives linked to the campaign. Organizations with financial incentives for their involvement will participate, while those hampered by limited resources may drop out. In short, NGOs cannot be shown to represent those persons they claim to represent. The lack of representivity and inclusivity directly impugns NGOs’ input legitimacy. This chapter’s findings also challenge NGOs’ throughput legitimacy, particularly when looking at NGOs as a group. Viewed collectively, nongovernmental organizations may lack any meaningful inter-organizational deliberation. If organizations must continually pursue or maintain funding in order to operate, organizations may be unable to engage in significant compromise or collective decisionmaking. For most environmental advocacy actors involved in the 10th IDA, meaningful compromise with development NGOs would have resulted in a violation of the fundamental interests of their donors (in the case of Mott-funded NGOs) or their members (in the case of NWF or Narmada Bachao Andolan). By the same token, for development servicedelivery NGOs, advocating for cuts in World Bank funding had the potential to result in the loss of funding for their activities. Informants for this research were well aware of these tensions, with several indicating that they chose not to engage opposing NGOs in dialogue because they perceived the financial interests of their opponents to result in rigid policy positions. Such dynamics clearly inhibit deliberation. Of course, this pattern also indicates that there may be significant accountability between an organization and its funders or, in some cases, its members. Accountability can enhance throughput legitimacy.

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However, as implied above, most organizations are only accountable to a portion of their nominal constituency. Uhlin (this volume, Chapter 2) leaves the question open as to whether all forms of legitimacy are necessary for all organizations in all contexts. However, the relative lack of input legitimacy for many NGOs engaged in advocacy seems to cast serious doubt on the democratic credibility of non-governmental organizations and the democratic legitimacy of NGO-driven advocacy, given that their anticipated role in transnational policy-making is to represent and include otherwise marginalized stakeholders. The problems of throughput legitimacy compound this problem, given that some of the normative theory promoting NGO involvement in global governance depicts civil society (of which NGOs form a significant part) as the key to deliberative democracy in transnational decision-making.

Further research These conclusions are drawn from a single case study. Nonetheless, the IDA-10 is notable for the large number of NGOs involved and the significant policy changes at the World Bank that resulted from their advocacy. The anti-Bank faction eventually succeeded in reducing the IDA funding, and the Bank responded with a number of policy capitulations which significantly increased NGOs’ influence in Bank policy-making. Most of the major NGOs involved in the IDA lobbying are still active in international policy-making. The idea that NGOs can democratize international policy-making is not without merit. There exists abundant evidence that civil society in general, and NGOs in particular, can have a significant impact on international policy-making. When decisions are made in technocratic international organizations or via diffuse mechanisms beyond the control of any one state, transnational advocacy networks may form the best hope of reasserting stakeholder control over the decision-making process. However, for NGOs to accomplish this end their behavior must be critically examined by academics and policymakers alike. Unless NGOs are subject to the same scrutiny to which they subject other organizations, they may easily become a vehicle for enhancing influence of small groups of elites, such as their funders, staff, or core members. This chapter indicates some of the places where that scrutiny should take place. At the very least, NGO claims of representivity and inclusivity must be empirically tested. The role of funding in

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determining participation in advocacy particularly warrants further research. Visions of a deliberatively democratic global civil society should also be re-examined: rather than deducing a deliberative capacity on the basis of isolated cases such as the World Social Forum and similar gatherings, researchers would be well advised to develop a more comprehensive picture of civil society behavior, using inductive analysis of empirical data. Future discussions of the role of NGOs in democratizing transnational policy-making must evaluate carefully the capacity of individual NGOs to give equal voice to heretofore marginalized stakeholders and the capacity of NGOs as a group to create new spaces for transnational dialogue.

Notes 1. Some efforts have been made to utilize the strengths of practitioner-authored accounts while overcoming their potential bias by inviting input from a variety of competing actors. Fisher (1995) exemplifies the potential of such an approach. However, in order to orchestrate such a volume, the editor or editors must perform sufficient original research to identify diverse relevant parties, and the focus of the volume must be narrow enough to accommodate multiple accounts of the same events. 2. Sources for this chapter include interviews with 27 current or former staff members of the World Bank, US government, and relevant NGOs, conducted between November 2007 and August 2008. 3. Fax from Korinna Horta of EDF to BIC, ‘Indications of how IDA fails to meet its basic objectives of poverty alleviation and environmental protection,’ 9 October 1992. Also, letter from Raymond Mikesell, Economic Advisor to the Sierra Club International Program and Larry Williams, Washington Director, Sierra Club International Program to George A. Folsom, Deputy Assistant Secretary, International Development, Debt and Environment Policy, US Treasury, 10 September 1992. 4. IRN is an NGO opposing ‘environmentally destructive’ dams. Lori Udall, the staff lawyer who led EDF’s Narmada campaign, became Washington Director for IRN in 1995. 5. Fax from Kay Treakle to ‘Tuesday Group Contacts’ of US environmental NGOs, plus global northern partners, ‘Letters to World Bank Executive Directors Needed on Yacyreta,’ 9 September 1992. 6. See testimony by Glenn Prickett, Senior Associate, International Programs, Natural Resources Defense Council, during hearings before the US House of Representatives Subcommittee on International Development, Finance, Trade, and Monetary Policy on Authorizing contributions to IDA, GEF, and ADF, 5 May 1993. 7. Fax from David Reed, Director, International Institutions Policy Program, WWF to George A. Folsom, Deputy Assistant Secretary, International Development, Debt and Environment Policy, US Treasury, 3 September 1992.

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8. Hearings before the US House of Representatives Subcommittee on International Development, Finance, Trade, and Monetary Policy on Authorizing contributions to IDA, GEF, and ADF, 5 May 1993. 9. Letter from Mazide N’diaye, Co-Chair, NGO/World Bank Working Group, to Lewis Preston, President, World Bank, 30 October 1992. 10. Hearings before the US House of Representatives Subcommittee on International Development, Finance, Trade, and Monetary Policy on Authorizing contributions to IDA, GEF, and ADF, 5 May 1993. 11. Hearings before US House of Representatives Subcommittee on Foreign Operations, Export Financing, and Related Programs on the Foreign Operations, Export Financing, and Related Programs Appropriations for 1994, 1 March 1993. 12. Hearings before the US House of Representatives Subcommittee on International Development, Finance, Trade, and Monetary Policy on Authorizing contributions to IDA, GEF, and ADF, 5 May 1993. 13. World Bank, ‘Meeting Between IDA Deputies, Executive Directors, and NGOs,’ 16 September 1992. 14. See, for example, John Vidal, ‘Earth Summit: Money the Root of All Change,’ The Guardian, 4 June 1992. Also, Eugene Robinson, ‘At Earth Summit, South Aims to Send Bill North; Developing Nations, Putting Priority on Growth, Say Cleanup Is Possible – for a Price,’ The Washington Post, 1 June 1992. 15. Reuters, ‘Save summit call by Greenpeace,’ Herald Sun, 28 April 1992. 16. Rik Turner and Colin Harding, ‘Minister’s dismissal raises green doubts about Collor,’ The Independent, 24 March 1992. 17. Barbara Crossette, ‘Movement Builds to Fight Harmful Projects in Poor Nations,’ The New York Times, 23 June 1992. 18. Rik Turner and Colin Harding, ‘Minister’s dismissal raises green doubts about Collor,’ The Independent, 24 March 1992. 19. Hearings before the US House of Representatives Subcommittee on Foreign Operations, Export Financing, and Related Programs on the Foreign Operations, Export Financing, and Related Programs Appropriations for 1994, 1 March 1993; and hearings before the US House of Representatives Subcommittee on International Development, Finance, Trade, and Monetary Policy on Authorizing contributions to IDA, GEF, and ADF, 5 May 1993. 20. Ashish Mandloi, Sanjay Sangvai, Devrambhai Kanera, Manglya Vasave, Kamala Yadav, and Medha Patkar, ‘NBA Responds to Inquiries on Foreign Funding,’ The South Asian (thesouthasian.org), 9 July 2006. 21. Charles Stewart Mott Foundation, ‘Mott Grants, Program Area: Reform of International Finance and Trade, 1990–1994.’ Database print out, prepared 22 May 2008. Provided to the author by the foundation. 22. Ibid. 23. Ibid. 24. Hearings before a US Senate subcommittee of the Committee on Appropriations, on Foreign Operations, Export Financing, and Related Programs Appropriations for Fiscal Year 1994, 15 June 1993. 25. Hearings before US House of Representatives Subcommittee on Foreign Operations, Export Financing, and Related Programs on the Foreign Operations, Export Financing, and Related Programs Appropriations for 1994, 1 March 1993.

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26. 50 Years is Enough Network, ‘History,’ http://www.50years.org/pdf/ 10thAnniversary/history.pdf, viewed 8 July 2009. 27. Charles Stewart Mott Foundation, ‘Mott Grants, Program Area: Reform of International Finance and Trade, 1990–1994.’ Database print out, prepared 22 May 2008. Provided to the author by the foundation.

References Cooley, A. and J. Ron (2002) ‘The NGO scramble: Organizational insecurity and the political economy of transnational action,’ International Security, 27: 5–39. Dahl, R. (1999) ‘Can international institutions be democratic?’ in I. Shapiro and C. Hacker-Cordon (eds) Democracy’s Edges (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Fisher, W. (ed.) (1995) Toward Sustainable Development? Struggling Over India’s Narmada River (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe). Florini, A. and P. J. Simmons (2000) ‘What the world needs now?’ in A. Florini (ed.) The Third Force: The Rise of Transnational Civil Society (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace). Fox, J. and L. D. Brown (eds) (1998) The Struggle for Accountability: The World Bank, NGOs, and Grassroots Movements (Cambridge: The MIT Press). Grzybowski, C. (2000) ‘We NGOs: A controversial way of being and acting,’ Development in Practice, 10 (34): 209–21. Held, D. (2006) Models of Democracy, 3rd ed. (Cambridge: Polity). Keck, M. E. and K. Sikkink (1998) Activists Beyond Borders: Advocacy Networks in International Politics (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press). Korten, D. C. (1998) Globalizing Civil Society: Reclaiming our Right to Power (New York: Seven Stories Press). Mallaby, S. (2004) The World’s Banker: A Story of Failed States, Financial Crises, and the Wealth and Poverty of Nations (New York: Penguin). Marschall, M. (1999) ‘From states to people: Civil society and its role in governance,’ in Civicus (ed.) Civil Society at the Millennium (Hartford: Kumarian). Moravcsik, A. (2004) ‘Is there a “democratic deficit” in world politics? A framework for analysis,’ Government and Opposition, 39: 336–63. Pallas, C. (2005) ‘Canterbury to Cameroon: A new partnership between faiths and the World Bank,’ Development in Practice, 15 (5): 677–84. Pincus, J. and J. Winters (eds) (2002) Reinventing the World Bank (Ithaca: Cornell University Press). Price, R. (2003) ‘Transnational civil society and advocacy in world politics,’ World Politics, 55: 579–606. Rich, B. (1994) Mortgaging the Earth: The World Bank, Environmental Improvishment, and the Crisis of Development (Boston: Beacon Press). Rischard, J. F. (2002) High Noon (New York: Basic Books). Spiro, P. J. (1995) ‘New global communities: Nongovernmental organizations in international decision-making institutions,’ The Washington Quarterly, 18 (1): 45–56. Walker, J. and A. Thompson, (eds) (2008) Critical Mass: The Emergence of Global Civil Society (Waterloo: Wilfred Laurier University Press).

6 Transnational Social Movements and Democratic Legitimacy Brigitte Beauzamy

Introduction Transnational social movements are among the most intensively debated transnational actors. One explanation for this could be that they are very hard to define. Are they national or local social movements interconnected in macro-organizations of some sorts or in international networks? Are they loose coalitions of like-minded actors operating in a coordinated fashion? Does the concept of a transnational, as opposed to a merely international, social movement imply that they mobilize and stage their protests in different locations, or in several locations at once? These definitional issues expose underlying questions regarding the dynamics of such mobilizations. It is, in fact, difficult to tell whether these transnational actors are qualitatively different from the social movements which have been empirically studied for decades, and which quite often have displayed international connections or an interest in international issues. Are they connected to other processes of transnationalization, such as the rise of transnational corporations and capital, the possibilities for fast communication opened by new technologies, supranational governance schemes, or increased mobility of people – phenomena that are generally subsumed under the rubric of globalization? These questions indicate that the study of transnational social movements refers more to an array of research perspectives than to an empirically identifiable set of actors. Therefore, it is easier to focus on the transnationalization processes, which can be observed in various social movements, than on transnational social movements as a new category in a taxonomy of contentious actors. The curiosity they raise is also linked to the fact that social movements are civil society organizations (CSOs) of a particular sort: they 110

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are always engaged in contentious politics. In this sense, social movements offer an excellent opportunity for revisiting questions raised in other chapters of this volume. Where do they take their power from? Not from electorates or easily identified constituencies or communities, nor from money. Rather, it seems as if they mostly get their political power from the capacity to convince people of the quality of their arguments, and from the capacity to put together protest actions. Regarding the nature of their democratic claims, we will see that they are twofold: many transnational social movements claim that their internal organization is democratic, but they also often aim at having an impact on the political system where they are active, which they tend to frame as democratization. In other words, social movements offer a Janus-faced picture: on the one hand, they tend to portray themselves as champions of democracy, and on the other, they seem to resort to modes of action which bypass democratic institutions, such as direct action, and even abandon concerns for democracy in the most contentious settings. This ambivalence is central to the legitimacy issues raised by social movements in transnational contexts, since transnational actions may ignore local norms regarding the rule of law more easily by making ethical claims superseding them. Against the background of this ambivalence, assessing the democratic credentials of social movements is most appropriately done by reviewing the issues and controversies they raise concerning their aptitude to strengthen democracy. It should be noted that much of this criticism comes from within the social movements themselves, which have been very active in discussing their own democratic features and promoting various views of democracy. The so-called ‘Global Justice Movement’ (GJM) is particularly striking in this regard, because it offers a context in which democratic debates are lively and accessible in the many publications made by activists or intellectuals collaborating with the movement. Yet understanding these debates entails more fundamental questions concerning the assumptions commonly made about the democratic nature of social movements – both by their supporters and opponents – by emphasizing the role of oppositional actors in democratic settings marked by the existence of contentious politics.

SMOs and democracy: A brief overview of contemporary issues Social movements tend to see themselves as democratizing forces, since they claim to give a voice to the silenced and represent demands made

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by people unable to bring them onto the agenda of political parties taking part in elections. Not all movements situate their contribution in the field of democratic practices, yet many develop a critique of contemporary democratic practices and include their own democratization in their goals. This chapter will therefore focus on the cases where democracy is either considered to be one of the topics on which the movement aims at making a contribution or, at least, to be a positive value which should be developed and monitored in the mobilization process. It should be noted that some authors go as far as considering that this democratic orientation is intrinsic to the definition of social movements, which should therefore exclude other actors engaged in contentious politics, but with no concern for democracy either internally or externally: Michel Wieviorka (1988, 2004), for instance, has developed the concept of the ‘anti-movement’ to qualify actors who have also been qualified by others to form an ‘uncivil’ society, of which armed movements are generally considered to be paradigmatic examples. We will not opt for the same categories, since issues concerning the tactical use of violence by a movement should be distinguished from its views on democracy, and many movements may feel comfortable engaging in illegal actions while being very sensitive about their democratic qualities – whether they are real or imagined. Assessing a movement’s respect for the rule of law therefore differs from looking at its democratic credentials, for both dimensions are distinct, especially in transnational contexts (Donnelly, 2006; Gordon and Stack, 2007). Some issues relative to democracy have been recurrent in many transnational social movements ever since the labor movement, but are still prevalent in contemporary movements, which is a good indication that they cannot be ‘solved’ by the diffusion of democratic techniques, contrary to what many activists claim. They mix normative issues – the ethical consistency of the movement’s ideology and functioning – with organizational and tactical issues – how to enhance its efficacy by increasing its capacity for innovation, creativity, and quick response to societal changes as well as by limiting internal dissent. In this first section, we will therefore examine how these classical reflexions about the shortcomings of social movements’ democratic practices continue to inform contemporary debates between activists. Far from being ‘solved’ by former theories or experiences, these issues appear to be recurrent and predictable limits to how contemporary movements conceive their democratic arrangements.

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Overcoming the issues of representation: The challenges of direct democracy As a movement becomes more structured and institutionalized, it tends to turn into a hierarchical organization in which decisions will be made by a strategic head or ruling body, as is the case in most organizations. To prevent this development is a primary concern. Transnational social movements therefore differ from other TNAs, insofar as many of them explicitly militate against an increased division of labor that might result in the emergence of an elite in charge of defining the main directions of the organization, following their own interest according to Michel’s ‘iron law of oligarchy’ or at least imposing their own strategies on the SMO. The intention to preserve the capacity of the movement’s base or grass-roots to participate in decision-making and actually retain control of the organization borrows from the theories of direct democracy, inasmuch as the members of the organization, no matter how membership is defined and measured, are considered to be citizens whose direct control of policy-making must be protected. Democratic participation for everyone in decision-making processes is linked to issues of accountability, which are solved by the use of such devices as the imperative mandate1 given to participants in decisionmaking bodies, when decisions cannot simply be made in general assemblies and a multi-level organization. It is therefore no surprise that anarchist movements have been particularly active in promoting this type of organization (Préposiet, 2005). There is congruence between the theories of direct democracy at the heart of the movements’ ideologies and their internal organizational structure. In a multi-stage organization or process such as this one, the smallest unit can either be the individual or a small, organic unit often called the affinity group, which is both a small-scale political organization and a group of friends. An affinity group is usually small – no more than a dozen people (Epstein, 1991; Jasper, 1997: Ch. 8) – and is composed of people who already know each other well, who are used to sharing activist activities, and who are tied by both egalitarian and democratic links, since there is no leader of an affinity group, in which decisions are made after a collective deliberation of all participants. Francis Dupuis-Déri insists on the interpersonal dimension of the affinity group, which helps consolidate its existence through shared episodes of protest and celebration on top of a shared political vision (Dupuis-Déri, 2003). Affinity groups will designate mandated representatives in order to participate in decisionmaking processes at a higher level, bringing together smaller groups. In most cases, this is not understood as a process of representation since

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spokespersons are given an imperative mandate. These processes have been circulated from anarchist movements to pacifist or anti-nuclear movements in the US in the 1970s (Epstein, 1991) and later to the GJM (Dupuis-Déri, 2005), as we will see.

Enabling silenced voices to be heard Yet making sure that each participant in the movement formally has direct control over decision-making processes does not guarantee that equality is actually enforced in the movement, since processes of domination operating outside the movement are influential as well, creating a de facto supremacy of white, educated males over the rest of the movements’ members. Such criticism was particularly harsh on the part of the ‘New Social Movements’ of the 1970s. Feminist activists were especially keen on pointing out that the organizations of the ‘old left,’ in which many of them had participated, were anything but democratic, even though they used discourses on democracy extensively. Besides political agreements between leftist organizations, this criticism changed profoundly the shape of debates around democracy in social movement organizations, by introducing the idea that they were silencing minority voices. From this derives not only a denunciation of the inequalities inherent in social movements, but also an assumption that some key sociological characteristics of the activists (gender and ethnicity, sometimes sexual orientation) make them speak ‘in a different voice’ (Gilligan, 1982). In order for these minorities to be granted an equal access to the deliberative public sphere inside the movement, as well as to positions of spokespersons, specific devices must be created. These are of two kinds: on the one hand, mechanisms verifying the presence of members of minorities at key levels in the social movement organizations. For instance, in the case of the GJM, plenary sessions in social forums are being scrutinized in order to determine whether they respect enough gender parity and/or give space to non-white people or spokespersons of the ‘Global South’ (which, interestingly, then tend to be equated). On the other hand, deliberation in public spaces such as general assemblies – but also smaller groups involved in organizing concretely protest events – is subjected to the introduction of techniques aiming at favoring the voice of minorities, mostly by increasing their members’ speaking allotments. This attention given to the democratic participation of minorities therefore involves a renewed attention to structures, and tends to understand internal democracy as a matter of improved deliberative technology. Evaluating the results of such devices

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may be done by looking at their actual results – do women and nonwhite people actually speak more in a given setting? – but tends to boil down to evaluating the scheme itself, regardless of its concrete effects: if it was correctly implemented, the unsatisfactory results may be blamed on members of minorities themselves, who did not grasp the opportunity to participate, rather than on the conditions of their participation (Beauzamy, 2007).

Democracy in theory and practice: A case study of the Global Justice Movement Quelle démocratie voulons-nous? (‘What kind of democracy do we want?’) asks the title of one of the latest books edited by the French sociologist Alain Caillé, who is also a member of the scientific committee of ATTAC,2 like most contributors to the volume. This recent contribution to the theoretical edifice constructed by the Global Justice Movement (GJM) (or alterglobalization, as the translation from the French expression altermondialisme goes) illustrates the fact that, at times when the future of the movement seems uncertain due to the challenges it faces (its problematic institutionalization, its failure to connect strongly with party politics and government in Europe and Northern America, its necessity to renew its modes of action in the face of an intensified repression), issues pertaining to democracy are still very much debated and publicized and democracy is constructed as a center of the GJM’s discourses. However, it is also the topic of debates and creates cleavages, especially around issues pertaining to the problematic implementation of these democratic ideals in the movement’s practices. Globalization and the movement’s views on democracy: Democracy as the result of macro-social transformations Democratic ideals are described as the core of the movement’s ideology in a context of globalization, but also as a characteristic immanent in the movement’s organizational structure, especially in the form of a network. One striking characteristic of alterglobalist views on democracy is that they tie it directly to the globalization process, which is depicted as an epochal, out-of-reach macro-social transformation. In this light, renewed democratic processes are not only the sole antidote to ‘neoliberal’ economic processes – i.e., the extension of deregulated financial capitalism across countries and sectors – they also stem from these processes.3 Such an interpretation of the effects of globalization is questionable, yet what is of interest here is that democratic structures

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adopted by the movements are certainly not designed against globalization but as part of it: ‘Globalization is a “stage” of capitalism . . . If movement structures want to be efficient and display a relevant criticism, they ought to borrow their shape and their resources to the world they are contesting’ (Aguiton, 2006: 14). In fact, supra-national institutions responsible for the globalization process contribute to creating a new democratic environment by fostering protest and trying to include it in its process, as Thierry Brugvin (2006: 68)4 notices in his contribution on civil society governance as a privatization of democracy: ‘Neo-liberal globalization provokes a growing contestation. In order to appease it, the leaders of public international organizations (WTO, IMF, etc.) offer to develop a “governance inclusive of civil society.”’ Of course, it is questionable whether these new democratic arrangements are truly democratic, and Brugvin is not alone in answering no: ‘There is a first limitation of democracy when public international organizations are limiting the sovereignty of states; a second limitation appears when relations between public international organizations and civil society leave the states aside’ (Brugvin, 2006: 77). Alterglobalist views on democracy therefore tend to refute the view of a global civil society (Kaldor, 2003) which would be the premises of a global governance (if not government), and they are critical of the idea that transnational civil society actors – including social movements – would automatically contribute to the democratization of transnational political spheres. If globalization contributes to reinventing democratic practices, these also stem from other transformations: the turn from civic claims aiming at extending citizenship rights to identity claims and the politics of recognition; the rise of individualism and the apparent loss in concomitant civic feelings. Yet, as was apparent already in the criticism of globalization, the diagnostic of an increasingly individualist society does not lead to oppositional politics for the GJM, but is interpreted as creating new opportunities for mobilizations. However, even if the transformations of democracy are the results of macro-social changes largely outside the reach of social movement politics, democracy remains a strong core of the movement’s ideology and a source of hope and guidance: ‘In what name can one oppose speculative capitalism? What should the other world, which alterglobalist[s] claim is possible, look like? What common ideal brings them together positively and not only in a common rejection? For an immense majority, their ideal is democracy’ (Caillé, 2006: 6). In this light, democracy appears to be more of an ethical value than a political regime or a set of collective decision-making principles.

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Democracy as an intrinsic characteristic of the movements Yet democracy within the movements stems from these macro-social transformations and therefore is produced by the context in which they develop: ‘these movements have spontaneously adopted the model of association and coordination . . . as if civil society generated spontaneously its own forms of representation and expression’ (Sue, 2006: 26). If democracy is at the heart of the political objectives of the movements, its translation into a concrete goal often remains vague and complex. The advent of a perfect democracy appears to be an important part of the overall objectives of the GJM, and even a part of their definition. Yet, democracy is described in alterglobalist texts as both a characteristic of the movements and a utopia guiding their actions: this ambivalence is seen as reinforcing the natural affinity between the GJM and democracy. Therefore, the definition of democracy retained in the GJM, which coincides with the existence of pluralism, is necessarily the right one. In fact, the description of the organization of the GJM as intrinsically good and democratic stems from the fact that this democratic orientation lies in the values shared by the members of the movements which contribute to creating it while they materialize it: ‘[Democracy] is not a reference aimed at avoiding past mistakes but it is a value which is to be invented’ (Massiah, 2003: 53).5 This value is shared by movements’ activists, of whom a very positive description is made: because activists of the GJM are fundamentally good, the movements can rectify mistakes made by leaders blinded by an erroneous or outdated conception of political action. Democracy is therefore seen as a tool to overcome cleavages between the base and the leadership of the movements. More generally, the question of the unity of the movements, beyond the obvious political divergences in their midst, is recurrent in alterglobalist discourses (Agrikolianski et al., 2005). In general, pluralism is cited as an element of definition of alterglobalization in texts evoking a ‘plural yet united alterglobalist movement’ (Viveret, 2003: 29).6 Therefore, since pluralism belongs to the core alterglobalist values, it is bound to grow, so that the movements can attain their objectives. This form of open and pluralist social movement organization, characteristic of the GJM, is described as the visible materialization of deep-rooted political orientations in a fusion between form and political goal. Pluralism is at the same time the context, the condition and the result of reticular forms of organization open to the outside. If pluralism is the key dimension of the GJM’s definition of democracy, it therefore appears not only to be a characteristic displayed by the structure of relations between various parts of the movements, but also to be a value borne by

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activists at the individual level, which manifests itself in a propensity to open-mindedness. As we have seen so far, the GJM is presented in its self-descriptions as a horizontal network of activists – in fact, groups of activists – dedicated to putting an end to anti-democratic neoliberal policies and devoted to principles of internal democracy (Aubenas and Benasayag, 2002). Yet, once we go beyond the reiteration of the naturally democratic quality of the movement, it appears that the practices associated with it can vary from one author to another, and are often alluded to rather than explained. It is therefore necessary to examine how the generic discourse on democracy veils underlying cleavages between competing views on organizational and protest strategies.

