We were deeply saddened, like much of the rest of the world, to read about the death of Nelson Mandela. When he began his ‘long walk to freedom’, both of us were teenagers, and his story – of strength, compassion, sacrifice, compromise and hope – inspired us on the paths that eventually led us to the Developmental Leadership Program.
DLP’s research over the years has inevitably looked at Mandela’s leadership – from Jo-Ansie van Wyk’s study of the ANC, business and development, to Monique Theron’s work on African heads of state. But Madiba was not just a ‘big man’ of history; he was the embodiment of what we call ‘developmental leadership’. He used his power and authority in order to mobilise people and resources for developmental ends, overcoming many deeply entrenched collective action problems. He didn’t simply rule but instead brought people together in coalitions for change and, in doing so, changed the world.
There are a small number of former leaders who we – as a global family – revere, rather than simply remember, for their willingness to fight long and hard to help end inequality. They privileged the poor and the disadvantaged, and they did so for as long as they could. They articulated the hopes of the millions.
Our current leaders could well learn this lesson. Inequality in South Africa is rising, a potential threat to Mandela’s legacy there; around the world, inequality has never been so stark and threatens existing progress on poverty reduction. Our leaders should celebrate Mandela’s life not through words but through deeds, and give us back the hope we all felt when we saw him leave prison almost 25 years ago. He deserves no less.
Fiona Nunan is Lecturer in Environment and Development in IDD, specialising in natural resource governance and management in developing country settings, particularly within inland fisheries and coastal locations in East and Southern Africa, and in exploring the links between poverty and the environment.
As the 19th Conference of Parties of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change meets (11th – 22nd November 2013) in Warsaw, building adaptation capacity within the context of development must be firmly on the agenda. Approaches such as ‘climate-smart development’, ‘low carbon development’ and ‘climate compatible development’ reflect a desire to bring together efforts to reduce emissions of greenhouse gases and increase storage or sinks for carbon dioxide, increase adaptive capacity and develop adaptation strategies, and to reduce poverty. Whilst these approaches are attractive, questions remain as to how far these objectives can be tackled together.
Our research in Sri Lanka and Kenya on the potential for climate compatible development in coastal areas has identified a range of policy mechanisms that already exist, or could be fairly readily adopted, that could contribute towards achieving these multiple goals.
Climate change presents considerable challenges for coastal areas, which are already under significant pressure from diverse sources and are often sites of contestation, with competing, and at times conflicting, demands for the use of land, extraction of natural resources and access to beaches and fishing grounds. The impacts of climate change will magnify and deepen such challenges, presenting an urgent need for adaptation strategies for local and national populations. Coastal ecosystems also present extensive opportunities for climate change mitigation through carbon capture and storage, as well as being important areas for livelihoods and economic development.
Examples of packages mechanisms for CCD
Multiple policy instruments and approaches already exist that could support the delivery of CCD in coastal areas including:
- Integrated coastal zone management
- Climate change mainstreaming
- Payments for ecosystems services schemes
- Protected area status
- Environmental impact assessment and strategic environmental assessment
- Collaborative forms of natural resource management.
To strengthen the potential of delivering on CCD, such mechanisms could be brought together as a package of complementary measures to enable delivery on mitigation, adaptation and development. Examples of such packages are:
1. Integrated coastal zone management/collaborative forms of natural resource management/ protected area status/climate change mainstreaming
ICZM very often involves the participation of coastal communities, but there may be multiple forms of collaborative natural resource management that could be coordinated for a more effective, integrated approach. Protected area status can strengthen the mitigation and adaptation potential of coastal ecosystems and contribute to improved livelihoods. ICZM can strengthen the resilience of ecosystems to climate change as well as carbon storage potential.
2. Payments for ecosystem services/collaborative forms of natural resource management/ protected area status/climate change mainstreaming
Community-based PES schemes require a form of collaborative natural resource management between communities and relevant government departments, with appropriate policy and legal support. Protected area status and climate change mainstreaming can strengthen the contribution of PES to mitigation and adaptation, and, with a strong poverty orientation in the design, to improved livelihoods.
3. Land-use planning/EIA and SEA/climate change mainstreaming
As there are very often multiple land uses and demands in coastal areas, land-use planning systems have the potential to make a real difference to the resilience of coastal areas to climate change and to the mitigation potential of coastal ecosystems. Land-use planning also has significant effects on local livelihoods – in both positive and negative ways. Bringing together land use planning with strategic environmental assessment and climate change mainstreaming could result in a much more holistic, resilient approach to planning for CCD.
What does policy need to promote CCD in coastal areas?
To enable such mechanisms, or packages of mechanisms, to deliver on CCD in practice, significant leadership is needed to bring people and ideas together across sectors and between stakeholder groups. In particular, what would be needed includes:
- Coordinated policy across sectors, which include environment, climate change, land use planning and forestry.
- Strengthened integrated management of coastal areas, including measures to mitigate and adapt to climate change and to reduce poverty of local people.
- Effective participation of coastal communities in governance structures and processes, with strengthened and coordinated collaborative management.
- Implementation of existing policy, with the resources (financial, technical and political will) to support implementation.
