TY - JOUR
AU1 - Brown, Stuart S.
AB - Editor's Note:If McDonald's franchises, Chinese toys, and Indian call centers recall globalization's noisy surface features, then migrant remittances must capture its quieter underside. At some $300 billion a year, global remittances represent a leading example of transnational value-transfer. Supplementing family savings and foreign exchange, remittances rank among the most sizeable, stable, and counter-cyclical financial flows to developing economies. Yet, remittances invite special attention mainly because they represent neither commercial transactions nor official aid. Unlike much non-state finance or goods and services crisscrossing national borders, remittances reflect unrequited, unidirectional flows of value. With remittances constituting so prominent a fixture in today's global economy one is prompted to wonder: do there exist other, significant categories of “private,” or, less ambiguously, “non-state” transnational transfers? Can such transfers be analyzed as a coherent set of distinct activities and social processes? These questions are debated in this Forum, which is reflective of a conference on the topic sponsored by the Moynihan Institute of Global Affairs at the Maxwell School of Syracuse University in October 2007. The articles assembled here highlight an increasingly prominent, albeit underappreciated, segment of “globalization.” This spectrum of activities involves non-state actors—a short list would include individuals, faith-based charities, philanthropic foundations, professional associations, universities, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and (sometimes) corporations—who transfer something of value—money, goods and services, expertise, technology, or norms—transnationally. Because unidirectional flows are involved, these non-state transnational transfers are distinguishable from (quid pro quo) transactions.In addition,while this universe also excludes official transfers such as foreign aid or debt relief, issues of sovereignty invariably arise nonetheless. For example, governments may avoid social unrest by capitalizing on non-state transnational transfers or, alternatively, sacrifice legitimacy through failure to provide what (foreign) private actors seem so capable of furnishing. In addition, non-state transnational transfers can impact democratic citizenship with implications for governance and civil society in the recipient country. The first contribution to this Forum, by Katrina Burgess and Beatriz Tinajero, provides a useful point of departure for the non-state transnational transfers' theme with its useful taxonomy of remitters and remittances. These researchers note that individual and collective remittances alike can satisfy multiple objectives including family support, philanthropy, and investment. Provided this “investment” supports a family-run business, Burgess and Tinajero, sensibly portray such flows as bono fide transfers. The same can be said of philanthropy including funds allocated to investment projects in the community of origin. Burgess and Tinajero argue that all contributions except investment for financial return to the remitters comprise genuine unilateral transfers. Even normal provision for family consumption becomes a transfer by virtue of the transnational nature of the remittances. Moreover, that reverse, non-material benefits may accrue including status, prestige, and influence, need not dilute the transfer's (genuinely unilateral) character. A final contribution of the Burgess and Tinafero contribution lies in its cross-country focus, concerning the differential involvement of the Mexican and El Salvadoran governments in facilitating remittances as well as the latter's differential impact on governance in these two states. In addition to remitters, transnational NGOs represent a leading actor engaged in non-state transnational transfers. Transnational NGOs assume center stage in disaster relief, human rights promotion, skills transfer, and the construction of civil society. Besides the transfer of tangibles (goods and services)—which involves redistribution from one country to another—NGOs often transfer intangibles such as ideas and norms. This distinctive class of intangible transfers involving (non-redistributive) access to a public good amounts to (cross-national) diffusion. As Hongying Wang's contribution shows, transnational NGOs serve as crucial conveyor belts for Western ideas and norms that significantly impact the third sector in once-totalitarian China. Wang's discussion highlights how the Chinese intellectual class adapts these ideas to socio-political realities, notably the Communist Party's power monopoly. Although China's third sector remains considerably less autonomous relative to Western experience, transnational NGO transfers of civil society norms have helped to consolidate and institutionalize the third sector in ways acceptable and even advantageous to the Chinese state as well as to its grassroots NGOs. One issue in conceptualizing non-state transnational transfers arises when NGOs—or professional associations, universities, and other non-state actors—acquire financing from third parties. Steven Brechin's contribution probes the nature of transfers by three leading global conservancy NGOs, which are funded from a variety of sources including multi-national corporations (MNCs). The characteristic opacity of corporate–NGO relationships constrains the ability to attribute a direct corporate influence over the specifics of NGO transnational (environmental) advocacy. Exploring the ambiguous line between transfer and transaction, Brechin argues that corporate (transnational) social philanthropy—a long-term strategy utilizing relationships with NGOs to build “reputational assets” including image and good will, involving no immediate financial payoff—can be justifiably characterized as a quasi-transfer. This distinction between transfer and transaction can be considerably less clear cut, however, in so-called “marketing partnerships.” Such agreements, for instance the sharing of proceeds facilitated by joint corporate (environmental) NGO credit cards, more closely approximate a transactional arrangement. The contribution by Kudesia and Rubinstein provides a unique perspective on the non-state transnational transfer theme. First, certain aspects of peacekeeping can be usefully conceptualized as examples of non-state transfers. While intergovernmental agencies like the United Nations or regional organizations like the African Union contract private individuals to perform peacekeeping functions, the actual providers of these services comprise non-state actors. Second, the relevant transfer—the actual impact of peacekeeping services—often involves unintended consequences that exceed the mandate approved by the host country government. And many of these outcomes prove to be unambiguously welfare-reducing for the intended beneficiaries of such transfers. Third, peacekeeping involves a classic form of remittance transfer—money wired home by (high-salaried) peacekeepers. Finally, peacekeeping affords countries with under-funded armies an opportunity to absorb the best practices of more professionalized and better trained Western forces, a distinct form of intercountry transfer. Thus, aspects of peacekeeping and related transnational security services provide a unique window on the complex phenomenon of non-state transnational transfers. One important avenue for future research would be to explore how different countries compare on the volume and determinants of their non-state transnational transfers. Although available cross-sectional data sets do not facilitate clear distinctions between national and transnational giving, Arthur Brooks' provocative contribution to this Forum explores aggregate private cross-country philanthropy through the proxy of charitable volunteering. His econometric results reveal two overriding predictors of private philanthropy—a country's degree of religiosity (proxied by church, synagogue, and mosque attendance) and its relative orientation toward income redistribution. Controlling for real income and demographic differences, private giving, Brooks finds, rises positively with the centrality of religion in a country and inversely with orientation toward social democracy (or attitudinal preferences favoring public redistribution programs). In sum, the contributions featured in this Forum highlight the analytical richness of the construct “non-state transnational transfers.” The latter lends a fresh perspective to an important segment of globalization. The varied set of non-state transnational actors, who facilitate a complex array of unrequited transfers, need to be distinguished first from states, intergovernmental organizations, and (profit maximizing) corporations, and secondly from (quid pro quo) transactional arrangements in which state and non-state actors engage. It is hoped that the discussion in this Form will stimulate new thinking concerning the motivations and impact of transnational non-state actors. The complex implications of non-state transnational transfers for sovereignty seem a particularly promising avenue for future investigation. Remittances as Non-State Transnational Transfers? Lessons from Mexico and El Salvador Katrina Burgess and Beatriz Tinajero Fletcher School, Tufts University In recent years, national accounts and household surveys have registered a rapidly growing flow of unrequited resources across national borders: remittances sent by migrants living abroad to their families and communities back home. According to a recent World Bank study, remittances to middle- and low-income countries grew from around $31 billion in 1990 to an estimated $167 billion in 2006. By the mid-2000s, these funds accounted for approximately 30% of total financial flows to developing countries, and they exceeded all private and public capital inflows in 36 out of 153 developing countries (Ratha 2005:269; Fajnzylber and López 2007). Latin America and the Caribbean (LAC) capture a sizable portion of remittances, receiving an estimated $69.2 billion in 2008 (MIF 2008).1 These funds have a significant impact on the region's macroeconomy, exceeding the combined total of foreign direct investment and foreign aid (Terry 2005:3). As shown in Table 1, Mexico and Brazil receive the highest volume of remittances, but remittances represent a much higher share of GDP in smaller, poorer countries such as Honduras, El Salvador, and Nicaragua.2 Remittances also have a major impact at the household level. Although the results vary depending on methodology, most studies find that they reduce poverty, increase savings and asset accumulation, and improve health and education in remittance-receiving households, particularly in rural areas (see, for example, López Córdova 2004; Orozco 2004; Chimhowu, Piesse, and Pinder 2005; Hagen-Zanker and Muñiz Castillo 2005; Lozano Ascencio 2005; Rodríguez Ramírez 2005). 1 Remittances in Latin American Economies Remittances (millions, 2008) (US$) Rem./GDP (%, 2005) Rem./Exports (%, 2005) Rem./ODA (%, 2004) Rem./FDI (%, 2005) Argentina $955 0.4 2 296 15 Bolivia $1,097 8.5 33 55 835 Brazil $7,200 1.1 5 1,973 46 Colombia $4,842 4.1 19 758 111 Costa Rica $624 1.8 5 2,376 59 Dom. Republic $3,111 9.1 45 2,806 298 Ecuador $2,822 6.4 20 1,084 131 El Salvador $3,788 17.1 80 1,205 619 Guatemala $4,315 9.3 77 1,228 1,781 Honduras $2,701 21.2 69 177 928 Mexico $25,145 2.8 10 13,722 178 Nicaragua $1,000 16.9 55 66 370 Panama $325 1.6 4 613 34 Paraguay $700 7.2 20 16,866 859 Peru $2,960 3.2 15 279 117 Uruguay $130 0.6 3 477 35 Venezuela $832 0.2 1 533 18 Average $3,679 6.6 27 2,618 378 Remittances (millions, 2008) (US$) Rem./GDP (%, 2005) Rem./Exports (%, 2005) Rem./ODA (%, 2004) Rem./FDI (%, 2005) Argentina $955 0.4 2 296 15 Bolivia $1,097 8.5 33 55 835 Brazil $7,200 1.1 5 1,973 46 Colombia $4,842 4.1 19 758 111 Costa Rica $624 1.8 5 2,376 59 Dom. Republic $3,111 9.1 45 2,806 298 Ecuador $2,822 6.4 20 1,084 131 El Salvador $3,788 17.1 80 1,205 619 Guatemala $4,315 9.3 77 1,228 1,781 Honduras $2,701 21.2 69 177 928 Mexico $25,145 2.8 10 13,722 178 Nicaragua $1,000 16.9 55 66 370 Panama $325 1.6 4 613 34 Paraguay $700 7.2 20 16,866 859 Peru $2,960 3.2 15 279 117 Uruguay $130 0.6 3 477 35 Venezuela $832 0.2 1 533 18 Average $3,679 6.6 27 2,618 378 Source: MIF 2006, 2008. View Large 1 Remittances in Latin American Economies Remittances (millions, 2008) (US$) Rem./GDP (%, 2005) Rem./Exports (%, 2005) Rem./ODA (%, 2004) Rem./FDI (%, 2005) Argentina $955 0.4 2 296 15 Bolivia $1,097 8.5 33 55 835 Brazil $7,200 1.1 5 1,973 46 Colombia $4,842 4.1 19 758 111 Costa Rica $624 1.8 5 2,376 59 Dom. Republic $3,111 9.1 45 2,806 298 Ecuador $2,822 6.4 20 1,084 131 El Salvador $3,788 17.1 80 1,205 619 Guatemala $4,315 9.3 77 1,228 1,781 Honduras $2,701 21.2 69 177 928 Mexico $25,145 2.8 10 13,722 178 Nicaragua $1,000 16.9 55 66 370 Panama $325 1.6 4 613 34 Paraguay $700 7.2 20 16,866 859 Peru $2,960 3.2 15 279 117 Uruguay $130 0.6 3 477 35 Venezuela $832 0.2 1 533 18 Average $3,679 6.6 27 2,618 378 Remittances (millions, 2008) (US$) Rem./GDP (%, 2005) Rem./Exports (%, 2005) Rem./ODA (%, 2004) Rem./FDI (%, 2005) Argentina $955 0.4 2 296 15 Bolivia $1,097 8.5 33 55 835 Brazil $7,200 1.1 5 1,973 46 Colombia $4,842 4.1 19 758 111 Costa Rica $624 1.8 5 2,376 59 Dom. Republic $3,111 9.1 45 2,806 298 Ecuador $2,822 6.4 20 1,084 131 El Salvador $3,788 17.1 80 1,205 619 Guatemala $4,315 9.3 77 1,228 1,781 Honduras $2,701 21.2 69 177 928 Mexico $25,145 2.8 10 13,722 178 Nicaragua $1,000 16.9 55 66 370 Panama $325 1.6 4 613 34 Paraguay $700 7.2 20 16,866 859 Peru $2,960 3.2 15 279 117 Uruguay $130 0.6 3 477 35 Venezuela $832 0.2 1 533 18 Average $3,679 6.6 27 2,618 378 Source: MIF 2006, 2008. View Large In our discussion here, we will propose a clearer conceptualization of remittances and then examine their magnitude, nature, and implications as non-state transnational transfers. We base our analysis primarily on the cases of Mexico and El Salvador, both of which receive significant remittances, have among the most well-organized migrants in the United States, and are at the forefront of creating government programs to leverage collective remittances for community development.3 After discussing definitions and data, we analyze the extent to which remittances can be considered non-state transnational transfers. We find that they qualify, with a few caveats, as unilateral transfers and are, in fact, more transnational than most cross-border transfers. We also show that they are fundamentally non-state but that the Mexican and Salvadoran governments have sought to channel them into projects co-financed by the government. We then discuss the positive and negative implications of remittances for democratic citizenship, focusing on the role of collective remittances in shaping local governance and the impact of migrant-led campaigns to gain political rights in their countries of origin. Finally, we offer some caveats regarding the transformative potential of remittances. Unpacking Remittances The literature on remittances has grown exponentially in the last few years, but it still suffers from two major shortcomings. First, there is a lack of good data, particularly on remittances that are sent for purposes other than family support. Second, there is a lack of clarity regarding the types and uses of remittances. For example, remittances sent for social purposes are often characterized as collective regardless of whether the senders were acting individually or collectively. Because of this conceptual confusion, even the available data are often misleading. For the sake of conceptual clarity, we propose treating the type of remitter and the type of remittance separately (see Figure 1). Regarding the type of remitter, we distinguish between remittances sent by individual migrants acting on their own (individual remittances) and remittances raised and distributed by formal or informal groups of migrants (collective remittances). Collective remittances are often (but not always) sent by “hometown associations” (HTAs), which are small philanthropic organizations of migrants “that generally provide assistance to their communities of origin and often participate in collaborative development efforts” (Orozco 2003:1). In contrast to individual remittances, collective remittances require some degree of collective action, usually on both sides of the border.4 On the sending side, the migrants work together through informal networks or an HTA to select the projects and raise the money. On the receiving side, someone in the community collaborates with the migrants to manage the money and implement the project. 1 View largeDownload slide Unpacking remittances. 1 View largeDownload slide Unpacking remittances. Regarding the type of remittance, we divide them into three categories corresponding to how they are used: family support, philanthropy, or profit-generating investment. Family support involves the transfer of a share of the migrant's wage income to cover the expenses of his or her family members back home.5 Philanthropy involves donations for charity, public goods, or productive projects in the community of origin.6 Profit-generating investment involves a transaction with the expectation of a financial return to the remittance sender(s).7 Our categorization generates various combinations of type of remitter and intended use of remittances. By definition, all family remittances are individual remittances, since they are generated and sent directly by individual wage-earners. But not all individual remittances are family remittances, since individual migrants also designate remittances for philanthropy and/or profit-generating investment. Likewise, whereas the vast majority of collective remittances go toward charity or public goods, groups of migrants have also invested in productive enterprises, either as philanthropic donations or with the expectation of a financial return. Based on our categorization, we can more accurately assess the limited data on remittances. Individual remittances capture the lion's share of funds transferred by migrants back to their communities of origin, and most of them are used to cover family expenses, primarily basic household consumption. A 2003 survey of Mexican and Salvadoran remittance senders in the United States by the Tomás Rivera Policy Institute (TRPI) found that 69% remitted exclusively for family purposes, whereas 31% remitted for both family and philanthropic purposes (Cortina and de la Garza 2004).8 Among those who made philanthropic donations, 14% of Mexicans and 25% of Salvadorans did so through an organization, thereby engaging in collective remittances. We can cull additional information about collective remittances from studies of HTAs. Among Latin American and Caribbean migrants, Mexicans have the most numerous and well-established HTAs. The number of Mexican HTAs registered with the Mexican government grew from 263 in 1995 to 623 in 2003 (Lanly and Hamann 2004:131; Lanly and Valenzuela 2004:15). By 2005, there were 671 registered HTAs in Los Angeles and Chicago alone (Rivera-Salgado, Bada, and Escala-Rabadán 2005). According to survey data, which includes unregistered groups, there are around 3,000 Mexican HTAs (Orozco 2007). Some of this growth can be attributed to matching grant programs pioneered by the state of Zacatecas in the mid-1980s and established at the national level as the Three-for-One (3x1) Program in 2002. For every peso that an HTA commits to an approved project, each level of the Mexican government (federal, state, and local) contributes another peso. In 2005, 815 HTAs based in 35 U.S. states contributed nearly $19 million dollars to 1,703 projects in 425 municipalities (Soto Priante and Velázquez Holguín 2006).9 Our field research in Zacatecas and Michoacán suggests that the 3x1 Program has captured a growing share of philanthropic remittances to those states since its inception in 2002. We would therefore expect a survey conducted today to find a higher share of Mexicans engaging in collective philanthropy, particularly in traditionally high-migration states. Salvadorans have also demonstrated a propensity to form HTAs, particularly since the 1990s. According to El Salvador's foreign ministry, there were 295 Salvadoran HTAs in 2003, mostly located in California and Washington, DC.10 Following the Mexican example, the Salvadoran government created the program United for Solidarity (Unidos) in 2002 to leverage collective remittances for local development. Between 2002 and 2004, Salvadoran HTAs contributed $2.13 million, or 19% of the total cost, to 45 projects (FISDL website 2005).11 In contrast to the 3x1 Program, however, our field research in El Salvador suggests that Unidos did not capture a very significant share of philanthropic remittances, even among those sent by HTAs. Instead, most HTAs preferred to continue sending their collective remittances directly to the community. Surveys suggest that Mexican and Salvadoran HTAs have very similar profiles. Orozco (2003, 2004) notes that they usually have a core membership of around 10 people, including a board of directors. The members organize events and fundraising activities to raise money (between $10,000 and $15,000 per year on average) for various kinds of projects in their hometowns. Although only a small share of Salvadoran and Mexican immigrants are members of HTAs, many more participate in their events and send collective remittances, either directly or indirectly.12 Table 2 offers some insight into the kinds of philanthropic projects being financed by individual and/or collective remittances in Mexico and El Salvador. The TRPI survey, which combines individual and collective remittances, suggests that a significant share of migrant philanthropy takes the form of charitable donations, primarily in the form of disaster relief and church support. By contrast, the other two data sources, which only measure collective remittances, show a significantly higher incidence of support for public goods (although nearly half of the Mexican HTAs in Orozco's 2003 survey also made charitable contributions). The contrast is especially striking with regard to the 3×1 Program, which devoted 91.5% of its projects in 2006 to public works or social development. 