Democratic cleavages and the implementation of democratic theory As we have seen, the objectives of the movement, its organizational forms and its distance vis-à-vis political orthodoxy of any kind are presented as several aspects subsumed under alterglobalization, but they also converge in a democratic ideal. However, it is not very difficult to verify that the most prominent social movement organizations in the movement, such as ATTAC, can hardly be described empirically as reticular and non-hierarchic (see, e.g., Angelovici, 2002; Cruzel, 2004). Recent scandals, concerning frauds in the elections for the renewal of the head of the French organization, have shown that democracy in its midst is far from being completely implemented. This classical confrontation between discourses on democracy and the limits of concrete democratic practices reveals competing views on how democratic ideals should be implemented. Three cleavages can be identified, which divide alterglobalist activists, even as they agree on the importance of ensuring democracy in the movement. A first cleavage is the one between advocates of deliberative democracy and proponents of democratic consensus. Recent studies of contemporary movements (Polletta, 2002) or the GJM itself (Della Porta and Tarrow, 2004; Della Porta et al., 2006) have shown that a lot of attention is given by activists to organizing democratic modes of deliberation, which are considered to be warrants of the quality of the internal democracy. In fact, it can be argued that the GJM has invested much of its energy in organizing debates in its midst, as the paradigmatic form of the social forum exemplifies. The social forum is dedicated to facilitating political debates and synthesizing the results of such debates, even

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if no common position emerges at the end and there is no intention to establish a common program to be applied by the various social movement organizations included in the GJM. In this view, the social forum appears to be among the purest forms of deliberative democracy in the Habermasian meaning of the concept, since one of its main outputs is to clarify opposing positions and to improve the general content of the debate, by helping contenders abandon selfish or narrow views to reach the level of universal arguments (Sintomer and Blondiaux, 2002). Such an orientation is directly tied to the definition of democracy as pluralism, which implies that it is not necessary to try to reduce the internal diversity of movements in order to gain political efficiency, for instance, by shortening decision-making processes in coalitions. The principle, according to which pluralism is a factor of success for the GJM by helping to achieve the full realization of its values, therefore drives authors to look for ways of translating it into modes of organization. The issue is not to avoid conflicting views but to be able to ‘manage divergences and differences’ (Wasserman, 2003: 9). Authors then point to the question of methods used to facilitate debates and deliberations: one such aspect is linked to the management of conflicting individualities understood as the necessity to find tools to limit emotional displays of disagreement, even if they are unavoidable in any antagonistic debate (Jasper, 1997). Another recurrent reproach directed at deliberative practices within the GJM is that they would tend to leave aside those issues which lead to really intractable positions. Since pluralism induces divergences in opinions, which may lead to non-negotiable oppositions, alterglobalist arenas have developed ways to bypass such situations (Zanzara Athée, 2003). They tend to put the emphasis on unproblematic statements and to silence debates on issues that would lead to disagreements. Avoiding topics of conflict is described as a tactic used not only between social movement organizations in forums, but also within organizations themselves: ‘The other way of doing politics, which ATTAC claims to promote, is founded on the prohibition of any political debate in its midst’ (Barrillon, 2001: 173). These arguments are characteristic of a position in many ways opposed to the uncritical defense of deliberative democracy in the GJM and centered on the notion of consensus. The concept of consensus appears at first glance to be widely shared in the GJM, since most decision-making processes lead to the stage when a consensus between all participants is attained rather than to the emergence of a majority. Yet a close examination shows that, in fact, it refers to different practices among different authors. As we have seen, the

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advocates of ‘real’ or ‘strong’ consensus, indicating actual agreements on key issues at the risk of making disagreements apparent, oppose the pragmatic view on consensus, which considers deliberation rather useless or even damaging, if it entails aiming at clarifying all choices; this pragmatic position claims that a consensus is reached when actors are ready to act together. In this view, the democratic credentials of a transnational social movement ought to be measured in the light of what it achieves rather than on its internal organization. A second cleavage born of democratic practices focuses on the role played by individuals in mobilization. As we have seen, individualism is not considered to be an enemy to democracy in the GJM, since contemporary democratic forms are the result of an individualization process. On the contrary, individualization is supposed to nurture democracy – therefore democratic practices must be respectful of individual autonomy. Yet it is clear that most forms of democratic decision-making value the group, and its capacity to act together, rather than the individual: the ideal of autonomy, which is widely shared inside the GJM, refers to small groups acting autonomously rather than to individualistic choices. The best example is the prominent place given to affinity groups in the GJM (Dupuis-Déri, 2003). For instance, the American activist Starhawk (2002), in her recollection of what she considers to be the victory of direct action initiatives in Seattle in 1999, describes the links of friendship within affinity groups, which reinforce their autonomous decision-making capacity. In the American and Canadian context she and Dupuis-Déri describe, the affinity group is the unit of reference of participative democracy in the GJM, and any process of delegation – in larger assemblies – must stem from it. However, the affinity group is an organizational form, in which direct democracy prevails and which is characterized by complete autonomy. In Seattle, the protest strategy displayed by the Direct Action Network (DAN) brought together affinity groups in ‘grapes,’ which constituted the second level of the whole organization according to territorial and functional divisions. This means that when affinity groups accept to take a certain role in a protest event, they retain the capacity to change their plans if they decide to do so autonomously. In fact, such processes are put into place even when no formal affinity groups exist: for instance, in an anti-capitalist ‘village’ organized during the counter-summit of Evian in 2003, the sovereign general assembly of each ‘neighborhood’ of the village elected mandated spokespersons, who transmitted their decisions at the level of the village council. All assemblies met daily, and sometimes impromptu deliberations were organized to face the fast-changing

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pace of events in a counter-summit. Each process carefully respected the rules of consensus-oriented decision-making and strict rules were implemented, so that the opinion of everyone would be heard and considered equally – which does not say much about the effective impact of various voices on the final result of deliberations. However, some alterglobalist authors insist that more room should be left for the individual, even outside any ‘base group.’ The formal possibility is left to individuals to engage in new forms of action during protest events, according to the dogma of the ‘diversity of tactics’ stipulating that the components of a GJM protest or campaign can choose their modes of action and strategies autonomously. In this light, democracy can even be conceived as a way to protect the individual against the domination of the group. Yet this theoretical position hardly corresponds with facts, since troublesome individuals are likely to be ignored or blamed. The certainty that there is a consensus around the pluralist definition of the GJM supersedes the indications that it is not shared by everyone, and individual voices have many more chances to be heard when they assume the role of the spokesperson of the group than when they engage in political criticism. A third cleavage, which stems from the two previous ones, is between activists, for whom internal democratic debates are among the most essential activities performed by the GJM, and those who privilege protest action against political opponents. The choice between debates and action is at the center of the alterglobalist reflection on pluralist modes of action. This debate concerns primarily counter-summits since social forums are defined as arenas of deliberation and education, even if some protest events may be organized during the forums for the participants willing to go beyond discourses. The most common answer to this alternative lies in organizational forms based on affinity groups, since deliberation in their midst and among them is directly correlated to choices regarding actions and may even occur during a protest event – some prescriptive texts, for instance, explain how to facilitate deliberation during a blockade, or in prison. In Seattle, the success of the blockade of the WTO meeting was attributed by Starhawk (2003) to the efficient organization put in place by the DAN, in which the choice to resort to direct action was primarily carried out by non-institutional affinity groups. For Starhawk, these organizational forms not only allowed the movement to achieve its goals, but they offered an opportunity to put into practice the principle of social organization at the heart of the GJM values – chiefly the value of autonomy and the practice of direct democracy – which gives

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Starhawk’s account of the events a utopian dimension. As we have seen, in the case of the Seattle counter-summit, affinity groups were organized in grapes and were assigned a certain territory which they should ‘hold.’ The territorial division was the basis for a division of labor between strictly equal affinity groups. It is very clear in Starhawk’s text that groups taking risks during the protest, because they were geographically close to core zones or to the police, should not be considered superior to other groups. Affinity groups are the basis of a flexible organizational model, since grapes can transform themselves quickly according to the needs of the situation. It is a non-institutional model because, even if affinity groups are institutionalized social movement organizations participating in the protest, affinity groups have only an informal existence. Both models of institutional and non-institutional organizations therefore coexist, and individuals move from one context of activism to another according to their personal needs and the external circumstances. One key advantage attributed to this flexible organizational model is that it is more likely to adapt to unforeseen situations: ‘No centralized direction could have coordinated the scene in the midst of chaos, and no one was necessary – our organic, autonomous organization proved to be much more powerful and efficient’ (Starhawk, 2003: 20). In this decentralized organization, each individual can contribute to making decisions regarding the modes of action during the protest. Each person is supposed to determine his or her level of acceptable risk, and this decision is considered to be an essential part of anyone’s commitment. In Starhawk’s description, one can see an ethic of direct action emerging, which places at its heart the individual and his or her autonomy; as opposed to other modes of action, such as demonstrations, in direct actions the individual is not considered to be just one in the crowd. Yet if quick deliberations can be organized in affinity groups during protest events, nothing is said of the forms of coordination between groups in such circumstances. It is assumed that all groups share the same goal, and that each chosen mode of action will contribute to attaining it in its own way. The solution to this alternative between debate and action during GJM events is generally presented using the concept of convergence: activists bearing different political identities and formulating different goals may protest together if their practices can coincide at some point – for instance under the umbrella of a unitary demonstration. Convergence contributes to materializing the ideal of pluralism, since it is likely to accommodate large differences between participants in the deliberation. By minimizing the scope of debates

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and centering on the actions to be carried out, it attains two goals at the same time: outside the movements, it facilitates the realization of the protest action and renders it efficient, while it maximizes diversity within them which, as we have seen, is understood as a factor of success. Does convergence evacuate fundamental debates? If autonomy is presented as a key aspect of GJM democratic practices, it is a self-limited autonomy, which leaves room for compromise instead of looking for a complete self-fulfillment. This leads us to complement Donatella Della Porta’s concept of ‘tolerant identity’ (2006) as one key element allowing the GJM to retain its internal diversity: not only is this identity tolerant, it is also supposed to be naturally oriented toward the search for a tactical compromise respectful of ideological differences, described as convergence.

The democratic credentials of transnational social movements: A difficult assessment In this final section, we shall examine how democracy has been placed not only as an essential part of the internal political debates of social movements, but also as a hope shared by social movement activists. However, it is difficult to evaluate concretely how social movements manage to attain their democratic goals. Democratic hopes shared by social movements One striking aspect of the alterglobalist political thought on democracy is that it is split between a very pessimistic worldview and an often apologetic description of the movements themselves. On the one hand, the evaluation made of contemporary democratic practices tends to be very severe, regardless of country and aspect of political participation: ‘Contrary to the hopes shared in the 1990s, everywhere in the world the democratic ideal now seems in regression’ (Caillé, 2006: 87). Even participatory democracy, which is generally viewed rather favorably in the GJM (the participatory budget of Porto Alegre is a much cited example), is subjected to the authors’ criticisms, questioning the anthropological conditions of its efficiency: ‘We frequently suppose that democratic participation is naturally desirable for human beings. Yet we know that the forces of oppression block and limit this participation in the reality of effective political practices’ (Corcuff, 2006: 80). The effect of external structures of oppression – like patriarchy or racism – is therefore seen as a limit to democratic participation, which cannot be ignored by the movements.

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If individuals are often limited in their political participation, the group, as we have seen, is regarded as a positive locus for democratic practices. Thus, social movement organizations and civil society in general play a key role in this rejuvenation. However, limits to this form of democratic participation are also easy to point out: one concerns political participation, which greatly reduces the legitimacy of democratic processes where associations, not citizens, are the main actors. CSOs and social movements are also affected by classical organizational issues, such as the fight for power among themselves – a struggle situated at the ideological level in all social movement sectors. From an internal point of view, CSOs are likely to be non-democratic: for instance, Thomas Coutrot, in a very critical comment on the political philosophy of Hardt and Negri, states: ‘The study of activist networks in contemporary social networks leaves no doubt regarding their opacity, the existence of phenomena of domination in their midst, and on the great difficulty for members of the networks themselves to know who decides and who is responsible for what’ (Coutrot, 2006: 52). Authors are very critical of the contemporary discourse on governance inclusive of civil society, which they consider to be the result of semantic displacements: ‘From a lexical, theoretical and political point of view, one will notice that the notion of civil society is often substituted for people, and the notion of partnership for sovereignty’ (Brugvin, 2006: 75). Interestingly, the theoretical sources of a renewed reflection on democracy are not to be found in recent and trendy contributions but in the classics: ‘As far as I am concerned, this refoundation should nurture itself from the two lively sources of the political liberalism of the Enlightenment and the libertarian social tradition’ (Coutrot, 2006: 54–5). Yet, in this rather gloomy perspective, the GJM appears to be one locus for true democratic rejuvenation. This is rarely seen in terms of potential participation of alterglobalist movement leaders to electoral processes or to the production of public policies, even if such connections may well exist. In fact, most activists adhere to the view conceptualized by John Holloway and summarized in the title of his essay as ‘changing the world without taking power,’ (2002) and believe that the GJM impacts on the world not only by influencing institutional politics but also by helping to bring about a new culture centered around its values of openness and diversity. Contemporary disagreements within the movements may lead to more debate, and therefore to an unmistakably deliberative turn – ‘We may have to argue and fight and struggle one against another, negotiate and accept compromises’

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(Starhawk, 2003: 102) – and force it to depart from the assumption that democracy arises when the choices of others are respected. Today largescale democratic deliberations within the GJM take place without any verification of the democratic character of the small-scale level which is supposed to thrive in consensual direct democracy, but renewed internal debates may change this situation.

Input, throughput, and output legitimacy From this example we can conclude that, compared to other TNAs, transnational social movements display some specific patterns as far as democratic credentials are concerned. With regard to ‘input democracy,’ they seem to have considerable difficulties to prove that they ‘represent’ anyone, since they develop and become institutionalized outside any mechanism of electoral representation. Not only are social movement activists not democratically elected, they also claim they represent constituencies which, in transnational settings, may be so distant that their concrete possibility to participate in the movement is extremely impaired. Transnational social movements are clearly among those TNAs which represent democratic ideas, insofar as they contribute to contemporary thought on democracy and tend to portray themselves as watchdogs of democracy in various political regimes. Limits to participation to transnational social movements do not stem from rules prohibiting certain people from joining – besides ideological ones – but patterns of inclusion and exclusion tend to reproduce social hierarchies and to provide a voice to those who already have one instead of being truly open. This situation, however, is tied to a key feature of social movement: they rely solely on voluntary participation. While providing immaterial and material incentives to participate, they rely mostly on ideological orientations to attract their participants. Participation is therefore highly politicized from the outset, but it is also oriented toward protest action, not only deliberation. Therefore, if social movements can be seen as triggering political participation or as initiating political and social conflicts (Touraine, 1978), they do so mostly by making it easier for people already politicized to turn to political action, even if some prominent examples exist of actions initiated by excluded, dominated people, such as prostitutes or illegal migrants. One could argue, however, that the transnational level requires a level of organization that tends to favor organizations and networks of seasoned activists, as opposed to the frail mobilizations of the dominated.

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‘Throughput’ democracy is clearly the area where transnational social movements have made their most significant contribution to the democratization of a transnational political sphere, by improving the democratic quality of internal debate and decision-making. This, in turn, has triggered a renewed attention to the democratic quality of decision-making processes beyond the vote. Specific devices are implemented in order to maximize the possibilities for equal access to deliberation and participation of all potential members in the movement. However, an evaluation of the transparency of decision-making processes and other political practices within movements yields quite uneven results: the multi-site nature of transnational social movements implies that information circulates differentially. Transnational social movements are most transparent when it comes to their normative documents (charters, founding texts) and especially their ideology, as they face the necessity to be very clear about ideological issues in order to mobilize, even if some euphemization is required in some cases: for instance, in the GJM, the same actors may call themselves ‘alterglobalist’ or ‘anti-capitalist’ in different settings. Similarly, accountability is ambiguous: although some control and sanctions may exist within movements, movement elites cannot be said to be accountable to stakeholders because of the substantial difficulty to define the stakeholders of a social movement. Even if a movement emphasizes that it mobilizes in favor of a particular group of people, this – often imagined – constituency tends to be either very abstract (and therefore quite disembodied) or very politicized, insofar as the people in whose name the protest is conducted tend to be equated with those mobilized, while others are looked at with either contempt or disdain, because they do not participate in the protest. At the level of ‘output’ democracy, transnational social movements often emphasize their contribution to promoting democratic values and practices. However, in this realm, as in many others, it is difficult to evaluate their impact, which can be roughly divided between policymaking and cultural change. Transnational social movements have an agenda-setting capacity either by circulating their discourses or through the participation of social movement actors in democratic governance – which in many cases is more oppositional than inclusive. By promoting a diversity of views and opinions, transnational social movements therefore contribute to the democratization of global governance, even if their capacity to influence decisions is quite limited. Arguable they make major contributions by proposing new democratic norms and promoting democratic models such as the participatory budget of Porto Alegre.

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Such diffusion of cultural norms may take the form of direct action instead of mere discourses. Internally as well as externally, the democratic credentials of transnational social movements are therefore difficult to assess. The normative question whether social movements should be democratic has been answered positively by most of them, yet no agreement exists as to what kind of normative democratic demands this entails. In particular, there appear to exist serious disagreements on the definition of democratic vs. undemocratic protest practices, as many movement activists do not consider the rule of law to be an acceptable limit to their repertoires and argue that, in some cases, democracy must be protected against the rule of law. Are we in a universe where such disparate democratic ideals coexist that one can just notice these differences and conclude that there is no shared definition of democracy at all? Part of the answer lies in the fact that, transnational social movements use the vocabulary of democracy extensively and are active in proposing reformulations and contributions to contemporary democratic theory. This indicates that, at least, they contribute to circulating the vocabulary of deliberation, participation, and so on. In terms of democratization, one key contribution therefore resides in their capacity to trigger more debates about democracy at the transnational level.

Notes 1. The use of the tool of the imperative mandate is classically associated with direct democracy and is widely adopted in anarchist movements (Dupuis-Déri, 2005). The bearers of such mandate receive detailed instructions especially with regard to their negotiations with actors such as public authorities and the police, which is supposed to limit the risk that they would falsely convey the preferences expressed by the members of the group mandating them. 2. The Association pour la taxation des transactions financières et pour l’aide aux citoyens (ATTAC) – Association for the taxation of financial transactions and for the help to citizens – is one of the primary alterglobalist organizations in France, where it was created in 1998. Since then, 35 other ATTACs have been created in other countries. 3. The explanation for such a discourse would be too long to develop here, but is based on the fact that movements’ discourses belong to a larger universe of discourse on globalization, and therefore adopt the broader frames describing globalization (Beauzamy, 2005, 2008). 4. Political sociologist and member of the scientific council of ATTAC. 5. President of the Centre de Recherche et d’initiatives pour le développement (CRID). 6. Philosopher and jurist.

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References Agrikolianski, E., O. Filleule, and N. Mayer (eds) (2005) L’Altermondialisme en France: La Longue Histoire d’une Nouvelle Cause (Paris: Flammarion). Aguiton, C. (2006) ‘Crise et Renouveau de la Démocratie en Période de Mondialisation,’ in Caillé, A. (ed.) Quelle Démocratie Voulons-nous? (Paris: La Découverte): 13–19. Angelovici, M. (2002) ‘Organizing against globalization: The case of ATTAC in France,’ Politics and Society, 30: 427–63. Aubenas, F. and M. Benasayag (2002) Résister, c’est Créer (Paris: La Découverte). Barrillon, M. (2001) ATTAC, Encore un Effort pour Réguler la Mondialisation!? (Castelnau-le-Lez: Climats). Beauzamy, B. (2005) ‘Le Problème de l’Indexicalité Idéologique des Discours sur la Mondialisation de la Culture,’ Horizons Philosophiques, 15 (2): 1–12. Beauzamy, B. (2007) ‘The sex which is not one: The appropriation of feminist debates by the French anti-capitalist social movements,’ Innovation, 20: 95–107. Beauzamy, B. (2008) La Créativité Altermondialiste: Discours, Organization, Action Directe, Ph.D. dissertation, Paris, Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales. Bonfiglioli, C. and S. Budgen (eds) (2006) La Planète Altermondialiste (Paris: Textuel). Brugvin, T. (2006) ‘La Gouvernance par la Société Civile,’ in A. Caillé (ed.) Quelle Démocratie Voulons-nous? (Paris: La Découverte). Caillé, A. (ed.) (2006) Quelle Démocratie Voulons-nous? (Paris: La Découverte). Corcuff, P. (2006) ‘La Question Démocratique, entre Présupposés Philosophiques et Défis Individualistes,’ in A. Caillé (ed.) Quelle Démocratie Voulons-nous? (Paris: La Découverte). Coutrot, T. (2006) ‘Multitude’ et Démocratie, le Grand Saut Périlleux,’ in A. Caillé (ed.) Quelle Démocratie Voulons-nous? (Paris: La Découverte): 47–56. Cruzel, E. (2004) ‘Passer à l’ATTAC. Eléments pour l’Analyse d’un Engagement Altermondialiste,’ Politix, 17 (68): 135–63. Della Porta, D., M. Andretta, L. Mosca, and H. Reiter (2006) Globalization from Below: Transnational Activists and Protest Networks (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press). Della Porta, D. and S. Tarrow (2004) Transnational Protest and Global Activism (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield). Donnelly, S. (2006) ‘Reflecting on the rule of law: Its reciprocal relation with rights, legitimacy, and other Concepts and Institutions,’ Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 603: 37–53. Dupuis-Déri, F. (ed.) (2003) Les Black Blocs: La Liberté et l’Égalité se Manifestent (Montréal: Lux). Dupuis-Déri, F. (2005) ‘L’Altermondialisme à l’Ombre du Drapeau Noir. L’Anarchie en Héritage,’ in E. Agrikolianski, O. Filleule, and N. Mayer (eds) L’Altermondialisme en France: La Longue Histoire d’une Nouvelle Cause (Paris: Flammarion). Epstein, B. (1991) Political Protest and Cultural Revolution: Nonviolent Direct Action in the 1970s and 1980s (Berkeley: University of California Press). Gilligan, C. (1982) In a Different Voice (Cambridge, Massachussets: Harvard University Press).

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Gordon, A. and T. Stack (2007) ‘Citizenship beyond the state: Thinking with early modern citizenship in the contemporary world,’ Citizenship Studies, 11: 117–33. Holloway, J. (2002) Change the World without Taking Power (London: Pluto Press). Jasper, J. (1997) The Art of Moral Protest: Culture, Biography and Creativity in Social Movements (Chicago: Chicago University Press). Kaldor, M. (2003) Global Civil Society. An Answer to War (London: Polity Press). Massiah, G. (2003) ‘Comment Inventer une Nouvelle Culture Démocratique et de Nouvelles Pratiques Politiques,’ in Collective (ed.) Où va le Mouvement Altermondialisation? (Paris: La Découverte). Préposiet, J. (2005) Histoire de l’Anarchisme (Paris: Taillandier). Polletta, F. (2002) Freedom Is an Endless Meeting: Democracy in American Social Movements (Chicago: Chicago University Press). Sintomer, Y. and L. Blondiaux (2002) ‘L’Impératif Délibératif,’ Politix, 15 (57): 17–35. Starhawk (2002) Webs of Power: Notes from the Global Uprising (Gabriola Island: New Society Publishers). Starhawk (2003) Parcours d’ une Altermondialiste, abridged French translation of Webs of Power (Paris: Les empêcheurs de tourner en rond). Sue, R. (2006) ‘L’Affirmation Politique de la Société Civile,’ in A. Caillé (ed.) Quelle Démocratie Voulons-nous? (Paris: La Découverte) Touraine, A. (1978) La Voix et le Regard (Paris: Seuil). Viveret, P. (2003) ‘Le Processus des Forums Mondiaux et Continentaux Constituet-il un Espace de Dialogue ou une Sorte de ‘Mouvement des Mouvements’?,’ in Collective (ed.) Où va le Mouvement Altermondialisation? (Paris: La Découverte). Wasserman, G. (2003) ‘Comment Gérer les Divergences et les Différences?’ in Collective (ed.) Où va le Mouvement Altermondialisation? (Paris: La Découverte). Wieviorka, M. (1988) Sociétés et Terrorisme (Paris: Fayard). Wieviorka, M. (2004) La Violence (Paris: Balland). Zanzara Athée (ed.) (2003) ‘Contre-sommet du G8 à Evian: du Gaz dans l’Eau Minérale et de l’Eau dans le Vin Rouge (et noir),’ in Il Faut Éliminer le G8 (mais pas Seulement), http://infokiosques.net/article.php3?id_article=70.

7 Diaspora Groups, Transnational Activism, and Democratic Legitimacy Catarina Kinnvall and Bo Petersson

Introduction Diaspora groups are potential key players in the relation between homeland and host states and can quite tangibly affect political developments in both, as well as have an impact on various aspects of global governance (Hägel and Peretz, 2005). Theoretically this chapter focuses on the relationship between diaspora politics, transnational activism, and democratic legitimacy. Empirically, the chapter discusses the specific case of transnational activism among young Muslims in Europe. Examining the democratic credentials of diaspora groups, we explore how discourses on globalization, terror, and multicultural policies have affected the extent to which some of these groups turn to radical Islam or search for more moderate alternatives, but also how these groups are internally constituted in terms of legitimacy and accountability. Diasporas have attracted increasing academic attention in recent years (Brubaker, 2005; Safran, 2005). There are many reasons for this. The growing interest in issues like identity constructions, nationalisms, and globalization provides one important impulse. As deterritorialization processes (Scholte, 2000) unfold and accelerate, there is reason to analyze new and territorially less bounded processes of nation-building and nation-making beyond the confines of the individual states. Diasporas challenge traditional conceptions of territoriality and ingrained ideas of what is inside and outside a state. As Carter (2005: 60–1) notes, ‘given the increased capacity for diasporas to “act at a distance” due to technological advances in communication, and indeed the greater prevalence of diaspora communities in the contemporary world, we need to reconsider the ways that we think about the nation and its 130

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territorialities, as well as diaspora and its territorialities.’ Consequently, the increased focus on diasporas is best viewed in the same light as the emerging attention paid to ‘global governance.’ Both can be traced to a growing dissatisfaction among international relations scholars with the state-dominated models of economic and social actors and, particularly, with the failure to capture the vast increase of non-state actors and the implications of technology in a global age (Weiss, 2005). Thus, individuals are embedded in multi-layered, multi-sited transnational social fields, encompassing both those who move and those who stay behind, which suggests that our analytical lens should be both broadened and deepened (Levitt and Glick Schiller, 2004). The term diaspora comes from the Greek language and refers to dispersal or movement. Most definitions focus on the existence of a homeland and have predominantly been used to refer to the Jewish diaspora as well as to other ‘classical’ diaspora groups, such as the Greek and the Armenian exile communities (Safran, 2005). In traditional definitions, the term is often employed to describe a repressed group and includes a homeland dimension of wanting to return to a lost place. In Sheffer’s (2003: 9) influential definition, diaspora is laid out to be: ‘a social-political formation, created as a result of either voluntary or forced migration, whose members regard themselves as of the same ethno-national origin and who permanently reside as minorities in one or several host countries. Members of such entities maintain regular or occasional contacts with what they regard as their homelands.’ Following Brubaker (2005: 5–6), there are three signifying traits of contemporary diasporas: (a) dispersion in space; (b) the prevalence of an orientation towards a real or imagined homeland; and (c) boundary maintenance vs. the host society. In other, more recent definitions, diaspora has come to refer to any kind of far-away nationalism including groups who struggle for selfdetermination. Albanians, Hindus, Irish, Tamils, Kashmiris, Kurds, and Palestinians, to mention a few, have all been categorized accordingly. Even broader definitions include all kinds of religious groups, who happen to live in the same place, or fully assimilated national groups, such as Italian, Greek, or Russian communities; or the concept is used to refer to immigrants more generally who have some common national, cultural, or religious points of reference (Brubaker, 1995; Vertovec, 1999; Sheffer, 2003; Brown, 2006). The term diaspora is appropriate and useful for describing characteristic patterns of global migration. To refer to the first generation of migrants, who arrive in substantial numbers as a diaspora, is to denote

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their scattering from a common place of origin, often as a result of certain ‘push’ factors. When talking about diaspora, we refer to groups of people who create their own communities to make sure they are ‘at home’ while abroad. Of importance is that they remain emotionally attached to an imagined and/or mythologized home and/or homeland (Arnstberg, 2006; Kinnvall, 2006). The emphasis on the mythical is important in this regard, as it substitutes for a physical territory the idea of an abstract homeland. This is the case for many exile Kurdish communities, and is also significant for the imagined ummah (the global community of believers) among various Muslim communities in the West. However, applied to societies that have experienced secondgeneration and subsequent descendants from the original diasporas, the term diaspora carries with it certain connotations that are potentially dysfunctional to the promotion of successful multicultural societies. To continue to regard and to refer to ethno-racial and religious minorities in the West as diasporas is, in fact, to privilege a certain reading of precedence of arrival in the geographical space that promotes an insider versus outsider view of what constitutes a true national. Moreover, among certain individuals and communities, a sustained diasporic identity can result in civic and cultural estrangement, thereby exacerbating recourse to fragments of identity from a perceived place of acceptance and honor, an archaic homeland, increasingly romanticized and essentialized, as the succeeding generations are born to the original diasporic families (Kinnvall, 2004; Kinnvall and Nesbitt-Larking, 2010a, 2010b). Hence, when discussing Muslim diasporas in Europe empirically, we use the concept of ‘post-diasporas’ (Kinnvall and Nesbitt-Larking, 2010b) to refer to second and subsequent generations of migrants from societies in which Islam assumes an important cultural reference point and/or is state religion.