Clearly the potential is there for climate compatible development to happen in coastal areas, but a genuinely coordinated and integrated approach to policy and management is needed, with effective participation of a range of stakeholders, including local users of natural resources, and financial resources to ensure implementation.
This blog is an output from a project funded by the UK Department for International Development (DFID) and the Netherlands Directorate-General for International Cooperation (DGIS) for the benefit of developing countries. However, the views expressed and information contained in it are not necessarily those of or endorsed by DFID, DGIS or the entities managing the delivery of the Climate and Development Knowledge Network, which can accept no responsibility or liability for such views, completeness or accuracy of the information or for any reliance placed on them.
Andrew Nickson is Honorary Reader in Public Management and Latin American Studies in IDD and has extensive worldwide experience of teaching, research and consultancy on public administration reform, decentralisation, and the reform of basic service delivery and regulation of privatised public utilities. He is currently in Yemen, contributing to UNICEF’s strategic thinking in the direction of greater engagement with district councils and local level planning.
Yemen, the ancient Kingdom of Sheba, is facing a critical juncture in its tumultuous recent history. Formerly divided into South Yemen and North Yemen, unification took place in 1990, followed by two decades of growing authoritarian rule by military-backed regimes. Student uprisings in the Arab Spring forced President Saleh to leave office in November 2012, but not to leave the country. Since March this year a 565-delegate National Dialogue Conference (NDC) has been in session, striving to agree on the future shape of the country against a backdrop of terrorist strikes, drone attacks, kidnappings and assassinations. The NDC initiative is strongly supported by the international community, including the presence of a Special Envoy of the UN Secretary General. A separatist movement (Hiraak) in the south is pressing for a federal system with only two states. This would be followed by a referendum, which they hope would then lead to secession and a return to separate statehood for South Yemen (and, by default, North Yemen). They argue that the international community has already accepted the precedent in the case of Sudan, where greater autonomy for the south was followed by a referendum in favour of secession and eventual statehood for South Sudan, which has now become the newest member of the United Nations. But other parties are pressing for an alternative federal arrangement comprising five states, each with a high degree of autonomy, but without the risks to national unity posed by the two-state model.
Old Sana’a street crowd – Photo credit Stefan Geens
Yemen (pop. 25m) is currently a unitary state with 21 regional governorates and 333 district councils, as well as over 130,000 communities, most of which are in remote desert areas. Yet in its discussions so far, none of the eight working groups of the NDC have given any attention to the extremely weak presence of the state at the district level, which is limited mainly to field offices of some central government line ministries. District council elections were last held in 2004 and the mandate of the handpicked councillors was extended for a further seven years when their three year mandate expired. In the absence of basic electoral accountability, corruption and mismanagement has flourished. Citizen participation in local service delivery is now virtually non-existent in many parts of the country, especially where tribal sheikhs have monopolised councillor posts. Meanwhile Yemen has one of the worst indicators of human development in the world. The health and education sectors receive only 4% and 17% respectively of public expenditure, the majority of which is swallowed up by the security services (armed forces and police). UNICEF figures for 2012 show that an alarming 50% of under-fives are stunted, 15% suffer from severe malnutrition, 50% of households in rural areas do not have access to safe water, only 17% of births of children under five were registered, and the maternal mortality rate, at 200 per 100,000 live births, was one of the highest in the world.
Unlike the 1994 national dialogue in Bolivia, where independent civil society organisations (CSOs) played a major role in its deliberations, the NDC is dominated by political parties and vested interests. Whatever is the final outcome of its bargaining on the future shape of Yemen, it would be naïve to think that this reconfiguration will somehow be a panacea for meeting the urgent development needs of the people. In fact, the NDC urgently needs to incorporate the issues of citizen participation and the role of district councils in its deliberations. Why so? Because in country after country where, in the name of ‘decentralisation’, governmental reforms have preferentially strengthened an intermediate (state or provincial) tier of government, the latter has almost always sucked powers not only downwards from central government but also upwards from local government. This “decentralisation of centralisation”, with its attendant growth of an often venal and self-serving bureaucracy, has invariably produced negative consequences for basic service delivery and citizen empowerment at the local level.
Old Town Sanaa – Photo credit: Richard Messenger
Adrian Campbell is a senior lecturer at the University of Birmingham’s International Development Department. He is an organizational theorist with longstanding interests and experience in the associated fields of leadership and human resource management and he has researched, taught and consulted in these fields for over thirty years. Adrian is a strong believer in organizational analysis (primarily the interaction between the three factors of structure, power and culture, and between rational and non-rational motivation) rather than the prevailing fashion for institutional analysis. The experience of the contradictions involved in the reform of Russian federalism led him towards a preoccupation with the concept of empire which is now the main focus of his research.
The paper ‘East, West, Rome’s best? The imperial turn’ explores in more detail why the period of unipolarity experienced after the end of the Cold War ended with the emergence of China and other rising powers. Adrian argues that the current changes with respect to the transfer of power within the global system are suggestive of the Roman concept of ‘translatio imperii’-meaning there is a succession of one ephemeral empire to the next with each attaining a semblance of eternity that empires aspire to but never achieve.