2 Type of philanthropic projects financed by individual and/or collective remittances (percentages) Type of Project TRPI Survey (% of remittances) 3×1 Program (% of projects) Orozco Survey (% of HTAs) Mexico El Salvador Mexico Mexico Public Works (roads, water, highways, sewage, electricity) 14.1 15.2 60.8 32 Social Development (school and computer equipment, classrooms, health centers, ambulances, old-age homes) 18.5 16.5 30.7 60 Productive Projects/Economic Development 8.4 3.8 3.7 10 Town Beautification and Celebration 16.9 11.4 – 35 Sports Infrastructure and Leisure 5.6 1.3 3.3 19 Other (natural disasters, local parish) 36.6 51.9 1.6 48 Type of Project TRPI Survey (% of remittances) 3×1 Program (% of projects) Orozco Survey (% of HTAs) Mexico El Salvador Mexico Mexico Public Works (roads, water, highways, sewage, electricity) 14.1 15.2 60.8 32 Social Development (school and computer equipment, classrooms, health centers, ambulances, old-age homes) 18.5 16.5 30.7 60 Productive Projects/Economic Development 8.4 3.8 3.7 10 Town Beautification and Celebration 16.9 11.4 – 35 Sports Infrastructure and Leisure 5.6 1.3 3.3 19 Other (natural disasters, local parish) 36.6 51.9 1.6 48 TRPI Survey 2003 presents the percentage of philanthropic remittances that go to each type of project. The 3×1 Program source is the Microregiones website, which presents the number of projects carried out under each category; the percentages shown in the table correspond to the 2006 projects and were calculated by the authors. The last column corresponds to the percentage of HTAs working on given projects and is based on Manuel Orozco's 2003 survey of more than one hundred HTAs operating in various parts of the U.S. and working in various Mexican states. View Large 2 Type of philanthropic projects financed by individual and/or collective remittances (percentages) Type of Project TRPI Survey (% of remittances) 3×1 Program (% of projects) Orozco Survey (% of HTAs) Mexico El Salvador Mexico Mexico Public Works (roads, water, highways, sewage, electricity) 14.1 15.2 60.8 32 Social Development (school and computer equipment, classrooms, health centers, ambulances, old-age homes) 18.5 16.5 30.7 60 Productive Projects/Economic Development 8.4 3.8 3.7 10 Town Beautification and Celebration 16.9 11.4 – 35 Sports Infrastructure and Leisure 5.6 1.3 3.3 19 Other (natural disasters, local parish) 36.6 51.9 1.6 48 Type of Project TRPI Survey (% of remittances) 3×1 Program (% of projects) Orozco Survey (% of HTAs) Mexico El Salvador Mexico Mexico Public Works (roads, water, highways, sewage, electricity) 14.1 15.2 60.8 32 Social Development (school and computer equipment, classrooms, health centers, ambulances, old-age homes) 18.5 16.5 30.7 60 Productive Projects/Economic Development 8.4 3.8 3.7 10 Town Beautification and Celebration 16.9 11.4 – 35 Sports Infrastructure and Leisure 5.6 1.3 3.3 19 Other (natural disasters, local parish) 36.6 51.9 1.6 48 TRPI Survey 2003 presents the percentage of philanthropic remittances that go to each type of project. The 3×1 Program source is the Microregiones website, which presents the number of projects carried out under each category; the percentages shown in the table correspond to the 2006 projects and were calculated by the authors. The last column corresponds to the percentage of HTAs working on given projects and is based on Manuel Orozco's 2003 survey of more than one hundred HTAs operating in various parts of the U.S. and working in various Mexican states. View Large Remittances as Non-State Transnational Transfers With the notable exception of profit-generating investment, remittances are an excellent example of non-state transnational transfers. First, they are unilateral transfers without the expectation of a monetary return. There are qualitative differences, however, between philanthropic remittances and family remittances. Whereas the former qualify as transfers independently of their transnationalism, the latter are transfers by virtue of their transnationalism. As Alejandro Canales (2005) argues, family remittances are essentially wage income. While being separated by long distances and national borders dramatically alters the dynamics of family life, it does not necessarily negate the migrant's status as a member of the household, particularly if he or she continues to send remittances. Thus, the share of a migrant's wage income that crosses an international border as it circulates within the household is only considered a transfer because it is transnational. Unless and until family remittances are subsequently used for charity or public goods by the remittance recipient, they do not constitute philanthropy (or altruism) any more than does a domestic worker's “transfer” of income to his or her spouse or parents to purchase food, clothing, healthcare, or education. As discussed above, some migrants do spend a portion of their individual remittances on philanthropy. In addition, household members may decide to use a portion of their family remittances for philanthropic purposes. We found evidence of this phenomenon in our fieldwork in communities with 3×1 projects in Zacatecas, Mexico. In many instances, the community secured an HTA's sponsorship of the project but relied on donations from the community to cover the HTA's share of the cost. Frequently, these community donations came from family remittances. Under this scenario, a share of the wage income distributed to family members by the migrant is transferred from the household to the community, with or without the active consent of the migrant. We also need to recognize that remittances often bring non-material benefits to the donors. In particular, they confer status, prestige, influence, and a sense of belonging.13 As illustrated by the plaques often prominently displayed on migrant-financed stadiums, churches, and clinics, the migrants become benefactors who are widely perceived as the drivers of change and “progress” in their locality. They also recover a sense of identity and membership often weakened by the act of emigrating (Moctezuma 2004). In addition, they gain a degree of access to local, state, and even national politicians that they never would have imagined prior to leaving home. Notwithstanding these caveats, the majority of remittances are as close to an unrequited transfer as one can get. They are also more genuinely transnational than most other transfers across national borders, which tend to be international rather than transnational. Remittances are usually linked to a sense of belonging to the community of origin. As one Salvadoran HTA leader expressed in an interview, “After all, it is our people, we are the same community but we were forced to leave and we hope that no more people are forced to do the same thing.”14 Most migrants who send remittances have strong feelings of loyalty and attachment to their community of origin, even when their membership is contested by other residents. Moreover, HTAs that are actively involved in financing community projects often have strong ties with local residents, organizations, and/or government officials. Thus, remittances often take place in the context of a transnational community whose membership is defined non-territorially and whose bonds are, in turn, reinforced and reaffirmed by these transnational transfers (see, for example, Levitt 2001). Finally, remittances are non-state because they are private transfers by individual migrants and/or HTAs. In their purest form, they are delivered directly to the families and communities that need them, bypassing governments and foreign aid bureaucracies. The majority of remittances to LAC still occur with little or no involvement by the state. In fact, collective remittances often substitute for public investment in local infrastructure and services that the state has failed to provide, particularly in rural areas. In Mexico and El Salvador, however, the state has actively sought to leverage collective remittances for local development by creating the 3x1 Program and Unidos.15 Both programs are public–private partnerships that involve HTAs in the selection and financing of projects in their communities of origin.16 Collective remittances channeled through them lose some of their non-state character but, in the process, gain some advantages from being linked to state resources and policy.17 In particular, they have the advantage of multiplying the resources available for community projects while giving the HTAs a source of leverage in their relationship with the state. Implications for Democratic Citizenship As non-state transnational transfers, remittances inevitably raise several questions regarding citizenship and sovereignty. Besides circulating in a transnational space less easily controlled by governments on either side of the border, they empower migrants relative to non-migrants by endowing them with independent access to financial resources and, consequently, higher status, less vulnerability to manipulation, and greater political influence and access. On the one hand, these features have the potential to enhance democratic citizenship by promoting higher standards regarding government accountability. This effect is most likely when collective remittances are being used to co-finance projects with the government, particularly if the migrants are given an institutionalized role in selecting and/or running the projects. Under this scenario, the migrants have both the incentives and the leverage to monitor local officials and demand the transparent management of resources during project implementation, which has the potential to alter styles of governance at the local level.18 Although these outcomes are more the exception than the rule, our research shows that Mexican migrants are much more likely than Salvadoran migrants to collaborate with the government, partly because they have been able to influence the design and implementation of the 3x1 program.19 On the other hand, the privileged position of migrants relative to non-migrants may pose problems for democratic representation, particularly when migrants become an alternative elite rather than advocates for their less advantaged compatriots. In the event of a conflict between the migrants and the community, local officials may favor the migrants because of their desire to capture remittances.20 This outcome may be partly ameliorated by the presence of a strong, local counterpart organization, which increases the probability that the HTA has accurate information about the community's needs and concerns, as well as a more sustainable mechanism by which to make demands in the community. Our research shows that such counterpart organizations are much more common in El Salvador than in Mexico. Citizenship rights face another, more profound, challenge as a result of the political empowerment that has accompanied the flow of remittances, particularly in Mexico. Mexican migrants are beginning to transform a territorially-based definition of citizenship into a transnational one (Moctezuma 2004). At the national level, their most significant victory has been gaining the right to vote from abroad in presidential elections, which was finally approved by the Mexican Congress in June 2005 after years of pressure by organized migrants. Although the actual level of participation by Mexican migrants was extremely low in the 2006 elections, the law has increased incentives for presidential candidates to mobilize expatriate voters and court their direct as well as indirect support.21 Mexico has also adopted a more transnational definition of citizenship at the state and local levels. Organized migrants from Zacatecas and Michoacán have been pioneers in gaining the right to be elected for office, occupy seats in their state legislatures, and vote in state elections. In Zacatecas, a coalition of HTAs, academics, and state deputies lobbied successfully for the so-called Migrant Law (Ley Migrante), which grants migrants two seats in the state legislature and gives them the right to run for office at the local level. In Michoacán, the state's first migrant deputy took office as a state legislator in 2005, and the legislature passed a law granting migrants the right to vote in the state's gubernatorial elections in 2007. Salvadoran migrants have also campaigned for political rights, but thus far they have been unsuccessful, despite the support of influential NGOs and El Salvador's main opposition party, the FMLN, which won a presidential election for the first time in March. The main obstacle to gaining political rights has been resistance by the Arena party, which fears a revival of the FMLN's strong network among Salvadoran migrants. In addition, El Salvador's unitary political system denies Salvadorans a subnational “laboratory” for political reform that could build momentum for voting rights at the national level. Although migrants are sometimes influential in local politics and have even run for public office, their lack of higher-level organizations and institutionalized access to the state limits their ability to shape public policy. Conclusions Remittances are, in most respects, an excellent example of non-state transnational transfers. With the exception of profit-generating investment, they are private funds that are transferred from one member of a transnational community (the migrants) to another (the family and/or community of origin) without the expectation of a financial return. Given their magnitude, they have the potential to improve living standards and enhance democratic citizenship in the migrants' communities of origin. This potential needs to be qualified in several important ways, however. With regard to living standards, remittances offer a temporary source of additional financing for struggling families, but they coexist with (and sometimes exacerbate) deeper problems facing high-migration communities, particularly in rural areas. First, they contribute to depopulation, which is especially pronounced in regions with a long migration tradition (for example, the Central-Western region of Mexico and the Southeastern region of El Salvador). As young workers go abroad to earn remittances, the labor supply shrinks, productivity declines, and the elderly and/or other dependents make up a growing share of the local population. Second, remittances reinforce inequalities between those who receive remittances and those who do not, which is often exacerbated by inflation caused by increased demand for goods, services, and housing by migrants and their families.22 Finally, remittances have thus far been unable to address the underlying cause of migration—the lack of good jobs at home.23 Neither greater access to basic goods and services because of family remittances nor improved infrastructure as a result of philanthropic remittances can resolve this problem, which is frequently identified as the most pressing issue among residents in high-migration communities.24 The growing interest among organized migrants, governments, and multilateral lending agencies in productive projects reflects these concerns, but even if these projects can be designed effectively, they are unlikely to have a dramatic effect on local economies in the absence of long-term policies that foster growth and employment opportunities.25 With regard to democratic citizenship, migrants have used remittances, particularly collective remittances, to insist that local governments be more accountable and transparent and to demand a broadening of political rights. Our field research shows, however, that the impact of collective remittances is strongly conditioned by other factors in the migrants' hometowns, particularly the presence (or absence) of strong leadership and preexisting levels of participation, trust, and communication. This raises the question of whether social capital is a cause or a consequence of collective remittances. Second, consistent with other studies (see, for example, Grindle 2007), we find that local residents are far less concerned with political participation and government accountability than they are with employment and, to a lesser degree, access to state subsidies. Thus, while they may work with HTAs as a means of accessing financial resources for local development, they are unlikely to translate this collaboration into a greater propensity to demand their citizenship rights and/or hold government officials accountable. Third, even the relatively modest impact of collective remittances on democratic citizenship is largely limited to the local level and very difficult to scale up. Mexican migrants have had some success in transforming a territorially-based definition of citizenship into a transnational one, but the impact of this change on political behavior and outcomes has thus far been miniscule. These caveats counsel against overstating the transformative potential of remittances. At the same time, we should recognize that they have vastly improved the quality of life in some localities and encouraged new forms of organizing within transnational communities. Over time, especially if migration continues apace, the latter may have a real impact on patterns of political representation and sovereignty. While greater representation of migrants as transnational members of polity poses a threat to traditional conceptions of sovereignty, it is consistent with a looser (and perhaps more democratic?) conception that reflects today's reality of transnational markets, multiple identities, and blurred jurisdictions. Given the genuinely transnational character of remittances, we applaud the development of stronger mechanisms of representation for their purveyors, particularly if their membership is grounded in strong organizational linkages and effective transborder communication. Transnational Transfer of Ideas and Resources and The Emergence of the Third Sector in China Hongying Wang Department of Political Science, Syracuse University Transnational relations are different from international relations in that they involve non-state actors. According to a widely accepted definition, transnational relations are “regular interactions across national boundaries when at least one actor is a non-state agent or does not operate on behalf of a national government or an international organization” (Risse-Kappen 1995:3). Since China began to open its door to the outside world in the late 1970s, it has become increasingly involved in the web of transnational relations. These relations, in turn, have played a significant role in shaping the domestic economic, social and political development in China. This article examines how transnational actors and interactions have influenced the emergence of the third sector in China. According to Theodore Levitt (1973), every society has three types of organizations—public, private, and organizations that are neither public nor private. Organizations in the last category have been variably labeled as non-government organizations (NGOs), non-profit organizations (NPOs), volunteer organizations, tax-exempt organizations, civic organizations, and so on. Levitt calls them the third sector. Since the 1970s the third sector has been on the rise around the world. In a 1994 article, Lester Salamon observed that the world was witnessing an “associational revolution,” marked by “a massive array of self-governing private organizations, not dedicated to distributing profits to shareholders or directors, pursuing public purposes outside the formal apparatus of the state.” He noted the proliferation of such organizations in almost all parts of the world, from the developed countries in Europe, North America and Asia to the developing societies in Latin America and Africa to the transitional societies of the former Soviet bloc, arguing that the rise of a global third sector “may prove to be as significant to the latter twentieth century as the rise of the nation-state was to the latter nineteenth” (Salamon 1994). In the last decade, the growth of the third sector worldwide has continued. The Emergence of the Third Sector in China For the first 30 years of the People's Republic of China, the Chinese state exercised tight control over political, economic and social control over Chinese society. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) not only monopolized political power, it also ran the economy and people's everyday life. In this context, there was no third sector to speak of. In fact, shortly after the founding of the People's Republic in 1949, the new communist government began to “clean up” the various social organizations that had existed under the old Guomindang regime. Under strict government control, only a small number of government-sponsored social groups were allowed to exist. In 1965, on the eve of the Cultural Revolution, there were fewer than 100 nation-wide social groups and over 6,000 regional and local social groups. During the Cultural Revolution (1966–1976), all social groups stopped functioning. The 1980s saw the flourishing of large numbers of new social groups. In 1989, according to government statistics, there were more than 1,600 nationwide social groups and more than 200,000 regional and local social groups. For a while the government paid little attention to the growth of social groups. But the upheaval of the spring of 1989 alarmed the policymakers, who realized the potential danger of unregulated development of non-governmental groups. Later that year, the State Council issued Regulations on the Registration and Management of Social Groups, requiring all social groups to register with the Ministry of Civil Affairs (and its subsidiaries at the provincial and local levels). In 1998, the State Council issued the Provisional Regulations on the Registration and Management of Non-profit Organizations and revised the 1989 Regulations on the Registration and Management of Social Groups. By 2005 over 285,000 social organizations had registered with the Ministry of Civil Affairs. But that number vastly understates the development of the third sector in China because many social organizations register as for-profit organizations with the Administration of Industry and Commerce (Zhao 2001) and many more have not registered at all even though the government has tacitly permitted their existence (Wang and He 2004). The social organizations in China can be seen as non-government organizations (NGOs) with Chinese characteristics. They vary in their distance from the government and their quality of self-governance. They also vary in their missions. The most active NGOs are environmental groups (Ru and Ortolano 2004, Turner and Lü 2006), trade associations (Yu 2001; Wang and Jia 2004), women's legal aid organizations (Guo 2000, Keith, Lin, and Lie 2003), community organizations (Xiang 2002, Zhu 2004), poverty relief and development groups (Hong 2002), and social service organizations (Zhao 2005). Less prominent but growing are various non-mainstream organizations, such as those emerging among the migrant workers (Zhan and Han 2005). The emergence of the third sector in China has been heavily influenced by China's involvement in various transnational relations. For instance, the growing trade and investment connections between China and the rest of the world have played an indirect and yet important role in changing state-society relations in that country. The competition from international trade and foreign direct investment has exposed Chinese industries to the world market. By the mid-1990s, when a seller's market became a buyer's market for most goods, the competition against imports and foreign-invested enterprises seriously undermined the profitability of the state-owned enterprises (SOEs). When the government finally decided to abandon vast numbers of SOEs to the market place, the bureaucracies in charge of managing those SOEs were eliminated. Meanwhile, a number of regulatory agencies have been created to govern an increasingly market-oriented economy (Yang 2004). In contrast to its predecessor, the new regulatory state has developed a more distant relationship with the society. Instead of hands-on management, it seeks to set and enforce the rules of the game. This new mode of state–society relations had created the space for social organizations to develop. For instance, the abolition of the line ministries and bureaus in charge of managing different industrial sectors has led to the rise of trade associations. Although they often maintain close ties with the government, more and more of them are moving in the direction of greater autonomy from the government (Xu and Ling 2005, Chen and Tian 2006). The changing state–society relations have also led to the rise of service-oriented NGOs in urban China. Filling the gap left by the old work units based on a command economy, some of these NGOs mediate family and community conflicts, some work to protect the interests of home owners, some focus on particular social problems such as drug addiction and prostitution, some help provide care for the old, the young, the unemployed, and the disabled (Kang and Du 2006). The role of transnational economic relations is important in the rise of the third sector in China, but the rest of this paper will focus on the transnational transfer of ideas and resources that has shaped the development of the third sector in China. Transnational Transfer of Ideas The third sector is just emerging in China. Interestingly, despite a rich indigenous history of social organizations, the development of the third sector has mainly drawn inspirations from the experiences of other countries in the contemporary era. An examination of the public discourse on social organizations demonstrates the vital role of foreign ideas in shaping Chinese thinking on this subject. As noted above, the political turmoil of 1989 alarmed the Chinese government. They reversed the course toward greater tolerance of autonomous social groups, which had developed since the early 1980s. Indeed, the Association Law, which had been under discussion at the National People's Congress, was shelved and became a victim of the tight political atmosphere that followed the Tiananmen Incident. It was not until the mid-1990s that policymakers and analysts began to resume the debate over the development of social organizations. A title search of the key word “minjian zuzhi (social organization)” of the China Academic Journal database from 1994 to 2005 produced 183 items. Most of these items are analyses written by scholars and policy analysts, and some are official pronouncements published in journals. As shown in Figure 2, of all the journal items with “minjian zuzhi” in their titles about 40% discuss third sector development by making references to global trends, foreign models, and Western theories. In contrast, only 3% make references to Chinese traditions and precedents.26 In almost all the articles that mention foreign experiences and theories, Chinese policymakers and policy analysts cast them in a favorable light and call for their adoption in China. Clearly international norms in this area have had a major impact on China.27 2 View largeDownload slide Distribution of references to and introduction of foreign and chinese theory/experience in articles with “Minjian Zuzhi” in title. 2 View largeDownload slide Distribution of references to and introduction of foreign and chinese theory/experience in articles with “Minjian Zuzhi” in title. To understand China's partial acceptance of foreign ideas regarding the third sector, it is useful to look to the sociological literature on institutional isomorphism. New institutional sociologists note that organizations with very different situations have a tendency to adopt similar ideas and practices. They point to three types of isomorphic change—coercive, mimetic, and normative. When organizations are under pressure—both formal and informal—from other organizations on which they depend, they are inclined to accept the ideas and practices imposed by those organizations. This is coercive isomorphism. When organizations are faced with a high level of uncertainty, they are likely to model themselves on other—seemingly successful—organizations, taking on their ideas and practices. This results in mimetic isomorphism. When individuals working for organizations are socialized—mostly through professionalization—in the prevailing norms, the organizations tend to comply with the larger normative context. This is normative isomorphism (DiMaggio and Powell 1991). Using this framework, I analyze the journal items mentioned above, which have “minjian zuzhi” in their titles and which refer to foreign ideas and practices of NGO development. I find all three types of isomorphism identified by Powell and DiMaggio (1991). First, arguments in favor of NGO development based on international treaties and international customs are coded as “coercive isomorphism.” Many articles and statements make the point that China has to adopt foreign ideas and practices regarding NGOs because it is part of China's compliance with international treaties. For instance, according to WTO rules, governments should not represent domestic industries in international trade disputes. Instead, the industries should have their own organizations to speak on their behalf. Accordingly, Chinese discussions on trade disputes have emphasized the need to set up trade associations to play this role. Some articles and statements claim that as China increases its interactions with the international community at all levels, it has to follow international customs, including the prominent status accorded to NGOs, in various issue areas. For example, they argue that in accordance with international customs, environmental NGOs should be part of China's team bidding for the Olympic Games. Second, arguments in favor of the development of NGOs based on their utility in coping with China's problems that do not have clear solutions are coded as “mimetic isomorphism.” Chinese policymakers and analysts often note that advanced industrialized countries have a healthy and mature third sector. Many believe that borrowing from their NGO development policies and practices can help China solve some of its urgent problems. For instance, they argue that the Chinese economy suffers from excessive competition among enterprises. To help establish an orderly market and coordinate among different enterprises, China should have trade associations similar to those in the industrialized countries. They point out that the decline of the state's role in redistribution and welfare provision is creating a dangerous gap between the “haves” and the “have nots” in Chinese society, which is a major threat to the country's social and political stability. China could learn from the experience of industrialized countries by letting poverty-relief and social service NGOs to help fill that gap. Third, arguments in favor of NGO development based on the apparent “correctness” of such development are coded as “normative isomorphism.” Some analysts support NGO development by referring to it as a global trend. The implication is that China should follow the trend. Some point out that the size of the third sector in a country is a symbol of that country's modernity. The implicit suggestion is that if China wants to be modern, it should develop a sizable third sector. And still some simply cite Western theories advocating the role of NGOs, as if the validity of these theories for China is self-evident. These proponents of the third sector do not provide any utilitarian reasons why China should encourage NGO development. Their argument is based on the logic of appropriateness. Figure 3 shows the distribution of these arguments.28 3 View largeDownload slide Distribution of stated rationales for adopting foreign ideas in articles with “Minjian Zhuzhi” in title. 3 View largeDownload slide Distribution of stated rationales for adopting foreign ideas in articles with “Minjian Zhuzhi” in title. My analysis shows that coercion is a small but not insignificant factor in China's adoption of foreign ideas regarding the third sector. The existence of any indication of the coercive mechanism is somewhat unexpected. After all China is a big and increasingly powerful country. In addition, Chinese policymakers are ultra-sensitive to the peril of showing any sign of capitulation to outside influence. But, by far, the more important mechanisms are mimicking and the normative imperative. The prominence of mimicking is not surprising. Like their Japanese predecessors in the mid-nineteenth century, Chinese reformers have been eager to gather the best practice around the world to solve China's problems, and they have not been shy about their plan in this regard. What is surprising, however, is how central the logic of appropriateness has been in China's adoption of foreign ideas. It indicates a level of socialization of Chinese opinion leaders that goes beyond rational calculations. The transfer of ideas does not happen automatically. It requires agency. Chinese intellectuals have been the most important agents of the transfer of foreign ideas regarding the third sector. This is made obvious by their salient voices in the public discourse. Although it is hard to know for sure how much influence their voices have had on government policies, it is safe to assume that the fact that these voices are allowed in the public realm is a clear sign that they are accepted by the government. And the echoing of academic analysis in various official pronouncements provides further evidence that the intellectuals have channeled foreign ideas to the policymakers. Historically, Chinese intellectuals saw themselves as guardians of the people's welfare. Their fondest hope was to provide wisdom and advice to the rulers so that the rulers would make the best policies for the people. Their sense of mission and strong desire to participate in the affairs of the state remain unchanged in the contemporary era. They have actively sought to shape the thinking and discourse on almost all policy issues during the reform era, including the development of NGOs. In contrast to their predecessors of imperial China, who derived their opinions and advice from Confucian classics and lessons of earlier dynasties, contemporary Chinese intellectuals often draw inspiration from their knowledge about and experience in foreign countries. This is not surprising because in the last 30 years, China's best academics, journalists, artists, writers, and scientists have become increasingly integrated into various global networks. They spend time abroad, exchange ideas with likeminded colleagues from other countries, and receive grants from foreign foundations. While these intellectuals live and work in China, many of them have become transnational actors. Their foreign connections provide them with access to alternative sources of information, opportunities for professional development, and resources to carry out their intellectual activities (Gu and Goldman 2004). The most influential voices in the Chinese discourse on the third sector come from such transnationally-connected scholars as Sun Liping, Deng Zhenglai, Kang Xiaoguang, Yu Keping, and Wang Shaoguang. Foreign NGOs have also played an important role in the transfer of ideas. They are sources of inspirations and models that Chinese NGOs draw upon. An activist who is involved in several grassroots NGOs comments that “foreign influence is definitely great. There is conceptual influence. Foreign NGOs' working methods also affect Chinese NGOs” (interview June 2006). Another NGO representative states that his organization has lots of exchanges with foreign NGOs working in the same issue area. “We are where they were in the 1970s, and we are very interested in learning from their experience” (interview June 2006). Transnational Transfer of Resources In addition to the transfer of foreign ideas regarding the third sector, the global civil society has engaged in the transfer of resources—both tangible and intangible—to assist nascent social organizations in China. Many grassroots NGOs in China depend on foreign donors for funding. Given very limited support from the Chinese government, Chinese enterprises and individuals, a large portion of the environmental groups, poverty relief groups, and legal aid organizations would fold without donation from international organizations, foreign governments, transnational NGOs, or multinational corporations. But the importance of these transnational linkages goes beyond monetary support. One of the most influential actors promoting the third sector in China is the World Bank.29 Since 1995 the World Bank has become actively involved in a variety of activities aimed at supporting the nascent civil society in China (http://web.worldbank.org/WBSITE/EXTERNAL/COUNTRIES/EASTASIAPACIFICEXT/CHINAEXTN/0,,contentMDK:20600359~menuPK:1460599~pagePK:141137~piPK:141127~theSitePK:318950,00.html, accessed March 2009). Its support of Chinese NGOs includes monetary and technical assistance on the one hand and legitimation on the other. Its monetary and technical assistance includes grants and sponsored programs aimed at helping NGOs with networking, knowledge building, and information dissemination. For instance, the Bank has been especially keen to help Chinese NGOs build partnerships among themselves. It has provided funding to the China NPO Net, a networking initiative by 10 major Chinese NGOs, to support their newsletters, workshops, and training activities. In terms of knowledge building, from 1999 to 2004, the Small Grants Program of the World Bank made awards to 43 local NGO initiatives, which supported forums to discuss NGO-related laws among researchers, NGO workers and government officials. They covered issues such as the disabled, ethnic minorities, women's rights, participatory community development, HIV/AIDS and the environment. In 2004, the Bank initiated a translation project in collaboration with the Law School of Beijing University to selectively translate NGO-related laws of other countries to be posted on the World Bank's China website and to be provided to the Ministry of Civil Affairs. The purpose was to build up a library of NGO-related laws in Chinese for Chinese legislators and policymakers as China develops its own regulatory framework. Also in 2004, the Bank launched an initiative to create a development knowledge center at the China NPO Network aimed at disseminating development knowledge among local NGOs. At least a dozen local partners have agreed to work with the Bank on this project. Meanwhile, the World Bank has sought to legitimize Chinese NGOs by integrating them in the Bank's regular development programs. For instance, it has invited NGOs to participate in the consultations for the Country Assistance Strategy 