Diaspora groups as transnational actors Exiled individuals and groups often nurture an idealized notion of their homelands, which may be quite distant from actual social and political realities. This is prone to inspire individual and joint actions in many ways, also oppositional ones. It is thus often envisaged that diaspora groups can act transnationally in order to bring about changes for the better in non-democratic states. They may send democratic impulses to the homeland from abroad, which could have crucial effects for democratic transformations. They may also work through global institutions to put pressure on repressive regimes. As argued by Sheffer

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(2003: 27), diaspora activities may be viewed as ‘precursors to future developments that will significantly change international and domestic politics’ (quoted in Shain and Barth, 2003). However, diaspora groups may also be some of the staunchest supporters of anciennes regimes and thus in effect prolong their lease on life through, for example, remittances, money transfers, and successful lobbying in the host state. They may also challenge the regimes in other ways, not all of which are democratic. Still, diasporas do not only affect, but are also affected by, transnational homeland organizations that aim both to mobilize those living abroad, and to affect global public opinion. This type of transnational action needs to be accounted for, not only in terms of nationalist organizations but also in terms of religious or other movements (Jaffrelot and Therwath, 2007). Some prominent examples of nationalist organizations with clear transnational goals are the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS; the Association of National Volunteers) and the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP; World Council of Hindus), both with a national base in India. Similarly the Tabligh-i-jamaat constitutes an example of a religious transnational movement that works to pressure governments and global institutions to adhere to its claims for re-Islamization of the diaspora. ‘Indeed the very notion of diaspora often results from deliberate action by a centre vis-a-vis its periphery’ (Jaffrelot and Therwath, 2007: 279). From a scholarly perspective the key question therefore seems to be not so much what diaspora is as what diaspora does, through its own actions or through the actions of others. Brubaker (2005: 12) has suggested that diaspora be thought of as a ‘category of practice,’ which implies that diaspora is primarily an analytical concept to describe interest articulation, identity mobilization, loyalty building, diffusion of ideas, lobbying, and so on. Focusing on diaspora in terms of claimsmaking and identity constructions is to make a normative claim, in which attention is directed not so much at describing the world, as to the re-making of it. Thinking of diaspora activities as ‘practices,’ therefore, allows us to recognize how only a certain segment of particular diaspora communities is actually committed to the diasporic project. Thus, diaspora should not be seen as a homogeneous entity, but as diverse groups that pull in different directions within different contexts. The question is, then: What activities are undertaken by the diaspora or in its name, and for what purposes?1 Many of those representing diaspora groups are highly organized and are set on lobbying national and international political decision-makers

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in attempts to influence global policy-making. They often work as transnational actors whose members share a common belief system and can become mobilized both in relation to alleviating poverty or providing welfare provisions in times of disasters, and in relation to various political goals. Such political goals can include calls for selfdetermination, as has been the case among diaspora communities originating from, for example, Chechnya, Aceh, or Palestine. However, they can also refer to terrorist networks, such as Islamic radical networks whose ambition is to establish a God-fearing Islamic polity, the Caliphate, under Sharia law (Silvestri, 2007). In addition, some diaspora representatives display significant tendencies toward highly formalized organizations, even if these are not as hierarchical as may be the case for more established institutions like the Catholic Church. In this sense, diasporas display a range of organizational patterns, from diffuse networks to formalized institutions, such as the America-Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC; Waxman and Lasensky, 2009) and the Organization of the Islamic Conference (OIC). Transnational diasporas are likely to act both in a transnational political society – as when Muslim communities take their cases to the European Court of Human Rights – and in a transnational civil society, as exemplified by Muslim diasporas organizing in order to help the victims of the earthquakes in Iran and Pakistan. Muslim diasporas differ in regard to their degree of politicization as well as the degree of autonomy these actors have. Hence they diverge in terms of power, largely dependent on the extent to which they are allowed to function and communicate in relation to the host societies in which they live and organize, as well as in relation to their real or imagined home societies and in relation to international society’s norms and values.

Diaspora and global governance The growing importance of diaspora politics can only be understood in the context of an increasingly globalized world, where borders have grown both more porous and fuzzier. Instead of holding either the state level or the international system constant, we need to look at the interaction between them and recognize how diaspora politics are affected by global events, and how such politics may affect and mediate transnational political activities (Gourevitch, 2002 in Carlsnaes, 2007). Hence, global governance changes the location of authority in the context of integration and fragmentation (Weiss, 2005).

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Diasporic groups may actively participate in global networks focused on promoting ideas and practices of ‘good governance,’ supporting and advocating issues such as equal rights for all minorities, affirmative action, social and economic justice for all disadvantaged groups, and the return of land to displaced communities (Brinkerhoff, 2005). In doing this they work actively with regional and global IGOs and NGOs, such as the Red Cross, Amnesty International, the United Nations, and human rights groups. The American Jewish Anti-Defamation League, for instance, has ongoing public campaigns against racism, in general, and anti-Semitism, in particular, directed at global institutions (Sheffer, 2003). Diasporas also work through global networks of international trade, commerce, and financial services, as exemplified by influential groups within the Chinese diaspora, thus facilitating trans-state exchanges. Taking advantage of global institutions and new technology, diaspora networks may exert significant influence on public opinion, on transnational NGOs as well as on decision-making processes at the inter-state level. ‘[U]sing such networks, liberal South Africans abroad demanded an end to apartheid, some Irish-Americans tried to moderate the IRA’s behavior, Palestinian-Americans urged tougher PLO positions vis-à-vis Israel, and overseas Chinese and Cubans spread anti-homeland propaganda in the context of the struggle for human rights’ (Sheffer, 2003: 186). These examples are all focused on claims-making among diaspora communities. Hence, the organizational strategies employed by some representatives of diaspora communities increasingly acquire a transnational and subnational character. The ways in which these groups participate extend beyond ‘the limits of the national, span multiple localities, transnationally connect public spheres, thus, diversify the “spaces for and of politics” ’ (Soysal, 2000: 11). For this reason, claims concerning the establishment and operation of political parties, mosque organizations, and community associations at local levels are not only confined to their domestic localities. For instance, in German elections Turkish diasporic organizations have pushed for their local voting rights and demands to vote in European elections, while simultaneously exerting pressure on the Turkish government to facilitate their rights to vote in Turkish national elections (Soysal, 2000: 11). In this connection, it is interesting to note how events in the homeland may co-exist and become mutually reinforced with policies in the host societies, thus affecting transnational diasporic activity and global governance. The Sikh insurgency in the 1980s – the call for an independent Khalistan – is a relevant example of this bifocality2 in terms of

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diaspora practice. As groups among the Sikh diaspora were facing a crisis of legitimacy for their traditions in the host society, especially the postdiaspora generation, the attack on the Golden temple in Punjab in 1984 (the so-called Bluestar Operation) created a painful transition from being a ‘confident exile community’ to an ‘introspective victim diaspora’ (Sing Tatla, 1999: 207). Not only did previously clean-shaven diaspora Sikhs start to grow a beard and adhere to the Amritdhari3 tradition, the consequences were immediately seen at the global level. Global human rights NGOs, such as Amnesty International, and other international organizations were pressured to investigate human rights violations in Punjab (Kinnvall, 2002, 2006; Shani, 2002). Here it is important to note, however, that the call for an independent Khalistan was predominantly supported by high-caste Sikhs (especially Jats) living abroad, while it was much less influential among low-caste diaspora Sikhs and among many Sikhs in Punjab. Seeing diaspora as a practice thus brings to light internal divisions and representations. This bifocality can be further complicated by looking at the case of Hizb ut-Tahrir (the Party of Liberation), whose global ambitions for an Islamic state have resonated among post-diaspora Muslims in Europe and elsewhere. Hizb ut-Tahrir is not easy to pinpoint in terms of what kind of global actor it is, nor in terms of its effects on global governance. It describes itself as a global party, but in most places it acts more as an ideological global movement that uses local discontent to affect governments and global institutions (Mandaville, 2001). The case of Hizb ut-Tahrir complicates any simple bidirectional analyses of transnational actors and global governance, as it clearly aims to establish an alternative global order at the same time as its methods are to affect Muslim opinion locally by references to worldwide Muslim suffering. Attempts to curb the movement have, as a result, dominated much political discussion at both state and inter-state levels. These examples show the difficulties in assuming any kind of straightforward correlation between diaspora politics and ‘good governance.’ They also question the correlation between transnational actors and decreased state power in terms of control and surveillance (Brubaker, 2005). Here transnational terrorism has gained particular attention in response to post-September 11, thus affecting global and regional governance structures. Hence, terrorism legislation throughout Europe and elsewhere has predominantly affected Muslims. Britain, together with Spain, have been forceful actors in this regard and have attempted to influence other EU member states to adopt draconian legislation on terrorism in line with their own legal frameworks (Levidow, 2007).

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Consequently, the EU Council of Ministers has redefined terrorism, resulting in group approaches to policing and punishment becoming permissible in Europe. For Muslim diaspora communities this has involved the freezing of property, cash, and business accounts, as the flow of remittances, including Muslim charities, and financial institutions have come under scrutiny (Samad and Sen, 2007). Such activities have led international human rights organizations to argue that antiterror legislation is an attack on democracy per se, as no distinction is made between political activity, community networks, immigration issues, and organized violence. In other parts of the world, like in authoritarian Uzbekistan, the regime has used the global ‘war on terror’ as a convenient pretext for repressive action against all opposition, real and perceived. In the wake of the Andijon massacre in Uzbekistan in 2005, a community of diaspora Uzbeks in Ivanovo, Russia, were accused by Uzbek authorities of having been among the instigators of the riots. Twelve of the Ivanovo Uzbeks were incarcerated in Russia pending an extradition to Uzbekistan, where they were to face charges of murder, conspiracy to overthrow the government, and terrorism. However, Memorial and other Russian human rights organizations took their case to the European Court of Human Rights, which subsequently ruled against an extradition (Jönsson and Petersson, 2009). As Pnina Werbner (2007) emphasizes, the re-appropriation of religious and political behavior often challenges prevailing structures of authority in the majority societies, as they tend to unsettle existing norms of social cohesion for various groups and institutions. But they also have a more direct international dimension. As noted by Soysal (2000), when Pakistani immigrants in Britain make demands for the teaching of Islam in state schools, they mobilize around a Muslim identity, but they also appeal to a universalistic language of ‘human rights’ and ‘personhood’ to justify their claims. Hence, not only do they mobilize to affect the local school authorities, but they also pressure the national government, and take their case to the European Court of Human Rights. These examples, Soysal argues, tend to further undermine the predominant models of citizenship, which are normatively predicated upon the integrity of national communities and their boundaries. They also provide convincing examples of how diaspora politics may affect, directly or indirectly, discourses on global governance and global civil society. Considering how diaspora communities, or at least those claiming to represent diaspora communities, are active participants on the global stage, surprisingly little has been written about the relationship between

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diaspora groups and global governance. Yet, a focus on migrant and diaspora networks does prompt speculation about their potential to act as democratic forces in world politics.

Diaspora and democratic legitimacy As noted in the previous section, there is a tendency to discuss diaspora politics in terms of their effects on ‘good governance,’ which implies that groups in the diaspora actively work to enhance norms of democracy, equality, and civic participation. Such claims have involved active demands for civic participation in national and transnational affairs, as demonstrated, for example, in the case of Turkish diasporas in Germany demanding the right to vote in the European elections. However, this depends, of course, on who is included in such diaspora networks. Not all diasporas work for a common goal, and not all work for causes that are considered worthy and good in Western democracies. Rather diasporas, like societies, are divided in terms of class, caste, race, ethnicity, and gender and often have conflicting goals. Those speaking on behalf of diaspora communities are not always approved of by all segments of the community and, similar to TNAs in general, diasporas can be both democratic and undemocratic in terms of their politics. In theoretical terms we must be careful not to romanticize the ‘global’ as has previously been the case with the ‘local.’ As Mercer et al. (2009: 145) argue: The insistence that transnational connections are inherently more progressive than local ones leads us to wonder if they are being fetishized. Associations of transnational migrants and diasporas, the building blocks of ‘migrant civil society’ and ‘diasporic civil society,’ seem to fit neatly into this imagined geography of civil society. Such a spatial framework dovetails with the interests of those who seek to transfer the burden of delivering development to migrants. Speaking about democratic credentials of diaspora communities is thus not without its complications. Neither is it unproblematic to conceive of democratic credentials and legitimacy as directly correlated in terms of diaspora politics. Some diaspora representatives may be legitimate spokespersons for their communities without being either democratically elected or having democratic goals. Similarly, it is possible to perceive of diaspora elites who lack legitimacy among some community members, but who are prepared to use active democratic

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participation in the public sphere to achieve legitimate goals. Viewing diaspora as a practice, rather than as homogeneous entities, thus complicates any simplistic relationship between democratic credentials and legitimacy. As Uhlin (this volume) notes, legitimacy itself needs to be viewed as a social construction in which actors struggle to define interests and worldviews. It is a highly contested process of claims-making, where not even claims perceived as legitimate by certain community members are valid for all. There are always minorities within minorities. This is not least the case among many female members of diaspora communities. As many postcolonial feminists have pointed out with respect to diaspora practices (see, e.g., Sunder Rajan, 1993; Spivak, 1999), it is much easier to make an idea powerful, if it can be framed in the discourse of ‘anti-Western,’ as that allows for the glorification (and unification) of the ‘pre-colonial’ or homeland culture and religion. ‘Women in their “proper” behaviour, their “proper” clothing, embody the line which signifies the collectivity’s boundaries’ (Yuval-Davis, 1997). As Fatima Mernissi and Karen Browne (in Tohidi and Bayes, 2001: 39) have noted: In groups led by men whose identity is constructed in important ways by their confrontation with an external ‘other’, great weight falls on the need to control the other ‘others’ (women) in their midst. Hence, the re-imagination of Western ideas of unity and unification is an important resource for those members of a community who are powerful and conservative. By viewing the group as a unified agent, rights are ‘bestowed on “the group” as a means to preserve “its” tradition and defend “its” interests of “the” group’ (Tamir, 1999: 47). Who become legitimate spokespersons for a community thus has consequences for those affected by ‘community’ decisions (input legitimacy), as well as for the actual decision-making procedures within ‘the community’ (throughput legitimacy). It also clearly affects the consequences of such decisions (output legitimacy). All these factors make it particularly difficult to evaluate diaspora communities in terms of representation, transparency, and accountability. In addition, a specific diaspora may simultaneously work for an explicit ethnic or national goal, such as the establishment of a Kurdish or Palestinian state, and be prepared to organize itself on behalf of more general concerns about the plight of Kurds and Muslims. In either case, as is common among TNAs more generally, representatives are

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seldom democratically elected, although they commonly give voice to marginalized people. There is certainly room for direct participation, but decision-making processes are not always open and transparent although there may be significant deliberation taking place within different diaspora communities. Hence in regard to the input, throughput, output discussion, diasporas are, as argued above, difficult to evaluate. This is perhaps even more so among the post-diaspora generation, as decisions to act transnationally often come in response to their marginalized status within their larger communities; the dynamics of belonging to a peer group; increased communication through the new media; and, in terms of post-diaspora Muslims, as a significant response to the increasing securitization of Islam. Thus, when addressing the issue of democratic credentials as such, not only do the internal and organizational aspects of the diaspora groups need to be assessed, but also the results they may eventually achieve. For example, considering diaspora networks emanating from authoritarian homelands in Central Asia, it might actually be of lesser importance if the internal structure of diaspora networks is somewhat flawed in democratic terms, if they eventually bring about the fall of the authoritarian regimes and contribute to their replacement with something more democratic. Thus, not only do input and throughput legitimacy enter the equation, but output legitimacy should also be assessed. In terms of output legitimacy, it is also interesting to note how certain issues, such as the decision to use a global discourse on human rights to achieve community goals, may have negative (undemocratic) consequences for some members of other diaspora communities. For instance, when spokespersons for the Palestinian diasporic project speak about the violation of human rights and the need for a Palestinian state, appealing to UN and EU institutions as they do so, this may be played out in terms of anti-Semitism at the local level affecting diaspora Jews, who may themselves be divided in terms of their support for an independent Palestine. The extent to which such activities contribute to the democratization of global governance is difficult to evaluate, but perhaps global or regional institutions can provide a framework within which such claims can be discussed and through which local tensions can be addressed. In the following, we will discuss these theoretical underpinnings in relation to a specific empirical case. We have chosen to focus on Muslim diasporas in Europe, especially on the post-diaspora generation, as examples of a new form of diaspora activities. There are several reasons for this. One has to do with Brubaker’s emphasis on the need to

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get away from seeing diasporas as closed ethnic communities who speak with one voice. Muslims in Europe are highly divided in terms of ethnic belonging and homeland dimensions, yet they often mobilize, and are mobilized by, diffuse transnational and global forces to act for a common cause. Second, this choice can be motivated in terms of claimsmaking aimed at global institutions – claims that often cross-cut ethnic boundaries, and where global discourses on human rights are used as justifications. Third, we have chosen these groups with particular reference to the post-diaspora generations, as these are often immersed in new global technological networks, in which new forms of communication play an important part. In addition, post-diaspora generations often experience the bifocality of diaspora practice at first hand, as they are frequently made diffuse representatives of Islamic terrorism at the same time as many of them experience a lack of access to domestic institutions, pushing them toward the international and global stage. In the empirical account we discuss the role(s) of Muslim diasporas as transnational actors in the context of global governance, and the extent to which we can talk about democratic legitimacy and accountability in regard to these groups. The discussion is set against the background of intensified discourses of fear and terror after September 11, and involves a focus on how Islam is used, and sometimes securitized, by transnational actors in order to advance a more radical or moderate agenda in European societies.

Muslim diasporas and transnational activism It is evident that transnational activism is an integral recognizable feature of Muslim minorities in Europe. Muslim diasporas are widely organized in transnational networks and associations in terms of media, politics, religious activity, cultural artifacts, economic activity, fashion, and food. Transnational identities are often supported by a variety of ‘ethnic institutions’ in Europe and solidified by resistance to racism and religious bigotry as well as through contacts with other members of the diaspora. In response to their marginalized status in many European societies, Muslim associations throughout Europe have formed several federations to identify and represent common interests vis-à-vis both the state and the global community. There are a plethora of such organizations. Often, as in France,4 they are characterized by diversity and competition in terms of representation and political goals, as well as in terms of certain ethnic or homeland connections. They also tend to diverge regarding to

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transnationalism, as some of them clearly work across national borders, within a transnational civil society, while others are mainly confined to the national level. In addition, it should be noted how in France many of these associations have mixed ethnic membership, and are formed in attempts to practice freedoms that diverge from singular definitions of French citizenship. For young people, associations such as these may be particularly important, as their experience of being French citizens has often been perceived as unequal citizenship. The proliferation of Muslim organizations and associations is often viewed in relation to global pressure on the Western idea of the nationstate. In this sense, Islam does appear ideologically suited for taking advantage of transnationalism as it conceives of the Muslim community as a world community, not recognizing nation-states as legitimate in religious terms. As Samad and Sen (2007: 11) argue: ‘The old diasporas of yesterday have become the transnational communities of today, and Muslims have strong networks both as ethnic and religious communities.’ However, Engbersen (2007) notes how such transnationalism is often structurally predicated. Hence, his study of transnationalism in the Netherlands tends to confirm that high degrees of social integration of Muslims result in strong ethnic identities and weak transnational influence, while unemployment and social exclusion lead to greater affiliation with transnational influences emanating from the country of origin and the worldwide community of Muslims. Here it is worth noting that Muslims, especially the youth, are more strongly represented among the unemployed throughout Europe (Pedziwiatr, 2007). This implies a difference in activism among the post-diaspora generation compared to their parents or grandparents. The young generation of Muslims in European societies possesses not only formal citizenship but also tacit knowledge, which allows them to engage constructively in citizenship activities, seeking the recognition of their heritage and values in the public, private, and transnational sphere (Pedziwiatr, 2007). In stark contrast to the first generation, the post-diasporas tend to separate religion and ethnicity, anchoring their identity within the transnational concept of the ummah. This has resulted in a growth of ‘home-made’ versions of Islam in Europe, where sermons, religious literature, and public discussions are increasingly in English and spread through various new means of communication, such as the Internet. Some of these young Muslims may turn to radical organizations or movements, but an increasing number are also taking advantage of their tacit knowledge of being both Muslims and citizens of Western societies to advance their situation through transnational channels and global governance.

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Muslim diasporas in the context of global governance It is important to consider the mechanisms by which universalistic rights discourses not only reinforce particularistic identities and claims, but also concurrently normalize these same identities (Soysal, 2000). In terms of Muslim diasporas, we may look at the year-long process leading up to the French ban of the hijab (headscarf) in 2004, during which diasporic Muslim communities throughout Europe were getting ready to protest (El Hamel, 2002). Demonstrations were held not only in France, but also in Belgium, Copenhagen, and London, with the mayor of London, Ken Livingstone, hosting a conference headed by the Assembly for the Protection of Hijab on July 2004. The same year, on 29 June 2004, the European Court of Human Rights upheld a Turkish prohibition on student veiling at the university. As a result, members of the UN Committee on the Rights of the Child sharply criticized the French law (Werbner, 2007). ‘Indeed, more and more Muslim associations elevate their operations to the European level, establishing umbrella organizations and forums to coordinate their activities and pursue a Europe-wide agenda’ (Soysal, 2000: 10). However, representatives of Muslim diasporic groups do not only take their cases to legitimate global institutions, but also to ‘illegitimate’ ones. The fact that Islam, in response to legacies of colonialization, globalization, and discourses on terror, has become increasingly politicized and securitized has sharpened identity issues among many young postdiasporic Muslims. To be a young Muslim in many European societies of today requires a constant negotiation with the rest of the society of what it means to be a Muslim. As young Muslims in Europe they are under strong pressures to take a stand in the perceived conflict between various notions of European secularism and Islamic religion. Hence, in response to racist politicians, migration controls, segregation, and their parallel life existence, some Muslims in Europe have increasingly come to interpret this Eurocentric ‘we’ as being about threats to their religious identity, at times insisting upon their own system of law, order, societal security, and governance. Recent surveys of Muslim opinions in the UK, for instance, show that up to one-third of the respondents claimed to have more in common with Muslims in other countries than with non-Muslims in England (Mizra et al., 2007). To this should be added that almost two-thirds of British Pakistanis came from Mirpur and Kotli, in what was Pakistani-controlled Kashmir, known as Azad Kashmir, and that almost 40,000 return visits are made every year from Britain to Pakistan (O’Duffy, 2008). It should thus come as no surprise that some of their concerns about the Kashmir

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conflict have been exported to their wider kin and to their post-diasporic off-spring (Brown, 2006). Here we may look at the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) in Afghanistan, and its spill-over effects in Pakistan, as an example of the complex linkages between domestic politics in multicultural Europe, the mobilization of post-diaspora Muslims, and global governance. After the Taliban regime fell in 2001, the UN was instrumental in creating a new government in Kabul aided by ISAF. Of importance is how Taliban insurgency forces are using international media and public opinion to establish sympathies for their cause. The overriding strategic narrative is a quest for legitimacy. Most effort is devoted to Arabic language output, aimed at soliciting the support of transnational networks and funders, but efforts are also made to reach disenchanted diaspora communities in the West through intermediaries, such as the Hizb ut-Tahrir and Tablighi-jamaat. Tellingly ISAF is constantly portrayed as showing indifference to civilian victims. The Taliban are also aware of Western sensitivity to casualties and exploit this through attacks aimed at creating publicity in the ISAF countries. The attacks against Canadian troops increased, for instance, as the Canadian parliament was debating the questions of Canadian troops in Afghanistan during the autumn of 2006 (International Crisis Group, 2009). All of this has effects on global governance, as it questions the legitimacy of the UN, not only among its member states but also among some members of Muslim post-diaspora groups, who interpret their structural exclusion in Western societies as yet another aspect of a Western-led global war against Islam.

Post-diaspora Muslims: Accountability and democratic legitimacy When focusing on how Muslim diasporas are affecting global governance, the question of output legitimacy becomes pertinent in relation to democratic legitimacy and accountability. Here it is necessary to revisit the previous discussion on diaspora as practice rather than entities. Indeed, establishing ‘what Islam’ we are talking about and ‘whom we refer to’ as we use the label ‘Muslim,’ is not an easy task. All over the world there exist a large number of theological and legal traditions of what constitutes Islam. Not only are there significant differences between the Sunni and Shi’ite version of Islam, but there are also differences within these traditions, such as that between Wahhabism and Deobandism (Geddes, 2003; Silvestri, 2007). Who is to be counted as Muslim is equally difficult to assess, and it is important to note how most European societies do not use religious affiliation as a basis for

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creating censuses. Given the diversity of Muslim communities, it is not surprising that there is little agreement on the boundaries of Muslim diasporas. Between them, they demonstrate a diversity of affiliations to Islam, which affects and problematizes any discussion of democratic accountability as well as output legitimacy. It is also imperative to point out that only a very small group of young Muslims turn to radical politics or violent movements. Instead, we are witnessing a more general discontent with democratic politics among post-diasporic Muslim youth in Europe and elsewhere. In this regard, Joycelyn Cesari (2007) argues that the Westernization of Islamic postdiasporas has intensified individual choice in Islamic practice which, in turn, has accelerated the pace of transnational Islamic developments. This has happened in at least two ways, both of which affect the accountability and democratic legitimacy of post-diaspora Muslim representatives. First, mass education and mass communication have yielded selftrained religious micro-intellectuals, who are competing with formally trained imams. Second, what Cesari calls ‘electronic religiosity’ is expanding Islam transnationally through audio and video media, independent satellite shows, and through the continuing birth of new websites. ‘In so doing, they exert a moderating effect on Islamic discourse and break up the monopoly of traditional religious authorities over the management of the sacred’ (Cesari, 2007: 115). It is within this context that we also see the emergence of a new kind of institutionalized transnational activism among some elements of the post-diaspora generation. The leaders of these transnational networks and organizations are not clerics, but consist of educated entrepreneurs who predominantly are Descendants of middle or upper classes of urban areas in their parents’ countries of origin. They are clearly distinct from the imams or ‘parish’ leaders who are generally less well educated. In this sense, they are clearly more representative of the hybrid lives of many post-diaspora Muslims, and display greater evidence of accountability toward those whom they are to represent. Hence, the Young Muslims of France Association is led by young male students or aspiring middle-class individuals who wish to ‘wake up the minds’ of Muslim youth in France (Cesari, 2007). Another example is the AMGT (Avrupa Milli Görus Teskilatari) in Germany, which remains ideologically diverse, with the younger generation of German Muslims claiming a stake in German society and global civil society (Pedziwiatr, 2007). The Swedish Young Muslim Association is similarly challenging other Muslim organizations in Sweden, such as the Swedish Muslim

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Council (Carlbom, 2003). With around 5000 members and 30 local branches, Swedish Young Muslims encourage interfaith conferences, transnational workshops and camps, and make active involvement in civil society a top priority.5 This style of calm and integrated post-diasporic Muslim assertiveness eschews the extremes of isolated radicalization and angry essentialism. Far from being compliant, it is agonistic and assertive, making claims in the agora of pluralistic struggle, seeking compromises and bargains and advocating a transnational approach of democratic engagement (Kinnvall and Nesbitt-Larking, 2010b). Within such contexts, it is important to recognize how young European Muslims are providing new discourses on Islam, democracy, and global civil society, as some of them are increasingly concerned with translating Islam into a universalistic language. ‘Western Islamic communities have become participants within transnational networks, and Western Muslims have become legitimate members of the Ummah. The ways Western Islam will challenge Muslim world regimes remains to be seen’ (Cesari, 2007: 120). In this regard Silvestri (2007) notes the inverse relationship that seems to exist between narratives of European secularism and Islam; the more disestablished traditional Western religions become, the more official and institutionalized Islam becomes. This increasing institutionalization of Islam often derives from a competition between Muslim individuals, political leaders, religious scholars, and movements for the control of post-diaspora communities. Hence, in Europe we see two basic strategies involved in such institutionalization processes, both of which have consequences for democratic credentials and legitimacy. One strategy involves the creation of Muslim institutions based on an already existing traditional pattern of church–state relations. As new Muslim institutions they normally have a representative and consultative role, so-called ‘national Muslim councils,’ which tend to claim legitimacy by referring to the Islamic idea of ijma (consultation). An alternative strategy involves Muslims organizing themselves in associations that lobby governments and global institutions and target the media in a very effective and professional way. Both strategies tend to involve rather conventional mechanisms of interaction with the state, where Muslim organizations seek the legitimation of the state in order to become legitimate representatives of their communities. ‘Rivalry among Muslim individuals and organizations in order to access visibility and power is an obvious outcome of this process of state controlled institutionalization, domestication, and securitization of Islam’ (Silvestri, 2007: 24).

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In this sense, it is possible to claim that institutionalized Islam in Europe may become increasingly focused on adhering to democratic rules and norms in order to gain access to national and international policy-making procedures, and may thus positively affect democratic global governance. However, the reverse is perhaps as likely, with disillusioned and marginalized post-diasporic Muslims organizing in order to challenge secular norms, democratic governance, and global institutions and societies throughout the world. Considering the diversity of Muslim diasporas and organizations, these are mainly empirical questions.

Conclusion In this chapter we have shown how transnational politics, global governance, and democratic legitimacy can be analyzed in the light of diaspora politics. This has predominantly involved a discussion of how diaspora politics can provide a basis for contending agenda-setting, leverage politics from abroad, and, ultimately, influence domestic and transnational political developments as well as global governance. Important to note is how diasporas as transnational activists are difficult to define or describe in terms of conventional social movements. Resorting to an essentialized ethnic or national categorization is not only undesirable, it is untenable considering the diversity within diaspora communities. This applies perhaps even more to the post-diaspora generation, as they become further divorced from their parents’ homeland traditions and cultural practices. Hence we should think of diasporas in terms of practice, that is, in terms of how representatives of diaspora communities can tangibly affect, and be affected by, host and home societies, transnational developments and global governance. Such influences can have positive effects through enhanced claims-making based on a universalistic discourse of human rights and personhood. But they are equally likely to become disruptive forces of global developments – working against any forms of ‘good governance’ and democratic practices. Hence there is nothing inherently good or bad in diaspora practices. Instead, there is a need to contextualize such practices in order to fully appreciate their potential for transformative politics, and recognize that there is no linear transition from the national to the transnational level. Thus, when speaking about diasporas as transnational activists, we need to complement our theories on transnationalism and global governance with theories of redistribution: only if real grievances are recognized and accounted for, locally as well as globally, can we affect the negative

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consequences of diaspora politics and support constructive democratic diasporic involvement in global governance.