Focusing on Russia and the background to its recent diplomatic success over Syria, this blog post presents Adrian’s views on why the concept of empires may still be relevant in the 21st century. To him, the West could not anticipate the return of the Russians because they failed to understand the latter’s attachment to the idea of their country as an eternal empire. Read on and learn more about empires and their significance today.
During the recent Syria crisis I found myself recalling an image from September, 1994; a blustering, furious speech by the then Russian president Boris Yeltsin, protesting about NATO airstrikes on Serb positions around Sarajevo, his anger seemingly not so much over the strikes as such but how the West had shown that Russia could safely be ignored. Only seven months earlier, in February, 1994, Russia had secured a rescinding of NATO’s threat in return for Serb agreement to withdraw their artillery. That agreement (eerily similar to the recent agreement on Syria) had been hailed by the Kremlin as ‘diplomatic victory of global significance’, one that (as the LA Times put it) gave Russia ‘that old superpower feeling’. In the event, neither the agreement nor the feeling were to last.
It is possible, but unlikely, that the same sequence of events will be repeated this time around. Russia in 1994 was at a historical low whilst the US was enjoying its unipolar moment. Russia has spent much of the intervening period (during which it was generally written off as an international player by expert opinion) playing a longer game, strengthening links with China, Central Asia, Indonesia, Latin America, supporting multi-lateral organisations that `excluded the West (whether or not they served any other purpose) and (so far) containing or reversing the effects of the Western-backed ‘colour revolutions’ in neighbouring states. French analyst Emmanuel Todd, who had correctly predicted the fall of the Soviet Union, observed in 2001 that the West appeared to have forgotten that chess was Russia’s national game (indeed, the ‘checkmate’ image has recurred in the media in recent weeks).
Part of the problem is the degree to which views of Russia are tied to perceptions of the leader – just as Bill Clinton reportedly had difficulty seeing Russia other than through the prism of the chaotic personality of his friend Boris, so the West tends to see Russia in terms of the idiosyncrasies of its current president, and thereby ignore the historical dimensions of current disagreements. For example, when Putin, at the end of his 9-11 New York Times article, referred to the dangers of exceptionalism whatever the motivation, many in his home audience would have seen a direct reference to Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, where the anti-hero, Raskolnikov, writes an article that justifies crime if committed by extraordinary people with higher ideals. Raskolnikov, whose name recalls the Russian term for the religious schism of the 11th century between Byzantium and Rome is the most striking of many Russian fictional characters who embody the country’s Russia’s troubled and paradoxical relationship with Western modernity, an early form of the hybrid identity of post-colonial literature.
As the Cold War ended, it was assumed by many that a capitalist Russia, minus the ideology of Communism, would become part of, or at least a poor relation of, the West and that any remaining friction would disappear once Russia dropped its ‘imperial baggage’. The implied analogy was with Britain, which had accepted the inevitability of decline and had transferred its global role to the United States. This view ignored an important peculiarity of the Russian case. Unlike the colonial empires of Western Europe, which were cohesive nation states before they expanded overseas, Russia was an empire before it became a nation state and as a land-based empire there was no clear boundary between metropole and dependencies. Russian national identity is thus attached to empire as a concept in a way that has no analogy in Western Europe (this is not to be confused with ethno-nationalism in Russia which in fact undermines any aspiration to wider influence).
More fundamentally, Russia shares with China an implicit view of the state as eternal – that periods of instability and collapse are merely temporary phases in a longer cycle. In the West all empires and superpowers ultimately look back to the decline and fall of Rome (or rather its Western half) in the fifth century, a source of fascination from Gibbon to Paul Kennedy. The Eastern Roman empire, of which the Russian empire became to some extent the successor state, lasted another thousand years, so the myth of decline is less powerful.
The concept of decline is even less relevant to China, where successive reinventions of empire have occurred over broadly the same location, enabling a more convincing approximation of eternity than Rome was able to achieve. In the West where geographically dispersed rival imperial centres have vied for supremacy over centuries, only the USA after 1945 and more particularly after 1991, ever attained a position of (briefly) unrivalled leadership of the Western world – precisely at the point the Western world as a whole began to lose its own leading position (it is curious to note how Iran, over millennia has both retained its imperial vocation and also its role as a pivot between East and West).
China and Rome, in different ways and isolation from each other, both created the concept of universal empire, which under various guises has survived to the present day. It is unclear whether these different concepts of universalism will compete or merge, or a combination of the two.
This question lies behind an upsurge of interest in comparative research on Ancient Rome and China in recent years. One major exhibition in Rome in 2009 brought together artefacts from ancient Rome and China under the title ‘the Eagle and the Dragon. It was interesting to note that the Italian language poster for the exhibition (pictured) placed the Roman and Chinese statues confronting each other as mutually alien civilizations, whereas the English language poster (also pictured) preferred to place the two statues shoulder to shoulder, facing the future together, altogether a more comforting view for the current leaders of the West.