2003–2005, and some sector strategies and studies. It has invested in projects involving civil society participation, such as AIDS prevention and control activities, environmental initiatives, and irrigation projects. In 2005, in partnership with the State Council Leading Group for Poverty Reduction and Development and the Ministry of Civil Affairs, the Bank launched the China Development Market Place, which aims to identify and support bottom-up development ideas and to engage in civil society organizations in fighting poverty. The Bank has also co-sponsored a number of NGO conferences in China, including the International Conference on NGO and Poverty Reduction Strategy in 2001, the Corporate and Civil Society Forum and the first provincial-level NGO forum in Ningxia in 2003. The Asian Development Bank (ADB) has also actively facilitated third sector development in China, though on a much smaller scale than the World Bank. In 2001, ADB created an NGO and Civil Society Center, designed to strengthen the Bank's cooperation with NGOs and addressing their concerns. Since then, ADB has brought in NGOs in its countries of operation along with other stakeholders in the designing of country strategy and programs for China. ADB's Beijing representatives meet frequently with local NGOs to discuss issues of poverty reduction, education and environment. ADB has funded a number of projects involving NGOs, using its technical assistance programs as a leverage to encourage the growth and participation of Chinese NGOs (http://www.adb.org, accessed April 2006). Indeed, in late 2005, ADB reached a technical assistance agreement with the State Council's Leading Group on Poverty Reduction and Development: “NGO-Government Partnerships in Village-level Poverty Alleviation,” which for the first time put NGOs in charge of administering project funds (Spohr 2006). Alongside international organizations, transnational NGOs have enthusiastically promoted the third sector in China. Most notable among them has been the Ford Foundation. Making its way to China in the 1980s, the Ford Foundation has been one of the earliest and biggest foreign NGOs to operate in that country. Over the years, it has funded many projects and studies that encourage the development of non-state actors. In recent years, it has become more explicit in expressing its desire to cultivate NGOs in China. From 2004 to 2005, it made a number of grants to help the development and study of NGOs, including support for the Beijing Civil Society Development Research Center, Qinghua University's NGO Research Center, and a community capacity building center in Sichuan Province (http://www.Fordfound.org, accessed April 2006). A number of other transnational organizations are also active in this area, including the Australian Volunteer Association, Caritas (Hong Kong), Friends of China (Hong Kong), Global Links Initiative (UK), Hong Kong Christian Service, Hong Kong Council of Social Service, Hong Kong Social Workers Association, Japan NGO Center for International Cooperation, Keswick Foundation (Hong Kong), Misereor (Germany), New Path Foundation (US), Pact (US), Public Media Center (US), Voluntary Service Overseas (UK), Winrock International (US), Marco Polo Society (World Bank and IMF Staff). They work with local governments and NGOs in China to develop NGO capacities in a variety of issue areas (China Development Brief, accessed February 2006). Furthermore, by their very presence transnational NGOs have been a catalyst for NGO development in China. An important milestone in the emergence of the third sector in China was the UN Women's Conference in 1995. According to a long-time observer of NGO development in China, “the UN meeting started discussions on NGOs in China. In September 1995, more than 10,000 transnational NGOs arrived in Beijing. They held their meetings in Huairou and even held naked parades. This shook the Women's Federation.30 And since this was the first UN meeting held in China, there was a lot of media attention. After the meeting, many Women's Federation officials, journalists, and professors set up their own NGOs” (interview June 2006). The presence of foreign NGOs in China has facilitated third sector development in that country in two ways. On the one hand, as the Chinese government becomes more tolerant of foreign NGOs, its attitude toward all NGOs has become more flexible.31 For instance, in the 1980s the Chinese government began to accept assistance from foreign NGOs in poverty relief projects, taking advantage of the latter's financial and technical resources. Over time, this has led the Chinese government to be more open to Chinese NGOs working in this area. In 2001, the concept of NGO appeared for the first time in the government whitepaper on poverty reduction. The China Association for NGO Cooperation, which used to be a government outfit designed to attract donations from foreign NGOs for poverty alleviation, has itself become an NGO with over 100 member organizations across China, many of which are grassroots domestic NGOs (http://www.cango.org, accessed April 2006). On the other hand, foreign NGOs set examples for Chinese organizations to follow. Chinese commentators seem to be particularly inspired by the chambers of commerce established by foreign companies operating in China. They express admiration for the ability of these chambers of commerce to represent member companies' interests, to coordinate their actions, and to bargain on their behalf with the Chinese authorities. Implicitly or explicitly, these commentators suggest that Chinese companies should emulate these examples (Jiang 1995). The development of China's environmental NGOs offers a good illustration of how important transnational linkages with global civil society have been for the development of the third sector in China. Global Village Beijing is a pioneering urban environmental NGO. Founded in 1996 by a woman who had studied environmental politics at an American university, it promotes sustainable development and a green life-style. Its main activities include the production of television programs and other publications about the environment, the training of journalists in environmental reporting, the development of green communities, the organization of public events and forums in the field of sustainable development and consumption. It is also a Chinese grassroots portal of the United Nations Environmental Program, and as such it seeks to facilitate the implementation of the China projects of international environmental organizations. Over the years, it has depended on donations from a series of foreign organizations, including AusAID (Australian Agency for International Development), China Environmental Protection Foundation, Conservation International, Department for International Development (UK), Energy Fund, EU-China Environmental Management Cooperation Program, Earth Environmental Fund (Japan), Exxon Mobil, Ford Foundation, Pact China, Shell Foundation, the World Bank, World Wildlife Fund, United Nations Development Program, United Nations Environment Program, and United States Environmental Protection Agency. In 2000, Global Village Beijing won the Sophie Prize for Leadership in the Environment (Norwegian). In 2001, it won the International Banksia Award (Australian) for environmental achievements (http://www.gvbchina.org). As part of a transnational network of environmental NGOs, Global Village Beijing has benefited greatly from the material and symbolic support from its counterparts in other countries as well as from the international media. Riding on the international recognition of her organization, the founder of the group was made the environmental advisor of the Beijing Organizing Committee for the Games of the XXIX Olympiad. Although Global Village Beijing may have a higher profile than many other environmental groups in China, its dependence on transnational linkages for funds, expertise, and legitimacy is widely shared among China's green NGOs (Turner and Lü 2006). Conclusions The emergence of a third sector in China is part of the worldwide phenomenon of associational revolution. In this paper, I have highlighted how transnational transfer of ideas and resources has facilitated the emergence of the third sector in that country. However, the emerging third sector in China has its own unique characteristics. Unlike their counterparts in most other countries in the world, Chinese NGOs maintain close ties with the government. A significant number of them depend on the government for financial support and share personnel with government agencies. They are known as government-organized NGOs (GONGOs). Moreover, as noted earlier, all NGOs in China are required by law to register with the Ministry of Civil Affairs. To do so they must have a government sponsor. This ensures that all registered NGOs are under the dual management of the Ministry of Civil Affairs and their government sponsors. Unregistered social organizations enjoy more autonomy from the Chinese government, but they are vulnerable because technically they are illegal and can be shut down at any time. The lack of autonomy of Chinese NGOs is rooted in China's political and social environment. First, the Chinese government is ambivalent toward NGOs. On the one hand, policymakers in China see NGOs as useful in filling the governance vacuum left by the retreat of the state, be it industrial coordination or social service provision. On the other hand, the government is concerned that as it allows social organizations to grow, it is possible for all sorts of actors to organize themselves in pursuit of their own goals. Some of these actors may have an agenda that is inconsistent with the CCP's monopoly of power. The Falun Gong group has been a thorny issue. The color revolutions in Eastern Europe in recent years have added to the anxiety of the government (Cai and Liqun 2000). Second, ironic as it may seem, the NGOs operating in China often pursue close connections with the government. This is because they recognize the dominating position of the state in Chinese society and the necessity to avoid confronting the government in order to survive and to get anything done (Zhao 2004). The NGO's willingness to be affiliated with the state is also due to the low level of impersonal trust in Chinese society. Outside the family, citizens tend to trust the government more than any other types of organizations. Operating in such an environment, the NGOs have to link themselves with government agencies in order to borrow a degree of legitimacy and credibility (Gao 2000). Thus far, both the government and grassroots organizations have been eager to keep the close ties between the NGOs and the state. As some scholars suggest, it is best to see Chinese NGOs as amphibious organizations, embedded both within the state and the society (Ding 1994). In the foreseeable future, the third sector in China will likely be quite different from its Western counterparts. The reach of the state in the third sector in China has been the subject of much criticism and skepticism on the part of foreign observers (cf. Chamberlain 1993). Is a third sector closely linked with the state meaningful and sustainable? This is an important question beyond the scope of this paper. Suffice it to say that from a historical point of view the emergence of a state-led third sector is a significant step away from the totalitarian state. While it may not meet the standard of a genuine civil society as it is known in Western political history, it has provided unprecedented opportunities for Chinese citizens to develop their capacity for self-organization, self-governance, and participation. Corporate Contributions to Transnational Conservation NGOs: Private International Transfers or Transactions? Steven R. Brechin32 Department of Sociology, Syracuse University In this part of the Forum, we explore the financial support acquired by three large international non-government organizations, NGOs. These NGOs specialize in protecting nature and natural resources globally: The Nature Conservancy (2003, 2005)(TNC), World Wildlife Fund (2007) (WWF-US), and Conservation International (2005) (CI). While we present a number of financial sources, we look primarily at contributions from corporations. We attempt to answer several key questions: How much corporate support do these NGOs receive? What do these corporations fund? And most relevant to this larger project: should these contributions be viewed as private international one-way transfers? Or in actuality are they transactions? If they are indeed transactions, what is being exchanged? We learn that while over $10 billion has been raised by these NGOs just from 1993 to 2005, only a fraction of those resources has come from corporations. We conclude that if immediate quid pro quo exchanges define transactions, then most, but not all, of these contributions from corporations are likely international transfers because the corporations do not receive immediate and tangible benefits in return. Instead these contributions represent a type of long-term investment strategy known as corporate social responsibility. The NGOs that we explore here are relatively large, wealthy and global. They are powerful actors in their domain and influence national and international conservation policy and practice. These NGOs have adopted global strategies—targeting not particularly countries per se—but places in the world where biodiversity is the most concentrated. These organizations individually and collectively pursue the protection of functioning representations of ecosystems throughout the world. These NGOs often work cooperatively with other organizations, including governmental agencies, from local to global levels. An Overview of the Conservation NGOs: TNC, WWF-US and CI In this section, we review briefly the characteristics of these organization and note and their rapid growth over the last twenty years or so. Although each organization is independent and has a different history, structure, and approach, each is involved in protecting the biodiversity or planet's species richness. Consequently, a brief comparison of the three NGOs provides a unique perspective in how organizations with similar missions organize themselves differently to fulfill that mission. The Nature Conservancy: A Market-Based Approach to Conservation The Nature Conservancy, TNC, is a well-established conservation organization that has been around since 1951 but can trace its roots to the English preservation movement of the late 1800s. Like most NGOs, its start was humble, in a small office on K Street in Washington, DC, above a prosthetics shop (Birchard 2004). Since its modest beginnings, however, TNC has grown to become the wealthiest environmental organization in the world. Today with assets in excess of $4 billion (US) [2005], it owns its own multi-story office building in Arlington, VA and considerable land holdings, principally in North America. Its yearly operating budget in the same year was over $900 million. Its approach to biodiversity conservation is in some ways similar and different from the other two. Each of the three NGOs maintains scientists on staff to advise the organization on the ecological science of species and habitat conservation in various world ecosystems. TNC's approach to conservation in the United states and Canada, however, has largely focused on land and easement purchases. The idea has been to identify critical lands, and increasingly marine systems, and purchase them either fully or their development rights, or obtain some sort of conservation easement. The approach is essentially property rights-based and market oriented. What also makes TNC unique among our three NGOs is its original focus on special areas in the North America. Its interest in protecting ecosystems internationally developed more recently and is coordinated out of headquarters in Arlington, VA. Internationally, TNC has developed a more complex set of tools to promote biodiversity conservation—planning, coordination, and facilitation to direct implementation. Structurally, TNC is an organization based on 70 or so state and local chapters with its headquarters in Arlington, VA. TNC views itself as a membership organization and boasts of a membership base of some 800,000 to 1,000,000 in 2005. World Wildlife Fund US: Franchise Conservation WWF-US formed as an independent NGO in Washington, D.C, in1961. It was created originally as the U.S. fund-raising arm of what is now called the World Conservation Union, IUCN, located in Gland, Switzerland. WWF-US is part of a network or franchise organizations of WWF International also headquartered in Gland. As a whole, with fifty offices worldwide and about five million members, the WWF network is the largest environmental organization on the planet. As its niche, WWF-US and its parent and sister organization have always promoted the protection of “charismatic species” (and their habitat). These are high-profile, publicly popular species. The organization's symbol, the Giant Panda, provides an illustration. The U.S. franchise is the largest and wealthiest of the WWF system, with a 2005 operating budget of over $126 million and a membership base of 1.2 million (2005). WWF's approach international has largely been one of facilitation and collaboration. It works globally to foster nature protection efforts by working with various stakeholder groups to hammer out conservation agreements. While its financial growth has been impressive, it has the lowest of the three NGOs over the last decade. WWF-US owns its own office building as well off of M Street near Georgetown in Washington, D.C. Conservation International: Conservation Through Innovation Conservation International is the newest of the three largest conservation NGOs, formed in 1987. CI spun itself off from TNC. Most of the staff at that time, who were part of TNC's relatively new “international office,” jumped ship to form what these individuals considered a more flexible and engaged organization dedicated solely to biodiversity in the world's tropical regions. CI's CEO Peter A. Segligmann and one of its other co-founders had become frustrated with TNC's lack of focus on and resources dedicated to international biodiversity protection needs given its founding around state chapters and land conservation in the North America noted earlier. CI has developed a reputation for creating innovative and aggressive efforts in protecting biodiversity in tropical countries. Its biodiversity “hotspots” approach, identifying the specific geographic areas in the world that have the greatest concentration of species, both has focused its energies and provided the NGO with an incredibly effective marketing tool. It also pioneered “debt for nature” swaps and “rapid assessment programs” (determining biodiversity richness of an area in a relatively short period of time). CI has grown rapidly since its founding resulting in its structure and programs in more or less a continuous state of flux. CI dropped its mass membership direct mailing campaign in 1990 and from that point has no longer viewed itself as a “membership-based organization.” Instead CI has increasingly relied on government and foundation grants along with corporate gifts, and donations from wealthy individuals. In 2003, CI received to date the largest single gift or donation made to a conservation organization, $261 million from the Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation. As mentioned above, each of the three conservation NGOs has grown large and has done so rapidly. The Nature Conservancy's operating funds increased a staggering 41 times, from $23 million in 1983 to over $943 million in 2005, in just 23 years. During roughly the same period, 1984–2005, the World Wildlife Fund-US grew almost 12 times in operating funds, from $10.7 million to over $126 million in 22 years. The most surprising growth, however, has come from CI. From only 1992 to 2005, CI increased nearly 10 times, from $11.6 million to $115 million in operating funds in only 14 years. Description of Funding Sources As noted above, TNC, WWF-US and CI, are large, international NGOs that have grown rapidly. In this section, we look at the amount of funding they have received from various sources across time. We pay particular attention to contributions made by corporations.33 Our discussion begins with the oldest and largest NGO among our three, The Nature Conservancy. The Nature Conservancy Funding From 1993 to 2005, TNC's annual budgets in total come to approximately $8.4 billion. Of that total, some $360 million has come from corporations or roughly 4.3% of the total for this 13 year time period.34 As Figure 4 shows there have been ups and downs in corporate contributions over the years. The peak was achieved in 1999 when TNC received around $50 million dollars in corporate contributions. The list of contributors over these years is a list of who's who of corporate America including: Caterpillar, Bank of America, International paper, General Motors, 3M, Procter & Gamble, Xerox, and many more. 4 View largeDownload slide The Nature Conservancy funding. 