Notes 1. When making general references to ‘diasporas’ in the following account, we thus imply those claiming to represent diaspora communities. 2. The term ‘bifocality’ is used by Vertovec (2004: 977) to refer to migrants living transnational lives. 3. A baptized Sikh. 4. In France a number of organizations compete to become official representatives of Muslim communities, such as the UOIF (Union des Organisations Islamiques de France); the FNMF (Fédération Nationale des Musulmans de France); the IMMP (L’Institute Musulman de la Mosquée de Paris); Tabligh, and the CMTF (Le Comité Musulman des Turcs Français) (Pedziwiatr, 2007). 5. Interview with the leader Omar Mustapha at the Young Left’s web page, accessed 15 January 2009, http://www.ungvanster.se/template/arkiv/ ?pressID=1147).

References Arnstberg, K.-O. (2006) ‘Fötter med rötter – om minoriteter som behåller förankringen i den egna kulturen också på distans,’ Axess (2): 2. Brinkerhoff, J.M. (2005) ‘Digital diasporas and governance in semi-authoritarian states: The case of the Egyptian COPTS,’ Public Administration and Development, 25: 193–204. Brown, J.M. (2006) Global South Asians: Introducing the Modern Diaspora (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Brubaker, R. (1995) ‘Aftermaths of empire and the unmixing of peoples: Historical and comparative perspectives,’ Ethnic Racial Studies, 18 (2): 189–218. Brubaker, R. (2005) ‘The “diaspora” diaspora,’ Ethnic and Racial Studies, 28 (1): 1–19. Carlbom, A. (2003) The Imagined versus the Real Other: Multiculturalism and the Representation of Muslims in Sweden (PhD dissertation, Lund Monographs in Social Anthropology). Carlsnaess, W. (2007) ‘Actors, structures and foreign policy analysis,’ in S. Smith, A. Hadfield, and T. Dunne (eds) Foreign Policy: Theories, Actors and Cases (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Carter, S. (2005) ‘The geopolitics of diaspora,’ Area, 37 (1): 54–63. Cesari, J. (2007) ‘The hybrid and globalized Islam of Western Europe,’ in Y. Samad and K. Sen (eds) Islam in the European Union: Transnationalism, Youth and the War on Terror (Oxford and Karachi: Oxford University Press). El Hamel, C. (2002) ‘Muslim diaspora in western Europe: The Islamic headscarf (Hijab), the media and Muslims’ Integration in France,’ Citizenship Studies, 6: 293–308. Engbersen, G. (2007) ‘Transnationalism and identities,’ in Y. Samad and K. Sen (eds) Islam in the European Union: Transnationalism, Youth and the War on Terror (Oxford and Karachi: Oxford University Press).

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Geddes, A. (2003) The Politics of Migration and Immigration in Europe (London: Sage). Hägel, P. and P. Peretz (2005) ‘States and transnational actors: Who’s influencing whom? A case study in Jewish diaspora politics during the cold war,’ European Journal of International Relations, 11: 467–93. International Crisis Group (2009) Taliban Propaganda: Winning the War of the Words (Pakistan: ICG). Jaffrelot, C. and I. Therwath (2007) ‘The Sangh Parivar and the Hindu Diaspora in the West: What kind of “long-distance nationalism”?’ International Political Sociology, 1: 278–95. Jönsson, E. and B. Petersson (2009) ‘The symbol of Andijon: Diaspora groups, contending agendas and implications for political developments in authoritarian Uzbekistan,’ paper presented at the Central Eurasian Studies Society 10th Annual Conference, Toronto, 8–11 October. Kinnvall, C. (2002) ‘Nationalism, religion and the search for chosen traumas: Comparing sikh and Hindu identity construction,’ Ethnicities, 2 (1): 79–106. Kinnvall, C. (2004, 2007) ‘Globalization and religious nationalism: Self, identity, and the search for ontological security,’ Political Psychology, 25: 741–67. Reprinted in Globalization and Business, vol. 1–3 (London: Sage). Kinnvall, C. (2006) Globalization and Religious Nationalism in India: The Search for Ontological Security (London: Routledge). Kinnvall, C. and P. Nesbitt-Larking (2010a) ‘Citizenship regimes and identity strategies among young Muslims in Europe,’ in A. Azzi, X. Chryssochoou, B. Klandermans and B. Simon (eds) Identity and Participation in Culturally Diverse Societies: A Multidisciplinary Perspective (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell). Kinnvall, C. and P. Nesbitt-Larking (2010b) The Political Psychology of Globalization: Muslims in the West (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Levidow, L. (2007) ‘The so-called “War on Terror” in the UK,’ in Y. Samad and K. Sen (eds) Islam in the European Union: Transnationalism, Youth and the War on Terror (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Levitt, P. and N. Glick Schiller (2004) ‘Conceptualizing simultaneity: A transnational social field perspective on society,’ International Migration Review, 38: 1002–39. Mandaville, P. (2001) Transnational Muslim Politics: Reimagining the Umma (London: Routledge). Mercer, C., B. Page, and M. Evans (2009) ‘Unsettling connections: Transnational networks, development and African home associations,’ Global Networks, 9: 141–61. Mizra, M., A. Senthilkumaran, and J. Zein (2007) Living Apart Together – British Muslims and the Paradox of Multiculturalism (London: Policy Exchange), http:// dvmx.com/British_Muslim_Youth.pdf. O’Duffy, B. (2008) ‘Radical atmosphere: Explaining jihadist radicalization in the UK,’ PS Online, January. Pedziwiatr, K. (2007) ‘Muslims in Europe: Demography and organizations,’ in Y. Samad and K. Sen (eds) Islam in the European Union: Transnationalism, Youth and the War on Terror (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Safran, W. (2005) ‘The Jewish diaspora in a comparative and theoretical perspective,’ Israel Studies, 10: 36–60.

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Samad, Y. and K. Sen (eds) (2007) Islam in the European Union: Transnationalism, Youth and the War on Terror (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Scholte, J.A. (2000) Globalization: A Critical Introduction (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan). Shain, Y. and A. Barth (2003) ‘Diasporas and international relations theory,’ International Organization, 57: 449–79. Shani, G. (2002) ‘The politics of recognition: Sikh diasporic nationalism and the international order,’ International Journal of Punjab Studies, 7: 193–222. Sheffer, G. (2003) Diaspora Politics: At Home Abroad (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Silvestri, S. (2007) ‘Does Islam challenge European identity?’ in L. Faltin and M.J. Wright (eds) The Religious Roots of Contemporary European Identity (London: Continuum). Singh Tatla, D. (1999) The Sikh Diaspora: The Search for Statehood (Seattle: University of Washington Press). Soysal, Y. (2000) ‘Citizenship and identity: Living in diasporas in post-war Europe,’ Ethnic and Racial Studies, 23 (1): 1–15. Sunder, R. (1993) Real and Imagined Women: Gender, Culture and Postcolonialism (London: Routledge). Spivak, G.C. (1999) A Critique of Postcolonial Reason: Toward a History of the Vanishing Present (Harvard: Harvard University Press). Tamir, Y. (1999) ‘Siding with the underdogs,’ in S. Okin (ed.) Is Multiculturalism Bad for Women? (Princeton: Princeton University Press). Tohidi, N. and J. Bayes (eds) (2001) Globalization, Gender, and Religion: The Politics of Women’s Rights in Catholic and Muslim Contexts (New York: Palgrave). Vertovec, S. (with R. Cohen) (1999) Migration, Diasporas and Transnationalism (Aldershot: Edward Elgar). Vertovec, S. (2004) ‘Migrant transnationalism and modes of transformation,’ International Migration Review, 38: 970–1001. Waxman, D. and S. Lasensky (2009) ‘Ethno-nationalist foreign policy: A case study of the Jewish foreign policy system,’ paper prepared for the Annual Meeting of the International Studies Association, New York, 15 February. Werbner, P. (2007) ‘Veiled interventions in pure space: Honour, shame and embodied struggles among Muslims in Britain and France,’ Theory, Culture and Society, 24: 161. Weiss, T.G. (2005) ‘Governance, good governance and global governance: Conceptual and actual challenges,’ in R. Wilkinson (ed.) The Global Governance Reader (London: Routledge). Yuval-Davis, N. (1997) Gender and Nation (London: Sage).

Part III Democratic Problems and Possibilities in a Transnational Context

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8 Democratic Credentials or Bridging Mechanisms? Constituents, Representatives, and the Dual Politics of Democratic Representation Enrique Peruzzotti

Introduction In the past decade, civil society organizations (CSOs) have gained great prominence at all levels of governance. At the local level, NGOs and other types of advocacy organizations are now an established presence in the domestic field of democratic politics and have expanded upon the traditional understanding of lobbying to include this new group of public interests organizations. At the global and regional levels, advocacy networks play a very active role promoting campaigns and rallying transnational constituencies around different causes, ranging from human rights to environmental issues. As they gain greater visibility and assume new responsibilities, some concerns have been raised around the democratic credentials of CSOs. It is thus common to hear objections from elected officials, corporations, or governments concerning the unrepresentative and unaccountable status of NGOs, complaints about NGOs’ freedom from scrutiny through formal accountability mechanisms, which other organizations are subject to, as well as skepticism about the alleged contributions that non-governmental actors truly make to the agenda of democratization of domestic and global institutions. Thus the issue of the democratic credentials of different actors emerges as a relevant question both at the domestic and global level. The problem of democratic credentials of self-authorized actors was not so pertinent before the third democratizing wave; on the contrary, 153

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there was widespread agreement that the work of human rights networks constituted a great contribution to the agenda of democratization of many countries that were subject to authoritarian rule. But now that democratically elected governments are in office and free elections are regularly held in an unprecedented number of nation-states, the claims of many of those organizations to ‘represent’ certain constituencies or causes are being challenged, particularly by political parties and legislatures who feel that they hold the monopoly over what constitutes legitimate democratic representation. After all, they argue, they had to test their claims in a competitive electoral struggle. Why should representatives that were rightfully authorized by the people in free elections listen or take into account the claims of a cadre of self-appointed civic leaders? Let NGOs stand for election, their argument goes, to see if their claims get them into office. Similar arguments are made in reference to the status and legitimacy of those NGOs and networks that operate in the global arena and that conceive of themselves as part of a transnational civil society reflecting the concerns of an alleged global citizenry. Certainly, at the global level the democratic status of all actors is a contested issue, given the absence of common electorally-appointed political authority. Not only transnational NGOs but also transnational corporations and intergovernmental institutions are struggling to establish themselves as legitimate global actors. For some, however, the basis for the legitimacy and accountability of business and intergovernmental institutions seem to be better established than that of global CSOs. After all, the former have clearly defined stakeholders to account to: owners/shareholders and governments, respectively (Brown, 2008: 33). Many intergovernmental institutions can also justify their democratic claims by tracing their linkages to elected authorities: they act as spokespersons of democratically elected administrations who selected them to represent their nations’ interests. Global NGOs cannot claim any direct or indirect connection to electoral accountability, nor can they claim (in most cases) any formal linkage to a specific constituency, thus making it more difficult for them to establish their democratic credentials. Many questions are consequently raised to challenge the representativeness (and thus legitimacy) of CSOs. Who do these actors represent? To whom are they accountable? Are they capable of democratic representation (Slim, 2002; cf. Pallas, Chapter 5 this volume)? The literature that is sympathetic to the struggles of CSOs at the domestic and global level attempts to address such challenges by searching for attributes that could signal the democratic character of those

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actors. This is the intention that guides the present volume. In the introduction, Erman and Uhlin set themselves the task of finding some criteria to determine the democratic aspects of certain actors’ activities or practices in the global domain, around which they can establish their democratic credentials. The latter usually opens up a search for practices and/or mechanisms that could provide some functional equivalent to electoral delegation/accountability and thus could serve to build the democratic legitimacy of such actors (Macdonald, 2008). Functional equivalents to electoral representation fall short of our expectations, for any CSOs (no matter how accountable to its different stakeholders) will inevitably be much less representative than a representative assembly or a president (Arato, 2006) and, consequently, will not settle the challenge that the strong version of the ‘unrepresentative’ argument raises. Even if we establish electoral procedures to appoint the leadership of an organization or develop some mechanisms of accountability of the organization toward those that it claims to represent (or that are affected by its activities), the universe of such organization will always be narrower than the one that is covered by national representative institutions. Second, and more importantly, strategies to force constituencies to become ‘representative’ openly undermine the very dynamics of democratic representation. Even if possible, the development of a civil society that is too accountable and representative of different stakeholders or groups would undermine the creative dimension of the practice of democratic representation. The question is not whether it is viable to force all nongovernmental actors to become representative and accountable or not, but rather how to build adequate channels of institutional mediation between a plurality of constituencies and different sites of decisionmaking. It is those bridging mechanisms, not individual actors, which should incorporate into their institutional design certain democratic criteria like openness, plurality, accountability, and so on. To properly frame the discussion on the democratic credentials of different actors both at the national and global level, it is necessary to address the issue of what we understand by democratic representation. Many of the arguments regarding the institutional deficit or lack of democratic credentials, I will argue, are built around a narrow meaning of what democratic representation is: they are usually predicated on the model of the electoral relationship. Elections are presented as the quintessential institution of democratic representation and elected officials are considered the exclusive carriers of democratic legitimacy. So a first step of this chapter is to confront such an understanding of democratic representation by arguing that elections cannot be the

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sole criteria for evaluating a complex practice like democratic representation. The chapter divides as follows. The first section challenges the dominant approach to representation as an activity that largely rest on the shoulders of elected representatives, and proposes a relational understanding of democratic representation as resting on both active constituents and representatives. In this view, constituents’ activities are as legitimate and integral part of the practice of representation as elected representatives are. The following section analyzes the two dimensions that are always present in the practice of democratic representation – a mirror and a creative one – and explores how the latter relates to the issue of constituent and representative politics. The third section focuses on the debate about the democratic status and credentials of advocacy NGOs, arguing that inherited notions of political accountability are inadequate as a conceptual tool to evaluate the role and contribution of advocacy NGOs to the practice of democratic representation. The concluding section argues for the need to redirect the debate from the issue of democratic credentials to the question of building bridging mechanisms to establish a more fluid communication between constituents and representatives.

Toward a relational approach to democratic representation: Constituent and representative politics There is a dominant understanding of democratic representation that is predicated on two assumptions: (1) that representation is an activity that largely rests on the shoulders of elected elites, (2) that elections are the quintessential institution of representative government (Schumpeter, 1950; Manin, 1997; Manin et al., 1999). According to this model, the role of elections is to produce an elective aristocracy that will be in charge of the activity of representing. The role of the electorate is to choose from a pool of competitors those to whom it is willing to delegate its power (and eventually hold accountable in the next election, assuming that current representatives are allowed and interested in running for re-election) (Peruzzotti, 2008). There are several problematic aspects of such a depiction of democratic representation. The first one is that it leaves aside the crucial question of what goes on during representation: by highlighting the act of electoral delegation that opens up – or the act of accountability that closes – a representative period, a purely electoral understanding of democratic representation overlooks the crucial aspect of what takes place during the exercise of representation (Pitkin, 1967; Plotke, 1997).

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In the second place, the placing of elections at the center of the analysis of representation overlooks the role of the multiple non-electoral channels, through which different constituencies try to exert influence on the decisions of elected representatives and institutions throughout their tenure. In the third place, such an approach views representation as largely the domain of political elites: democracy representation equals democratic representatives. The role of those being represented is not considered particularly relevant for the good exercise of representation and, consequently, those activities that go beyond the act of voting tend to be ignored. Lastly, it relies on a very minimal definition of democratic accountability. By placing elections as the central element of representative practices and simultaneously stressing the limitations of the former as instruments of citizen’s voice and control, democratic minimalism ends up formulating a paradoxical analysis of representation whereas the notion of representing becomes detached from the wishes of the constituents. As one of the main contemporary proponents of this model argues, Democracy may be the best form of government that was ever invented but it is congenitally, structurally, weak as a mechanism of popular control over governments. This is just the way life is. (Przeworski, 2006) At best, representative government turns into responsible government: given the limitations of elections as mechanisms of political accountability, elitist democratic models tend to view horizontal accountability as a substitute for the former. If elections are inadequate as a mechanism of accountability, the agenda should turn to the strengthening of mechanisms of horizontal accountability. This notion of democratic representation is not predicated on the existence of adequate mechanisms of feedback between rulers and ruled, but it is rather a function of the rationality of elites and of the institutional context in which they operate. In brief, we are left with a very problematic understanding of what democratic representation is: in the elitist model, the concept of democratic representation is divorced from any notion of governmental responsiveness to citizens (Peruzzotti, 2008). Against the elitist approach, I will argue that the idea of democratic representation cannot be disconnected from the idea of representatives’ responsiveness and accountability to those they claim to represent. The notion of democratic representation refers to a specific type of bond that citizens and politicians develop with one another under representative

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democracy and, consequently, cannot be properly understood if we disregard the relational dimension of the concept as elitist models do. It is also inadequate to focus solely on the activity of representatives; it is equally important to analyze the initiatives of constituents and their effort to influence the decisions that the former make. Consequently, it becomes imperative to approach the analysis of democratic representation from a relational perspective that incorporates the activities of the represented not only on Election Day but on a permanent basis. Relations of representation require both active constituents and active representatives. Participation and representation are thus two interdependent and indissolubly connected components of the practice of democratic representation (Plotke, 1997). The previous discussion helps us to reframe the question of the democratic legitimacy of non-elected actors and organizations. It would be erroneous to consider that non-elected organizations do not play a legitimate role in the practice of democratic representation or that to gain legitimacy they have to become ‘representative.’ Constituents do not completely or fully delegate power to elected representatives: on those issues, which they feel particularly strongly about, they remain politically active, joining non-electoral organizations and engaging in collective action to voice specific claims in the public sphere and/or to exert influence on representative institutions. The politics of constituents is an equally indispensable component of representative government as that of elected representatives. It would then be erroneous to bestow democratic legitimacy to elected officials only; constituents also play a crucial and legitimate role under any democracy. Constituent politics, however, differs in its dynamics and logic from the politics of representative institutions. Consequently we should not judge or evaluate them with the yardstick that is employed to assess the behavior of representative institutions, and least of all try to turn them into representative institutions.1 Then, let’s analyze some of the characteristics of constituent politics.2 Who are the protagonists of constituent politics in any democracy? Constituent politics is largely the domain of associated citizens. Isolated citizens, most civil society theorists would agree, are unlikely to exert any meaningful influence on the political process unless they join a trade union, political party, professional association, or social movement.3 ‘Effective citizens’ in complex modern societies are those who coalesce into different forms of associations that give voice to and can more effectively promote the specific claims of different constituencies (Schmitter, 2008: 199). It was the great insight of classical

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pluralist authors such as D.B. Truman, A.F. Bentley, and V.O. Key to call attention to the non-electoral elements of representation, particularly to the contribution of social groups to the political process (Peruzzotti, 2008). Current theories of civil society share this belief in the indispensability of social groups to democratic agency. Civic participation is considered a vital complement to electoral politics which helps to realize the citizenship principle in contemporary mass democracies. It is in those multiple associational terrains that a plurality of independent constituencies shape and voice their opinions throughout the duration of the representative tenure. The consensus that exists in most civil society approaches regarding the centrality of groups for the democratic political process as well as the virtuous role that citizen’s participation plays in any democracy hides, however, significant disagreements over how to understand civil society. There is no agreement over the boundaries of the concept, on the alleged benefits that civic participation brings to democratic life. Nor is there consensus as to which particular actors and associational formats are the most relevant for social and political life. In consequence, the field of civil society studies frequently appears as fragmented, where competing understandings of the concept challenge one another. The end result is the uneasy coexistence of a diversity of understandings of civil society that often leads to futile discussions over which of them provides the most adequate understanding of the dynamics of contemporary civil societies (Peruzzotti, forthcoming). It is not the intention of this chapter to open up a debate over those manifold understandings of participation. For the present purposes, I will simply argue that all of the associational forms that different civil society models have in mind can be placed under the wing of a broader concept that is supposed to contain them all: the notion of a mediated field of politics. Constituent politics presupposes the existence, expansion, and constant recreation of a heterogeneous associational field. The latter contains primary and secondary groups and networks, abstract publics, social movements, NGOs, private interest organizations, and so on. Those associational forms are a crucial set of mediations, which stand between the individual citizen and representative structures, providing voice and influence to different sorts of constituencies. On the other side of the representative equation we find a set of representative institutions that aggregate and bridge interests and opinions and have the capability to make authoritative decisions that translate into specific public policies. Elected representatives, unlike constituent groups, are neither self-constituted nor self-appointed but are formally authorized by the

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citizenry through electoral mechanisms. It is the act of electoral delegation that confers upon them the authority to make binding decisions. The notion of accountability is intrinsically related to such a particular public status of democratically elected officials: it is an attempt to regulate such authority by subjecting it to constitutional, legal, and administrative norms, to ensure that the activities of representatives are both legally and politically accountable.

The mirror and the creative dimension of democratic representation The field of mediated politics can be understood as the terrain where a multifaceted and complex economy of claim-making takes place. In this view, the dynamics of democratic representation entail an ongoing process of claim-making. Constituencies can be organized around territorial, functional, or normative criteria. Some express very specific economic interests (private interest organizations), others a territorially delimited community (a neighborhood association) or abstract ideals (a human rights NGO). The specific composition of the field of constituent politics will vary from society to society, and also within each society, according to different temporal situations: it is always evolving according to the different distributions of interests and opinions. Constituencies are not permanent, fixed groups that express immutable interests or values, but temporal and fluid groups that participate along with a broad range of other organizations in an ongoing process of making and receiving claims. The process of claim-making is not circumscribed by the electoral calendar, nor does it come to an end after an electoral verdict is reached (Saward, 2008: 4). A central dynamic aspect of the former is the presence of specific groups that act as norms entrepreneurs, in the sense that they introduce discourses that are not accepted or acknowledged by society. In such an economy of claim-making, two different sorts of representative claims can be distinguished: (1) Claims that seek to express or reflect an already existing or constituted interest or identity; this dimension of representation is guided by a mirror-logic: in this understanding, good representation entails properly reflecting the structure of interests and opinions that prevails in society at a certain time. (2) Claims that are abstract and normative and that might not necessarily reflect existing constituencies. This is the creative side of

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the practice of democratic representation and expresses itself in initiatives that challenge a dominant configuration of interests and identities, hoping to bring about new ones. The first type of political process is oriented to court and reflect existing constituencies, the second one to challenge existing ones. Both dimensions are present in constituent and representative politics. Modern mass political parties viewed themselves as the carriers of a transformative agenda: they organized themselves around a programmatic platform that expressed the particular ideological positions of its adherents. For many authors, parties have lost such a creative edge and become ideologically neutral electoral machines (Kirchheimer, 1969). Turned into machineries for electoral competition, contemporary catchall parties attempt to aggregate and accommodate as many demands as possible. Campaigns are organized to capture the median voter, party programs and discourses shifting to the center of the ideological spectrum to avoid alienating significant sectors of the electorate (and thus leaving the ‘extremes’ to a small cadre of ideological – and electorally ineffective – party organizations). While they are still able to fulfill a large number of functions, party organizations are no longer capable of providing a strong focus of normative identification (Schmitter, 2001) and, consequently, they are not capable of developing strong ideological links with their constituencies (Manin, 1997; Schmitter, 2001). For many, the ideological vacuum left by parties has been filled by certain civic actors, such as social movements, advocacy networks, and NGOs. They are in many cases the ones that carry out a normatively based politics that is the best expression of the creative impulse of democratic representation.4 The politics of many public interest NGOs and social movements, for example, aim at challenging the existing boundaries of the political sphere (Offe, 1984); questioning specific aspects of a society’s identity or structure of interests, and constituting, through claim-making, previously non-existent constituencies. Unconcerned by the restrictions of electoral competition and interest bargaining and aggregation, they can behave in ways that parties or private interest groups could not afford, upholding unpopular positions or adopting an intransigent stand on certain issues. Democratic representation lives by this tension between mirroring and transformation. As Michael Saward eloquently put it, electoral politics requires non-electoral action to shake up and re-set its agenda on a regular basis – as new claims to authenticity challenge

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the products of established processes of authorization. We might say that democracies need a series of mini refunding . . . and that some of the refunding need the relative absence of constraint that some non-electoral modes of representation foster. (Saward, 2008: 22) Consequently, a proper understanding of representation cannot ignore such a creative dimension of democratic politics. A theory of democratic representation that only focuses on electoral and classical pressure groups politics will inevitably turn a blind eye to such a transformative dimension of the practice of representation.

The democratic legitimacy of advocacy NGOs Constituent politics, I have argued, involves a very heterogeneous group of actors and organizations: private interest group organizations, civic associations, social movements, service provider NGOs, advocacy NGOs, and so on. Some of those organizations make representative claims that can be traced to certain concrete constituencies: usually those that constitute the membership of an organization, be it the individual members of a choral society or the different economic groups that integrate a lobby organization. There is, however, one organizational type, advocacy NGOs, that sometimes lacks a definitely delineated constituency despite its claims to ‘represent’ a certain cause or group (cf. Pallas, Chapter 5 this volume). Many of the issues that the debate concerning the democratic credentials raises are directly aimed at this sort of actor, for it is the one that poses the most challenging questions regarding the issue of democratic representation (Charnovitz, 2006; Jordan and van Tuijl, 2006; Peruzzotti, 2006). The argument of the present section will focus exclusively on the status and role of advocacy NGOs. Why narrow the analysis to NGOs? Because advocacy NGOs – unlike governments, corporations, service provider NGOs, or intergovernmental organizations – cannot claim (in most instances) a clear lineage to a specific constituency. Advocacy NGOs represent a hard case that challenges not only the electoral but also the classical pressure group approach to representation. What makes their case unique is that, in many instances, NGOs cannot trace their representative claims to a concrete constituency. They claim to represent constituencies without having received any form of authorization from them: none of those they claim to represent has formally delegated power to them, and in many instances they do not even

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know about the NGO’s existence. In some cases advocacy NGOs claim to express the interests of constituencies that do not yet exist. They do not give voice to an already constituted group but they are rather acting as ‘constituency entrepreneurs.’ Through their claims they hope to bring about a new constituency or to empower and organize voiceless groups. The classical relationship that democratic theory postulates between constituent and representative is inadequate to account for the political activities of this sort of actor. There is no clear delegation of power from a determinate constituency; rather the organization acts as a selfauthorized group. In many cases advocacy NGOs speak on behalf of constituencies that do not yet exist. Consequently, they make representative claims without having received any formal authorization from the alleged constituency they claim to represent. Following Warren Nyamugasira, one could argue that some advocacy NGOs engage in interim representation in the sense that the organization speaks for a constituency that is not yet present, because it is disempowered and lacks consciousness of itself as a constituency temporarily filling such a void, while acting as a spokesperson of that would-be constituency. As Nyamugasira (1998: 303) argues, the role of the NGO is thus to organize such a constituency and eventually to make their role superfluous. In this particular case, the success of a claimant can only be properly evaluated over a certain time span, for it usually requires a sustained campaign or struggle to bring awareness regarding new concerns, identities or interests. It would be wrong to ignore this temporal dimension, for no process of identification or recognition is immediate. The sort of creative politics that characterizes many advocacy NGOs is at odds with the standard account of political accountability, which is predicated on the notion that representatives are responsive to constituents who are already constituted and thus are able to delegate their power to them. Many advocacy organizations, like a certain NGO that claims to represent the interests of the poor or children, act as self-appointed representatives, for in most cases they did not receive any formal authorization from those constituencies (Montanaro, 2008). There might not be a clearly identifiable group that could be considered their natural constituency. The electoral notion of political accountability loses its meaning in the absence of a process of formal authorization from a principal to an agent. Does that mean then that the criticisms that are leveled at the unrepresentative and unaccountable nature of NGOs are correct? Are those challenges to their democratic legitimacy valid?