America’s concept of manifest destiny was linked to the Roman concept of ‘translatio imperii’, the transfer of imperial legitimacy westwards from Troy to Rome and ultimately (several transfers later) to the United States, the ‘last empire’. An alternative view (popular in nineteenth century Russia) was that imperial legitimacy went eastwards to Byzantium and then to Russia. Uncertainty about the nature of China’s emerging global power is reflected in the way its rise can be accommodated with either version of the translatio imperii myth; it can be seen receiving legitimacy westwards across the Pacific from the United States, or eastwards across central Asia from Russia. Of course the translatio imperii is a mythical construct, but it is one that has retained an intuitive appeal for anyone attempting to make sense of longer term geopolitical trends. It also brings out the ambiguity of the rise of China – on the one hand China, as the ancient ‘middle kingdom’ has no need to see itself as heir to Rome, having, unlike the other great powers, a quite separate and older history. On the other hand, China is emerging as a dominant power in a global system that has been created by powers which were, or which saw themselves as being, the heirs of Rome.
Campbell, A. (2013). East, West, Rome’s best? The imperial turn. Global Discourse, 3(1), 34-47.
Nicolas Lemay-Hébert is a senior lecturer at the University of Birmingham’s International Development Department. He is interested in peacebuilding and statebuilding, humanitarian interventions in post-conflict or post-disaster contexts, and local narratives of resistance to international interventions. Nicolas co-convenes the postgraduate module on Governance and Statebuilding.
Nicolas presented a paper called The Unfulfilled Potential of the Light Footprint Approach for Peace Missions at the International Studies Association Conference at San Francisco in April 2013. He described a consensus emerging in the statebuilding literature about the unintended consequences of international peacebuilding missions, which often contribute towards creating local tensions instead of creating conditions for lasting peace. The paper analyses the potential of the local ownership paradigm applied to international peacebuilding missions, especially when coupled with the participatory intervention framework. With particular emphasis on the ‘light footprint’ approach of Afghanistan, the paper seeks to contribute to a different understanding of the impacts of peacebuilding missions on local settings, while placing emphasis on new possibilities for international interventions.
Below is a chat I had with him about the issues raised in the paper.
What is responsible for the shift in the ideology of liberal internationalism/ the orthodox peace framework to the local ownership paradigm in international peacebuilding?
First of all, I think “shift” might be too strong a word. The liberal peace paradigm (labelled “liberal interventionism” or “liberal internationalism”) is still the dominant form of internationally-supported peacebuilding. Liberal peace refers here to the idea that certain kinds of society will tend to be more peaceful, both in their domestic affairs and in their international relations, than “illiberal” states. Hence, liberal peacebuilding implies not just managing instability between states, the traditional focus of the International Relations discipline, but also building peace within states on the basis of liberal democracy and market economics. In this context, the increased attention to local ownership shows more a shift in the means of intervention than a shift in the paradigm of intervention. This shift in the means of intervention can be traced to the “lessons learned” in Kosovo and in Timor-Leste for the United Nations (UN), and in Iraq for the US. The UN administered both Kosovo and Timor-Leste, and one of the lessons of the “Timor-Leste experiment” identified by Vieira de Mello himself is that “there must be the will to cede power as soon as possible.
The United Nations, the keenest of proponents of decolonisation, has in East Timor and Kosovo found itself accorded neo-colonial powers. The result was initially unsettling.” The local and international consequences of the UN having to administer these two territories – described in earlier works – led many at the UN Department of Peace-Keeping Operations (DPKO) to ‘fight like hell’ to prevent the creation of a new mission of this sort, in the words of one of them (interview in 2008). Thus, even if debates surrounding the concept of local ownership have already been quite vibrant in the security sector reform and aid and development literatures, they only appeared recently in the peacebuilding literature, mainly following the Timorese, Kosovar and Iraqi experiences.
Is there a difference between the local ownership paradigm and participatory intervention framework?
The main difference is that the local ownership concept is broader, straddling different disciplines and debates, whereas the “participatory intervention” framework is more specific to the field of intervention, statebuilding and peacebuilding. Local ownership can be defined as a process where the solutions to a particular society’s needs are developed in concert with the people who are going to live with, and uphold, these solutions in the long run. As for the participatory intervention framework (put forth by Jarat Chopra and Tanja Hohe), it implies “granting space for local voices to be expressed and for communities to get directly involved in the evolution of their own cultural or political foundations.” This means “giving time for an indigenous paradigm to coexist with, or to gradually transform during the creation of, modern institutions.” What is interesting about this framework is that it highlights to academics and practitioners the importance of creating policies “appropriate to the context they are implemented in.” The focus is on the nature of the relationship, rather than on discussions such as “who are the locals?” and the extent the ownership process must be legitimately viewed as local to qualify as such. Thus, this framework contributes in its own way to emancipatory debates in peacebuilding.
In what way can a combined implementation of these two peacebuilding processes prevent the unintended consequences of international peacebuilding missions?
Local ownership or the participatory intervention framework do not fit neatly with top-down approaches to peacebuilding and statebuilding. Within this perspective, local actors have to be recognised as true partners in the statebuilding process rather than mere recipients of foreign aid. If one wants to allow space for local actors in a participatory framework, authority can hardly be monopolised by the international actors. The use of the concept by many international actors as a mere legitimizing principle for the same old international policies tends to discredit this framework. However, by focusing on policies “appropriate to the context they are implemented in,” the participatory intervention framework is designed to mitigate the most blatant consequences of massive international presence on small locales, in line with the “do no harm” approach.
