Development, NGOs, and civil society: the debate and its future

Jenny Pearce

Introduction

In reviewing the contributions to this Reader, I was struck by three things. First, by the wealth of empirically informed conceptual analysis that they offer, succinctly addressing many of the key issues that emerged in the 1990s on the theme of development, NGOs, and civil society. Second, by the mix of scholar-activist-practitioner authors, for whom the issues discussed really matter, because if they were clarified the world might become a better place. But third, and despite the quality and relevance of the papers selected for this volume, by the difficulty of generating wider debate about their content.

This is certainly not the fault of the contributions: on the contrary, they cover the range of issues admirably. The problem is that they are appearing in a world in which the collapse of intellectual and political reference points has prompted an eclectic outpouring of ideas and views, without organised and coherent debate. As a result, good thinking and writing is lost; much is duplicated and reinvented; people talk but do not listen; people write and do not read; and vice versa. At the start of the new millennium, development debates — if they can be called that — are like concentric circles, orbiting each other but without touching. These circles appear to share a centre, in that the same language and concepts are used by all, from the World Bank to Southern NGOs and grassroots movements. The reluctance to clarify the distinct meanings invested in these concepts, however, reflects collective collusion in the myth that a consensus on development exists, or even that some clear conclusions have been reached about how to deal with global poverty. Take, for instance, a headline in the International Herald Tribune of 7 January 2000: 'Concept of Poverty Undergoes Radical Shift: Now a Solution Seems Possible'.

Not only is there very little consensus, but the real world of development NGOs and official donors is characterised by mistrust, and by fierce competition over resources and protagonism, all of which are very damaging to the anti-poverty cause. The inadequacy of responses to global poverty is only too apparent. UNDP's 1997 Human Development Report gave a measured overview of progress and setbacks in addressing global poverty in the twentieth century, and a quantitative and qualitative picture of the scale of the problem still to be tackled (UNDP 1997, especially pp24–60). While there have been notable achievements, these have been neither continuous nor equally distributed. The economic restructuring of the 1980s and 1990s reflects what UNDP calls the 'ascents/descents' character of development processes. The suggestion is that economic liberalisation has widened existing inequalities, even when it encourages growth and accumulation for those already strong in the marketplace. Such strength may derive from legally acquired wealth, but also from coercive power and illegal dealings. Criminal mafias, of which there are now many in the South and in post-communist transition countries, have expanded with the relaxation of global financial and trade controls. Between 1987 and 1993, the number of people with an income of less than US$1 a day increased by almost 100 million to 1.3 billion people, one-third of the population of the 'developing world'. Yet, between 1989 and 1996, the number of billionaires increased from 157 to 447. The value of their combined assets exceeded the combined incomes of half of the poorest of the world's poor (UNDP 1997: 38 and 110). Since the early 1980s, more than 100 developing and transition countries have suffered cuts in living standards and failures of growth more prolonged than anything experienced by the industrialised countries during the Great Depression of the 1930s (UNDP 1997: 7).

If one looks at the global picture, rather than that of the 'developing world' in isolation, the problem of human poverty assumes much greater proportions than is suggested by statistics which show that one-third of the population in the South is income-poor and one-quarter is poor in terms of the UNDP's Human Development Index. More than 100 million people in the industrialised countries, for example, also live below the income-poverty line (UNDP 1997: 34). But human poverty is not just a question of the number of people living below an agreed minimum: a category of poor on the wrong side of the relatively recent exclusion/inclusion dichotomy. Nor is it enough to consider that millions who are not in fact below the 'line' live on its borders in constant fear of crossing over, suffering not just the threat of actual indigence but conditions of daily exploitation. Rather, the issue is whether the 'inclusion' side of the border is worth preserving, and whether what it claims to offer can really be made universally available. There are cogent thinkers in the South today who, along with their Northern intellectual allies, argue for an end to 'development' as an idea. Majid Rahnema suggests that 'development' could never offer a sustainable option to all the people on the planet, even if it were successfully delivered:

The failures of development can no longer be attributed solely to the inability of the governments, institutions and people in charge of implementing it. In fact, if they had been successful in fulfilling all the promises they made to their peoples, and had there been enough money and resources to bring about the development of all the so-called underdeveloped countries of the world to the level of the 'most advanced', the resulting deadlocks and tensions would perhaps have taken an even more dramatic turn. For example, it has been estimated that a single edition of the New York Times eats up 150 acres of forest land. Other figures suggest that, were the rest of the world to consume paper, including recycled paper, at the same rate as the United States (with six per cent of the world's population), within two years not a single tree would be left on the planet. Moreover, considering that the number of private cars in the USA by far exceeds its population, an efficient development machine, capable of taking the levels of newspaper reading and car ownership in China and India up to those of the USA, would pose to those countries (and perhaps the rest of the world) problems of traffic, pollution and forest depletion on a disastrous scale. It is thus perhaps a blessing that the machine was actually not as efficient as its programmers wanted it to be! (in Rahmena and Bawtree 1997: 378–9)

Even if we do not accept the full implications of the post-development position, given that, like dependency theory, it offers a strong critique but little guidance to action and policy, it is surely time to question profoundly the dichotomised schema of a 'successful North' and 'unsuccessful South'. Such a schema discouraged people from asking what kind of world we wanted to build, and instead focused the debate on how the Others of the 'third world' could become more like Us in the 'first world'. Most of us thought that such a schema, first encapsulated by 'modernisation theory' in the 1950s, had been intellectually defeated by the 1960s and that it was effectively dead. However, it returned in new form and with new vigour in the 1980s and 1990s. Undoubtedly, its resuscitation was encouraged by Fukuyama-like musings on the 'End of History', as echoed by the millennium edition of Newsweek, which declared capitalism and democracy to be the effective victors of the second millennium. Yet, as 'Souths' proliferate in the North, and 'Norths' emerge in the South, we need to ask searching questions about 'development' as both an idea and an ideal, as well as about what NGOs might contribute to it.

My introductory essay aims first to identify what this collection of papers tells us about the current state of thinking about development, NGOs, and civil society, and to clarify the points of debate that have arisen over the last decade. Second, I shall argue that the age of a rhetorical consensus should be declared over. Instead, I would partly agree with Michael Edwards (1999) that we should shift definitively from the 'foreign aid' paradigm towards a new idea of international co-operation, based on broad alliances between the different actors and institutions involved in the struggle against global poverty and exploitation. Building global alliances, or 'constituencies for change', he argues, would enable human beings to co-determine their futures on the world stage. It is evident that only through mutual engagement can any real difference be made: debate needs to be encouraged, to explore what does and does not work. International co-operation cannot be based, however, on concealing the divergence of values, interests, political positions, and, ultimately, the power to pursue them within the present global order. Edwards calls for a form of co-operation that is democratic and rooted in dialogue; one not based on any universal model imposed from above, but on the politically feasible goal of a more humanised capitalism. The purpose of co-operation is, however, by no means uncontested: Edwards' goal itself is a source of contention, as is the goal of 'development'. His understanding of what is 'politically feasible' is questionable. Where dialogue should take place, and how to ensure the equality of participation that Edwards calls for, are extremely complex issues.

Above all, however, this introductory essay will argue that the theoretical, normative, and political basis for a critique of the global order is still weak and/or absent among NGOs, and that rhetorical consensus is one result of this vacuum. This has implications for practice and action, and also for the generation of open debate in search of common ground and new forms of co-operation. From the contributions to this Reader comes the call for NGOs to examine and re-examine critically their role in the light of experiences during, and in particular after, the Cold War. For the past 15 years or so, NGOs have been courted by governments and multilateral institutions. The moment has come to count the cost of NGOs' responses, and to debate the criteria upon which choices about the future should be based. As they find themselves under greater scrutiny, it is surely time for some humbling self-analysis which includes the question do NGOs have a future at all?

The debate

An initial task for this essay is to draw out the major themes that arise from this Reader and assess what they tell us about the current debate on development, NGOs, and civil society. I identify four critical themes:

• NGOs and neo-liberalism;

• the roles and relationships of international (Northern) NGOs and Southern NGOs;

• NGOs and the state;

• theory, praxis, and NGOs.