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I have tried to argue that the practice of democratic representation entails two-track politics, of constituents and of representatives, respectively. Both forms of politics are legitimate and crucial for the proper exercise of democratic representation. Each form of politics has its own specific logic, and any attempt to strengthen the practice of representation should take into account the need for preserving both forms of politicization. This means that it would be inadequate to attempt to force constituent politics to become representative or accountable. As Kenneth Anderson argues, The glory of civil society institutions ought to be that they are not representative, and because they are not, are free to argue and shout their visions of social justice, seek to persuade, offer alternatives that representative institutions cannot. (Anderson, 2009: 11) Standard notions of political accountability provide an inadequate yardstick to evaluate the democratic status of NGOs, because they are too closely tied to an electoral understanding of democratic representation, which makes sense to evaluate the democratic credentials of representatives but not necessarily that of constituents. It would be erroneous to force all advocacy organizations to be politically accountable to existing constituencies, or to grant democratic legitimacy only to those groups who fit this formal authorization model. If we were to pursue such strategy, then the creative edge of the practice of democratic representation would be lost. Current debates – like the one that revolves around the concept of upward and downward accountability – reflect those concerns. NGOs that are too accountable to donors might, under certain circumstances, compromise their political agenda: the pressures of the philanthropic market might steer those organizations away from their mission to become competitive in their fund-raising efforts. Fundraising success might come at the price of compromising their political autonomy, by redirecting their work to activities that reflect the agenda of others, be it private foundations, international organizations, or governments. In a similar vein, we can argue that organizations that are too eager to court existing constituencies can also lose their transformative edge. So, downward accountability should not always be prescribed, especially if we are talking about advocacy NGOs whose goal is to challenge existing constituencies or to forge constituencies anew.5 The concept of political accountability that we apply to electoral actors is an inadequate yardstick to evaluate those organizations that are

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engaged in the creative self-constitution of new actors and voices. The electoral notion of political accountability is certainly useful to evaluate the mirror dimension of democratic representation, but it is not of much help in assessing the status of actors that are organized around a transformative agenda. A politically accountable civil society is not necessarily better for democratic representation for the latter requires the reenergizing force of non-electoral creative politics to shake up and renew its agenda on a regular basis (Saward, 2008: 21). Consequently, efforts to increase the political accountability of advocacy NGOs are misguided, because they are extrapolating criteria of accountability that are inadequate to evaluate advocacy initiatives. Solutions should rather aim at preserving the conditions that make the emergence of this creative impulse possible. To argue that inherited notions of political accountability are inadequate for certain types of civic actors does not mean endorsing the position that those actors remain completely unaccountable. There are forms of accountability that advocacy NGOs have to subject themselves to. To begin with, all organizations have to obey existing laws and regulations; they cannot engage in illegal activities, nor can they violate constitutional guarantees or rights without risking judicial sanctions. So some dimensions of the notion of legal accountability apply to them as well. When I say some, it is to make the obvious point that civic organizations should not be subject to the demanding constitutional, legal, and administrative constraints that are applied to representative institutions. The fact that, in the case of many advocacy NGOs, one cannot trace a direct link between the organization and a specific constituency (as in the case of other organizations like private interest groups or membership organizations) actually forces them to work harder to establish their legitimacy, which must be done discursively. As Dryzek and Niemeyer (2008: 491) rightfully argue, these types of organizations must be thought of as representatives of particular discourses rather than groups.6 Other actors, such as corporations, international organizations, private interest groups, membership voluntary associations, and so on, can establish their representativeness more easily: the number of members can give an idea of the support that a voluntary association has in society. In the case of a lobby organization that claims to represent the interests of the financial sector, one can see whether the most relevant financial institutions are affiliated to it or not. The same applies to corporations, where one can frequently identify who their owners or main stockholders are. The democratic credentials of an advocacy

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NGO, instead, might be more difficult to prove, if there is not a clearly defined constituency being represented. Those sorts of actors are obliged to establish their legitimacy on different grounds. Usually they do it through discourse, testing their arguments and ideas in a public debate or through their activities, struggles, and behavior. It is the force of their arguments, their track record in a certain area, the expertise they have accumulated on certain issues, rather than their ability to effectively mirror certain groups, that provides the source of their legitimacy and credibility. Advocacy NGOs and other types of actors organized around a transformative agenda rely fundamentally on symbolic capital; thus building a reputation and living to uphold it is perhaps their most demanding task. The fact that they are not politically accountable to the citizenry, as elected representatives are, does not mean that they can simply be oblivious to public beliefs and sentiments. Given that those organizations fundamentally operate in a domestic and/or transnational public sphere they inevitably have to accumulate and maintain a significant stock of symbolic resources that will establish them as credible spokespersons. It is thus in their best interest to uphold high standards of behavior and to have a good track record which might help them to establish a solid reputation among their peers and the public at large (Grant and Keohane, 2005: 37; Brown, 2008).

Concluding remarks: From democratic credentials to bridging mechanisms Of course, there is always the possibility of NGOs degenerating into corrupt or self-serving organizations. This is a general rule that applies to all types of organizations, and advocacy NGOs are no exception. As argued, there are already a number of constraints that might help to avoid this outcome without at the same time destroying the conditions that make constituent politics a creative or transformative force. Perhaps we should redirect the debate on democratic credentials from actors to institutional structures: the issue should not be posed in terms of whether or not an actor has democratic credentials. Instead we should focus on the institutional characteristics of those formal spaces that are meant to mediate between different constituencies and decision-making structures. This is where the demands for openness, plurality, transparency, accountability, and so on should be aimed. The issue then becomes how to incorporate into the institutional design of those arenas norms and mechanisms that could screen out, or moderate, some of the undesirable

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side-effects of constituent and representative politics. The latter, I will argue, is a more plausible solution, for it avoids the temptation to brand certain actors as credible and legitimate, which inevitably implies that there are others who could not have a legitimate voice in democratic representation.7 In this perspective, the quality of democratic representation largely depends on the existence of adequate institutional bridges between represented and representatives that could establish a generalized situation of political responsiveness. This is not necessarily a call to preserve or replicate at the global level existing institutional formats. There are some indications that at the domestic level, traditional bridging mechanisms – party systems and parliaments, arenas of interest aggregation, and accountability agencies – are undergoing significant stress. At the same time, many democracies are engaging in interesting processes of institutional experimentation that have resulted in the creation of novel arenas of encounter between state and society, meant to complement classic mediating mechanisms (Avritzer, 2008; Seele and Peruzzotti, 2009). These arenas establish permanent and institutionalized spaces, where public officials and civil society gather to jointly deliberate and decide on specific policies or issues like health or urban planning. Thus, they insert civil society actors into the broader polity, reconnecting sectors of the state with civil society and vice versa. This connection is not an informal one or based in mere lobbying capacity of actors or organizations (like in pluralist or corporatist schemes), but is the result of a specific institutional design process that is guided by principles of publicity, equity, and deliberation. At the global level, there is also ample room for experimentation, given that the absence of a global democratic polity inevitably establishes a highly fragmented structure of plural governance regimes. Whether it is feasible or desirable to establish electoral democratic institutions in the absence of a unified demos is an issue that escapes the intentions of this chapter. Yet, as the abundant literature from authoritarian transitions shows, it is still possible to conceive of an agenda of democratization even in situations where there is no democracy. At this stage of global politics, one would be tempted to describe the situation as a pure politics of constituents, given the absence of unanimously recognized democratic representative structures. The current challenge at the global level is consequently not how to articulate constituent’s politics with electoral representative institutions; rather, what is at stake is a politics of multiple constituency management that takes place in the absence of a unified and legitimate democratic authority.

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The notion of stakeholders seems best to capture such a horizontal and disperse situation: in the absence of an authoritative public structure that could impose general laws and procedures, we are left with a world of stakeholders, meaning the existence of a plurality of special law communities that are neither connected with one another by common laws or institutions nor vertically to a single representative institution. The question that most of the ‘stakeholder democracy’ arguments try to answer is that of how to negotiate and regulate the relationships that such a plurality of self-appointed stakeholders establishes with one another. So far, most of the intellectual energies have been oriented toward an effort to determine whether individual groups or actors meet some democratic criteria that would establish them as legitimate representatives or spokespersons. My intuition is that processes of democratization of the global sphere should not focus so much on this issue of the democratic credentials of transnational actors, but rather on how to establish and consolidate a plurality of bridging arenas where different constituencies could meet to exert voice, influence, deliberate with one another, and eventually assume shared decision-making responsibilities. The latter is not meant to downplay the compelling questions that the democratic credentials debate raises, but simply to redirect part of those legitimate concerns away from an excessive focus on individual actors to an agenda about institutions and institution-building. If properly designed, bridging arenas should be able to allow for the unrestricted representation of groups, interests, and discourses, while at the same time subjecting them to the democratic imperatives of openness, publicity, deliberation, and justification.

Notes 1. A good example of such approach is the recent book by Terry Macdonald, Global Stakeholder Democracy: Power and Representation Beyond Liberal States. The book’s argument is predicated on the idea of finding a functional equivalent to elections to build the democratic credentials of NGOs. The strategy is to abstract from the electoral relationship those elements – delegation and accountability – that in her view constitute the legitimate basis for representative agency (Macdonald, 2008: 177, 192). This leads to a search for non-electoral mechanisms of authorization and accountability that ‘could potentially be employed to confer democratic legitimacy upon a range of agents of public power in global politics . . . ’ (193). The premise is that unelected actors such as advocacy NGOs should satisfy ‘the demands of the mandate model’ (163), that is, to build democratic credentials NGOs have to adapt themselves to the exigencies of a mandate model; mandate that in this

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case is the outcome of a negotiation of the organization with all of its different stakeholders (200). Macdonald even concedes that (at least in principle), ‘a stakeholder community would be entitled to demand that an NGO either comply with its unilaterally formulated demands or desist from its public political activity . . . ’ (Macdonald, 2008: 200). The distinction between constitutive and representative politics is taken from César Montúfar, who develops it in a very suggestive article about the relationship between participation and representation (Montúfar, 2006). This is also the belief of some strands of democratic elitism which cast many doubts of the usefulness of elections as a mechanism for signaling voter’s preferences (Manin et al., 1999). This does not entail that all constituent politics is intrinsically transformative: a great part of constituent politics is merely an expression of existing identities and interests. This is the case of the dynamics analyzed by the pressure groups literature that focuses on the lobbying activities of private interest organizations (Schmitter, 1974; Offe, 1985). This is not to argue that no NGO should be ‘downward accountable.’ This is a crucial issue for service provider NGOs that claim to best serve certain social groups. In those cases, the establishment of effective mechanisms of downward accountability is crucial to test their claims. The same holds true of organizations that claim to best express or mirror the voice of specifically defined social groups, be it a neighborhood or a private interest organization. What I am arguing instead is that democratic representation requires a pluralistic arena of constituent organizations, and that it would be erroneous to try to steer all constituent politics into a single mirroring logic. A similar argument could be made in relation to democratic representatives: the good exercise of political representation requires an important degree of accountability but, beyond a certain threshold, accountability becomes detrimental to political representation for it eliminates the creative dimension of politics (March and Olsen, 1995; Arato, 2006). The groups that participate in constituent politics are a diverse and heterogeneous universe of actors motivated by different sorts of considerations. Some of them actually entail forms of descriptive representation of constituencies that can be clearly traced and identified. Other groups act as carriers of new discourses and identities (Offe, 1984; Melucci, 1996). This latter kind of actor, like an international advocacy NGO that lacks a clearly defined constituency can be seen as representing a specific type of discourse. ‘The idea of discursive representation – Dryzek and Niemeyer argue – provides democratic validation for the activities of NGOs and other transnational activists’ (Dryzek and Niemeyer, 2008: 491). Dryzek and Niemeyer, however, propose to formalize such a discursive representation through the creation of ‘Chamber of Discourses.’ For particular policy issues, they argue, one could identify relevant discourses on a specific area and simultaneously identify a good representative of each of them (Dryzek and Niemeyer, 2008: 491). Members of a Chamber of Discourses will not be selected because they represent constituencies or individuals (485) but will be the subject of a ‘systematic selection by social science methods’ (486). The selection of discursive representatives through scientific or technical criteria entails an aseptic and depoliticized view of the inherently political nature of constituent politics. Constituent politics are relevant not

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just because they can contribute to enhancing the quality of policy-making processes; rather they constitute the institutionalization of collective learning processes. Social learning processes are not an abstract deliberative exercise but an essentially contested and political process: it is not discourses or positions in the abstract but the particular intermeshing of discourse, rhetoric, concrete struggles, and a social group’s trajectory and built reputation that provides democratic validation to actors like advocacy NGOs or social movements. It is such a peculiar combination of factors that might eventually trigger the mobilization of the convictions of sectors of society on their behalf. The idea of divorcing the creative dimension of constituent politics from actual forms of collective action and rights struggles is problematic: a Chamber of Discourses is an unlikely solution to legitimacy deficits. As Erman (this volume) argues, what is missing in the Dryzek and Niemeyer proposal is the moment of factual (not hypothetical) political action, through which a constituency approves of political authority. 7. This is an issue that always emerges while attempting to implement mechanisms of self-regulation, regulation, or of certification. The question that inevitably arises is: who is to decide what is legitimate or not? (Armstrong, 2006; Golub, 2006; Jordan and van Tuijl, 2008). A similar concern is raised by Anderson (2008: 10), who worries about the development of a possible reinforcing dynamic ‘in which civil society offers legitimacy to international organizations in a notably undemocratic vision of global governance and takes back recognition, access, and legitimacy in turn.’

References Armstrong, P. (2006) ‘The limits and risks of regulation: The case of the World Bank-supported draft handbook on good practices for laws relating to NGOs,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Anderson, K. (2009) ‘What NGO accountability means – and does not mean,’ American Journal of International Law, 103: 170–8. Arato, A. (2006) ‘Accountability and civil society,’ in E. Peruzzotti and C. Smulovitz (eds) Enforcing the Rule of Law: Social Accountability in the New Latin American Democracies (Pittsburgh: Pittsburgh University Press). Avritzer, L. (2008) Participatory Innovation in Brazil (Washington, DC/Baltimore: Woodrow Wilson Center Press/Johns Hopkins University Press). Brown, L.D. (2008) Creating Credibility: Legitimacy and Accountability for Transnational Civil Society (Sterling, VA: Kumarian Press). Charnovitz, S. (2006) ‘Accountability of non-governmental organizations in global governance’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Dryzek, J. and S. Niemeyer (2008) ‘Discursive representation,’ American Political Science Review, 102: 481–93. Golub, S. (2006) ‘NGO accountability and the Philippine council for NGO certification: Evolving roles and issues,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan).

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Grant, R. and R.O. Keohane (2005) ‘Accountability and abuses of power in world politics,’ American Political Science Review, 99: 29–44. Jordan, L. and P. van Tuijl (2006) ‘Rights and responsibilities in the political landscape of NGO accountability: Introduction and overview,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Kirchheimer, O. (1969) Politics, Law and Social Change: Selected Essays of Otto Kirchheimer, F.S. Burin and K. Shell (eds) (New York: Columbia University Press). MacDonald, T. (2008) Global Stakeholder Democracy: Power and Representation Beyond Liberal States (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Manin, B. (1997) Principles of Representative Government (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Manin, B., A. Przeworski, and S.C. Stokes (1999) ‘Elections and representation,’ in A. Przeworski, S.C. Stokes, and B. Manin (eds) Democracy, Accountability, and Representation (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press). March, J.G. and J.P. Olsen (1995) Democratic Governance (New York: The Free Press). Melucci, A. (1996) Challenging Code: Collective Action in an Information Age (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Montanaro, L. (2008) ‘The democratic legitimacy of “self-authorized” representatives,’ paper prepared for the workshop ‘Rethinking Representation: A North-South Dialogue,’ Bellagio Study and Conference Center, 30 September– 3 October. Montúfar, C. (2006) ‘Antipolítica, Representación y Participación Ciudadana,’ Ecuador/Debate, 62: 83–102. Nyamugasira, W. (1998) ‘NGOs and advocacy: How well are the poor represented?’ Development in Practice, 8: 297–308. Offe, C. (1985) ‘The attribution of public status to interest groups,’ in C. Offe (ed.) Disorganized Capitalism (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press). Offe, C. (1984) ‘Expanding the boundaries of institutional politics,’ in C. Offe (ed.) Contradictions of the Welfare State (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press). Peruzzotti, E. (2006) ‘Civil society, representation, and accountability: Restating current debates on the representativeness and accountability of civic associations,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Peruzzotti, E. (2008) ‘Representative democracy as mediated politics: Rethinking the links between representation and participation,’ NGPA Working Paper Series 26, London School of Economics. Peruzzotti, E. (forthcoming) ‘The different meanings of participation and their contribution to civil society politics,’ Development and Change. Pitkin, H.F. (1967) The Concept of Representation (Berkeley: University of California Press). Plotke, D. (1997) ‘Representation is democracy,’ Constellations: An International Journal of Critical and Democratic Theory, 4: 19–34. Przeworski, A. (2006) ‘Social accountability in Latin America and beyond,’ in E. Peruzzotti and C. Smulovitz (eds) Enforcing the Rule of Law: Social Accountability in the New Latin American Democracies (Pittsburgh: Pittsburgh University Press).

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Saward, M. (2008) ‘Authorisation and authenticity: Representation and the unelected,’ Journal of Political Philosophy, 17: 1–22. Seele, A. and E. Peruzzotti (eds) (2009) Participatory Innovation and Representative Democracy in Latin America (Washington, DC/Baltimore: The Woodrow Wilson Center Press/Johns Hopkins University Press). Schmitter, P. (2008) ‘A crisis of real existing democracy or a crisis of representation? Or a crisis of the channels of representation? or a crisis of one channel of representation?’ paper prepared for the workshop ‘Rethinking representation: A North-South dialogue,’ Bellagio Study and Conference Center, 30 September–3 October. Schmitter, P. (2001) ‘Parties are not what they once were,’ in L. Diamond and R. Günter (eds) Political Parties and Democracy (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press). Schmitter, P. (1974) ‘Still the century of corporatism?’ Review of Politics, 36: 85–131. Schumpeter, J. (1950) Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy (New York: Harper and Brothers). Slim, H. (2002) ‘By what authority? The legitimacy and accountability of nongovernmental organizations,’ Journal of Humanitarian Assistance, March issue.

9 Why Adding Democratic Values is Not Enough for Global Democracy Eva Erman

Introduction The social and political space is no longer entirely mapped in terms of territorial places and borders. What is characteristic of our globalizing era is the growth of problems that transgress traditional territorial boundaries and which are no longer addressed by nation-states alone (Scholte, 2000: 3). In fact, the pace of the political development of governance beyond the nation-state after the Second World War is without parallel in history, with the establishment of international organizations (IOs) such as the United Nations (UN), the European Commission (EC), the World Bank, and the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT). Up until the beginning of the 1990s, the justification of IOs was mainly measured in terms of effectiveness and efficiency, but since then the political climate has drastically changed. After this normative turn, scholars and practitioners have questioned the idea that the capacity to deliver effective policies is a sufficient requirement for legitimacy. There is wide agreement that international organizations suffer from a ‘democratic deficit’ and that prospects for democracy beyond the state need to be addressed in this context. It is argued that there is too wide a gap between governance as effective and efficient collective action problem-solving and governance as the democratic legitimation of policy-making. This gap has fueled the debate about making global governance institutions (GGIs) more democratic by strengthening their legitimacy, a demand which has placed civil society and transnational actors (TNAs) at center stage. Governance has become a hosting metaphor identifying non-state actors that participate as mobilizing agents broadening and deepening policy understanding beyond the traditional, exclusivist activities of states and their agents. 173

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There has been general dissatisfaction among international relations theorists and civil society scholars about what normative political theory has to offer in dealing with questions of global democracy. In particular, cosmopolitan democratic theory has been under attack, accused of being too idealistic and detached from reality. Empirically oriented political scientists urge against drawing on the so-called domestic analogy, which presumes that democracy beyond the state should take a similar shape as liberal democracy within the state, and instead call for more imagination in the conceptualization and operationalization of democracy on the international political arena (Keohane and Nye, 2003). In this inventive spirit, numerous suggestions for how to rethink democracy globally and remedy the democratic deficit of international organizations have been proposed, in which transnational actors should participate more actively. A common characteristic of this civil society approach is a focus on how different TNAs – from social movements to interest groups and NGOs – can and ought to contribute to increased democratization and to the fostering of democratic transitions globally. Rather than emphasizing juridical and institutional aspects, it lays stress upon the ideal of inclusive participation, openness, contestation, and deliberation. Civil society offers a rich soil for re-formulating democracy globally since there is a growing range of social actors that create new political spaces, which are not delimited by territorial nation-state borders and therefore more suitable for confronting the globalized political problems that we face today. Another advantage of ascribing a major role to TNAs in global democracy is that they can do the work of crosscutting global power relations and hierarchies by giving voice to marginalized groups and local stakeholders. This chapter is a theoretical and conceptual contribution to this debate. Starting from the presumption that we cannot investigate the democratic credentials of TNAs without studying the political circumstances in which they are supposed to contribute to more democracy, the chapter does not focus on different transnational actors but on their political context of action and on what democratic role they are ascribed in global democracy in the recent international relations (IR) literature, by which I mean the literature that focuses on the democratic deficit of global governance since the normative turn in the 1990s. The aim is to examine the conception of democracy in these proposals. More specifically, I discuss the major tendency within this literature to defend what I call, for lack of a better term, the additive view of democracy. If cosmopolitan theory has been the predominant view in normative political theory and political philosophy, I would say that the additive

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view is one of the predominant views, if not the predominant view, in IR theory today. It is commonly used as a theoretical framework also in the literature that focuses more exclusively on the democratic credentials of TNAs, including several contributions to the present volume. According to the additive view, democracy is defined as a number of core values or qualities; and a basic presumption is that the more these values are strengthened or promoted, the more democracy we get. Popular candidates for core democratic values are inclusion, deliberation (and/or contestation), accountability, and transparency.1 The additive view is one way to rethink democracy in light of globalization, i.e., to transfer democracy from the nation-state level to the global level. The prefix ‘re’ precisely indicates that the aim is still to conceptualize democracy, not something else. As with any good translation, its ‘original meaning remains unchanged’ (Goodhart, 2008: 402). This is often described in analytical terms as a distinction between concept and conception. Conceptions share some central characteristics, without which they wouldn’t refer to the same concept. So, all conceptions of global democracy share some necessary conditions that must be fulfilled in order to speak about one and the same thing, namely, democracy. The distinction between concept and conception is a useful analytical tool in political theorizing. It is essential to differentiate between a general concept of democracy and more specific conceptions, because if we didn’t, we could neither identify any necessary conditions or features of democracy, without which we could not compare different democratic proposals, nor know when there are enough differences in our conceptions to arrive at a different concept. As soon as we have done the latter, we have removed the prefix ‘re’ from the word ‘rethink’ in our analysis. Of course, as acknowledged by Wittgenstein, a boundary of a concept is always bound with its purpose. For scholars engaged in the debate on global democracy the purpose is to give suggestions for how to best decrease the democratic deficit on the global level and make regional and international institutions more democratic. So, while concepts are indeed reformulated and reshaped by their application or use in discourse, conceptions only belong to the same concept if they share some characteristics, or, to speak to Wittgenstein, some family resemblances (Wittgenstein, 1953: Part I, § 66–71). And different networks of family resemblances are kept apart in relation to the purpose of the concept at hand, to make it usable for a specific purpose. The urge to discuss the additive view is that I find it highly problematic. In particular, I consider it unclear with respect to its democratic content. The chapter sets out to identify some major pitfalls that ought

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to be avoided when theorizing transnational democracy and the legitimacy of global governance, as well as when analyzing the democratic credentials of TNAs. The aim is to critically examine what more exactly is democratic about the additive proposals and what would be more appropriately labeled legitimate in some other normative respect. The term ‘critical’ should not be interpreted as a skeptical or polemical stance, implying that I do not share the concerns of democracy beyond the nation-state: Quite the opposite. Critical here alludes to an analytical and normative-theoretical attitude. We face many different moral and political problems in our globalized world, but not all of them should be addressed from a democratic point of view. Political authority could be legitimized in numerous ways apart from democracy, for example, through efficiency or fair decision-making procedures. The only conclusion to be drawn in this chapter is that we have to spell out the conceptual conditions of global democracy in order to compare different proposals for a better global governance and evaluate their normative credentials, be they democratic, just, or something else. Indeed, just because we ought to be clear about the difference between democratic and non-democratic legitimacy, this should not make us blind to other ways of addressing the illegitimacy of the global political order. On the contrary, such a clarification might open the door for the obvious but complex question: if democracy is not the solution, perhaps the democratic deficit was not the problem to begin with? Without doubt there are other possible candidates in our present-day world, such as severe global injustices or extreme inequality. The argument proceeds in three steps. First I present the main characteristics of the additive view, followed by a few illustrations in the contemporary IR literature. In a second step, I discuss three conditions which in my view are necessary (and even sufficient on some accounts) for the concept of democracy, and analyze them in relation to basic presumptions of the additive view. Finally, some general remarks are offered on how the proposed conceptual framework might be useful to discriminate between democratic and non-democratic (but morally justified) proposals for better global governance, and I point to three alternative routes forward.

The additive view of democratic global governance A democratic system consists of two parts, a political authority and a demos (a people), i.e., a group of people subject to this authority. To say that, for example, a state has authority is to say that the state and

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its subjects have a certain kind of normative relationship.2 In political philosophy the concept of legitimacy is used to describe the normative aspects of this relationship. It refers to a rightful authority or a rightful power-holder. There have been many candidates for how to best ground rightful authority, for example in associative obligations (Dworkin), in reasonable consensus (Rawls), or in tacit consent (Locke). However, what is of interest here is one kind of legitimacy, namely the democratic conception of legitimate authority. Among political theorists it is widely held that an adequate account of legitimacy requires that a political authority derives from a rightful source (a ‘people criterion’), through the principle of popular sovereignty, and that it satisfies some rightful ends (a ‘performance criterion’).3 Even though the question of how to best realize the principle of popular sovereignty is highly contested, it is agreed that democratic legitimacy gets its authorization from the people (Beetham, 1998). Rule by the people (the government of the people as a whole) constitutes the very core of the concept of democracy. These terms are analogous to the terms input and output legitimacy used in the IR literature. While input legitimacy (the people criterion) concerns the inclusiveness, deliberation, participation, and accountability of the internal decision-making of a political authority in relation to a constituency, output legitimacy (the performance criterion) concerns the effectiveness of that authority. Fritz Scharpf (1999) originally used this distinction in his analysis of the European Union (EU), suggesting that political decisions are legitimate in the output sense when they effectively promote the common welfare of the constituency in question. In fact, in some policy areas, he claimed, we might envisage the EU as capable of legitimacy by reference to its output, even if input is lacking (Scharpf, 1997). In theorizing about how to re-establish a symmetry between rulemakers and rule-takers in global political decision-making, additive proponents often claim that cosmopolitan theorists keep too much of the Westphalian conception of the state in the translation from nation-state democracy to global democracy, viz. treating democracy ‘as a system of collective self-rule realized through elections and representative government’ with ‘supremacy within its particular territory’ (Goodhart, 2008: 401). Even if cosmopolitans attempt to rethink sovereignty in functional rather than territorial terms, they arguably still emphasize elections and representation and focus on the juridicalization of international organizations through some idea of an overarching cosmopolitan law (Held, 2002: 32). By contrast, additive proponents wish to strengthen input and output legitimacy through the increased involvement of civil

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society organizations (CSOs) in order to promote democratic values such as inclusiveness, participation, deliberation, effectiveness, transparency, and accountability. As stated above, the core characteristic of the additive view of global democracy is that it is presumed that the more of these democratic values are strengthened, the more global democracy. The term ‘additive’ is a bit unfortunate because it implies a quantitative element which is not of interest here, i.e., the fact that it incorporates a certain number of democratic values is not what makes it additive in the relevant sense. Rather, additive refers to the idea that the strengthening of a couple of democratic values (whichever they are) leads to more democracy. What is further characteristic about the additive view is that it presupposes what I call the separateness thesis. Additive proponents make use of Scharpf’s distinction between input and output legitimacy in a very particular way, transferring it from its original context of European policy-making to the global sphere and treating its two parts as separate dimensions of legitimacy. The thesis consists in the treatment of input and output legitimacy as two separate values of governance which could be more or less successfully operationalized. Even if most scholars agree that we need both in order to speak about democratic legitimacy, the presumption is that one dimension could compensate for the lack or weakness of the other, since they are regarded as detachable. Usually successful output legitimacy in terms of effective problem solving is claimed to compensate for very low input legitimacy. But it might also be the case that multi-dimensional promotion of certain democratic values (e.g., transparency, publicity, inclusion of stakeholder concerns, and accountability) are meant to increase both input and output legitimacy – thus doing a multiple normative work and, so to speak, move freely between the input and the output category. The thesis states that input and output are two separable kinds or dimensions of democratic legitimacy in the sense that they could involve different subjects (e.g., while some subjects contribute to increased input through CSOs, others might gain from the output of IOs). It is precisely this disaggregation which opens up possibilities for different additive proposals. Let me give some examples of the additive view. The question of civil society participation in processes of democratization beyond the nationstate lies at the heart of the new volume Civil Society Participation in European and Global Governance, edited by Jens Steffek, Claudia Kissling, and Patrizia Nanz (2008). The normative starting-point of the project is that the participation of civil society actors in international organizations plays a vital part in the democratization beyond the nation-state,