4 View largeDownload slide The Nature Conservancy funding. Similar to WWF-US below, TNC has several ways of partnering with corporations: Marketing and Sponsorship, Corporate Giving, and Business Practices. The first is cause-based marketing involving the use of TNC logo and name. The second is accepting corporate donations, usually cash or in-kind gifts (such as vehicles), typically around particular projects (see below), and the third is working with businesses to “green” their practices. Detailed information on how much money is provided, by whom, and for what purposes is not readily available. One of most significant corporate-TNC partnership has been its continuous multi-year relationship with General Motors, which began in 1994. This has included over $7 million in cash as well as donated vehicles used for conservation work throughout the world (The Nature Conservancy 2003). In addition, GM has given $10 million more to restore and protect 20,000 acres of Brazil's endangered Atlantic Rainforest. It is in part a restoration project that is allowing GM to offset its carbon footprint. In another example, American Electric Power (AEP), one of the largest providers of electricity in North America, is engaged with TNC on the “The Guaraquecaba Climate Action Project. Since 1994, AEP has “invested”$5.4 million in the project which is used to help restore the Cuaraquecaba Environmental Protection Area in Brazil which will help to increase its carbon off-set capabilities (The Nature Conservancy 2003). Caterpillar has provided the largest single corporate gift to The Nature Conservancy. The company has given $12 million to TNC's The Great Rivers Partnership. The contribution supports conservation on the world's largest river systems: The Mississippi River, USA, Upper Paraguay-Parana River system in Brazil, and the Upper Yangtze River in China. These three river systems provide freshwater to over 500 million people (TNC website). World Wildlife Fund—United States Funding For the roughly the same time period, 1992–2005, WWF-US total annual budgets add up to approximately $1.26 billion. However, the amount of corporate support is considerably less than TNC. Over this same period, WWF-US received only $36 million from corporations, or roughly 2.7% of the total. Figure 5 provides an overview of these contributions. Unlike TNC, WWF's corporate sponsors are far fewer and reflect smaller individual contributions. Unlike TNC, WWF-US provides little written information about their relationships with corporations. Similar to TNC above, WWF-US packages its engagement with corporations in similar ways: Improving Business Practices, Transformational Partnerships, Philanthropic Partnerships, and Marketing Partnerships. The first two types of engagement center on improving business practices. This would either be through such efforts as ensuring green supply chains for final products, such as for IKEA Group (wood furniture), or working with corporations such as Coca-Cola Company to transform business practices to reduce its ecological footprints. It is unclear from the information provided whether or not WWF-US is accepting contributions, either directly or indirectly, for these types of services. Under “Philanthropic Partnerships,” however, WWF-US does indeed accept donations from corporations. The partnership highlighted on WWF-US's website (accessed October 14, 2007) was Toyota Corporation's $350,000 donation to help clean-up an oil spill in the Galapagos Islands, Ecuador, which has expanded with efforts to develop much more environmentally-sustainable energy systems for the islands. With “Marketing Partnerships” WWF-US among other arrangements licenses its panda logo and name to select business partners and share in the proceeds collected on the sale of product or service. One example from the financial services industry, Chase offers WWF MasterCard and Visa credit cards. We would classify this as a business-related arrangement, and one closer to a quid pro quo transaction. Chase has access to more customers and WWF receives a certain percentage from use of the cards. In reviewing their list of business partners, companies representing the extractive industry do not seem to be on WWF's list. WWF-US is the only one of our three NGOs that do not appear to have these types corporate partnerships. 5 View largeDownload slide World Wildlife Fund. 5 View largeDownload slide World Wildlife Fund. Conservation International Funding Conservation International, however, provides the most interesting example. While it has the smallest annual budget totals of the three NGOs, it leads them in the number of corporations that have contributed at more than 600.35 From 1993 to 2005, CIs annual budgets totaled slightly over $500 million. Out of that total, $58.6 million or nearly 11 percentage came from corporations. Figures 6 show the fluctuation of contribution levels across time. The highest single year was in 2003 when over $9.3 million were raised. Like the other conservation NGOs, CI's list of corporate partners is impressive with such names as 3M, Alcoa, BP, Bank of America, Exxon-Mobil, CEMEX, ConocoPhillips, Dow, Enron, Ford Motor, Intel Corporation, International Paper, McDonalds, Shell Oil, Starbucks, Walt Disney Corporation, and many more. One of the largest sponsorship was a $5 million donation from the Ford Motor Company for the creation of the Center for Environmental Leadership in Business (CELB). This program aims “ to engage the private sector worldwide in creating solutions to critical global environmental problems in which industry plays a defining role.” (http://www/celb.org/xp/CELB/about/ accessed October 14, 2007). From this same website, former Ford Motor Chairman, William Clay Ford, stated: “Addressing today's most pressing environmental challenge requires solutions for our customers & shareholders that make both economic & environmental sense. That is what we are doing through our work with the Center for Environmental Leadership in Business.” Included in this program is working with corporations to establish “best business practices.” In working with CI on its “conservation coffee project,” Starbucks Coffee Corporation, has purchased over 8 million pounds of sustainable coffee from CI project Hotspot sites (1998–2005) (http://web.conservation.org/xp/CIWEB/partners/corporate/starbucks.xml. Accessed October 14, 2007). 6 View largeDownload slide Conservation International funding. 6 View largeDownload slide Conservation International funding. Aveda, a personal care product company has partnered with CI to work in Brazil on assuring the sustainability of the Brazilian nut and the communities that grow them. (http://web.conservation.org/xp/CIWEB/partners/corporate/aveda.xml. Accessed October 14, 2007). CI views these efforts as ways of generating economic activities in support of conservation. Concluding Remarks: Frames, Transfers, and Corporate Social Responsibility We conclude that depending on how one frames transactions or whether one is looking at the NGOs or the corporations, these contributions can be seen as one or the other. If one defines transactions as direct, immediate “quid pro quo” or the exchange of something valued, then clearly most of the corporate sponsorships are international transfers, as resources are being transferred from the private sector actors to actors within civil society for various activities. The return or the “exchange” for the corporate actors' contributions are not clearly acknowledged, at least immediately. We return to that issue later. We did, however, find some activities that might be framed as transactions. This would be the “caused-based” marketing where the NGO and corporate partners would form business relationships. The clearest example is with financial institutions and the creation of credit cards that carry the NGO's logo. The bank would expand its customer base while the NGO receives factional payment from the card's use. Our three NGOs have other type of “business activities.” From roughly the years 1993 to 2005, some $900 million were transferred from the private sector to the activities of these three large NGOs. We do not have detailed enough information to determine to what degree these NGOs are in actuality the direct recipient of these transfers or simply act as intermediaries in the transfers. Still, the NGOs recorded the transfers as contributions to themselves. Clearly, most of the transfers appear to reflect a long-term business strategy known as Corporate Social Responsibility (CRS). We briefly explore CRS next to argue that corporate contributions should be largely framed as international private transfers and not as transactions. In her 1995 article on global corporate philanthropy, Francoise Simon argues that giving by corporations has undergone fundament transformations. Most relevant to our discussion here concerns the idea of using philanthropy strategically as part of enhancing the business's long-term competitiveness. This is a change from earlier efforts that were more short-term in nature and that tended to promote such things as corporate visibility and greater sales (Simon 1995:20). This new perspective is captured clearly in a public statement made by Carly Fiorina, CEO of Hewlett-Packard from 1999–2005: For many years, community development goals were philanthropic activities that were seen as separate from business objectives, not fundamental to them; doing well and doing good were seen as separate pursuits. But I think that is changing. What many of the organizations that are represented here today are learning is that cutting edge innovation and competitive advantage can result from weaving social and environmental consideration into business strategy from the beginning. And in that process, we can help develop the next generation of ideas and markets and employees. (Kotler and Lee 2004:1) Due largely to concerns over questions of accountability, corporations have increasingly decided to partner with established NGOs in their philanthropy efforts. Instead of “simply handing over cash donations,” which still may be a part of the relationship, the effort today focuses on the partnership and its strategic fit, such as providing corporate know-how and resources to the nonprofits activities (Simon 1995:20). Also with the rise of social marketing as an accepted and successful social change approach, especially in OCED countries, it makes corporate—nonprofit partnerships around CSR much easier. Although these concerns and efforts around CSR have been around for decades they have been gaining momentum recently. The creation of NPOs specializing in corporate social responsibility, such as Business for Social Responsibility [BSR], demonstrates the growing commitment to this type of approach of doing business [http://www.bsr.org/]. In a November 1, 2005 New York Times special advertising supplement, BSR emphasized the following: “CSR is not about philanthropy: it is about how companies earn their money, rather than now they spend it on good works later.” More to the point, Werther and Chandler (2005), note that businesses that embrace CSR, including working with NPOs, is simply good business. Internal benefits can be generated through greater employee satisfaction, pride and retention while external benefits from greater support from stakeholders. Researchers engaged in this growing CRS literature talk openly about the image and good will that is obtain from corporate support of philanthropic causes, such as community-based or other civil society organizations (Hess, Rogovsky, and Dunfee 2002). Long-term considerations focus on competitive advantage, a key concept in today's business climate. One way to compete is through what some authorities call “building reputation assets” (Hess et al. 2002). In a famous case concerning McDonald's, the company executives argued that the company's efforts at community outreach through its Ronald McDonald houses and employee outreach and training opportunities in downtown Los Angles were instrumental in weathering the 1992 South Central Los Angeles riots. Because of McDonald's strong reputation within these communities, “rioters refused to harm their outlets.” (Hess et al. 2002; see also Smith and Stodghill 1994). This example illustrates the indirect or enlightened self-interest involved with corporate contributions to community and other civil society organizations. While most corporate contributions are likely best framed as transfers instead of transactions, they remain part of a business strategy. They are enlighten, indirect investments in the corporation's welfare and future by drawing in part upon the reputational assets of the civil society organizations themselves. Hence these contributions then become a transfer with hopes of future transactions, with corporations likely gaining tangible rewards in the process. The NGOs themselves receive benefits more immediately through donations and marketing arrangements that add to the financial health of the nonprofit organization. The larger question not pursued in this paper is exploring in greater depth the full costs and benefits of such relationships have on the NGOs themselves. Exchanges of Value in Peace Operations: Complex Meanings of “Private” and “Transnational” Transfers Suprita Kudesia and Robert A. Rubinstein Department of Anthropology, Syracuse University Peacekeeping operations have become a major instrument of international action during the last 50 years. Although not provided for explicitly in the United Nations Charter, peacekeeping is generally undertaken under the direction of Security Council, through resolutions that define their scope and activities. United Nations peace operations have evolved dramatically over the course of their six-decade life. In the approximately 60 operations undertaken under United Nations auspices, from the first peace mission the United Nations Truce Supervision Organization (UNTSO), begun in 1948 to monitor cease fire agreements and promote peace between Israel and it neighbors in the Middle East, to the more recent United Nations Integrated Office in Sierra Leone (UNIOSIL), begun in 2006 to aid Sierra Leone emerge from its civil war, peace operations have been mandated to perform an expansive range of activities. United Nations peace operations are legitimated by reference to the United Nations Charter, either Chapter 6 (“Pacific Settlement of Disputes”) and Chapter 7 (“Action With Respect To Threats To The Peace, Breaches Of The Peace, And Acts Of Aggression”). They involve a variety of activities, including those of peacemaking, peace-building, peacekeeping operations. Some missions call for armed peacekeeping forces, others for military observers. Some are mandated to monitor cease fire agreements, others to conduct active fighting, while still others in the distribution of humanitarian aid and training of local police forces. Recently, there has been an upsurge in the involvement of regional political organizations such as NATO and the African Union in maintaining regional peace and security. Peace operations mandated by these regional organizations function along similar lines as UN operations. A recent example of a peace operation undertaken by a regional organization is the involvement of the African Union in the ongoing violence in Darfur in the Sudan. Despite the diversity of form and activities among peace operations, all have a certain institutionally established element of transactional arrangements in common.36 Unless presented with an absolutely dire threat to international peace and security, all peace operations must respect the sovereignty of the host nation. Further, troops or civilian observers for a peace operation are deployed on a specific mandate that is agreed upon by the contributing and host countries. Thus, peace operations are in many ways transactional agreements, the abandonment of which jeopardizes the mandate and future relationships between the contributing and host countries. However, in part because of the very nature of the transactional qualities they tend to exhibit, peace operations are often underestimated in their complexity. These operations are conceptualized and materialized in a truly cosmopolitan arena that involves the crossing of cultures, histories, and socio-politico-economic differences. That there are uncalculated effects beyond the institutionally mandated transactional arrangements in peace operations is inevitable. In this paper, we seek to develop a preliminary understanding of what we call the unintended consequences and hidden ramifications of the presence of peacekeeping missions. In the context of discussions that seek to define the value and effects of private transfers, these consequences are particularly important. Refracting this discussion through a prism of peacekeeping reveals that the distinctions between private action and public action of the state, and between transnational and local action are more elusive than they appear at first look. Part of this complexity is introduced by the fact that some of the indirect effects are not transactional; they are not part of the contractually agreed framework within which peacekeeping works.37 Nonetheless, they affect the mission, the local population and also peacekeepers' countries of origin. For the purposes of this paper, we conceptualize the unintended consequences and hidden ramifications of peacekeeping as kinds of exchanges. By this we wish to extend the traditional concept of a remittance as a “transfer of money from an individual … to another individual” (Biller 2007:1) to include also exchanges of value involving goods, ideas, services, cultural norms, or socio-economic (in)equalities. In this section of the Forum, we also distinguish between two kinds of remittances, those that involve money, and those that involve something of non-monetary value. These we further distinguish from two kinds of transactional effects arising from mission—those that derive from the mission mandate and those that develop outside of the mission's institutional framework. Although peacekeeping is seen as a public (that is, state-driven) action, those transfers that take place outside of the mission's mandated activities map more closely onto the category of private transfers. Yet, the outside-mandate transactions result from the deployment of an international or regional mission in the area. They are not a part of the mandate but are necessary for the mandate to function. On the other side of the spectrum are unintended consequences of a peace operation that are not directly related to the mandate but arise from the existence of a peace operation. Straddling between these two concepts are classic remittances—the flow of money by the peacekeepers back to their home country. All four types of exchanges—mission mandate transactions, outside mandate transactions, classic remittances and exchanges of value can have positive or negative effects. Figure 7, above, illustrates the relationships between these concepts. 7 View largeDownload slide A model transactional non-transactional exchange in peace operations. 