What is meant by the light footprint approach in international peacebuilding missions? How is this different from previously adopted approaches of international peacebuilding missions?
“Light footprint” was a term coined during the planning of the United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) by Lakhdar Brahimi, serving as Special Representative of the Secretary General to Afghanistan from October 2001 through December 2004. The light footprint approach advocates that UN activities should be limited to those that are appropriate to the local needs and context, and, in order to ensure local capacity-building, international staff should be limited to the minimum required so that nationals can take over from the UN as soon as possible.
The Secretary General’s Report preparing the establishment of UNAMA states that ‘UNAMA should aim to bolster Afghan capacity (both official and non-governmental), relying on as limited an international presence and on as many Afghan staff as possible, and using common support services where possible, thereby leaving a light expatriate “footprint.” In the midst of calls for the setting up an international administration in Afghanistan (on the model of Timor-Leste and Kosovo), Lakhdar Brahimi mentioned in a press conference that the United Nations is “definitely” not seeking to form a protectorate. Brahimi added that “the bitter experience of the last 10 years shows that the solution must be carefully put together and be homegrown, so that it enjoys the support of all the internal and external players, and so that there are no spoilers from the inside or outside who would disrupt its implementation.” That’s what differentiates UNAMA from UNTAET and UNMIK, at least on the conceptual level.
What accounted for the failure of UNAMA especially when the light footprint approach was the core of the peacebuilding mission?
The reality of the light footprint was complicated in Afghanistan by the fact that, although UNAMA had few staff on the ground, the myriad of UN agencies and programs had a relatively heavy footprint, creating parallel service delivery mechanisms. The major difficulties in Afghanistan are not directly linked to the light footprint approach per se – UNAMA was a marginal component of the international intervention after all – but rather to three specific features of the intervention.
First, the policy of excluding the Talibans from the peace negotiations, a policy taken from an ideological standpoint in the first years of the intervention, clashes with the principle of a wide inclusion of local actors in the peacebuilding process as envisioned by Brahimi. Brahimi was already pushing for an inclusion of moderate Talibans in 2003 in a second Loya jirgah, and the US administration revived the idea of negotiations with moderate Talibans only in 2009 (too little, too late?). Second, there was only a low amount of financial aid that went directly to Afghan institutions. Many donors bypassed state institutions over fears of corruption, preferring to deal directly with local or international NGOs. Only approximately 25-30 per cent of all aid coming into the country is routed through the government, “eroding its legitimacy, planning capacity and authority.” This neglect of state institutions is bound to have an impact on the Afghan social contract. Third, the political obstacles to the extension of the security presence beyond Kabul have hurt the peacebuilding process.
The “light footprint” approach as devised by Brahimi is commonly mixed with Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld’s “light footprint” approach, which advocates minimal commitment of ground forces by the United States in Afghanistan. However, the two approaches should not be bundled together, as they are in fact completely different. After all, Rumsfeld’s conception has nothing to do with “working ourselves out of a job;” but has everything to do with the need to keep US troops for the forthcoming Iraqi invasion and focusing on the “war against terror” in the border areas. Furthermore, Brahimi never advocated a minimal security presence in the country. To the contrary, he relentlessly advocated for a security presence deployed over the entire Afghan territory. Finally, there was also the fact that the principle of local ownership was manipulated by certain donors. As Matteo Tondini points out, “some laws are officially passed by the Afghan parliament but are in fact drafted by ‘independent’ experts hired by foreign government cooperation agencies and assigned to local institutions, while the latter are in turn pressured by international donors to cooperate.”
What lessons does the Afghan experience offer to future peacebuilding missions and wider statebuilding processes?
The “light footprint” approach should not be seen as a general template for state-building activities, which would turn this alternative model into what it tried to oppose from the outset. Chesterman, who is really critical also admits that “one element of the “light footprint” approach that is certainly of general application is the need to justify every post occupied by international staff rather than a local.” It is actually the core meaning of the “light footprint” approach as conceived originally by Brahimi. So rather than tout it as a model, the light footprint approach should be understood as an attempt to apply the general lessons of the 1990s to a trying set of circumstances.
Interview by Francisca Darfour
 See: Nicolas Lemay-Hébert, “Review Essay: Critical Debates on Liberal Peacebuilding”, Civil Wars 15(2), 2013.
 Sergio Vieira de Mello, “Introductory Remark and Keynote Speech” in Nassrine Azimi and Chang Li Lin (eds) The United Nations Transitional Administration in East Timor (UNTAET): Debriefing and Lessons, London: Martinus Nijhoff, 2003.
 See: Nicolas Lemay-Hébert, “Coerced Transitions in Timor-Leste and Kosovo: Managing Competing Objectives of Institution-Building and Local Empowerment,” Democratization 19(3), 2012; Nicolas Lemay-Hébert , “The Bifurcation of the Two Worlds: Assessing the Gap Between the Internationals and Locals in State-Building Processes,” Third World Quarterly 32(10), 2011.