NGOs and neo-liberalism

The first contribution to this Reader, that of Michael Edwards and David Hulme, reports on the first of three international conferences they organised during the 1990s (in 1992, 1994 and, together with Tina Wallace, in 1999) on NGOs and development. The 1992 conference reflected early tensions within the development NGO community as it found itself gaining unexpected respectability and potential funding from the world of official donors. Edwards and Hulme draw attention to the risks, as well as gains, implicit in the opportunity to 'scale up':

Increasing interest and support for NGOs among official donor agencies may create a predisposition, or foster a shift, towards operational and organisational expansion. These incentives need to be treated cautiously, because decisions to expand with official finance may have various unwelcome consequences: for example, they may close off potential courses of action; or make NGOs feel more accountable to their official donors than to their intended beneficiaries; or imply support for policies of wholesale economic liberalisation.

By the mid-1990s, an untypically cynical tone creeps into the pages of Development in Practice. Gino Lofredo suggests that the appeals to caution articulated by Edwards and Hulme went unheeded. His satirical commentary on the growth of 'EN-GE-OH's among Southern professionals is a warning to those who too quickly and instrumentally adopted the official donor agenda. Development turned into just another 'business' in a neo-liberal era, ultimately dedicated to what he calls 'Sustainable (Self) Development'. By the end of the 1990s, Stephen Commins, writing this time about Northern NGOs, points to the negative outcome for those who chose to become 'the delivery agency for a global soup kitchen'. He suggests that the backlash has begun, and that NGOs are no longer seen as offering significant advantages either in community development or in complex emergencies. Instead, they are 'useful fig-leaves to cover government inaction or indifference to human suffering', both in complex emergencies and in economic restructuring.

To what extent have development NGOs succumbed to the pressures and incentives to pick up the social cost of neo-liberal restructuring, and thus enabled multilateral and governmental institutions to avoid breaking with their neo-liberal faith by re-creating welfare states? While the discourse of these institutions has become notably more socially aware and 'human'-oriented (and less 'anti-state' in an ideological sense), the underlying philosophy of market-led globalisation has not been questioned. Yet many progressive and well-intentioned NGOs of North and South (as well as the opportunistic ones) accepted funding from these institutions for carrying out community development, post-conflict reconstruction and, more ambitiously, democracy building, putting aside any residual doubts about neo-liberalism as such. Perhaps what has encouraged the beginnings of an anti-NGO shift is that, unsurprisingly, NGOs were unable to offer the solution to the social cost of economic restructuring. Criticisms of NGOs have focused on their technical deficiency, their lack of accountability, and their excessively politicised and critical character. This 'failure' has undermined their credibility among the technocrats within donor institutions, who demanded rapid and measurable outputs from investments in the NGO sector. And it weakened the influence of the pro-NGO social-development advocates within those institutions.

If UNDP figures are correct, global poverty and inequality have grown in many parts of the world under the neo-liberal policy agenda and the processes of trade liberalisation, privatisation, and labour-market reform. The picture is not universally bleak, of course, and macro-economic performance did improve in some regions and countries. Consider, however, the case of India, whose levels of public spending were under threat in the late 1990s from a neo-liberal focus on reducing fiscal deficits and minimising the role of the state (UNDP 1997: 52). UNDP attributes India's relative achievements in poverty reduction between 1976 and 1990 to its public-spending levels. India has a reputed one million NGOs (Salamon and Anheier 1997), but it is unclear whether even this number can offer a sustainable substitute for state spending. This is not to say that some NGOs in India and elsewhere did not do good work. It must be recognised, though, that increasing numbers of NGOs, however dedicated and efficient, could never offer rapid solutions to a problem on the scale of global poverty, or even alleviate it sufficiently to ensure relative social stability.

More worrying is the evidence that NGOs have sacrificed some legitimacy in their own societies by their willingness to participate in implementing the social safety-net programmes that accompany donors' neo-liberal policies. Richard Holloway (1999) has made this point forcefully:

While people inside the NGO world still think of themselves as occupying the moral high ground, the reality now is that few people in the South outside the NGO world think of NGOs like this. 'The word on the street in the South is that NGOs are charlatans racking up large salaries ... and many air-conditioned offices.'