7 View largeDownload slide A model transactional non-transactional exchange in peace operations. Evident from the diagrammatic description is the complexity of the effects of peace operations. These can manifest themselves horizontally from peace operation back to troop contributing country or vertically from peace operation to host country and local population. Our purpose in this paper is to explore some of the complexities that arise from these exchanges, and especially to focus on those effects that fall outside of the formally recognized aspects of peace missions. Many such unrecognized effects can be characterized as negative in their consequences for people and societies. We do not mean this analysis to be a wholesale critique of peace operations, which we view as an essential and effective instrument of international action. Rather, our analysis is intended to look at the “lower level” effects of missions with the aim of identifying how these effects arise and how their impact can be better understood so that it can be anticipated and managed more effectively.38 As well, we hope this discussion will further the understanding of how the influence of peace operations extends beyond the mission area and has transnational effects (compare Rubinstein 2008). Transactional Effects: Vertical Effects from Peace Operation into Host Country One of the most direct effects of a peace operation deployed in a conflict region is on the local economy of the host country. This is a direct result of the “transaction” derived in the mandate of a peace operation which usually involves services such as maintaining a cease fire between warring factions, creating conditions for power transfers or democratic institutions, and in certain cases actually using force to bring about a cessation of violence. The local economy is influenced in two basic ways—employment of the locals and renting of space by the peace operation. Both actions have the potential to positively or negatively affect the local economy in diverse ways. Using People and Space: Effects on Local Economies The presence of an international peacekeeping force tends, in general, to distort local economies in two ways. First, missions hire local support staff. Frequently these support staff are paid at rates greater than they could earn in the local economy. Second, missions need facilities, and these are often obtained by paying a premium for spaces rented to accommodate the mission's needs. Peace operations employ locals and pay them much higher wages than national salary levels. For example, Ammitzboll (2007:76) writes that “locals who work with international organizations earn four to five times more than local colleagues who stay within local institutions.” This has two consequences. First, unskilled laborers working for peace missions earn more than their counterparts working on the open economy. Thus, for instance, a cleaning lady working in a building occupied by a peace operation can earn triple the amount than a government minister (Ammitzboll 2007:76–78). Second, a kind of “local hire syndrome” develops in which highly skilled professionals work in unskilled, often, menial positions. This occurs because they can earn more in unskilled positions with the peace operation than they could practicing their profession on the open market. So local doctors or professors working as drivers or local bodyguards of peacekeeping troops. In the same way that peacekeeping missions place demands on the local labor markets, so too they affect other aspects of local economies. When missions arrive in an area, they are in need of spaces to house their operations. To meet their space requirements, the mission is prepared to secure that space by paying rents that would in other circumstances be considered usurious. For instance, rents jumped 500% when the United Nations Observer Group in Central America (ONUCA) arrived on site.39 Also, members of the peace operations get paid extra for their service in peacekeeping missions, and thus get a much higher salary than they would in their home country. For example, officers on a UN peace operation can earn up to $1,000 a month extra which significantly increases their spending capacity. (Not to mention that they are much better off economically than the local population in the host country.) In these situations, a two-tiered economy may develop. As Bhatia (2003:95) notes, “In East Timor a two-tier economy emerged. International civil servants consumed a growing variety of Western luxuries, from cappuccino to imported French wine, many with a price far greater than the weekly or even monthly salary of most Timorese, while the population struggled to rebuild homes and lives.”40 For some individuals, these extra payments are returned to their home countries as classic remittances. The opportunity to make this extra money and to send it home is one factor that motivates some individuals to serve in peace operations (Rubinstein 2003:18). For some poorer countries, participation in peacekeeping is a recognized way of bolstering the national economy. Exchanges of Value The effect of the employment of locals and their space by an international peace operation can result in several exchanges, positive and negative, monetary and non-monetary. The local hire syndrome and the increased rents distort the local economies and change local relationships in many ways. First, in many places where peacekeeping missions are deployed, social obligations flow along kinship lines. A person with the resources is often socially obligated to support their extended kin network. When they do this, they change the transactional benefit of their employment (which gives them increased salaries and a much higher spending capacity than before) into a remittance transfer to this extended kinship network. The prospects of earning triple or quadruple the amount for the UN or a regional political institution such as the AU or NATO can potentially change the socio-economic status of a segment of the population. While this has the immediate positive effect of raising standards of living, also implicit in this change in economic dynamic are much more complex impacts. With increased buying capacity of some locals and the high wages of peace operations' officers, demands for goods and services may also increase which may result in the boosting of the economy. There is a greater demand for businesses and entertainment and thus an atmosphere conducive to entrepreneurship might be fostered. Apart from economic growth of a conflict region, this development may also substantially help in postconflict reconstruction through developing local relationships. Thus, a peace operation in a conflict-torn, unstable region which employs local labor and space ends up affecting the local economy. The boosting of the economy and tangential relationships formed through this process can be considered positive exchanges of value that effect the local populations. However, the arrival of the international community may also bring feelings of resentment and the possibility of social strife amongst locals because of the effects of the local hire syndrome (Ammitzboll 2007; Rubinstein 2008). Kosovars, during the UN mission in Kosovo UNMIK, reported a rising antagonism and bitterness amongst the professionals who were paid much lower than unskilled labor working for UNMIK. Kaçinari (2001:2) describes this situation from the perspective of the local population: Kosovar Albanians are adjusting themselves accordingly. They know that it is an artificial economy, and that it won't last forever. But they want to benefit from the situation as long as possible. There are waiting lists for English and computer courses. Many young people put off returning to their university studies in order not to lose their jobs. Meanwhile, the frustration grows of professors, teachers, and doctors, who are maintaining fundamental services for pitiful salaries. And the disappointment increases of experts placed in international agencies, who in most of the cases have no knowledge of the local situation. Another example is the UN involvement in Afghanistan since the overthrow of the Taliban in 2002. Due to the much higher pay packages offered by the UN and other international organizations present in Afghanistan, most of the “talented and skilled civil servants left immediately their government jobs immediately in favor of international NGOs, the United Nations, embassies and other employment opportunities that materialized when the international community arrived. The new jobs paid salaries from 10–50 times more per month” (Ammitzboll 2007:77). In a recent conversation with one of the authors [RAR], an Afghan Colonel described that his employment depended upon the presence of the international mission, and he went on to explain that as a result he was able to use his income to provide for a large extended kin network; again, turning a transactional exchange into a remittance transfer. In situations where the international community's intervention involves the creation of a very extensive transitional government (for discussion of the range of possible interventions, see Chopra and Hohe 2004) which takes over most functions of a government the brain and talent drain from the public administration infrastructure of an already conflict-weakened state makes it much more dependent on international assistance (Chopra 2000). Postconflict reconstruction becomes much harder for a state to achieve if the fledgling government is comprised of inexperienced and unprepared individuals, who are being instructed by the international community to establish governance systems that are unconnected with indigenous political norms (see, for example, Hohe 2003). Wage disparities also have the secondary negative effect of increasing poverty and economic strain on the locals not fortunate enough to be employed with the international force. Due to the increased prices of basic commodities such as food, many people are forced to have two jobs to be able to subsist and provide for their families which results in creating an artificial microcosm of intensely tied-in economic relationships very much dependent on the presence of the peace operation. There is the possibility that when the mandate of the peace operation expires, the local economy will again be thrown into turmoil. Human Trafficking and Disease: An Exchange of Value? The distorted local economy which results from the deployment of a peace operation can lead to the distortion of social relations and to criminality. One of the more written about local industries that experience a growth in services provided is prostitution and the sex industry, which may be conceptualized as a negative exchange. There are two basic reasons for this. The first is that participants in a peace operation have a much higher capacity to spend than the locals and have been found to invest quite a bit in formal settings that employ sex workers, such as local brothels, massage parlors, bars, and other public arenas. The second is the sexual exploitation of locals in non-formal settings. Both result in increased human rights violations, trafficking of women and children, and a growing underground sex industry which brings with it a host of social and health problems (Kent 2007). Sexual exploitation by peacekeepers is a well-documented phenomenon that adversely affects the local population and can be considered a negative exchange of value from the deployment of a peace operation. For instance, several UN-established International Police Task Force (IPTF) and NATO-led Stabilization Force (SFOR) officers in Bosnia-Herzegovina were reported to have frequented nightclubs that were involved in trafficking women (Lynch 2001; UNIFEM 2005). Murthy (2007:165) writes that in the “Bunia province of the Congo alone, UN investigators documented 68 cases of rape, prostitution and pedophilia involving the Pakistani personnel, along with contingents from Nepal, South Africa, Uruguay and others in 2004.” Accounts of relationships between locals and international staff have also been reported with many expatriates and peacekeepers acquiring “part-time wives” during their tenure with a peace operation, as specifically reported for the mission in Cambodia (Koyama and Myrttinen 2007:32). Apart from possibly being non-consensual and the local being forced into such a relationship due to economic reasons, these relationships are also problematic in terms of the spread of sexually transmitted diseases and what have come to become known as “peacekeeping babies.” All of these must be counted as negative, non-monetary exchanges, we think. Peacekeepers, and their involvement in sexual activities while on a mission, have been complicit in the spread of the HIV/AIDS epidemic. Although it is understandably difficult to get dependable information on the sexual practices of officers in a peace operation, certain correlations have been drawn between participation in a peace operation in an already HIV/AIDS prevalent region and the further spread of the disease. For instance, “HIV prevalence among Nigerian troops is directly related to the numbers of years spent away from home on duty as peacekeepers”(Aning 2007:142). The deployment of peace operations in Cambodia (UNTAC) and East Timor (UNTAET) have also been documented to have increased the prevalence of the disease these countries. Further, the countries from which officers are deployed may already have high prevalence of the virus and aid in the spreading of the epidemic. For instance, the 32% of the participants in the Economic Community Monitoring Group (ECOMOG) sent by ECOWAS to Sierra Leone were from countries with a high prevalence of HIV/AIDS and the subsequent measures of the disease have been reported to have increased in Sierra Leone since their deployment (Elbe 2003: especially, Chapter 3). The effect of the threat of the disease is twofold First, it strains the health system in a region in which the health infrastructure is already being stretched and it weakens the human resource sector by increasing the number of diseased individuals which negatively effects a society trying to emerge from a conflict. Second, the risk of the spread of disease also negatively influences the troop contributing country by increasing the threat of the virus within the country and making it less likely to contribute its citizens to an international or transnational peace operation. “Peacekeeping babies” are also a negative result of the activities of certain officers of peace operations. They are children of local women fathered by peacekeepers and usually abandoned by them when the mandate expires and the officers leave. Both the spread of HIV/AIDS and the prevalence of peacekeeping babies adversely affect the local population. And, especially on the status of local women involved; “given the traditional concepts in Timorese society, which look down on premarital sex, the women are viewed as “damaged goods” and often face ostracization by the community” (Koyama and Myrttinen 2007:38). Thus far, we have mostly discussed the vertical impact of the deployment of a peace operation in a conflict-torn region. Aside from the transactional effects of increased employment of people and space by the peace operation, also encountered are several monetary and non-monetary exchanges which impact the host country's social, economic, and political spheres in positive and negative ways. Also important in the discussion on unintended consequences or of peace operations are horizontal impacts that affect the troop contributing country which form the basis of the following discussion. Horizontal Effects from Remittances Going Home Effects of peace operations on the troop contributing country fall under two basic categories with various extended effects. The first is what we call a classic remittance—the traditional notion of money being sent back home. As previously discussed, peacekeepers tend to earn much more when on a UN, AU, or NATO funded operation than they would in their national militaries. For instance, the Ghana Police Service (GPS) is usually recruited by the UN in its peace operations and officers can “earn mission service allowances of US$ 100–135 per day depending on the volatility of the conflict area” (Aning 2007:141). In some cases, annual savings on a mission exceed what officers could expect to earn in a lifetime. Similarly, Sotomayor (2007: 176) writes that “by 2002, 63% of all armed forces personnel were making less than 716 Argentine pesos a month (about US$250). Conversely, on a peace mission, non-commissioned officers were being paid US$1,000 a month.” Thus, often peace operations and the opportunity to participate in one are regarded as income generators and incredibly beneficial to participate in. Further, peace operations also provide an opportunity to professionalize and build capacity of local armies. For instance, in an effort to increase regional peace operations such as ECOWAS and the African Union, the United States government provides financial resources and equipment which greatly benefit the armed forces of the countries and serve as incentives to participate in international and transnational peace operations. Under the African Contingency Operations Training Assistance (ACOTA) program, the Ghana Armed Forces (GAF) has received “over $3.4 million worth of training equipment” (Aning 2007: 138) from the United States. While this represents a more traditional transaction, the secondary effects of such interactions with international militaries can arguably be considered exchanges of value under the framework of this paper. For instance, Murthy (2007:166) quotes a peacekeeper on the benefits of being involved in an international peace operation “the opportunities in terms of international training exposure, interoperability with multinational forces and cross-cultural exchanges make definite improvement in the professional outlook of the peacekeepers.” This is especially true for countries with under-funded and ill-trained armies such as those of Bangladesh and Nepal. Participation in peace operations gives them the opportunity to interact with more professionalized and better trained European and American armies—lessons which they take back home. Thus, from the perspective of the troop contributing country, peace operations can be regarded as “profitable investment opportunities” (Heiberg 1990:160) in that they benefit the national army as well as individual peacekeepers and their families. Another impact of participation in peace operations for troop contributing countries which is more secondary than the classical remittance is the idea that it is used as a diversion for the national armies by the governments. Therefore, Argentina's rise as “the most active Latin American troop supplier and one of the top five troop-contributing countries in the period between 1992 and 1996” (Sotomayor 2007: 173) was directly following a coup attempt in 1990. Further, “officers and soldiers who had revolted at least three times against the re-emerging Argentine democracy were now being sent to missions abroad” (Sotomayor 2007: 173). Participation in an international peace operation offers the troop contributing country an opportunity to shift “the role of the armed forces from domestic politics towards internationalism” (Sotomayor 2007:174), thus allowing for the development of a greater civilian control of government affairs. Bangladesh, too, having previously suffered from a very political national army has benefited from its involvement in international peace operations. With the various financial benefits of participation in these operations, the Bangladeshi army is more intent now in being recruited for them and has withdrawn attention from the domestic politics, giving a chance for democracy to flourish (Murthy 2007: 160). Also influenced by participation in international peace operations are troop contributing countries' foreign policies and bilateral relations. For instance, Argentina has used this avenue to establish its identity as a dependable nation. Thus through “troop deployments to missions in the Persian Gulf, the former Yugoslavia, and Haiti, which were highly esteemed and valued by U.S. government officials at the time,” Argentina expressed its “international commitment” and legitimacy (Sotomayor 2007: 180). Participation in peace operations has provided a forum for increased interaction and understanding between countries with strained relations. Thus, as Murthy writes, “[w]hatever political strains have marked relations between the two countries, Indian and Pakistani troops have worked in camaraderie when they have put on “blue helmets” in a third country” (Murthy 2007: 161). As is evident then, peace operations provide an opportunity not only to pursue a certain foreign policy agenda in the international