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by communicating local stakeholder concerns to global governance arrangements and contributing to the emergence of a global public sphere, and as such functioning as a ‘transmission belt’ between a global citizenry and IOs (Steffek and Nanz, 2008: 3). In his famous analysis of democracy beyond the nation-state, Robert Dahl has forcefully argued that international organizations cannot be democratic. And since ‘ought’ implies ‘can,’ the normative question of whether global governance should be made more democratic seems to be the wrong one to raise. There are several reasons for this, according to Dahl. One concerns the lack of a demos on the international level, another concerns the impossibility of popular control over political decision-making. The former alludes to the lack of homogeneous culture or a people, constituting a polity. Dahl asks how it is possible to define a common public good, a general interest, in a heterogeneous and fragmented global demos. The latter argument concerns political influence. Dahl argues that already today, foreign policy decisions are made by political elites without much input from, or accountability to, the majority of the citizens. With an enlarged demos citizens’ capacity to influence policy-making will diminish (Dahl, 1999: 22–25). While Dahl’s conclusion is to a large extent accurate, Jens Steffek and Patrizia Nanz maintain that it is only accurate against a particular yardstick, namely, that of the liberal model of representative democracy transferred to the global sphere. From that point of view, most scholars agree that future prospects for the democratization of IOs look more than bleak. Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye argue that, since it is impossible to identify a global demos in the absence of a political community no international organizations could ever be democratic by Dahl’s definition. On the other hand, they show that also within democratic states, we find examples of procedures to decide on political matters – e.g., administrative law – which work outside of legislative bodies and popular assemblies (Keohane and Nye, 2003: 393). Such an alternative route for global governance is explored by Steffek and Nanz, who argue that deliberative democracy offers some fruitful tools in this endeavor. In their view, we don’t need to define a demos in terms of a certain pre-political homogeneity of the citizens of a polity. A deliberative democratic view of politics is particularly suited for global governance precisely because it focuses on the political debate about the common good rather than the common good as a pre-political interest. Of course, deliberation is not necessarily democratic. A deliberative democratic arrangement must ensure that citizens’ interests feed into the policy-making process and take into consideration the input of

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stakeholder concerns (Steffek and Nanz, 2008: 5–6). Acting as a transmission belt between GGIs and a global citizenry, CSOs can ‘push global governance towards democratization’ by lending a voice to citizens and make global decision-making more transparent to the wider public. In order to achieve this, however, CSOs cannot solely act as a second informal ‘track,’ which is presumed by, for example, Jürgen Habermas’ two-track model of deliberative democracy; their participation must be institutionalized so that they get formal access to the decision-making arenas. Any democratization via civil society involvement requires participation rights for non-state actors and clearly defined rules of collaboration, to govern the interaction between CSOs and IOs. Thus, the former must be acknowledged as ‘legitimate interlocutors in political debate’ (Steffek and Nanz, 2008: 14). Steffek and Nanz’s research project sets out to measure the democratic quality of existing international organizations by way of a normative yardstick consisting of four criteria or values. I say values because they are not criteria in a strict sense, since criteria are generally either defined in binary terms, such that a criterion is or is not fulfilled, or at least hold a threshold. Here they are gradually coded, that is, the more these values or qualities are promoted or enforced, the more democratically legitimate an international organization is. The four values are access to deliberation, transparency and access to information, responsiveness to stakeholder concerns, and inclusion of all voices. While transparency and access to deliberation are preconditions for a deliberative process, they would not say much about the democratic quality of decisionmaking unless citizens’ concerns were adequately reflected in it. Such responsiveness is not only about justification, defined as ‘giving reasons for positions taken or proposals made,’ but also about adjustment, for example, that criticism is not merely acknowledged but also contributes to the evolution of the debate (Steffek and Nanz, 2008: 11). Finally, the value of inclusion concerns the promotion of the deliberative ideal of political equality, according to which the arguments of all people who are affected by a decision should be included in the process. The authors focus on the ‘inclusion of arguments, rather than with the inclusion of individuals,’ although these two issues ‘cannot be separated completely’ (Steffek and Nanz, 2008: 12). They draw on the empirical evidence that non-state actors are good at triggering transnational public debates on global governance. In an international context, where we cannot hope for a demos in terms of a homogeneous constituency à la Dahl, Steffek and Nanz (2008: 12) claim that this approach has the advantage of leveling out the enormous differences in stakeholder resources,

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for example, the adequate means to express their concerns in global governance. Under traditional international law, non-state actors did not have any particular legal status and their participation in IOs was at best informal. This is now slowly changing. In recent years, partly as a response to the criticism of the democratic deficits in global governance, there has been a strong tendency toward increased participation of transnational actors in global governance, and most IOs have opened up formal and informal avenues for political participation. Concerned with similar questions as Steffek and Nanz, Jan Aart Scholte, one of the most prominent scholars on civil society and democracy, has written numerous books on the role of civil society engagement in the democratization of global governance. In his view, too, civil society activism offers significant possibilities to come to terms with the major democratic deficit of international organizations in an era when the conventional state formula of democratic legitimacy is not sufficient for expanding global governance arrangements. In fact, this is already happening. Civil society actors have increased and continue to increase the democratic accountability of IOs in several ways, most notably by promoting transparency of global governance operations; by monitoring global policies and policy-making; and by pushing for the creation of formal accountability mechanisms to monitor and control the agencies concerned (Scholte, 2005: 93–8). As Scholte is quick to point out, this does not mean that civil society actors automatically enhance global democracy, or that they are the only way to make IOs more democratic. But his empirical research shows that their contribution in this regard is considerable and worth fostering (Scholte, 2005: 89). To realize more fully their potential as promoters of democratic legitimacy and accountability, however, several issues need to be addressed further, for example, that civil society groups open themselves for criticism, internal accountability, and self-reflexivity (Scholte, 2005: 106). While Scholte emphasizes political activism, John Dryzek follows Steffek and Nanz’s deliberative democratic path and prioritizes discourses and argumentation. In a recent article, Dryzek and Simon Niemeyer express skepticism of the all-affected principle on the global level, the way it is theorized by cosmopolitans, since the deliberative participation of all affected by a collective decision is infeasible. While democratic theory has been intimately connected to the idea of a wellbounded demos, authority is increasingly escaping such boundaries. Therefore, in situations when a well-bounded demos is not possible to locate, Dryzek and Niemeyer wish to steer away from the traditional

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idea of representation defined as the substantive acting for physical others, towards what they call discursive representation, i.e., the substantive acting for others’ arguments via the representation of relevant discourses (Dryzek and Niemeyer, 2008: 481). For the present purposes there is no need to go into detail about what is meant by discourse or how these discourses are supposed to be represented in a Chamber of Discourses. It is more important to look at the general democratic features. According to Dryzek and Niemeyer, the priority of discourses has several democratic advantages. To begin with, when representing arguments, proportionality becomes irrelevant. It would even be rational to include a vantage point to which nobody subscribed, since all relevant discourses should be represented for policy rationality. There are strong moral reasons for discursive representation as well. The common liberal argument for representing individuals draws its normative force from the idea of an autonomous subject capable of self-government. But this view is fully compatible with the idea of representing discourses rather than individuals, to the extent that we do not assign discourses an independent moral standing, but see them as reducible to the individuals who subscribe to them. Dryzek and Niemeyer argue that this, in fact, has the advantage of taking seriously the multiple characters of persons who engage in numerous different discourses, rather than viewing them as simple unified wholes. To represent an individual as a whole, on this account, would thus mean to represent all his or her discourses (Dryzek and Niemeyer, 2008: 482–3). In sum, a common view in the literature on global democracy and the democratic deficit of GGIs, which has been exemplified above, is that different democratic values could decrease this deficit and make GGIs more democratically legitimate, most notably, by increased access to deliberation and contestation, the inclusion of all voices and/or arguments, transparency and publicity, accountability, participation, responsiveness to stakeholder concerns, and representation (NGOs representing a global citizenry). Questions concerning which of these values are elaborated and how they are defined vary, as we have seen, between different additive proposals. In the analysis below, this is left aside and it is assumed that the values proposed by the additive view are of the right (i.e., democratic) kind. Focus is instead directed to the theoretical and conceptual architecture of this view, viz., in what sense it is possible to defend as a view of democracy. Furthermore, the additive view accommodates a possible trade-off dilemma (too little acknowledged among IR scholars), which will also be left out of the analysis. This dilemma concerns the tensions that might appear

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between these different democratic values. For example, widened participation might have a negative effect on accountability, or that certain kinds of representation might have a negative effect on deliberation. As acknowledged by Keohane and Nye (2003: 391), accountability is an instrumental value, subject to being traded off against other values (trade-offs between democratic values will be discussed in the concluding chapter). For the sake of argument, we can simply assume that the additive view is able to strike the right balance between suggested democratic values.

What is wrong with adding democratic values? In order to critically examine the additive presumptions, I start out by presenting three conditions which, in my view, are necessary for democracy on any account (and even sufficient on some accounts). The literal meaning of democracy is ‘rule by the people,’ and one necessary condition for the rule by the people is popular self-government (collective self-determination), i.e., that the people rules over itself (directly or indirectly) by taking collective decisions about matters of common concern. Yet, this condition obviously does not stand alone. Another characteristic which distinguishes democracy from other forms of government, such as dictatorship, monarchy, or aristocracy, is that it is egalitarian. Everyone who belongs to a democratic political body is equally (directly or indirectly) involved, and their free and equal participation is protected by a system of rights. Thus, a necessary condition is political equality, i.e., equal political power in decision-making. Thirdly, democracy is a political system of self-legislation by citizens. This system requires that those subject to law as its addressees can simultaneously understand themselves as authors of law. This means that a necessary condition for democracy is a moment of political ‘bindingness.’ Let us begin with self-government. Additive theorists search for alternatives to what they consider the unrealistic cosmopolitan ideals by avoiding exporting ‘the domestic models of democracy to the global level’ (Bäckstrand, 2006: 469). The skepticism of using the domestic analogy in the rethinking of global democracy stems from the idea that self-government presupposes a ‘domestic model’ that is inseparable from the Westphalian model of the state. Typical Westphalian characteristics include a presupposed symmetry among a homogeneous group of citizens and a political authority, self-rule through a system of elections and representation, as well as supremacy within a unified territory. As we have seen, additive theorists dismiss the condition of self-government

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because it presupposes, in their view, a homogeneous and pre-political boundary (Steffek and Nanz) or a well-bounded demos (Dryzek and Niemeyer), neither of which are feasible on the global level. If global governance is going to become democratic, Steffek and Nanz argue, it will not be through elected representatives of a people, representing a shared identity and a common political culture. Rather, an alternative view would have to ensure the expression of peoples’ concerns and the responsiveness of political power through deliberative processes in which common practical problems are addressed and discussions of the common good pursued (Steffek and Nanz, 2004: 317–8). But self-government is not premised on a system of elections connected to a unified territory and/or a homogeneous demos. If a group of people constitutes a political system that claims to be democratic, we don’t have to presuppose that they live near one another (territorial aspect) or are alike (socio-cultural aspect) in order to govern themselves through egalitarian collective decision-making. The territorial boundary is not the kind of boundary on which self-government is premised. A people, i.e., a demos, consists (at least) of free and equal members participating in egalitarian decision-making of some sort, protected by a system of rights. They govern themselves (bind themselves) via political equality. Be it a national, regional, or global demos, territorial or nonterritorial, held together by social solidarity or not, it is in this particular sense that a demos is bounded.4 Whether self-government is best realized by a unified territory or a unified socio-cultural structure is an empirical, not a conceptual question.5 The second necessary condition concerns political equality. Even if it is not a sufficient condition for democracy, free and equal participation in egalitarian decision-making procedures is indispensable for any democratic system. It is no coincidence that proponents of the additive view prefer to talk about stakeholders instead of citizens, for a basic difference is that stakeholders are not political equals.6 In fact, the whole point of including civil society organizations in global governance is that they are supposed to give those stakeholders a voice because they are not equals in a political sense, i.e., they do not have a secured equal access to an egalitarian decision-making. Rather, the concept of stakeholder is workable since it removes the aspect of political equality from political participation. This goes hand-in-hand with how the allaffected principle is theorized as well. Among IR scholars devoted to the additive approach, it is commonly suggested that all possibly affected by a decision should have a say in its making. For example, according to Steffek and Nanz (2004: 333), the task of transnational civil society is to

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‘give voice to citizens affected by regulations made at the global level.’ Or, according to Karin Bäckstrand (2006: 475), ‘global environmental threats highlight the need for those affected having a say in defining and addressing them.’ But political equality is not about having a say in decision-making, it is about having an equal say (be it through voting, direct participation, or something else).7 Although additive proposals, of course, highlight equality as one of the core values or fundamental principles, this is too broad to do the appropriate theoretical and conceptual work for democracy. Political equality is a specific conception of equality, which is a necessary condition for the concept of democracy. Finally, the third necessary condition for democracy is what I referred to as political bindingness. A democratic system consists of two parts, a political authority and a citizenry/demos, i.e., a group of people subject to this authority. To claim that an authority is legitimate is to say that it has a certain kind of normative relationship with its subjects. As mentioned earlier, the concept of legitimacy describes the normative aspects of this relationship. According to the democratic conception of legitimate authority, a democratic system requires that those subject to a law (or a political decision) as its addressees can simultaneously understand themselves as authors of it. So in order for a political authority to uphold its democratic legitimacy, the people in one way or another (directly or indirectly) have to give its approval – thereby accepting its decisions as binding. Of course, depending on which democratic model is favored, this moment of bindingness occurs in different ways, for example, by a periodical formal voting procedure on Schumpeter’s account, or by a combination of formalized deliberative decision-making and continuous informal opinion- and will-formation on Habermas’ account (Schumpeter, 1950; Habermas, 1996). The point I want to make is just that it cannot be hypothetical all the way, so to speak, because then we are not dealing with democratic theory any more but something else, for example, moral theory. There are two interrelated problems involved here for the additive view. One concerns the moment of bindingness generally, the other concerns the definition of democratic legitimacy. To begin with, it is hard to see how the additive approach can accommodate the condition of bindingness in theorizing about global democracy by focusing on legitimacy by ‘voice’ rather than by ‘vote.’ Civil society actors are claimed to have the appropriate kind of strong grassroots links to engage in the representation and/or expression of local stakeholder concerns (van Rooy, 2004). With such a move from representing ‘who’ to representing ‘what,’ civil society actors get their democratic force

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by representing positions, ideas, or discourses rather than individuals (Keck, 2004; Charnovitz, 2006; Peruzzotti, 2006). Take Dryzek and Niemeyer’s discursive global democracy, according to which discourses rather than individuals should be represented in global governance. It is far from clear how the inclusion of every possible argument makes the political decisions binding to subjects. The moment of factual (not hypothetical) political action, through which a constituency approves of a political authority, is missing. While an important epistemic dimension is expressed by the inclusion of marginalized voices and of all possible arguments, such a dimension alone cannot fill the gap between the citizenry and the political authority in order to generate democratic legitimacy. When we say that democracy is ‘government for the people,’ we mean that it exists for the sake of the people and rules in the interest of the governed. But this is only half the story about democracy. Even a compassionate dictator could rule in the interest of the governed. And there is no denying that Plato’s philosopher kings had the interest of the people at heart. The expression above is short for ‘rule by the people, and for the people,’ where ‘by’ adds the condition of bindingness. Now, if the condition of political equality discussed earlier concerned equal agency, the condition of bindingness concerns actual agency. The possibility of political agency – which additive theorists elaborate through improving the possibilities of access, deliberation, and contestation – does not suffice to meet the condition of bindingness, since it could mean that no one approved of the political authority in practice. A moment of bindingness has not merely to do with the capacity of agency, but also of acting agents. For example, if we had a political system, within which every citizen had a vote but no one ever voted, it would be absurd to call this system democratic. We rarely give this a thought since we always suppose that enough people vote. So while the condition of political bindingness itself does not specify a threshold, it presupposes that there is such a threshold. Similar phenomena are sometimes labeled the Sorites paradox in analytic philosophy. The paradox refers to ‘little-by-little’ arguments and to the question of when, for example, a heap of wheat is a heap. For, if we remove one grain at a time we cannot tell when it is no longer a heap. Thus, no particular grain can be identified as making the difference. Still, we know that a few grains do not make a heap. Although there is a boundary, or threshold, it is characterized by vagueness. Similarly, the justified threshold for the number of people necessary to approve of a political authority (directly or indirectly) to make it democratically legitimate, will probably vary between different democratic theories. What is argued here is merely

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that political bindingness, which harbors a threshold, is a necessary condition for the concept of democracy. Secondly, the definition of legitimacy becomes problematic within an additive analytical framework. As we have seen, different democratic values are intended to strengthen both input legitimacy and output legitimacy. On the output side, for example, Karin Bäckstrand (2006: 473) argues that high output legitimacy in terms of effective collective problem-solving can compensate for low input legitimacy, and thus democratize by improving ‘the overall quality of the social order.’ In a similar fashion, addressing the democratic deficit in international economic institutions, Ernst Mestmäcker (1994) argues that the enhanced effectiveness generated by the supranational regulation of transnational economic exchange represents an important legitimizing function of supranationalism. In both cases, the fulfillment of the performance criterion is supposed to compensate for the lack of a sufficiently fulfilled people criterion. On the input side, additive proposals emphasize participation, access to deliberation, the inclusion of all voices/arguments, transparency, and publicity. To problematize this view we must take a closer look at what the separateness thesis consists of. As noted earlier, the basic assumption is that input and output legitimacy are two separate dimensions of democratic legitimacy, in the sense that they could refer to different subjects. Even if the additive view accepts their asymmetrical realization – that one could more or less compensate for the lack of the other – they are still weighed equally from a normative point of view. In contrast to the IR literature before the normative turn of the 1990s, no scholar taking democracy seriously would today argue that input legitimacy is not important just because it is difficult to implement in global governance. The advantage of the two dimensions being unconnected, however, is precisely the fact that they could then be maximally realized in relation to the political circumstances, lending more democratic legitimacy to global governance institutions, the more they are promoted. Moreover, since they are free-standing, the democratic values placed in each category could move across the input/output border without restraint. The problem I want to highlight is that the condition of bindingness does not allow for such an interpretation of legitimacy. The input and output dimensions cannot be separated, since the people and the political authority are coupled together through a normative relationship. Moreover, they are so in a specific way, which is why the dualism built into the distinction between input and output as such leads us in the wrong direction. It would be more appropriate to imagine the input and

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output dimensions as two circles placed on top of each other – a picture which the separateness thesis does not allow for. The subjects within the input circle are the same subjects as within the output circle.8 So, for example, when a legitimate political authority performs well and the output legitimacy is high, this effectiveness is directed to and thus is for the people (even if others benefit from it as well), that is, to those who directly or indirectly rule themselves through this very authority. In fact, output legitimacy, in this sense, is not only something that is directed to the constituency but rather back to the constituency. This holistic picture of input and output suggests that not only input is premised on political equality, but output as well. Thus, the input side is not relevant to whoever is affected, and the output side is not relevant to whoever gains by the outcomes, which the additive view presumes. In their analysis of CSOs as a transmission belt between international organizations and ‘a global citizenry,’ for example, Steffek and Nanz re-interpret Habermas’ two-track view of democracy – according to which democracy must consist of formal deliberative decision-making procedures as well as informal deliberative processes of opinion and will formation in the public sphere – arguing that civil society actors should be participants in deliberative decisionmaking in a formalized and institutionalized way. So rather than being part of the wider public, CSOs are supposed to act as intermediary agents between this public and international organizations (Steffek and Nanz, 2008: 7). However, the authors overlook something fundamental. For even if there is no denying that the two tracks of formal and informal deliberation are indispensable for democracy on a Habermasian account, they cannot be detached and directed to whatever subjects. In Habermas’ view, the two tracks are supposed to secure a deliberative democratic decision-making within a legally bounded community – thus binding the constituency to the political authority via political action in formal as well as informal decision-making (Habermas, 1996). As is evident from the discussion of three conditions of democracy, we need to distinguish questions of justification of democratic boundaries from questions of what makes a system democratic. Even if a principle for justifying democratic boundaries sometimes makes up one part of a normative democratic theory (e.g., through the all-affected principle), such a principle alone cannot make up a democratic theory. When the aim is to define the necessary conditions of democracy, we are primarily concerned with the latter questions. Concerning the former, it seems unlikely that democratic theory will have the last word in the solving of the so-called boundary problem, i.e., the problem that democracy presupposes a boundary (defining a demos), which itself

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cannot be drawn democratically.9 In fact, we probably had better leave this problem to moral and political philosophers. The debate on global democracy, to which the additive view as well as this chapter was meant as a contribution, is preoccupied with the question of how to make the global political system democratic and decrease the democratic deficit of IOs. Consequently, in line with any other approach to global democracy, a global ‘demos’ (or global demoi) is already supposed to be at our disposal. One reason why this global demos is under-theorized in the literature on global democracy may be that the boundary problem ‘solved’ itself by including ‘all’ (for exceptions, see Näsström, 2003; Bohman, 2007).

Toward a more legitimate global governance One basic assumption of the additive view is that civil society should play a central role in the democratization of global governance by strengthening democratic values such as accountability, access, deliberation, transparency, participation, publicity, and responsiveness. This chapter has tried to show that increased democratic values do not lead to more democracy. The reason is that they only become democratic values within a system, which (at least) fulfills the three conditions of selfgovernment, political equality, and political bindingness.10 This means that in order to promote the value of democracy beyond the nationstate, we must promote such a system beyond it too. Indeed, from this standpoint, there are strong reasons to support Amartya Sen’s (1999: 11) view that democracy has become a universal value during the twentieth century. This conclusion should not make us disillusioned about achieving better and more legitimate global governance. Neither should it make us disillusioned concerning global democracy. The proposed conceptual framework is only meant to be of assistance to discriminate between democratic and non-democratic (but morally justified) proposals for better global governance. For in order to know whether we have contributed a novel and fruitful conceptualization of global democracy, we have to investigate its theoretical and conceptual structure. Otherwise we cannot compare different democratic proposals and analyze their democratic credentials. I conclude by exemplifying three possible ways forward. First, one could take an alternative normative route, theorizing better global governance by way of a justificatory device such as fairness or accountability. For example, in a recent book, Andreas Föllesdal (2008) discusses what he labels ‘normative legitimacy’ in multilevel

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governance. Normative legitimacy consists of the compliance of decisions with justifiable norms, assurance of such compliance and the public confirmation of this through popular trustworthiness.11 In this way, non-democratic governance might be legitimate in an international setting where norms are not justified by popular will. Indeed, it is not difficult to see how the additive view might contribute to such an approach by lending TNAs a role in pressuring IOs to comply with norms and thereby increase their public trustworthiness. Alternatively, for those who wish to keep to the democratic path but still avoid a world-state, scholars such as Hauke Brunkhorst (2005, 2006) and Habermas (2006a, 2006b) have suggested that we could to some extent remedy the democratic deficit of global governance through the medium of the law. Democratization beyond the nation-state requires constitutionalization, since this is the only way to realize the free and equal participation in egalitarian decision-making procedures. In their view, the coupling together of state and constitution is trapped in an outdated early modern conception of state sovereignty.12 Global governance without government is possible through a constitution defined as a horizontal association of citizens bounded by fundamental rights that they as free and equal founders mutually grant each other. Choosing this path, TNAs could play a vital role as participants in informal deliberative processes of opinion and will formation to the extent that a formal deliberative track is secured as well within a legally bounded community (for example, the EU). Finally, we might theorize global democracy by regarding states rather than individuals as the basic unit of moral concern. From this perspective, we would want to focus on fulfilling the conditions of self-government, political equality, and bindingness primarily between states by improving the institutional structures for intergovernmental democratic cooperation. If we choose this alternative from the point of view of civil society engagement, however, the prospects for finding a suitable role for TNAs in democratic global governance look much bleaker.

Notes 1. The term is unfortunate because it implies a quantitative element, which is irrelevant for my argument. 2. Here I only discuss authority in a normative sense (morally legitimate authority), i.e., not de facto authority. However, this distinction is not accepted by everyone. As pointed out by Tom Christiano, Hobbes insisted that any entity capable of functioning as a de facto authority is necessarily

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justified and deserves the obedience of the de facto subjects. See Hobbes (1992 [1668]) and Christiano (2008). Of course, how these rightful ends are defined is dependent on which view of democracy we hold, e.g., whether we defend a procedural approach, according to which the people themselves define those ends (through an appropriate procedure), or a substantive approach, in which some of the ends are of intrinsic value and defined independently of the people. However, some substantive approaches tend to confuse the question of what makes a system democratic with the question of what justifies a democratic system. How we further define the boundaries of a demos, for example, as more or less ‘well-bounded’ (Dryzek) or more or less ‘homogeneous’ (Steffek and Nanz), is not of immediate interest here. It seems as if Dahl addresses this question empirically rather than conceptually, which is sometimes overlooked by his critics. Indeed, to the extent that he aimed at a conceptual point about the homogeneity of a demos, he is simply wrong. Unless, of course, one develops a principle of ‘stakeholder citizenship’ as a criterion for the democratic inclusion (see, for example, Bauböck, 2007). Even if this is not a criterion that is itself subject to democratic decisionmaking, it is a way of justifying an expansion of a democratic polity and thus acknowledging the problems that are raised in this chapter. See also Dahl (1989: Ch. 9). This claim still leaves open the question of whether stakeholders who are more affected should have more influence in the decision-making process, which is a common argument. To be of relevance for democracy, also such proposals must offer a ‘yardstick’ from the point of view of political equality, i.e., be able to say that those who are equally affected should have an equal say. Of course, this must be interpreted at an appropriate level of abstraction, since concrete beings are born, die, and migrate. This is why most political theorists have left this contradiction to be ‘solved’ by history, for example, by letting the democratic project be rescued by the nation-state, i.e., with set boundaries already in place. Note again that these are only necessary conditions for democracy, not sufficient conditions on most accounts of democracy. In a similar vein, Allen Buchanan and Robert Keohane have developed a global public standard for the normative legitimacy of GGIs, which is supposed to provide a basis for principled criticism and reform. See Buchanan and Keohane (2006); see also Erman and Higgott (2010). For a criticism of Brunkhorst and Habermas and a defense of the idea that state and constitution necessarily hang together, see Scheuerman (2008, 2009).

References Bäckstrand, K. (2006) ‘Democratizing global environmental governance? stakeholder democracy after the world summit on sustainable development,’ European Journal of International Relations, 12: 467–98.

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Bauböck, R. (2007) ‘Stakeholder citizenship and transnational political participation,’ Fordham Law Review, 75: 2393–448. Beetham, D. (1998) ‘Legitimacy,’ in E. Craig (ed.) Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy (London: Routledge). Bohman, J. (2007) Democracy across Borders: From Dêmos to Dêmoi (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press). Brunkhorst, H. (2005) Solidarity: from Civic Friendship to a Global Legal Community, J. Flynn (trans.) (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press). Brunkhorst, H. (2006) ‘The legitimation crisis of the EU,’ Constellations, 13: 165–80. Buchanan, A. and R.O. Keohane (2006) ‘The legitimacy of global governance institutions,’ Ethics & International Affairs, 20: 405–37. Charnovitz, S. (2006) ‘Accountability of non-governmental organizations in global governance,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Christiano, T. (2008) ‘Authority,’ in Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, retrieved 29 November 2008, from http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/authority/ Dahl, R. (1989) Democracy and Its Critics (New Haven: Yale University Press). Dahl, R. (1999) ‘Can international organizations be democratic? A skeptic’s view,’ in I. Shapiro and C. Hacker-Cordón (eds) Democracy’s Edges (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Dryzek, J. and S. Niemeyer (2008) ‘Discursive representation,’ American Political Science Review, 102: 481–93. Erman, E. and R. Higgott (2010) ‘Deliberative global governance and the question of legitimacy: What can we learn from the WTO?’ Review of International Studies, 36: 449–470. Föllesdal, A. (2008) ‘Epilogue: Toward more legitimate multilevel regulation,’ in A. Föllesdal, R. Wessel and J. Wouters (eds) Multilevel Regulation and the EU: The Interplay between Global, European and National Normative Processes (Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff). Goodhart, M. (2008) ‘Human rights and global democracy,’ Ethics & International Affairs, 22: 395–420. Habermas, J. (1996) Between Facts and Norms: Contributions to a Discourse Theory of Law and Democracy, W. Rehg (trans.) (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press). Habermas, J. (2006a) The Divided West, C. Cronin (ed. and trans.) (Cambridge: Polity Press). Habermas, J. (2006b) Time of Transitions, C. Cronin and M. Pensky (ed. and trans.) (Cambridge: Polity Press). Held, D. (2002) ‘Law of states, law of peoples: Three models of sovereignty,’ Legal Theory, 8: 1–44. Hobbes, T. (1992 [1668]) Leviathan, E. Curley (ed.) (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishers). Keck, M. (2004) ‘Governance regimes and the politics of discursive representation,’ in N. Piper and A. Uhlin (eds) Transnational Activism in Asia: Problems of Power and Democracy (London: Routledge). Keohane, R.O. and J.S. Nye (2003) ‘Redefining accountability for global governance,’ in M. Kahler and D. Lake (eds) Governance in a Global Economy (Princeton: Princeton University Press).