 Jarat Chopra and Tanja Hoje, “Participatory Intervention,” Global Governance 10(3), 2004.
 Matteo Tondini, “From Neo-Colonialism to a ‘Light Footprint Approach’: Restoring Justice Systems,” International Peacekeeping 15(2), 2008.
 Simon Chesterman, You, The People. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004
Heather Marquette is a Senior Lecturer in Governance in IDD. She is a political scientist specializing in political development, corruption and discourses of corruption/anti-corruption, political economy analysis, and donor approaches to good governance and statebuilding. Heather is the director of IDD’s International Development (Governance and Statebuilding) programme and Governance and Social Development Resource Centre (GSDRC).
Jonathan Fisher is a lecturer in IDD. He is interested in the politics of aid, political economy analysis and governance reform in Africa, African foreign policy making and diplomacy, fragile states and donor perceptions of the developing world, democratisation and the role of international actors. Jonathan co-convenes postgraduate modules on Aid Management and on Critical Approaches to Development for both on-campus and distance learning students.
This post marks the first of the series of papers that were presented by some members of IDD staff who attended the International Studies Association Conference at San Francisco in April 2013.
Dr. Heather Marquette and Dr. Jonathan Fisher at the conference organized a panel called ‘Politicising or Depoliticising Aid? The Political Economy of Political Economy Analysis’, and presented a joint paper on ‘Donors Doing Political Economy Analysis™: From Process to Product (and back again?). The paper discusses the shift in focus with respect to the intended purpose of Political Economy Analysis (PEA) to the donor community. The post documents a chat I had with them about some of the main issues they raised in their paper.
What is responsible for the failure of the 1st generation PEA to deliver ‘the hoped-for results’?
When we talk about the ‘failure’ of the 1st generation of PEA we have to be clear about what standards we are judging the approach by. In so doing, it seems fair to base our assessment on whether it achieved its stated aim – that is, getting donor officials (within DFID in particular) to ‘think politically’ in the way they engage with the developing world and plan their interventions there. Our work – and that of many others, including one of PEA’s early proponents (Sue Unsworth) – argues that this has not yet been achieved. Most donor officials outside of ‘governance cadres’ do not intuitively ‘think politically’ in their approach to their work and privilege, often subconsciously, more technocratic, economistic ways of thinking. It is fair, then, to say that the 1st generation of PEA has failed in delivering the results originally hoped for.
Why is this? Some have argued that it is a problem with the 1st generation itself – that it was too vague in its analysis and policy relevance. It highlighted problems and difficulties in the politics of developing states without suggesting tangible, feasible ways for donors to address these challenges. Donors reading 1st generation PEA reports would find the conclusions interesting but then say ‘well, what can I do with this on Monday morning when I get into the office?’. These criticisms are certainly fair to some extent.
What we do in our research, however, is to try and understand this failure by looking at the political economy of donors doing PEA itself. We argue that the problem is not so much one of the ‘wrong framework’ or focus but of the whole character of PEA work since the 1st generation. Donors have attempted to make PEA fit their own incentive structures and bureaucratic logics – How can PEA help me implement project X? Can PEA tell me if project Y will work or not? One of the key things scholars of development politics have learnt over the last few decades, however, is that donors cannot intervene successfully in developing states without the support and assistance of key local stakeholders. Donors need to get the ‘buy-in’ of these groups to make any positive difference in their activities and our work tries to re-focus the debate on PEA around this key truism.
What distinguishes the 2nd generation PEA from the 1st?
There are three main differences that can be seen in the shift from 1st to 2nd generation PEA. Firstly, a shift in purpose. 1st generation PEA was meant to ‘enhance donors’ capacity to understand how change occurs’ in the developing world; a broad, ambitious project to establish ‘thinking politically’ as an integral part of everyday donor culture. The shift to 2nd generation, however, has seen this approach abandoned in favour of a much narrower, instrumental goal – PEA as an ad hoc, problem-solving tool to be used ‘as and when’ required in relation to specific projects, logjams or initiatives.
Secondly, a shift in units of analysis. 1st generation PEA was very much a macro enterprise; whole countries and even regions were the main focus of most early PEA reports. The 2nd generation, however, has seen a reduction in the size and scope of what is under consideration with specific sectors, themes and local-level issues becoming increasingly popular. Finally, we have seen a shift in uptake strategies. In line with its wide-ranging scope, 1st generation PEA was meant to be ‘mainstreamed’ in donor agencies over a number of years so that, ultimately, all donor officials within these agencies would use PEA logic intuitively to inform their work. With the shift away from ‘thinking politically’ to ‘problem-solving’ in the 2nd generation, however, PEA is now more generally ‘farmed-out’ to external consultants and policy institutes and ‘-commissioned-’ by donors whenever necessary.
Would you liken the ‘problem solving’ approach of the 2nd generation PEA to the “Piecemeal Approach”?