political arena but can also serve as a track II diplomacy tactic for strengthening relations between countries. Lessons Learned This part of the Forum responds to the call to consider the value and effects of private transnational transfers. In the course of the conference at which this and other pieces were discussed a number of analytic distinctions were drawn. These distinctions included the divide between public and private action, differences between transfers and remittances and issues of sovereignty. By focusing the values and effects of actions taken members of peacekeeping mission outside of their official roles and duties, some of which are also unintended consequences of peacekeeping, in this paper, we have shown that the analytic distinctions we were invited to use to organize our analyses were themselves problematic and contestable. In looking at concrete cases it becomes evident that many of the analytic distinctions are not so clear-cut on the ground. From their very conception, peace operations have been fraught with multi-layered intricacies and cannot be straight-forwardly categorized by any one feature. An apt example is the current political debate about the limits of sovereignty in situations where governments are not protecting, or are actively abusing, their citizens and where peace operations might thus be called for. The “responsibility to protect” is in direct opposition to the state's right to sovereign actions (International Commission on Intervention, State Sovereignty 2001), and has been notably publicized by the President of the International Crisis Group, Gareth Evans. Evans emphasizes that to prevent another Rwanda or Srebrenica, to actually realize the rallying cry of “never again,” rhetoric needs to shift from sovereign rights of the state to their “responsibility to protect people at grave risk” (Evans 2007). While there is a transactional quality to many aspects of a peace operation what actually takes place elides the easy distinction between public and private transactions and between transactions and remittances. The political expectations of the host country and the international organization mandating the operation cannot be ignored. They will have far-reaching effects beyond the official agreement in the mandate document. Thus, our efforts in this paper have been to highlight that engaging in such dichotomies lead not only to false understandings of the dynamics of peace operations but can also be dangerous misrepresentations of their far-reaching impact. A distinct illustration of this is the consideration of national interests that provide incentive or preclude a nation from committing its sources to a peace operation. One aspect of this has already been elucidated earlier in this paper with regards to countries such as Argentina and Bangladesh investing their troops in international peace operations to divert their attention from national politics. Another aspect of similar motivations is seen in South Africa's involvement in Chad or the French and Belgian involvement in the United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda (UNAMIR) force that was witness to the 1994 genocide. Neethling (2003) writes that a stable, peaceful, and economically viable African continent is in South Africa's national interest. This interest has been manifested in the country's national defense force being involved in two UN peace operations—the UN mission in Ethiopia and Eritrea (UNMEE) and the UN Organization Mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo (MONUC) (p. 2). Similarly, Belgian and French involvement in the UNAMIR was very much in line with pre-colonial political relationships with various ethnic groups in Rwanda. Apart from being only political, they dramatically affected the outcome of the mission which extended beyond the official mandate. They were, undoubtedly, non-monetary exchanges between the troop-contributing and host country that affected the lives of ordinary Rwandans in unimaginable ways. Thus, very explicit decisions are made in terms of exchanges of value that could be obtained from peace operations which only serve to highlight their incredibly complex nature. We have also tried to display how in fact another commonly understood aspect of peace operations in terms of classic monetary remittances sent home by peacekeepers employed by an international agency such as the UN or the AU actually involves a much more complex set of relations. We recognize their immense importance in the international arena in the fight against human rights violations and in bringing peace and stability to war-torn regions. Peace operations are key instruments for the international community to participate in the physical, social, and economic well-being of fellow citizens who face threats of gross violations of their human rights. However, to be seen simply as international or regional mandates or as opportunities for soldiers to send money home is a misleading endeavor. Peace operations are neither benign undertakings by well-meaning political members of the international community nor are they cleverly maneuvered disasters. In many ways, they are as Pieterse says, “idealism caught in the wheels of realism, realism outflanked by realities” (Pieterse 1997:72). Their impact influences social, political, and economic norms in both the troop contributing and host countries predictably and intentionally, as well as in various unintentional ways. The legacies of the exchanges made during peacekeeping last long after the operations end and are archived in the annals of international memory. Why Are Some Countries More “Charitable” than Others? Arthur C. Brooks Department of Public Administration, Syracuse University The World Bank defines civil society as the “wide array of non-governmental and not-for-profit organizations that have a presence in public life, expressing the interests and values of their members or others, based on ethical, cultural, political, scientific, religious, or philanthropic considerations.”41 There is a fairly high degree of consensus these days that civil society is beneficial in the process of development and transition to democracy and prosperity. Indeed, many view civil society as an indispensable element of governance. In the words of former Czech President Vaclav Havel, “I do not approve of the political parties behaving as if they possess a monopoly on knowledge, truth, and the solutions to problems … Parties should listen to the multifaceted opinions of a pluralistic civil society, as expressed by all individuals, groups, and organizations.”42 Havel's argument is hard to assail. The idea of non-governmental involvement in the provision of public goods and services is attractive. The devil, however, is in the details: the details of how to provide support for the institutions, mostly NGOs, upon which civil society is built. One possibility is for governments themselves to fund NGOs. The trouble with this (besides its assumption that governments have the means to provide support in the first place) is that it weakens the very independence from the state that civil society is supposed to define. Another possibility is for foreign entities to fund the development of NGOs—though this, too, can provoke doubts about the independence of the organizations. The only other source of support is both indigenous and voluntary: contributions of time and money from a country's citizens to its civic institutions. In some countries—both developed and developing—this is fairly common. In others, however, voluntary charity is sparse, even after accounting for differences in income. A convenient way to illustrate this point is provided by the Comparative Nonprofit Sector Project at Johns Hopkins University, which collected data on charitable giving in 32 countries in 1995. These data allow us to calculate average charitable giving to non-religious organizations in countries from around the world, and portray four general tiers of charity: At the top is the United States and Israel, followed by the other developed countries—mostly Western European nations, but also Japan and Australia. In the third tier are the former-communist countries of Eastern Europe, and at the bottom we find developing nations in Africa, Asia, and South America. This raw ordering might seem logical: Citizens of rich countries can give more, while those from poor countries can give less. For this reason, a simple index of average giving is inadequate for understanding true differences in charity. What we would prefer is an index that looks at average charitable giving, holding real income per capita constant in each country. A fairly simple statistical procedure makes this possible, and changes the story in an interesting way.43 The top tier stays basically the same (although Israel and the U.S. switch places). Most of the other developed nations, however, move to the bottom of the list, behind the former-communist and developing nations. Specifically, the bottom six countries in raw charity (unadjusted for income differences) are Kenya, Tanzania, Romania, Mexico, Pakistan, and the Philippines. In contrast, in the index that controls for income, the bottom six are Australia, Norway, Japan, Germany, Austria, and Italy. Western Europe, Australia, and Japan appear relatively uncharitable, given their per capita incomes. Given the large giving differences summarized above, it is not surprising to find that there are far more data collected on the details of American giving than there is about Europe's private charity. We know from the Giving USA Foundation, for example, that about 36% of private charitable giving goes to religious organizations, 15% to education, 10% to human services, and 8% to health. Smaller percentages go to charities and other nonprofits, including about 3% to international relief organizations. We should note, however, that international giving is certainly underestimated by this because much overseas aid goes through other types of charities, such as religious and educational groups. Due to a general lack of data in Europe, it is virtually impossible to compare these percentages across nations with any reliable accuracy. Still, the aggregate differences lead to an important question: Why do some countries like the U.S. have high levels of personal charity, while others—especially in Western Europe and other parts of the developed world—do not? What do these differences mean for the health of civil society? And perhaps most importantly, why should countries be concerned with these patterns? Lessons from America Several lines of research on American giving and volunteering provide clues into the charitable differences between nations. Most of the research on the topic has focused on how demographics such as age, income, wealth, and education affect the propensity to behave charitably. And indeed, demographic distinctions between countries may explain some of the differences in giving described above. More provocative, however, is the accumulating evidence that two sociopolitical forces are particularly strongly associated with patterns of giving and volunteering. The first is religious participation; the second is government-induced income redistribution. Substantial evidence on American charity suggests that religious participation is the most important driver in the decision to behave charitably. For example, the Social Capital and Community Benchmark Survey (a survey of Americans in 49 communities nationwide undertaken in the year 2000 by researchers at Harvard and several other universities) shows that people who attend their houses of worship every week are 38% more likely to donate money to a charity or cause over the course of a year than those who either never attend, or do so less than a few times per year. Religious people are also 52% more likely than secularists to volunteer at least once per year.44 These differences persist even if we look at religion in isolation from other relevant sociodemographic characteristics (for example, income, race, gender, and education). The data show that these differences are not simply a function of religious people giving to their houses of worship. Indeed, the SCCBS indicates that religious people are 16% more likely to give to explicitly nonreligious causes than secularists, and 54% more likely to volunteer. The 2002 General Social Survey (GSS) from the University of Chicago shows that this pattern goes beyond traditional giving and volunteering as well. For example, religious people are 55% more likely than secularists to give blood, 18% more likely to give food or money to a homeless person, and even 5% more likely to say they “feel protective of those who are taken advantage of.”45 A second important lesson drawn from American literature on charitable giving is that, while personal income generally drives up the propensity to give and volunteer charitably, not all income functions equally in this regard. For example, the 1999 Consumer Expenditure Survey from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Standards shows that a 10% increase in income earned from wages drives up charitable giving by an average of 8%, the same percentage increase in income from government welfare payments drives giving down by 2%.46 The fact that welfare income appears to suppress giving—even when an equal amount of wage income stimulates giving in a comparable population—tells us that income redistribution policies have an unexpected cost in the way they impact civic behavior. This argument would be even more forceful, however, if we were to find that people who favor income redistribution (whether they are net recipients or not) are less likely than average to give privately. And indeed, an examination of available data suggests that this is the case. In 1996, the GSS asked the following question of survey respondents: “What is your opinion of the following statement? ‘It is the responsibility of the government to reduce the differences in income between people with high incomes and those with low incomes.’” It is particularly noteworthy that this question asked respondents nothing about the needs of low-income people—it only addressed the issue of income redistribution. Indeed, one presumes that, for many respondents, income redistribution might be an end itself. People that differed in their response to the redistribution question also differed quite dramatically in their propensity to give charitably. For example, while 71% of those that “disagreed” or “disagreed strongly” that the government should redistribute income gave charitably, only 52% made donations among those that “agreed” or “agreed strongly.” In sum, two lessons from research on American charity are that religious people privately donate more than secularists (even after accounting for income differences), and that government income redistribution—including people's attitudes about its appropriateness—has a significant association with the tendency to give. Are these lessons useful in explaining the differences between countries? Comparing countries with respect to charity is complicated, because economic circumstances vary widely between countries—and it may even be that economic forces affect charity differently in different places. Perhaps better than artificially correcting charity levels for purchasing power, then, would be to find a currency that is truly international, and suffers from no unevenness in liquidity—that is, everybody has a fairly equal endowment. Such a currency is time, and its corresponding charitable behavior is volunteering. Of course, the opportunity cost of time differs between nations, which biase volunteering comparisons in a way that disfavors richer countries—in this case, the United States. However, this bias in the current study only strengthens the core finding that religion and income redistribution are major drivers of giving behavior. Voluntarism and Religion We can understand inter-country differences in volunteering levels with data from the International Social Survey Program (ISSP), which annually samples populations in 20–30 countries on various topics relevant to social policy. In 1998, the survey asked approximately 39,000 respondents whether they had engaged in volunteer work during the previous 12months in “charitable activities (helping the sick, elderly, poor, etc.).” This question was explicitly separate from volunteering to religious and political activities, which are probed in other questions. The bottom half of countries in terms of volunteering is dominated by Western Europe, where generally less than a fifth of the population volunteers charitably each year. The upper half of the distribution is mainly comprised of the United States and Canada, developing countries, Asian nations, and Eastern Europe. To illustrate the difference between the U.S. and Western Europe, Americans (38% of whom volunteer each year in charitable activities) are about twice as likely to volunteer as the Swiss; three times as likely as Spaniards; and five times as likely as Austrians. These differences are not attributable to demographic characteristics such education, income, age, sex, or marital status. On the contrary, if we look at two people who are identical in all these ways—but one is European and the other American—the probability is far lower that the European will volunteer than the American. For example, an Austrian who is otherwise identical to an American will be 32 percentage points less likely to volunteer, a Spaniard will be 31 points less likely, and an Italian will be 29 points less likely. How does religion fit into this pattern? In addition to the information on volunteering, the ISSP asked respondents in 1998, “How often do you attend religious services?” The variation between countries is enormous. For example, the difference between the country with the highest population percentage attending services “once a week or more, nearly every week” (Ireland) and the least (Japan) is more than 60 percentage points. The United States (where 32% of the population attends weekly services) sits at the top of what is essentially a second tier in religious participation: significantly below the leader nations (Ireland, Switzerland, Philippines, and Poland), but still in the top fifth in average religious attendance. There are two ways to look at the relationship between religious participation and volunteering. The first is to compare each country's average level of religious participation and voluntarism. Doing so, we can see in Figure 8 a rough positive relationship between higher rates of religious attendance and volunteering. 8 View largeDownload slide Annual volunteering and religious participation in 29 countries, 1998. Source: International Social Survey Program, 1998. 8 View largeDownload slide Annual volunteering and religious participation in 29 countries, 1998. Source: International Social Survey Program, 1998. A second—and more precise—way to compare religious participation and volunteering is to pool the data across countries, and see how religion and volunteering compare even after we correct for one's country of origin and other relevant demographics. I begin by defining a “religious” person as above, and a “secular” person as someone who attends religious services less than several times per year, or never attends. A simple probit model allows us to say how much more likely a religious person is than a secular person to volunteer annually, holding constant other characteristics.47 I find that, if two people are from the same country and are identical with respect to age, sex, education, marital status, and income—but one is religious while the other secular—the former will be 18 percentage points more likely than the latter to volunteer during a given year. In sum, religion does indeed appear to be a key variable explaining why countries differ in the giving patterns of their populations. Economic Leveling and Voluntarism We turn now to the question of government-induced income redistribution. The GSS forms part of an international data collection effort that makes up ISSP. Consequently, the same year the GSS asked Americans whether it is the responsibility of the government to reduce income differences, the other countries' samples were asked the same question. Perhaps not unexpectedly, the countries most likely to favor income redistribution are social democracies and former socialist countries. In Western and Eastern European countries, more than 50% of the population favors government redistribution to level incomes. This percentage reaches 80% in Slovenia, 78% in Poland, and 77% in Spain. In contrast, North American and Asian countries fall below 50%, and in the United States, the percentage is just 33%—the lowest of all. In 1996, the ISSP did not include a voluntarism question, unfortunately, making it impossible to look at individual citizens in examining how voluntarism covaries with attitudes about income leveling. However, we can still compare average attitudes about redistribution across the 22 countries in the 1996 sample with volunteering rates in these same countries in 1998. Figure 9 portrays this relationship graphically, depicting a clear inverse relationship. 