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Mestmäcker, E. (1994) ‘On the legitimacy of European law,’ Rabels Zeitschrift für ausländisches und internationales Privatrecht, 58: 615–35. Näsström, S. (2003) ‘What globalization overshadows,’ Political Theory, 31: 808–34. Peruzzotti, E. (2006) ‘Civil society, representation and accountability,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Scharpf, F. (1997) ‘Economic integration, democracy and the welfare state,’ Journal of European Public Policy, 4: 18–36. Scharpf, F. (1999) Governing in Europe: Effective and Democratic? (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Scheuerman, W. (2008) ‘Global governance without global government? Habermas on postnational democracy,’ Political Theory, 36: 133–51. Scheuerman, W. (2009) ‘Postnational democracies without postnational states? Some skeptical reflections,’ Ethics & Global Politics, 2: 41–63. Scholte, J.A. (2000) Globalization: A Critical Introduction (Basingstoke: Macmillan). Scholte, J.A. (2005) ‘Civil society and democratically accountable global governance,’ in D. Held and M. Koenig-Archibugi (eds) Global Governance and Public Accountability (Oxford: Blackwell). Schumpeter, J. (1950) Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy (New York: Harper & Row). Sen, A. (1999) ‘Democracy as a universal value,’ Journal of Democracy, 10 (3): 3–17. Steffek, J. and P. Nanz (2004) ‘Global governance, participation and the public sphere,’ Government and Oppposition, 39: 314–35. Steffek, J. and P. Nanz (2008) ‘Emergent patterns of civil society participation in global and European governance,’ in Civil Society Participation in European and Global Governance (New York: Palgrave Macmillan). Steffek, J., C. Kissling and P. Nanz (eds) (2008) Civil Society Participation in European and Global Governance: A Cure for the Democratic Deficit? (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan). van Rooy, A. (2004) The Global Legitimacy Game: Civil society, Globalization, and Protest (New York: Palgrave Macmillan). Wittgenstein, L. (1953) Philosophical Investigations, E. Anscombe and R. Rhees (eds) (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing).

10 Conclusion: Transnational Actors and Global Democracy Eva Erman and Anders Uhlin

Introduction This concluding chapter elaborates on the findings of the volume and raises a number of issues pertaining to normative theorizing on democracy beyond the state. Drawing on the individual chapters, it offers a comprehensive analysis of the different democratic requirements applicable to different types of transnational actors (TNAs). We discuss the question of whether different kinds of TNAs necessarily have to be democratic in the same way and to the same extent. We also pay attention to potential trade-offs between different democratic values. Moreover, we analyze the potential roles of TNAs in global democracy, considering formal and informal tracks for linking constituencies to political authority. One principle underlying much scholarship on global democracy – including this volume – is the all-affected principle. A problem in the contemporary debate, however, is that this principle is vaguely defined and presupposed rather than problematized and carefully elaborated. In light of the empirical and theoretical contributions of this volume, we revisit this debate with the aim of sorting out some of the issues that are in need of further attention. We also discuss how the market economy may relate to global democracy, an issue highlighted by the prominence of market actors – not only civil society actors – among the TNAs influencing global governance. It is argued that more normative theoretical work needs to be done in addressing the role of market actors in global democracy. Finally, after having devoted the whole book to issues of democratic legitimacy, we conclude with a brief discussion of other sources of legitimacy linked to TNAs and global governance, which are in need of further elaboration. 194

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Democratic requirements for different types of TNAs In order for TNAs to strengthen global democracy, the actors themselves need some democratic qualities. A global governance arrangement in which the participating actors lack democratic credentials would hardly be considered to have democratic legitimacy. However, all types of TNAs do not necessarily have to meet the same democratic requirements. The argument that the appropriate form of democratic legitimacy might vary depending on the character of the actor in question has been put forward in some previous studies. For example, Weisband and Ebrahim (2007: 17) identify four different levels of analysis for which different accountability concerns are relevant: individual, organization, network, and structure. Ebrahim (2007: 203) further distinguishes between membership organizations, service organizations, and network organizations, and argues that different accountability mechanisms apply to these types of NGOs. In this chapter we offer a more comprehensive analysis of this argument, drawing on the dimensions distinguishing between different types of TNAs and the different aspects of democratic legitimacy outlined by Uhlin (Chapter 2). TNAs can be distinguished based on their principal ideas and motivations (which also define the transnational public sphere in which they operate), their power (both extent and form), their degree of politization, and their internal structure. We will treat each of these dimensions in turn, and relate them to different aspects of democratic input, throughput, and output legitimacy. The motivations of different types of TNAs can be related to instrumental as well as normative values. Starting with TNAs driven by instrumental values, we conclude that existing mechanisms for democratic control of profit-seeking TNAs, such as TNCs, are insufficient. Market regulation is the preserve of national governments. There is a lack of globally binding social, environmental, and financial laws. Mechanisms of voluntary initiatives and standards such as OECD’s Guidelines for Multinationals, the Global Reporting Initiative, and the UN Global Compact (cf. Gregoratti, 2010) lack effective enforcement. Consumer power is sometimes suggested as a form of check against TNCs’ abuse of power, but consumer choice is seldom effective. Most affected stakeholders often lack consumer power, and there is a general lack of awareness of the activities of TNCs and a lack of alternatives (Kovach, 2006). Hence, as argued by Fuchs et al. (Chapter 3), TNCs do not have any input-related democratic legitimacy, and it might in fact be unrealistic to believe that these actors could derive legitimacy in

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this way. It seems more pertinent to focus on strengthening throughput legitimacy in the form of transparency and forms of accountability that go beyond shareholders to include other stakeholders. Following this way of reasoning, TNCs should be accountable not only to shareholders, but also to people significantly affected by their activities. Considering the power of TNCs, it is reasonable to demand accountability mechanisms that enforce sanctions rather than voluntary arrangements. As concluded by Fuchs et al. (Chapter 3), mechanisms to control corporate power need to be developed. This will require a higher degree of regulation of public as well as private governance in which TNCs play a significant role. TNAs primarily driven by normative values, including all kinds of civil society actors, also suffer from input-related deficiencies. As argued by Pallas (Chapter 5), most NGOs are only accountable to a portion of their nominal constituency. Large transnational advocacy NGOs may actually represent their funders rather than the people they claim to represent. And patterns of inclusion and exclusion in transnational social movements, as argued by Beauzamy (Chapter 6), tend to reproduce social hierarchies. As demonstrated by Peruzzotti’s analysis (Chapter 8), however, electoral representation is problematic and often inadequate, especially for civil society actors. Instead we might focus on the non-electoral representation of relevant stakeholders and/or ideas and the accountability to diverse stakeholders. NGO accountability should vary depending on political context, mission of NGO, and demands of different stakeholders (Jordan and van Tuijl, 2006: 5). As argued by Charnovitz (2006: 41), accountability mechanisms for NGOs should ideally be voluntary. Civil society organizations (CSOs) can actively create accountability systems and enhance their (democratic) legitimacy (Brown, 2008). Dominant accountability discourses concerning NGOs, however, tend to privilege the position of governments and other donors and ignore less powerful stakeholders. They feature top-down accountability mechanisms that are often not in line with the mission and values of the NGO, and do not address the rights of NGOs to operate. Therefore many scholars have proposed alternative accountability models, arguably more appropriate for NGOs. Jordan (2007) suggests a rightbased approach to accountability. This approach challenges NGOs, trying to create accountability mechanisms, to address questions not only concerning who their stakeholders are and for what they are accountable, but also what rights they rely on and what rights they are trying to realize (Jordan, 2007: 163).

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Whereas democratic governments rely on representative legitimacy, firms typically practice a form of principal-agent accountability. Brown (2008: 37–8) argues that neither of these accountability models are very useful for CSOs. Instead he proposes a model of ‘mutual accountability,’ understood as a relationship in which all parties are important and exercise mutual influence. Parties to mutual accountability define shared values and responsibilities and develop mutual trust. Sanctions are social and moral rather than political, legal, or economic. Moving beyond this debate on alternative forms of representation, Peruzzotti (Chapter 8) distinguishes between, on the one hand, the traditional ‘mirror’ aspect of representation when actors make claims seeking to reflect an already existing constituency and, on the other hand, the ‘creative’ aspect of representation when actors make abstract and normative claims that do not necessarily reflect existing constituencies. The creative dimension includes activities that challenge a dominant configuration of interests and try to create new constituencies. This is the character of much civil society activism, and such actors should not be subject to traditional representative requirements according to the ‘mirror’ logic. If they are, the creative dimension, which plays an important role in democratic politics, might suffer. Social movements belong to the types of TNAs that make the strongest claims to input, throughput, and output legitimacy. As argued by Beauzamy (Chapter 6), many transnational social movements claim both that their internal organization is democratic and that they contribute to a democratization of global governance. Although having problems with formal representation, many social movements claim to give voice to underprivileged and marginalized people and represent their ideas and interests. The Global Justice Movement, in particular, has been innovative concerning throughput related aspects of democracy, including new forms of direct and deliberative democracy. However, as shown by Beauzamy, when confronting movement practices with the democratic ideals, a number of tensions and cleavages are apparent. Philanthropic foundations, operating as funders in a transnational civil society sphere, score poorly on input and throughput legitimacy, as shown by Vogel (Chapter 4). In particular, this kind of actor is typically characterized by a lack of transparency. To the extent that they can claim democratic legitimacy, it is in the form of output legitimacy through the funding of activities aiming at increasing democracy (in global, national, and local governance). Given the power of the largest (often US-based) foundations and their significant influence on transnational

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civil society campaigns (cf. Chapter 5), it is reasonable to demand more transparency and accountability to diverse stakeholders. The diversity of diaspora groups makes it particularly difficult to make a general assessment of their democratic credentials. As argued by Kinnvall and Petersson (Chapter 7), the democratic legitimacy of diaspora groups is highly context dependent. Input and throughput legitimacy is often lacking or questionable. For most diaspora groups the most credible claim to democratic legitimacy is probably output-related, for instance, through contributing to a process of democratization in their country of origin. Some diaspora groups may also give voice to previously excluded people in certain global governance contexts. Although we cannot draw any firm conclusions from the above discussion, it does open the door for the argument that different kinds of TNAs do not necessarily have to be democratic in the same way and to the same extent. Requirements of democratic qualities may differ between different types of actors. For instance, it seems reasonable to argue, as we have done, in favor of more self-regulation rather than government control of civil society and, at the same time, be in favor of more government (and civil society) control rather than self-regulation of TNCs. Accountability mechanisms appropriate for the market sphere, for example, might not be helpful on the civil society arena, and some democratic credentials of civil society actors can hardly be transferred to the market sphere. Turning to the power dimension, it is generally argued that the more powerful an actor is, the more important it is to make arrangements for democratic control. TNAs which have a significant autonomyconstraining impact on (groups of) people should be subject to democratic requirements. In particular, the inclusion of all significantly affected stakeholders is emphasized. Less powerful actors, which do not affect people’s living conditions in any significant way, do not have to be democratic. In line with this reasoning, we should demand that large resourceful NGOs strengthen their democratic credentials, whereas we do not have to care so much about small NGOs lacking any significant political influence. Large TNCs, in particular, should be subject to democratic requirements as they, arguably, belong to the most powerful TNAs, based on their material resources and mobility – but also increasingly formal and informal access to global policy-making – and their exercise of discursive power. As argued by Fuchs et al. (Chapter 3), TNCs frequently take part in both private and public rule-making, and the democratic legitimacy of these arrangements should be critically assessed. Philanthropic foundations, especially the major American

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foundations, also have considerable influence on global governance, not least through their capacity to shape the agenda of NGOs they fund, as demonstrated by Pallas (Chapter 5). Indeed, transnational social movements and diaspora groups may be powerful actors in world politics as well, but their influence on global governance is typically more diffuse. Not only is it reasonable to demand that more powerful actors should be subject to stricter democratic requirements than less powerful actors. Democratic requirements may also depend on forms of power. TNAs relying on economic resources (like TNCs and foundations) should be subject to formal requirements concerning transparency and accountability. By contrast, transnational civil society actors which primarily exercise discursive power should ideally have deliberative qualities. When determining appropriate democratic requirements for different types of TNAs, their relative power must be taken into account. It can be argued that CSOs should not be accountable to the targets of their campaigns, because these targets are typically far more powerful actors, like states, IOs, or TNCs (Bendell and Cox, 2006: 114–5). Hence, it is important to focus not only on actors, but also on the social and political systems in which they act. Erman (Chapter 9) moves beyond a focus on characteristics of TNAs to an analysis of the democratic role TNAs are ascribed in global governance. Similarly, Peruzzotti (Chapter 8) calls for a stronger focus on ‘bridging arenas’ and ‘mediated politics’ rather than democratic credentials of TNAs per se. This focus on the roles TNAs play in broader institutional structures of global governance is reflected in the analysis of TNCs by Fuchs et al. (Chapter 3). They emphasize the activities of TNCs in public and private global governance arrangements rather than internal actor characteristics, and show that TNCs typically have much more influence on rule-making than have less resourceful civil society actors. Hence, it is reasonable to require more mechanisms for democratic control of TNCs’ activities in global rule-making. Another dimension in relation to which TNAs differ is the degree of politicization. One common presumption, which we find reasonable, is that highly political TNAs, having formal or informal privileged access to global policy-making, like many big TNCs and NGOs, should have some input-related democratic legitimacy. This assumption nurtures from the all affected principle, to be further discussed below, which plays a crucial role in most contemporary theorizing of global democracy. From this point of view, the question of electoral or non-electoral representation of stakeholders becomes an important issue when we deal with formal policy-making. One might argue that the requirements of democratic representation and accountability should be limited to

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purely political actors. In fact, it is often argued that TNAs whose main focus is not politics should not be subject to democratic demands, although they should still be transparent. Arguably, this would exclude TNCs, epistemic communities and service-delivering NGOs – provided that they do not take part in global policy-making – from democratic requirements. However, if we understand politics as related to power – not only in the sense of decision-making within a narrowly defined political sphere – actors that wield a lot of power and have a fundamental impact on the lives of many people should be subject to tough democratic requirements, even if they are not involved in formal rule-making. Focusing on the internal structure of TNAs, a distinction can be made based on the degree of formal organization. For diffuse networks, like diaspora groups and social movements, non-electoral representation, deliberation, and participation in a broad sense could be important democratic values. For example, ‘mutual accountability’ might be an appropriate form of throughput legitimacy. Electoral representation and accountability are not feasible mechanisms within diffuse networks. By contrast, formal institutions, like NGOs, foundations, and TNCs, might ideally feature both electoral and non-electoral forms of representation. Participation in decision-making, for instance, is an important issue concerning this kind of actor. While we have suggested that democratic requirements appropriate for TNAs might justifiably vary depending on, for instance, their motivations, power, and internal structure, there are some aspects of democratic legitimacy that are relevant for all types of actors. Transparency is something that we could, and ought to, demand from all kinds of TNAs (and other actors like states and international organizations, too, of course). Indeed, transparency can be seen as a necessary condition for accountability. Organizations whose decision-making processes are kept secret cannot be held accountable. If relevant stakeholders have no access to information about a decision-making process, there is no way they can hold the decision-makers accountable. While a degree of transparency is necessary for realizing other democratic goals, transparency per se does not make an actor democratic. It is only in combination with other democratic qualities that transparency increases the democratic legitimacy of an actor. The case studies included in this volume show that some aspects of input and throughput legitimacy are clearly not relevant for some TNAs. However, assessing all kinds of TNAs based on their democratic output legitimacy, conceptualized as the consequences of their activities

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for the democratization of global governance, seems appropriate. As argued by Uhlin (Chapter 2), conceptualizing output legitimacy in terms of efficiency or problem-solving capacity is misleading if we are concerned with democratic legitimacy. However, TNAs may gain democratic legitimacy by strengthening the democratic quality of different governance arrangements on local and national as well as global levels. Most TNCs would not claim to have this kind of legitimacy, but many philanthropic foundations, NGOs, social movements, and diaspora groups do claim democratic output legitimacy. As shown in Vogel’s detailed analysis of US philanthropy in the Middle East (Chapter 4), foundations sponsor a number of projects aimed at strengthening democracy and the development of civil society in the region as well as on a global scale. The advocacy NGOs examined in Pallas’ chapter (Chapter 5) claim to target the World Bank in order to make this global governance institution more accountable to its stakeholders. Acting as a force for global democratization is an important aspect of the self-image of activists within the Global Justice Movement, examined by Beauzamy (Chapter 6). As demonstrated by Kinnvall and Petersson (Chapter 7), many diaspora groups claim to struggle for democracy in their homeland, and strengthen democracy in their host societies and different global governance arrangements, through the representation of otherwise marginalized groups. To what extent such claims are well-founded is an empirical question. Philanthropic foundations might fund projects paying lip-service to democratic principles without having any real democratizing effects. The advocacy campaigns by NGOs and social movements might fail to contribute to the democratization of global governance. And diaspora groups might contribute to the replacement of an authoritarian regime with another authoritarian regime. Nevertheless, assessing output legitimacy is important, and this opens up for a broader analysis of the democratic role of TNAs in global governance at large, pursued below. First, however, we will consider trade-offs between different democratic values.

Democratic trade-offs Achieving all the different input-, output-, and throughput-related democratic values is not easy. Although some might reinforce each other – like transparency and accountability, as referred to above – there might also be tensions and trade-offs between them. Some of these trade-offs have been noted in the literature (cf. Dingwerth, 2007: 202–3). Here we will elaborate on what we perceive as the most salient

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trade-offs, based on the analysis of different types of TNAs treated in this volume. As argued by Peruzzotti (Chapter 8), demanding that advocacy NGOs have representative qualities in line with the ‘mirror logic’ would inhibit them from playing a democratizing role through the ‘creative’ side of representation. Such NGOs should not be forced to implement mechanisms for transferring authority from an existing constituency, if they instead represent values and interests which cannot be traced to any definitely delineated constituency. They might in fact be involved in processes, which challenge existing orders and create new constituencies, something that is an essential aspect of any process of democratization. Hence, concerning advocacy NGOs – and many other civil society actors, too, we would add – there is a trade-off between representation (according to the ‘mirror’ logic) and democratic output legitimacy (understood as the contribution to democratization). Another trade-off is evident between inclusion and accountability. A common claim in theories of global democracy is that all (significantly) affected stakeholders should be included. However, if the stakeholders who have a right to be included are a very large and diverse group, accountability becomes problematic. Finding accountability mechanisms that work for a limited set of well-defined stakeholders might be rather easy, but if the number of stakeholders increases, claims of accountability become more diffuse. Generally speaking, the larger the number of stakeholders the weaker accountability is. In practice, being accountable to everyone often means not being accountable to anyone. This tension between inclusion and accountability is not easily solved. Similarly, extensive inclusion may also be an obstacle to genuine deliberation. It is commonly noted that deliberation works best in small groups. Improving the quality of deliberation within a TNA is hard to achieve, at the same time as the TNA is made more inclusive. Deliberation seems to be particularly prone to tensions with other democratic values. Beauzamy (Chapter 6) identifies a cleavage between deliberation and protest action within the Global Justice Movement. On the one hand, deliberation is a central value for this movement, and it has indeed been innovative in creating new deliberative arenas; on the other hand, direct action and protest rallies are key activities for many activists associated with the movement. The question is if internal democratic debates or protest actions against political opponents should be privileged. Coercive and confrontational protest activities do not go well together with deliberative ideals of communicative action. But many activists argue that direct activism is needed in order to achieve

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social change. Deliberation cannot work in a context of deep structural inequality, they claim. Beauzamy (Chapter 6) also identifies a cleavage between different views of deliberation. From one perspective, deliberation is considered valuable because of its inherent diversity and pluralism. From another perspective, deliberation is seen as an instrument to reach consensus. Hence, some activists within the Global Justice Movement see deliberation as valuable per se, whereas others see it as a decision-making instrument aimed at reaching consensus. Such trade-offs between different democratic values are evident not only concerning the democratic credentials of different kinds of TNAs, but also in a broader context of global governance. In the remaining part of this chapter we move beyond the focus on the democratic legitimacy of TNAs per se, in order to examine legitimacy issues in the broader context of global governance in which TNAs act. In doing this, we outline some implications for normative democratic theory of the findings of this volume. We start with an inquiry into formal and informal tracks binding people with political authority in a transnational context.

The formal and informal tracks of democracy Civil society actors feature prominently among the TNAs analyzed in this volume. Therefore, it is fruitful to elaborate more on the relationship between civil society and democracy. Civil society generally refers to the set of institutions and human activity that are located outside the state or government. It includes, for example, churches, voluntary associations and social movements, and on some conceptions even families. Contemporary political theorists in different ways try to sort out and elaborate what role civil society plays, and ought to play, in democracy. Apart from the more formalistic theories of democracy inspired by Joseph Schumpeter, which tend to define democracy solely in terms of periodical voting among citizens, civil society activity has almost become inseparable from the notion of citizenship in democratic theorizing. It is widely held that a democratic system cannot uphold its legitimacy through a formal ‘track’ alone – consisting of formal representation, a system of rights, and electoral aggregation binding the people and the government via a voting procedure – but that an informal ‘track’ is equally important. Informal public discussions can, for example, identify social problems that lie outside the agenda of formal politics and bring them into political decision-making, as well as critically examine political rule-makers and require accountability

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(Habermas, 1996: 365). Thus, in democratic theory, citizenship is not primarily associated with ‘nationality’ but with a normative ideal of participation in a democratic community. It is argued that the health of democracy depends as much on its citizens’ participatory qualities as on its institutional structures. In recent decades we have witnessed a revitalization of the concept of civil society in research on democracy beyond the nation-state. One plausible explanation to this is that, since there is no formal track in the traditional sense to bind world citizens to global governance institutions (with a few exceptions) the informal track has received much more attention. Most often it is presumed that citizens’ political activity through informal public discussions in the public sphere could, to some extent, compensate for a lack of formal and legal democratic structure on the regional and global levels of politics. Moreover, the political activity taking place on the transnational level is much more complex and multifaceted, since TNAs by definition cross state boundaries. No actor could illustrate this better than diaspora groups, who transgress boundaries in multiple ways and are even hard to define in terms of an actor. Indeed, this is why Kinnvall and Petersson (Chapter 7) choose to look at diasporas in terms of practice, i.e., focusing on how representatives of diaspora communities influence global governance structures. As is evident from the contributions to this volume, today’s international political scene, consisting of both a growing number of TNAs and a growing diversity of these actors, has made questions about democracy and democratic legitimacy increasingly urgent. At the same time, these questions force us to return to the basic conditions of democracy. When democracy is depicted as a system consisting of a formal and an informal track, a democratic theory presupposes that they connect the same subjects, so to speak. That is, for a system to be considered democratic, the two tracks cannot be detached and directed in whatever ways. Rather, they are supposed to secure democratic decision-making within a legally bounded community – thus binding the constituency (citizenry) to the political authority via political action in formal and informal ways. This means that the citizens who engage in civil society activities to push their government for greater transparency and accountability should equally possess a formal status as participants in egalitarian decision-making protected by a system of basic rights. Accordingly, if this government performs accountably and transparently, this performance is directed to, and thus is for, the people under its rule, even if people on the ‘outside’ benefit from it as well. Strictly

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speaking, this means that, no matter how many different TNAs are politically active on the global political scene, and no matter how vital a global civil society, it is doubtful to what extent this can be said to increase global democracy, unless a global polity is developed in tandem. Looking at the different proposals for making global institutions more democratic from this theoretical point of view, problems arise that in our view would gain from being elaborated further. For one, it sheds new light on the democratic trade-offs discussed earlier. Certainly, tradeoffs between different democratic values are a reality for any democratic system. But with an eye to the international political arena, in which the informal and formal tracks are dispersed, some trade-offs seem to give us no (or very little) guidance as to whether the democratic legitimacy of global governance institutions is, in fact, strengthened. Moreover, while some trade-offs are in principle compatible with the basic idea that the informal and formal political activity in question is coupled to the same legal subjects, others become more problematic. For example, increased deliberation at the expense of egalitarian representation would be hard to justify democratically. We believe that future research would have to take a closer look at which trade-offs are relevant from a democratic point of view, and which are better described as being about something else, for example, about making global governance institutions more accountable and transparent, or more just. These values have democratic force within a democratic system, in which legal subjects are tied to their political authorities via formal and informal pathways. In light of Erman’s criticism of the tendency to add democratic values in the attempt to increase global democracy (Chapter 9), political theorists would have to ask themselves, for example, what throughput legitimacy can possibly mean in the absence of input legitimacy and, likewise, what output legitimacy could mean in the absence of input legitimacy. The problem of separating the formal and informal tracks in global governance calls for further inquiry into alternative approaches to democratic legitimacy in a global political context. One such attempt is made by Peruzotti (Chapter 8), who argues that we should redirect the question about the democratic credentials of TNAs from a focus on actors and agency to a focus on institutions. A similar conclusion is drawn by Erman (Chapter 9), who claims that we cannot even investigate the democratic credentials of TNAs without studying the political role they are supposed to play in a given institutional structure. From this point of view, as acknowledged by Peruzotti, we had better focus our attention on the institutional characteristics of

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those formal and informal spaces that are supposed to mediate between decision-making bodies and constituencies, in order to find proper ‘institutional bridges’ between them. In fact, all contributions to the volume, in one way or another, study the political activities of different TNAs in different institutional structures rather than as a separate political phenomenon. We wish to address two additional problems raised by the theoretical and empirical research of this volume, which should be further examined in future research on democracy beyond the nation-state. The first concerns the central role that the all-affected principle plays in almost all literature on democratic global governance, including the present volume; the second concerns how democratic theory should deal with transnational market actors. We address each problem under separate headings. Indeed, since both problems raise the question of what normative ideals different suggestions for more democratic global governance are anchored to, we conclude by saying a few words about alternative sources of legitimacy.

Global governance and the all-affected principle revisited An attractive idea in discussions of global democracy is the all-affected principle. In its general form, this principle states that those who are relevantly affected by a decision should in some sense have influence over it. Although there are numerous interpretations of this principle present in the contemporary debate on global governance – for example, specifying what it means to be affected, who should count as affected in a non-trivial sense, and so on – the general idea that those who are relevantly affected by a decision should, in some sense, have influence over it is often explicitly or implicitly presupposed. ‘Affected’ is usually understood in causal terms, to what extent a decision has a causal effect on a person’s opportunities, welfare, or something similar (e.g., Held, 1995; Shapiro, 2003). There has been an intense debate concerning the proper application of the all-affected principle and the problem that ‘the people,’ the demos, is likely to vary for every decision being made, since different governments will affect different subjects (Whelan, 1983; Saward, 2000; Scheuerman, 2002; Näsström, 2010). Rather than seeing this as a defect of the principle, however, some have argued that this is just a fact of democracy beyond the nation-state, in light of the conditions of globalization (Held, 1995). Judging by this dispute, it seems to matter whether the all-affected principle is regarded as (part of a) normative ideal or a method for decision-making.

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Without doubt, the all-affected principle has played a fundamental role in the political struggles for inclusion in the history of democracy. However, this historical aspect is not of interest here. Rather, we are concerned with its normative status and role as a general principle in today’s debate on the democratic deficit of global governance and TNAs. With an eye to TNAs, it is widely held that the more powerful an actor, in terms of affecting peoples’ basic living conditions, the more democratic it ought to be. However, on this presumption, the principle seems to be used to justify the boundaries of the demos rather than specifying under what conditions a system is considered democratic. Certainly, we do not suggest that the all-affected principle cannot be part of a normative democratic ideal. What we claim is, first, that it cannot alone make up such an ideal; and, second, that it needs to be specified to be applicable to democratic theory. For it is one particular version of the all-affected principle that lies at the heart of the concept of democracy, namely, the idea that those who are subject to a law (or political decision) as its addressees should simultaneously be made authors of this law, that is, have an equal say (directly or indirectly) in its making. Thus, in a democratic context there is a presumed symmetry between rule-makers and rule-takers anchored to the all-affected principle, which demands the free and equal participation in egalitarian decision-making procedures, through which people bind themselves to the law or decision in question. If we return to the two tracks above, which bind a citizenry to a political authority, we see that democratic self-rule already presupposes a bounded political community, in the sense that informal and formal institutional structures must already be in place in order for those who are subject to a political decision to have an equal say (directly or indirectly) in its making as free and equal participants in egalitarian decision-making. One cannot simply presume, as is commonly done, that, as soon as we deal with global democracy, this problem is solved (or dissolved), because a global demos includes all human beings by definition. For, until the proper institutional structures are in place we cannot speak of a demos in the proper democratic sense of the word, but only of a possible future demos. There is another difficulty connected to the use of the all-affected principle in the literature on TNAs in global governance. As we have just argued, rather than being equipped to say much about what would make a system or an actor democratic, the all-affected principle specifies which actors should be included in a global democratic system. But from the point of view that a democratic system consists of two parts,

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a political authority and a citizenry or demos, very little is said about where TNAs fit into this democratic architecture and why. When we are concerned with powerful actors, such as TNCs, they are often treated as a kind of political authority, required to become more democratically legitimate and accountable to stakeholders. When we are dealing with politically weaker actors, on the other hand, such as NGOs and diaspora groups, we are often placing them on the other side of the equation, among the citizenry who makes claims on, for example, international organizations. Yet, it is not obvious that any of these TNAs should be placed on either side, at least not without further argument. We think that more work needs to be done in studying what democratic role the all-affected principle plays in this context, and what other normative roles it plays.