2nd generation PEA is certainly piecemeal in that it is unsystematic – it is not part of a broad, comprehensive overall strategy to gradually move donors forward in their understanding of the politics of the countries they work in. ‘Piecemeal’ suggests, though, a problem with the means to reach an end goal rather than the likelihood of reaching the end goal at all. In this regard, 2nd generation PEA fits less well into this paradigm as its continuation in its current form is not going to lead to any significant change in the way donors view and understand their interventions abroad. If PEA continues as an instrumental, externalised tool then donors will remain as perplexed by politics in 10 years’ time as they are today. What is needed is a re-focusing of the approach around the political economy of donors themselves and of their interactions with recipient governments and other ‘local’ stakeholders.
The ‘problem solving’ approach is also fairly dissatisfying in that it always approaches politics as a problem that needs to be resolved. Approaching analysis from this perspective may blind us to the ways in which politics works, even when it’s ‘problematic’.
With respect to the proposed 3rd generation PEA, are you advocating for a combination of the aims of the 1st generation PEA and the promotion of ownership and partnership by donors.
We are not advocating a specific new framework or approach to PEA as such – indeed, the proliferation of PEA frameworks – most of which represent really only incremental improvements on 1st generation frameworks – in recent years has, if anything, taken us even further away from focusing on what is really problematic in PEA today. Indeed, we are uncomfortable with the idea of a ‘3rd generation’ of PEA if it is simply a refinement of the first two.
What we are doing is trying to re-direct the PEA debate away from questions of ‘tweaking’ the existing framework and towards broader, more foundational concerns. Is PEA methodologically robust? Is PEA straying into territory that takes donors beyond their mandates (e.g. secretly ‘collecting’ sensitive political information in foreign countries to feed-back into the policy process at home)? Most importantly, can any international intervention in the developing world hope to be effective without engaging directly with the relevant local stakeholders? This is where the ownership question comes into play since both 1st and 2nd generation PEA has been often (though not always) characterized by a wilful exclusion of – particularly – recipient governments from the PEA process. Our work suggests that this is highly problematic not only from an instrumental perspective (local buy-in is crucial to the success of any initiative) but also from a normative one. Since the late 1990s, donors have emphasized at aid effectiveness fora how central the fostering of recipient ‘ownership’ is to the development enterprise. Surely this should apply to PEA also?
Are donors already moving on from the 2nd generation PEA?
Good question! We have both attended a large number of meetings with donors as part of this research where the current state of PEA has been the key issue under discussion and three things are very clear from these meetings. Firstly, that donors are not satisfied with PEA in its current form as an aid to policy-making in their agencies and departments. There appears to be widespread agreement that the approach needs to be developed and improved. The second thing which is clear, however, is that donors have very little sense of how to go about this process or what they want PEA to ‘do’ or help them to ‘do’. Finally, what we don’t know is what sorts of ‘political analysis’ is going on all the time in donor agencies that may be informal, or certainly less formal than typical PEA frameworks, and may in fact be quite effective.
That there are still, after more than a decade, fundamental questions in donor agencies about PEA highlights the importance of looking again at the approach – and with a more critical eye. This is what we try and do in our work.
Do you think the possibility exist for donors to integrate your recommendations into the 3rd generation PEA should they decide to shift towards it?
We readily acknowledge that some of our suggestions – particularly on joint donor-recipient PEA work – may seem unfeasible or impractical for donors and this may represent a challenge in terms of incorporating our ideas into their future usage of PEA. Individuals responsible for PEA in their own organisations, and the consultants with whom they regularly work, have a tremendous amount of time, effort and reputation invested in existing PEA frameworks, and may be loathe to throw these away and think in a fresh way about PEA. We have nevertheless encountered a lot of interest in our research from donors in recent months – we have been invited, for example, to present our findings at the OECD, DFID and Norad and are also maintaining a dialogue with the World Bank on the research. It is clear, then, that donors are keen for us to join the discussion on the future of PEA and this is, of course, extremely encouraging.
It is also worth noting that one donor – the World Bank Institute – is currently experimenting with joint donor-recipient PEA initiatives as part of its Leadership for Results programme. It is early days, and how successful this scheme turns out to be remains to be seen but it nevertheless demonstrates that there is another way of approaching PEA and that this can involve engaging more directly and constructively with recipient stakeholders. We hope that WBI’s work will stand to reassure donors that our suggestions can be incorporated into their work in the developing world.
Jonathan Fisher is a lecturer in international development, researching the relationship between Western aid donors and developing states. He is particularly interested in how donors ‘construct’ perceptions of foreign governments and key concepts (eg ‘fragile state’) in international development. He is also interested in the extent to which these ‘knowledge construction’ processes are influenced by external actors and bureaucratic structures as well as by policy-makers themselves. Jonathan co-convenes postgraduate modules on Aid Management and on Critical Approaches to Development for both on-campus and distance learning students.
And so it ends. After months of preparation, fretting over guest lists, measuring flags and re-drafting seating arrangements, the Somalia Conference is over. The final communiqué has been issued, the speeches uploaded to YouTube and the attendees prepped for the next leg of the reconstruction roadshow. Representatives of Somalia’s new administration can look forward to high-level discussions in Tokyo, Nairobi, Brussels and Istanbul – not to mention in New York and Addis Ababa – over the coming months where plans to rebuild the devastated former state will be fleshed-out in consultation with regional and international partners. What can be said, then, of last week’s event in London? A milestone on the path to Somalia’s rebirth or a day of prepared statements and hotel rooms? A conference that will set in motion a renewed commitment to re-assembling a shattered country or, like last year’s London Somalia Conference, one that will be remembered as little more than yet another inconsequential Somalia summit?