9 View largeDownload slide Annual volunteering and preferences for income leveling in 22 countries, 1996–1998. 9 View largeDownload slide Annual volunteering and preferences for income leveling in 22 countries, 1996–1998. The relationship in Figure 9 is borne out in a statistical analysis of the data. Among the 22 countries represented, a 10% increase in the population that believes the government should force income equality results in a 6%decrease in annual charitable voluntarism.48 Earlier, we saw that individual Americans who believe that the government should redistribute liberally to reduce income differences are relatively unlikely to give of their own income. The data here suggest that the same principle applies to countries. Has Western Europe Moved beyond Charity? While the analysis here has uncovered a number of interesting inter-country comparisons, the differences between the United States and Western Europe are arguably most salient. High levels of secularism (with the exception of Switzerland and Ireland) and state income redistribution are compelling explanations for why Western Europe trails the United States in giving and volunteering. In the case of religious participation, note that I am not arguing that a secular life extinguishes volunteering, just that religiosity and volunteering tend to occur together. There are a number of possible explanations for this. For example, some outside sociocultural force (besides income, education, and the other forces for which I have accounted) might push up both religious sentiment and the likelihood of volunteering. Alternatively, religious people might be exposed to more volunteering opportunities than secular people are, or perhaps they are taught in their houses of worship about the importance of volunteering. If indeed the latter explanations are at least partially correct—as seems intuitively plausible—then the connection is not spurious between low religiosity and low charity in much of Western Europe, where secularism is part and parcel of a broader view of citizenship and governance. Indeed, secularism has become a characteristic that practically distinguishes one as European. For example, François Heisbourg, Director of the Foundation for Strategic Research in Paris, notes that America's traditional Christianity-tinged behavior is inscrutable to Europeans: “The biblical references in politics, the division of the world between good and evil, these are things that we simply don't get. In a number of areas, it seems to me that we are no longer part of the same civilization.”49 Large-scale income leveling might represent another area in which “we are no longer part of the same civilization.” Much of Western Europe has lived under socialist and social democratic regimes for a significant portion of the past 50 years. As a leftist “third way” between communism and capitalism—especially in northern Europe—social democracy and European socialism have always stressed the role of income redistribution as central to social justice, breaking down social and economic hierarchies. In one sense, the relationship between income redistribution and private giving is fairly straightforward: government taxation and redistribution simply obviate the financial need for private giving and volunteering. However, an explicit anti-charity bias may underlie this relationship as well, because, as a matter of ideology, social democratic systems tend to be antagonistic toward class distinctions per se. One problem with charity is that it reinforces a tangible class distinction between givers and receivers. “Objects of charity are not guests,” said Henry David Thoreau. Those who believe that social equality is the highest ideal can not tolerate the hierarchy that charity creates. Neil Levy, a Professor of Philosophy at Charles Sturt University in Australia, sums up this view succinctly when he states in his essay Against Philanthropy, “Essential services should be provided to the needy as a right, not as a favor, and these services are most appropriately delivered by government.”50 To some, the progress of much of Western Europe to a secular, statist culture seems perfectly natural, even inevitable. As progressive and enlightened as the European social consensus toward income redistribution might seem, however, it is only executable in rich countries. The idea that, say, the Philippines (which has government revenues of less than $200 per citizen) can afford the socialist policies of France (with government revenues in excess of $5,000 per citizen) is absurd. Western Europe's extensive publicly-funded social insurance systems, in addition to crowding out private charity, may simply be beyond the reach of developing and transition economies. But even in France, this social consensus is far from costless. Most obviously, there is damage to civil society when voluntary participation is displaced by government money. The World Bank's definition of civil society, quoted earlier as a “wide array of non-governmental and not-for-profit organizations” is one sided: It defines civil society in a way that focuses primarily on institutions, practically ignoring how the civility of citizens molds the society in which we live. Most people would probably object to characterizing civil society as an almost immaculately-conceived set of institutions, rather than as a result of human endeavor—much of which is neither mandated by the state nor the result of capitalistic market incentives. It seems reasonable to assert that giving and volunteering are a key input into civil society. Should Countries Care about Charity? While certainly not the only factors explaining charitable differences between countries, secularism and economic redistribution nonetheless provide a strong basis for understanding these differences. Where religion is absent in people's lives, and where people favor government income redistribution as the first or only way to meet people's needs, there is little incentive to give away time and money to charity. Do secularism and income redistribution produce net costs or net benefits for Western Europe and other parts of the developed world? There is no doubt that people will always disagree on the answer to this question. At the end of the analysis, however, evidence that falling charity and a shrinking civil society are a result of these phenomena should not be ignored in the social cost-benefit calculus. Footnotes 1 This figure covers countries in the non-Spanish-speaking Caribbean, which are not included in Table 1. The amount would be higher if remittance statistics were available for Cuba, which receives significant remittances but almost entirely through informal channels. See, e.g., Eckstein (2004). 2 It is worth noting, however, that individual remittances represent around 5% of GDP in the Mexican states of Jalisco, Zacatecas, and Guanajuato, all of which have long traditions of migration (Papail 2002). 3 Surveys conducted by Manuel Orozco (2007) show that migrants from other LAC countries have also formed HTAs, often at a higher rate than their Mexican and Salvadoran counterparts. For example, he finds that the share of remittance senders who belong to an HTA is 29% for Guyana, 16% for Jamaica, 10% for Ecuador and Haiti, 7% for Honduras, 6% for Colombia, and only 4% for Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Mexico. Nonetheless, the Mexican and Salvadoran HTAs are among the most well-documented and institutionalized, partly because of their more active engagement with the state and/or other non-governmental organizations (NGOs). 4 This need for collective action is both an obstacle to the growth of collective remittances and one of their most promising multiplier effects, since successful collective action is likely to build social capital within transnational communities. 5 In the Latin American context, we believe the concept of family support should apply to members of the immediate extended family (for example, uncles, aunts cousins, grandparents) as well as godparents (compadres), who are not blood relatives but are considered an integral part of the family. For a breakdown of the kinds of family support provided by Mexican and Salvadoran migrants, see Cortina and de la Garza 2004. We concur with these authors that monies designated for investment in family enterprises should be considered family support, as long as the profits remain in the hands of family members back home. However, if the migrants themselves are receiving a financial return, we believe these remittances should be characterized as profit-generating investment instead of family support. 6 Productive projects are intended to create jobs within the receiving community. Although the projects may generate profits for community members (who are often organized into collectives), the remittance senders do not expect a financial return on their contribution. As a result, this type of remittance qualifies as philanthropy rather than profit-generating investment. 7 One could argue that these funds should not be treated as remittances at all, since they are essentially foreign direct investment. We have nonetheless included them because migrants who invest a share of their earnings in profit-generating enterprises back home are often different than other foreign investors in that they have a “sentimental” connection to the locale and are motivated by factors other than just profitability. 8 The authors of this study use the term “collective remittances” to refer to funds designated for social purposes, regardless of whether the remittance senders are acting individually or collectively. Thus, consistent with our conceptualization of collective remittances, we have replaced “collective” with “philanthropic” in describing the results of their survey. 9 While these numbers exclude HTAs that are not registered with the Mexican government, the rapid growth of Mexican HTAs participating in the 3x1 Program is probably exaggerated given the relatively common practice by mayors and/or communities of “inventing” HTAs for the purpose of accessing 3x1 funds. 10 These numbers most likely undercount the number of HTAs because many of them are not registered with the government. 11 This contribution included $1.44 million in cash and $690,000 in kind. 12 According to the TRPI survey, an estimated 8.5% of Mexican immigrants and 7.8% of Salvadoran immigrants are members of HTAs (Cortina and de la Garza 2004:16). These figures are somewhat higher than the 4% of Mexican and Salvadoran remittance senders found to belong to HTAs in Orozco's survey (see footnote 3), perhaps because the TRPI sample includes immigrants who do not send remittances. 13 Not all the non-material returns to migrant leadership and collective remittances are positive, however. During our field research, we heard frequent criticisms of the self-serving motives of the migrants, as well as resentment of their elevated status and influence. 14 Interview with Mario Martínez, president of Olomega committee in Houston. Houston, Texas, January 2006. 15 See the chapters in Fernández de Castro, García Zamora, and Vila Freyer (2006) for more detailed descriptions of the 3x1 and Unidos programs. 16 Whereas the 3x1 Program continues to operate even after a change in administration in 2006, Unidos was put on hold after its IDB funding ended and the government adopted a new anti-poverty program in 2006, although there was some talk of reopening the call for proposals from migrants in the future (Nosthas 2006: 56–57). 17 One of the biggest drawbacks of working with the state, mentioned frequently in interviews with local project committees in Zacatecas and Michoacán, is the bureaucracy that must be negotiated in order to get projects approved, funded, and implemented. In fact, a few Mexican HTAs were so frustrated by the bureaucratic hurdles that they decided not to propose any more 3×1 projects, preferring to rely exclusively on their own resources. 18 An excellent example of this phenomenon is a recent decision by the mayor of Nochistlán, Zacatecas to adopt a municipal-wide policy of depositing 3x1 funds in a checking account jointly owned by the municipal government and the HTA. This practice was first introduced in the community of La Villita, where the HTA negotiated the use of joint checking accounts with the previous mayor. 19 In striking contrast to Unidos, the 3x1 Program has its origins in a state-level program created in response to pressure by Zacatecan HTAs, has undergone rule changes that were the direct result of HTA lobbying, and incorporates migrant representatives onto most state-level Committees of Validation and Attention to Migrants (COVAMs), which determine which projects to approve in each state. 20 For example, although mayors in Zacatecas and Michoacán frequently complain that HTA priorities do not match those of the community, we found evidence of mayors deferring to the wishes of the HTAs because they wanted access to 3x1 resources. 21 Mexican presidential candidates began actively campaigning in the migrant community in the late 1980s, as Mexico's political system became more competitive and political parties recognized that migrants can have a powerful influence on the voting behavior of their families back home. See, for example, Dresser (1993). 22 Several studies find, however, that inequality declines over time as poorer households gain access to migration networks, which lower the cost of migrating (Canales 2005; Taylor, Mora, Adams, and Lopez-Feldman 2005). 23 Ironically, employers in some communities in Zacatecas have resorted to importing workers from other parts of Mexico to fill persistent labor shortages. Similarly, landowners in some regions of El Salvador have begun importing Nicaraguan agricultural workers during harvest season to meet their labor needs. Thus, the problem is not always a lack of jobs, but rather poor working conditions and/or low wages that are insufficient to meet family needs, particularly in the context of remittance-driven local inflation. 24 Among 93 people interviewed in August 2007 in Zacatecas, Mexico, 81% listed employment as their top priority. The other item listed among the top priorities by a majority of respondents (51%) was increased state support for farmers. 25 In 2006, the Mexican Ministry of Social Development launched a pilot project, co-financed by the Inter-American Development Bank, to include potentially profitable productive projects in the 3x1 Program, following similar efforts at the state level, particularly in Michoacán and Zacatecas. 26 A few articles make references to both international and Chinese historical experiences. In those cases I have chosen the more salient of the two. 27 Note that I did not use such phrases as “disan bumen (third sector),”“fei zhengfu zuzhi (non-government organization),” or “fei yingli zuzhi (non-profit organization)” because they are Western terms recently imported to China. Analyzing documents with those Western terms in their titles may produce results that exaggerate foreign influence. In contrast, the phrase “minjian zuzhi (literally “folk organization”) has long been part of the Chinese vocabulary and has been used to describe unofficial organizations in Chinese society going back many centuries. An examination of documents using this very Chinese phrase is unlikely to exaggerate and indeed may understate foreign influence. 28 Many articles argue for the adoption of international norms on multiple grounds. Those arguments fall in multiple coding categories. 29 Although the World Bank is an international organization, its transfer to Chinese NGOs is transnational in the sense that one of the two parties is a non-state actor. The same is true of the transfer from the Asia Development Bank to Chinese grassroots organizations, which will be discussed later. 30 This refers to the All China Women's Federation, a government-run mass organization dedicated to carrying out the CCP's policies regarding women's issues and to the improvement of women's welfare. 31 Many foreign NGOs operate in China, though very few are registered as such because of the stringent registration requirement. Most foreign NGOs are either not registered, or are registered with the Department of Industry and Commerce as for-profit enterprises. But their ability to carry out projects indicates a certain degree of tolerance on the part of the Chinese government. 32 The author would like to recognize the contributions of Jennifer Swanson, Robert Alexander, Ana Jamorcic, and Brian Tompkins who are associated with the project on large conservation NGOs. 33 The figures used here are based on all corporate support to TNC. It is impossible at this time to determine what percentage of the support stays within the United states or is transnational. Hence we must note that not all the figures likely represent transfers as for some of the contributions at least no borders were crossed. This is different when compared to WWF-US and CI as essentially all of their work is outside of the United states. 34 This is based upon calculations from the NGOs' annual reports. 35 Here we must raise the concerns of “greenwashing” expressed by critics (see, for example, Tokar 1997; Brulle 2000). Greenwashing is the term used when corporations or industries, often with poor environmental records, attempt to “buy” green images through public relations efforts, including joining and donating to environmental organizations. These types of concerns are beyond the scope of this paper. 36 By transaction we mean a situation in which there is an explicit expectation of exchange between the parties. That is, where something is “bought and sold,” either literally or figuratively. 37 This paper was prepared for the Conference on Private Transnational Transfers, held at the Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs, October 18–19, 2007. 38 Our notion of “lower level” effects is analogous to looking for important effects below the level of the nation state in international security analysis, see, Rubinstein and Foster 1997, [1988]The Social Dynamics of Peace and Conflict: Culture in International Security. 39 James Quesada, personal communication. Quesada, now at California State University, San Francisco, was at the time conducting anthropological fieldwork in Nicaragua. 40 Tanja Hohe Chopra (personal communication) cautions that this is a complex situation since even in such economically distorted situations, positive outcomes may be achieved: “[internationals'] rents actually allowed people to buy their first seeds again and plant their field, they really kick-started their lives again—they would have never achieved to get back on their feet otherwise.” 41 This quote comes from a speech on the fifth anniversary of the “Velvet Revolution,” November 17, 1994. 42 I execute this procedure by regressing average giving on income and income squared, subtract the predicted giving level from the actual level, and rank the results. The income measure comes from the World Bank and is adjusted for purchasing power. 43 Brooks, Arthur C. (2003) Religious Faith and Charitable Giving. Policy Review 121: 39–50. 44 Brooks, Arthur C. 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TI - Non-State Transnational Transfers: Types and Characteristics
JF - International Studies Review
DO - 10.1111/j.1468-2486.2009.00868.x
DA - 2009-06-02
UR - https://www.deepdyve.com/lp/oxford-university-press/non-state-transnational-transfers-types-and-characteristics-8WeLKoJO2F
SP - 1
EP - 450
VL - Advance Article
IS - 2
DP - DeepDyve
ER -