Global democracy and the market This brings us to the second problem – which is, to some extent, an illustration of the first, since it concerns one particular kind of TNA – namely, actors within the market sphere. As several empirical studies of this book illustrate, such actors increasingly play an important role in global governance. These TNAs are not government or state actors, yet not civil society actors either. While the contemporary literature on democracy and global governance still tends to equate TNAs with civil society actors, such as NGOs and social movements, we should pay more attention to those TNAs which are located within the market domain. As shown by Fuchs et al. (Chapter 3), transnational corporations (TNCs) do not only cause concern from the point of view of market competition, but also from the point of view of legitimacy, since they increasingly affect peoples’ lives all over the world and the international political system at large. Similarly, as claimed by Vogel (Chapter 4), philanthropy has a lot of influence over policy in both regional and global contexts. How should we conceive of the economic domain from a democratic point of view? Is it part of the civil society, and should it play a role in global democracy as well, by becoming integrated into the formal and/or informal track? This question is crucial for any political theorist who wishes to contribute to the debate on the democratic legitimacy of global governance. And it becomes even more complex, once we consider the fact that most TNAs outside of the economic domain are financed by, and dependent on, economic actors. In light of Pallas’ research (Chapter 5), the role of funding in determining the political positions of transnational advocacy networks seems hard to neglect.

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While the liberal tradition in all its versions has upheld a distinction between civil society and state, how to get the economic sphere into this equation has been much contested. For Hegel, civil society consisted of a network of civil, cultural, and economic activities as well as legal institutions. Marx, on the other hand, considered civil society to be foremost an economic society and a class society. In the contemporary debate in political theory, however, the economic sphere is under-theorized in this context, located in no man’s land somewhere between or outside civil society and the state. This needs to be addressed further by normative political theory in a transnational context. For example, to problematize the common use of the all-affected principle discussed before – claiming that the more powerful an actor, the more rigid requirements for democratic control are called for – we might ask whether, for example, TNCs ought to become more democratically legitimate at all. The recent global financial crisis can illustrate this point. Even if people in the rich part of the world already go about as if everything is back to ‘business as usual,’ we have not yet seen the proportions of social injustices that poor and vulnerable groups and states will have to bear in the near future because of the global economic crisis. With focus directed to transnational market actors from the point of view of democracy – in the search for scapegoats and for people to hold to account – we implicitly presuppose that business is, and should be, responsible for our normative ideal of the global common good. But as expressed by Habermas (2008), politics turns itself into a laughing stock, when it moralizes instead of relying on the enforceable law of the democratic legislator. The democratic system is responsible for promoting the common good, and how transnational ‘market’ actors are supposed to be connected to such a system needs to be investigated rather than simply presupposed. This is yet another example of how the all-affected principle might be problematic. While the justification for inclusion of actors, according to this principle, lies in the normative force of affectedness (of affecting and being affected), how to define and justify this affectedness is itself a political and perhaps even a democratic question. For example, concerning economic TNAs we might take one step back and ask whether their power instead should be legally constrained and limited through regulation, in order to restrict, or at least control, the extent to which they affect people’s lives and basic interests, rather than immediately assuming that they ought to be ascribed a democratic role in global governance. In order to offer a more fine-grained comparative analysis of different TNAs in global democratic decision-making, much more work

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needs to be done with regard to where exactly economic transnational ‘market’ actors fit into the democratic structure, as well as what kinds of affectedness are relevant from a democratic point of view, and for what reasons.

Democratic legitimacy and other sources of legitimacy Systematic research on TNAs in global governance is relatively new. In light of what has been said so far, it is evident that TNAs have commonly been ascribed a role that is often unclear with regard to its democratic merits in the literature on democracy beyond the nation-state. One reason for this, we argue, is that they have been analyzed within a diffuse conceptual framework. In order to bring conceptual clarity to what ‘the rule by the people’ might mean in a global context, both empirical and theoretical research would gain by carefully distinguishing between the conceptually necessary conditions for democracy and empirical prerequisites for democracy. Although conceptual and empirical aspects certainly are intimately related, they had better be kept apart, if the task is to make sense of and theorize the role of TNAs in global democracy. Drawing on this distinction, we can more easily discover alternative sources of legitimacy, other ways of contributing to ‘better’ global governance. The concept of citizenship is often said to constitute three elements. It is regarded as a legal status, defined by civil, political, and social rights; as a status for political agency; and as membership in a political community (Cohen, 1999; Carens, 2000). While less has been said about the legal dimension in a transnational context, political scientists are exploring alternative venues for political agency and for membership as a sense of solidarity in the global community. In the absence of a two-track (formal and informal) bridge between a global demos and international institutions, developing such venues may open up innovative roles for TNAs in achieving better global governance. Our point is that, through the distinction above, the normative essence of these different roles could be more clearly defined. One way of proceeding would be to push central democratic values such as transparency, accountability, and participation in ‘through the back door,’ as it were. On the one hand, we cannot neglect the fact that global governance institutions most of the time are not bounded by the people subject to their rule (i.e., a citizenry/demos) – neither through a formal nor an informal track – and are therefore not democratically legitimate. On the other hand, even though a formal track remains conspicuous by its absence on the global level, we witness a growing web of

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politically active and/or influential TNAs, which constitute fragments of an informal track – a track consisting of public processes of opinion – and will-formation, through which communicative power can flow from active world ‘citizens’ into institutionalized decision-making and legislation globally. Indeed, even if these activities cannot increase the democratic legitimacy of international organizations standing by themselves, they can push those organizations to advance core values of democracy. If such requirements were to be met, we might coherently talk about an increased political or normative legitimacy of global governance institutions. As has been amply illustrated by different empirical case studies in this volume, democratic values, such as transparency, accountability, and participation, might be strengthened in numerous different ways in global governance. What we mean by getting such values in through the back door is that, even if they do not fulfill the conceptually necessary conditions for democracy, either standing by themselves or added together, they might improve the chances of increased democratic legitimacy by promoting the prerequisites for democracy globally. Another route to take would be to take a further step away from democratic theory and look elsewhere for an answer to the question of how to make global governance institutions more legitimate in a situation where economic, political, social, and environmental problems increasingly cut across nation-state borders. To be sure, democracy is only one normative ideal among many. In the present context, what come to mind primarily as attractive alternative ideals are different approaches to global justice. This would not necessarily (or even likely) mean that democracy would become irrelevant: Quite the reverse. In defense of, say, a theory of global distributive justice, it might reasonably be argued that democracy as a decision-making method is the most promising strategy to achieve this goal. In choosing such an alternative path, political theorists would have to ask what requirements of justice we can plausibly demand from international organizations in order to call them legitimate, and what role TNAs should play in order to achieve better global governance in this respect. Indeed, in this context, ‘better’ would not allude to ‘more democratic’ but rather to ‘more morally justified or just.’ Moreover, in cases where both global justice and democracy are seen as attractive (and even compatible) normative ideals, political theorists would have to inquire into the complex question of how different kinds of moral legitimacy relate to democratic legitimacy. Would it be acceptable to aspire for a more just world by way of decreasing democracy? Of course, the answer to

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this question would very much depend on what conception of democracy is defended and, of course, what kind of justice is supposed to be promoted. If we refer to social (distributive) justice, we might presume that a more equal distribution of primary goods worldwide would promote the prerequisites for democracy. However, we might equally well assume, in line with Amartya Sen, that democracy is the best protection against severe poverty, famine, and human suffering (Sen, 1999; cf. Agné, 2010). Indeed, in approaching the problem of the legitimacy of global governance via some other normative ideal than democracy, political theorists would redirect their focus from the democratic credentials of TNAs in global governance to their moral credentials. At the same time, within a coherent conceptual framework, these credentials, whichever they are, would at least be clearly spelled out.

References Agné, H. (2010) ‘Does global democracy matter? Hypotheses on famine and war,’ in C. Jönsson and J. Tallberg (eds) Transnational Actors in Global Governance (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan). Bendell, J. and P. Cox (2006) ‘The donor accountability agenda,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Brown, L. D. (2008) Creating Credibility: Legitimacy and Accountability for Transnational Civil Society (Sterling, VA: Kumarian Press). Carens, J. (2000) Culture, Citizenship, and Community: A Contextual Exploration of Justice as Evenhandedness (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Charnovitz, S. (2006) ‘Accountability of non-governmental organizations in global governance,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Cohen, J. (1999) ‘Changing paradigms of citizenship and the exclusiveness of the demos,’ International Sociology, 14: 245–68. Dingwerth, K. (2007) The New Transnationalism: Transnational Governance and Democratic Legitimacy (Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan). Ebrahim, A. (2007) ‘Towards a reflective accountability in NGOs,’ in A. Ebrahim and E. Weisband (eds) Global Accountabilities: Participation, Pluralism, and Public Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Gregoratti, C. (2010) ‘UNDP, business partnerships and the (UN)democratic governance of development,’ in M. Bexell and U. Mörth (eds) Democracy and PublicPrivate Partnerships in Global Governance (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan). Habermas, J. (1996) Between Facts and Norms: Contributions to a Discourse Theory of Law and Democracy (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press). Habermas, J. (2008) ‘Life after bankruptcy,’ Die Zeit, 27 November. Held, D. (1995) Models of Democracy (Cambridge: Polity Press). Jordan, L. (2007) ‘A rights-based approach to accountability,’ in A. Ebrahim and E. Weisband (eds) Global Accountabilities: Participation, Pluralism, and Public Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).

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Jordan, L. and P. van Tuijl (2006) ‘Rights and responsibilities in the political landscape of NGO accountability: Introduction and overview,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability. Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Kovach, H. (2006) ‘Addressing accountability at the global level: The challenges facing international NGOs,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO Accountability: Politics, Principles and Innovations (London: Earthscan). Näsström, S. (2010) ‘Democracy counts: Problems of equality in global democracy,’ in C. Jönsson and J. Tallberg (eds) Transnational Actors in Global Governance (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan). Saward, M. (2000) ‘A critique of held,’ in B. Holden (ed.) Global Democracy: Key Debates (London: Routledge). Scheuerman, W. (2002) ‘Cosmopolitan democracy and the rule of law,’ Ratio Juris, 15: 439–57. Sen, A. (1999) ‘Democracy as a universal value,’ Journal of Democracy, 10: 3–17. Shapiro, I. (2003) The State of Democratic Theory (Princeton: Princeton University Press). Weisband, E. and A. Ebrahim (2007) ‘Introduction: Forging global accountabilities,’ in A. Ebrahim and E. Weisband (eds) Global Accountabilities: Participation, Pluralism, and Public Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Whelan, F. (1983) ‘Democratic theory and the boundary problem,’ in J. Pennock and J. Chapman (eds) Liberal Democracy (New York: New York University Press).

Index Note: page numbers in italics refer to tables in the text 50 Years Is Enough campaign 101 accountability ambiguity of 126 concept analysis 27–30 constructivist concerns 28 and democratic participation 113 Ebrahim and Weisband’s focus 7, 28 and electoral delegation 160 exclusion of democratic 29–30 focus on procedural in global governance 179 as instrumental value 183 levels of analysis 195 in philanthropic foundations 69–70, 78 post-diaspora Muslim groups 144–7 of private food standards 54 as socially constructed means of control 7, 28 and stakeholders 29 in throughput legitimacy 27–30, 105 TNC democratic legitimacy evaluation 46–7, 53–4, 58 transnational civil society actors and 32 transparency as a necessary condition for 58 upward and downward models 164 Accountability Charter for International Advocacy NGOs and Networks (IANGO Charter) 69 accountability mechanisms elections’ limitations as 157, 165 and empowerment 28–9 literature on 28

need for 47 non-electoral 25 tensions in the construction of 29, 202 for transnational NGOs 195 Aceh 134 additive view of global democracy assumptions 189 and bindingness 185–7 characteristics 178 concept analysis 175 critical examination 183–9 examples 178–83 and legitimacy 185 and political equality 184–5 and Scharpf’s input/output distinction 178 and self-government 183–4 ‘separateness thesis’ 178, 187–8 Westphalian argument 177 and the Westphalian model 183 advocacy, and increased transparency 32 advocacy networks 8, 153, 161 advocacy NGOs ‘constituency entrepreneurship’ 163 corruption risks 166 democratic legitimacy of 162–6 upward and downward accountability models 164 see also NGO advocacy in IDA-10 advocacy organizations 98–9, 153, 163–4 Aga Khan Foundation 92 all-affected principle 7, 26, 181, 184, 188, 194, 206–8, 209 America-Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) 134 Amnesty International 135–6 Andijon massacre, Uzbekistan 137 214

Index Anti-Defamation League 135 anti-Semitism 135, 140 anti-terror legislation, as attack on democracy 137 ATTAC 115, 118 autonomy, degree of 19, 34, 134 Bäckstrand, K. 187 Beckmann, D. 92 Bentley, A.F. 159 Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation 66, 71, 74 Birthright Israel 77 Bluestar Operation 136 boomerang theory 94 Bread for the World 91, 93 Brown, D. 6–7 Browne, K., Mernissi, F. and 139 Brubaker, R. 18, 131, 133, 140 Brugvin, T. 116 Brunkhorst, H. 190 Caillé, A. 115 CARE 91–2, 95, 97 Carlarne, C. and Carlarne, J. 25 Carnegie Corporation of New York 64–5, 74 Carter, S. 130 certification bodies 47, 50, 53 Cesari, J. 145 Chambers, S. 31 Charles Stewart Mott Foundation grants awarded 98–9, 102 influence 102 initiation of grant recipients’ activities 100 MDB reform support 99 principal-agent relationship 99–100 Charnovitz, S. 25 Chechnya 134 The Chronicle of Philanthropy 71, 73 Church of Ireland Bishops’ Appeal 92 Church World Service 91, 93, 95 civic participation 138, 159 civil society, vs political society 24

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civil society participation, in global democratization processes 178–81 Civil Society Participation in European and Global Governance (Steffek/Kissling/Nanz) 178 Climate Change Conference, Copenhagen 3–4 CO2 emissions, reduction proposals 55, 57 Cold War foreign policy, and foundation legitimacy 64 Columbian Missionaries 92 Conservation International 97 constituent politics characteristics of 158–9 variations in composition 160 consumer power, as form of check against TNCs’ abuse of power 195 Coutrot, T. 124 crop biodiversity, Gates Foundation grant for preservation of 74 CSOs (civil society organizations) democratic legitimacy 153–5 democratization of global governance role 180 Dahl, R.A. 85, 179 dam projects, World Bank funding 89–90, 95 degree of autonomy 19, 34, 134 delegation, state-based democracy’s requirements 85 deliberation and cleavages in GJM 118–22, 126 CSO attention to 118 and minority representation 114 proneness to tensions with other democratic values 202–3 requirements of democratic arrangements for 179–80 in throughput legitimacy 31 deliberative democracy Habermas’ two-track model of 180, 188 requirements 180 suitability for global governance 179

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Della Porta, D. 123 DeMars, W. E. 19 democracy congenital weaknesses 157 defining the relationship between legitimacy and 10 formal and informal tracks of 203–6 literal meaning of 183 necessary conditions 183, 185–6 democratic legitimacy concept analysis 10, 177 distinctions 22–3 input vs output 177 key democratic values 24 literature review 21 and other sources of legitimacy 210–12 Scharpf’s input/output distinction 177, 178 source of authorization 177 typology 23 see also foundation legitimacy; input legitimacy; normative legitimacy; output legitimacy; throughput legitimacy democratic representation claim-making process 160–1 dominant understanding of 156 elitist model 156–7 the mirror and the creative dimension of 160–2 toward a relational approach 156–60 democratic system, consistent parts 176 democratic trade-offs 201–3 Development GAP 101 diaspora as ‘category of practice’ 133 definitions 131–2 and democratic legitimacy 138–41 and global governance 134–8 and human rights discourses 137, 141, 143 Kashmiri experience 143–4 Muslim experience 137, 141 Palestinian experience 140

potentially dysfunctional connotations 132 Sikh experience 135–6 Turkish experience 135, 138 Uzbek experience 137 and voting rights 135, 138 women’s experience 139 diaspora groups characteristics 131 core elements 18 global importance 16, 134 Hizb ut-Tahrir 136, 144 increased focus on 130–1 influence on public opinion 135 organizational strategies 135 political goals 133–4 as transnational actors 132–4 diffuse networks, distinctions between formal institutional structures and 18 Dingwerth, K. 7, 31 Direct Action Network (DAN) 120 Dryzek, J. and Niemeyer, S. 165, 181–2 Dupuis-Déri, F. 113, 120 Ebrahim, A. 195 and Weisband, E. 7, 28, 195 EDF (Environmental Defense Fund) 89–90, 95, 97–101, 104 Edna McConnell Clark Foundation 73 Egypt, grants awarded to 72–3 elections, role of 156 electoral politics, need for regular transformation 161–2 Engbersen, G. 142 Enlightenment 10, 124 epistemic communities, definition 17 Erman, E. 104, 205 and Uhlin, A. 104, 155 EU (European Union) accountability 58 democratic legitimacy 177 Scharpf’s analysis 177 European Commission (EC) 173 transparency in 57

Index European Foundation Centre and Council of Foundations 69 European Parliament 55–8 FAVDO (Forum of African Voluntary Development Organizations) 94 50 Years Is Enough campaign 101 Fleishman, J. L. 68 FoE (Friends of the Earth) 89–90, 95, 97–101, 104 Föllesdal, A. 189 food safety 48–9 Ford Foundation 65, 73–4, 76, 78, 79 Forum of Brazilian NGOs 95 foundation legitimacy criteria for 69 democratic weakness arguments 68 Frumkin’s summary 67 home vs abroad 70 Middle Eastern challenges 70 procedural accountability focus 69 US debate 64–5 Frumkin, P. 67 Fuchs, D. et al. 195 Gates Foundation 66, 71, 74 GATT (General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade) 173 Gaza/West Bank, grants awarded to 72–3 The Getty 73 GJM (Global Justice Movement) affinity groups 120, 122 autonomy in 123 democracy as an intrinsic characteristic of 117–18 democratic cleavages and the implementation of democratic theory 118–21 democratic credentials 111 direct action initiatives 120 diversity of tactics 121 ideology 115–16, 118 minority representation 114 mobilization opportunities 116

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global democracy additive view, see additive view of global democracy and the market 208–10 GlobalGap accountability in 53 farmers’ associations’ place 51 governance structure 51 overview 49 participation in 50–1 stakeholders 54 transparency in 52 global governance all-affected principle 206–8 alternative routes for 179 challenges to the democratic qualities of 4 civil society’s role in the democratization of 189 diaspora and 134–8 and political accountability 179 post-war development 173 US foundations’ engagement 65 global governance institutions (GGIs) grants awarded to 72–3 legitimacy strengthening debate 173 globalization, rethinking democracy in light of 175 global stakeholder democracy, Macdonald’s focus 7 Goldman Fund 73, 76 good governance principles, in cross-border philanthropy accountability documents 69 Grant, R. W. and Keohane, R. O. 28–9 Greenpeace 89, 95, 97–8 Green Revolution 65 Habermas, J. 180, 185, 188, 190, 209 Hammack, D. C. 68 Hardt, M. and Negri, A. 124 Haymarket People’s Fund 67 hijab, French ban 143 Hizb ut-Tahrir 136, 144

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Holloway, J. 124 human rights groups 135 human rights promotion, foundation funding 70, 75, 77–8, 79

Islamic African Relief Agency 92 Islamic Conference, Organization of the (OIC) 134 Israel, grants awarded to 72–3

IANGO Charter (Accountability Charter for International Advocacy NGOs and Networks) 69 IDA (International Development Association), replenishment mechanisms 87 see also NGO advocacy in IDA-10 inclusiveness, as criterion of deliberative democracy 26 inclusivity, NGOs’ role 85 India dam projects 89, 95, 97–8 nationalist organizations 133 input legitimacy inclusion 25–6 vs output 177 representation 24–5 representivity and inclusivity as elements of 104 Interaction 91, 95 Inter-Africa Group 91 international grant-making, growth 71 international organizations (IOs) civil society actors and the democratic accountability of 181 ‘democratic deficit’ 173 measuring the democratic quality of 180 prospects for the democratization of 179 Iran 134 Irish Missionary Union 92 IRN (International Rivers Network) 89, 95, 101 Islam diversity of affiliations 144–5 growth of ‘home-made’ versions of 142 radical 70, 130, 134, 145 suitability for taking advantage of transnationalism 142

John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation 74, 76 Jolie-Pitt Foundation 74 Jordan, L. and van Tuijl, P. 25 Keck, M. E. 25 and Sikkink, K. 94 Keohane, R.O. Grant, R. W. and 27–30, 166 and Nye, J. 179, 183 Key, V.O. 159 Koret Foundation 76 legitimacy concept analysis 10 defining the relationship between democracy and 10 in relation to CSOs 6 sources of 22 see also democratic legitimacy; foundation legitimacy; input legitimacy; normative legitimacy; output legitimacy; throughput legitimacy Livingstone, Ken 143 Lutheran World Relief 91 MacArthur Foundation 65, 74, 76 Macdonald, T. 7–8 MDB reform, Charles Stewart Mott Foundation’s support for 99 Mercer, C. et al. 138 Mernissi, F. and Browne, K. 139 Mestmäcker, E. 187 Middle East, US grant-making in the, see US grant-making in the Middle East Mortgaging the Earth (Rich) 89 Mott Foundation, see Charles Stewart Mott Foundation MSC (Marine Stewardship Council) 49, 51–4

Index Muslim diasporas and transnational activism accountability and democratic legitimacy 144–7 federation formation 141 global governance context 143–4 proliferation of organizations 141–2 Mutz, D. C. 31 Nanz, P., Steffek J. and 179–80, 184, 188 Narmada Bachao Andolan 89, 95, 97, 105 Nature Conservancy International 97 Negri, A., Hardt M. and 124 New Israel Fund 78 NGO advocacy in IDA-10 50 Years Is Enough campaign 101 background 85–7 development organizations 91–2 environmental organizations 89–91 faith-based organizations 92–3 funding issues causal relationships 97 Charles Stewart Mott Foundation, see Charles Stewart Mott Foundation policy correlation 96–7 policy selection 101–2 stakeholder input 102–4 impact 106 input legitimacy implications 105, 106 North-South divisions 94–6 pitfalls of values-based argument 93–4 throughput legitimacy implications 104–5 US Congressional hearings 95 values and mission 88–9 values-based divisions 93 NGOs (non-governmental organizations) accountability mechanisms 195 lack of accountability 153

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main features 19 role 163 Nielsen, W. 67 Niemeyer, S., Dryzek J. and 25, 165, 181–2, 184 non-state actors, importance to global governance 16 normative legitimacy 189–90 NOVIB 91 NRDC (Natural Resources Defense Council) 90, 98, 100, 104 NWF (National Wildlife Federation) 90, 95, 97–100, 104–5 Nyamugasira, W. 163 Nye, J., Keohane, R.O. and 179, 183 OIC (Organization of the Islamic Conference) 134 Open Society Institute 65 output legitimacy concerns of 177 debunking 47–8 input vs 177 Oxfam 91, 97 Pakistan 72–4, 134, 143–4 Palestine 134 participation distinguishing between the scope and quality of 26 in GlobalGap 50–1 in throughput legitimacy 30 TNC democratic legitimacy evaluation 45, 55–7 Partnership for Higher Education in Africa 64–5 Peruzzotti, E. 24, 25 philanthropic foundations as agents of Empire 70 Arab diaspora trend 70 asymmetric power 70 emergent ‘accountability regime’ 68–9 grant-making operations 71; see also international grant-making; US grant-making in the Middle East importance to global governance 16

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philanthropic foundations – continued input and throughput legitimacy scores 68 lack of transparency 67 legitimacy see foundation legitimacy main concerns 18 Middle Eastern grants awarded 72 neglect of in democracy in global governance research 64–6 redistributive effects of charitable tax-exemption for 69 stewardship model 80 unwillingness to measure their own social impact 68 see also foundation legitimacy; international grant-making; US grant-making in the Middle East philanthropy, undemocratic nature 67 political parties, self-image 161 Population Council 65 Porto Alegre, participatory budget of 123, 126 ‘Principles of Accountability for International Philanthropy’ 69 private standards, voluntary nature 49 Quelle démocratie voulons-nous Caillé 115 Rabinowitz, A. 67 racism, public campaigns against 135 radical Islam 70, 130, 134, 145 Rainforest Action Network 97 Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS; the Association of National Volunteers) 133 Red Cross 135 religion 24, 76, 139, 142 religious groups 131 representation, rethinking the concept of 25 reproductive health 65 Rich, B. 89

Richard and Rhoda Goldman Fund 73, 76 Risse, T. 15, 19 Rockefeller Foundation 65 Rotary International 73 Ruggie, J.G. 66 Samad, Y. and Sen, K. 142 Sarbanes-Oxley Act 68 Sardar Sarovar 90, 95 Saward, M. 161 Scharpf, F. 177 Scholte, J. A. 181 Seattle, WTO protests 120–1 Second World War, global governance development since 173 Sen, A. 189 September 11 141 Sharia law 134 Sheffer, G. 131–2 Sierra Club 90, 97–8, 100, 104 Silvestri, S. 146 SMOs and democracy affinity groups 113–14 contemporary issues overview 111–12 minority participation 114–15 social groups, indispensability of to democratic agency 159 social justice 89, 93, 97, 164 Sorites paradox 186 Soros Foundation 65 Soysal, Y. 137 ‘stakeholder democracy’ arguments∗ W 168 Starhawk 120–2 Steffek, J. and Nanz, P. 179–80, 184, 188 ‘sunsetting’ 69 sustainable fishery 49 Sutton, F. 65 Swedish Young Muslim Association 145 Tabligh-i-jamaat 133, 144 terrorism 78, 136 Third World Network 91, 95

Index throughput legitimacy accountability 27–30, 105 deliberation 31 participation 30 transparency 26–7 TNAs (transnational actors) accountability 195–6 definitions 8, 17 democratic credentials literature 6–8 democratic requirements for different types of 195–201 diaspora groups as form of 18 dimensions of 17–21 distinguishing between types of 8, 18 literature on accountability of 28 motivations 195 operating spheres 18 power analysis 19–20 questions for evaluating democratic legitimacy 33 representation problems 24 typology 195 vital role 4 TNCs (transnational corporations) Climate Change Conference sponsorship 3 new political role 43–4 TNCs’ democratic legitimacy evaluation accountability 46–7, 58 global governance 44 participation 45, 55–7 private governance perspective 49–54 in public governance 54–8 transparency 45–6, 57–8 tolerant identity 123 Toqueville, A. de 77 traceability 48–9 transnational advocacy 66 transnational social movements concept analysis 110 and democracy, see SMOs and democracy recurrent issues 112

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transnational social movements’ democratic credentials assessment input, throughput, and output legitimacy 125–7 shared hopes 123–5 transparency evaluation of in decision-making processes 126 in philanthropic foundations 67–8 in throughput legitimacy 26–7 TNC democratic legitimacy evaluation 45–6, 52–3, 57–8 Trocaire 92 Truman, D.B. 159 Uhlin, A. 104, 155, 195 Erman E. and 104, 155 UN (United Nations) 135, 173 Unilever 49, 51 United Nations Foundation 73 US Catholic Conference of Bishops 93 US Conference of Catholic Bishops 97 US grant-making in the Middle East arts projects 77 democracy agenda 77–8, 80–1 distribution patterns 72–3 diversity of recipients 75 electronic listing 71 funding areas 75–8 global governance funding 73–4 grants awarded 72 political perspective 75–7 stewardship model 80 universities and research institutes 76 Van Rooy, A. 6–7 van Tuijl, P., Jordan L. and 25 Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP; World Council of Hindus) 133 voluntary nature of private standards 49

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‘war on terror’, as a convenient pretext for repressive action 137 Weisband, E. and Ebrahim, A. 7, 28, 195 Werbner, P. 137 WHO (World Health Organization) 65 Wieviorka, M. 112 Wittgenstein, L. 175 World Bank 65, 95, 173 NGO advocacy in, see NGO advocacy in IDA-10

US Treasury proposals for reform 90 World Food Program (UN) Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation grant 74 foundations’ role 65 World Social Forum 107 WWF (World Wildlife Fund) 49, 51, 90–1, 97, 102 Yacyreta dam, Argentina 89 Young Muslims of France Association 145