The answers to these questions will, naturally, come with time and cannot be found in the measured but vague statements released from the conference over the course of last Tuesday’s deliberations. Needless to say, though, that any successes in Somalia will come from a combination of two things: the level of commitment by Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s weak government (in power since last autumn) to win the ‘hearts and minds’ of Somalis outside militarized Mogadishu and the extent to which international actors (including regional African states) are willing to support it in its effort to do so. The evolving role of Somalia’s neighbours – particularly of Ethiopia, Kenya and Uganda – as the country gets back on its feet is, in fact, one of the major debates that is yet to be had out in the open. It remains, however, one of the two elephants in the room when it comes to finding global ‘Somalia solutions’ (as Private Eye might have it) – the other being the looming presence of Istanbul and its unilateralist approach to Somali diplomacy.
For the Hassan Sheikh administration owes even its tenuous hold over Mogadishu almost entirely to its African brethren; Ugandan troops make up the bulk of the AU peacekeeping force, AMISOM, which has pushed Islamist militant group Al-Shaaab out of the Somali capital and restored a level of order there since its inception in 2007. Likewise, the battle to extend the government’s writ throughout the rest of the country, much of it still under Al-Shabaab control outside major cities, is being waged not by government forces – such as they are – but by the Ethiopian and Kenyan militaries which intervened in Somalia in 2006 and 2011 respectively. The rebuilding of Somalia hangs very much, therefore, on the establishment of a strong, disciplined and broad-based security apparatus which Somalis view as legitimate and which AMISOM and Ethiopian forces can hand over to in the months and years to come.
The Somali government’s plan for developing this apparatus was shared with its regional partners at the Somalia Conference and it remains to be seen how they respond to it both operationally and politically. My own discussions with African officials and observers in Addis Ababa and Kampala during the last month, however, lead me to conclude that the path to a handover will not be as harmonious as Tuesday’s Communique suggests. For while Kenya, Ethiopia and Uganda remain divided on some key questions (for example, whether Somalia should adopt a federal or unitary political system) they remain fairly united on others. The question of the new Somali government’s ability to deliver such a robust and inclusive security sector is in the latter category – and one which all three administrations would privately answer in the negative. The problem for them, though, is not so much Mogadishu’s perceived incompetencies but rather its reluctance to take advice from its regional patrons.
Unlike his predecessors, who presided over a ‘transitional government’ between 2004-2012, Hassan Sheikh became the first ‘permanent’ president of Somalia for nearly two decades last year and has already overseen the re-establishing of diplomatic ties with the US and the International Financial Institutions. Emboldened by these trappings of sovereignty, the Somali leader has adopted a much less subservient persona in his dealings with regional counterparts, increasingly insisting on his door – rather than that of the Ugandan president or Ethiopian prime minister – being the ‘one door to knock on’ for those interested in reconstructing Somalia.
This posturing has rankled with the occupants of regional presidential mansions who have been used, since the mid-2000s, to getting their way in Mogadishu – in 2011, for example, Uganda forced out Somalia’s prime minister as part of a ‘Kampala Accord’ and secured the extension of former president Sharif Ahmed’s mandate by a year. Viewing the Somali administration as inexperienced, naïve and inward-looking, regional powers are loath to allow it full rein over coordinating international efforts in the country. They are less clear, however, over which body should carry out this responsibility: when I asked one senior official from a nearby African state recently ‘if not the Somali government, then who?’ I was told, after some hesitation, that it should be ‘the AU….or [regional body] IGAD…probably’.
Africa and aid-watchers will immediately recognize from this dynamic a familiar debate on the issue of ‘ownership’ – a ubiquitous but slippery term in the development world since the late 1990s. Indeed, how to foster and secure ‘Somali ownership’ was a key theme in many speeches made in London last week. While the debate may be familiar, though, the context most certainly is not. For in the case of Somalia, it is not simply ‘Western’ donors negotiating ownership with African aid recipients but Africans negotiating it with other Africans. Kenya, Ethiopia, Uganda and other forces in today’s Somalia have, in part, taken on the role of donors in the last few years – even if much of their funding (at least with AMISOM members) still comes from Europe and North American governments.
For this author, then, three key questions emerge from the Somalia Conference. One: Will African governments succeed in fostering ‘recipient ownership’ of development where Western donors have largely failed? Two: Do they actually want to? And three: To what extent is this a portent of things to come? Though it has its detractors, the African intervention in Somalia represents – thus far – one of the most successful international peacekeeping missions implemented anywhere, by anyone, in the last decade. Coupled with the AU’s growing commitment and competence in leading such missions and Western nations’ reluctance to pledge their own troops to them, are we now entering the final days of UN-style international peacekeeping missions? If so, do we need to start thinking more seriously about what ‘local’ ownership means when neighbours are building or re-building neighbours?