DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC HEALTH & POLICY
Item
- Title
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DEPARTMENT OF
PUBLIC
HEALTH
& POLICY
- extracted text
-
4
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DEPARTMENT OF
PUBLIC
s
HEALTH
& POLICY
CLUSTER I
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Course-Unit Reader: A1.10
r.
Health Policy
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Autumn Term 1992-1993
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1
HEALTH POLICY
1
Contents
Lecture
Title
1.
The evolution of primary health care policy
READING: Chapter 1 from Walt G Community
health workers in national programmes: lust
another pair of hands? 1990 (Open University Press)
f
I
Political systems and exogenous factors
READING: Synopsis and table from HM Leichter
A comparative approach to policy analysis 1979
(Cambridge University Press)
Page
2
IS6aJ
11
15^3
^-S2| "Z'l GOI
/
<
3.
I
4,
5.
I
I
6.
!
7.
I
8.
I
.
1
Chapter 3 from Blondel J Comparative Government
1990 (Philip Allan)
13
0_
Policy making models
READING: Chapter 4 from Hogwood B & Gunn L
Policy analysis in the real world 1984 (Oxford
University Press)
21
Ham C & Hill M ihe policy process in the modern
capitalist state 1984 (Wheatsheaf Books)
33
o-=>
Setting the policy agenda
READING: Chapter 5. 6 & 7 from Hogwood B & Gunn L
Policy analysis in the real world (op cit)
43
Government policy arena
READING: Chapter 5 from Danziger J Understanding
the political world 1991 (Longman.)
53
National interest groups
READING: Chapter 17 from Jones B & Kavanagh
British politics today 1991 (Manchester University
Press)
63
International interest groups
READING: Chapter 1 from Willetts P Pressure
groups in the global system 1982 (Frances Pinter)
69
Implementation and evaluation of policy
READING: Chapter 11 by Cleaves P from
Grindle M (ed) Politics and policy implementation
in the third world 1980 (Princeton University Press)
84
o-
o-
-°
9.
Does research affect policy
READING: Chapter 2 by Weiss C from Bulmer M Social ' ? 97
Science and Social Policy 1986 (Allen and Unwin)
10.
Advocacy, lobbying, negotiation: influencing policy
READING: Chapter 10 from Clark J Democratizing
103
development 1991 (Earthscan Publications.)
I S&A V &-3£3. - OCT - I
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Community health
workers: the evolution
of a concept
U A.V
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7
/YUi.
Before 1975 neither the words ‘community health workers’ (CHWs) nor
‘primary health care’ (PHC) were generally used, even among health
professionals. Today they are common parlance, although conceptual and
definitional differences abound: some people even describe CHW
programmes as synonymous with PHC. Indeed, over the last decade CHW
programmes have expanded enormously. How did this change occur? Why
did thinking about health policy shift in favour of CHWs and PHC?
Different types of CHW had existed for years on a small scale. Why the
flurry of activity in the 1970s and 1980s?
To understand how the concept of the CHW was promoted
internationally and adopted nationally, we need to look at the context
within which changing ideas about health, and especially primary health
care, took place. In this chapter, therefore, we set the context by
distinguishing five areas of influence and changing ideas about health,
although any such division is to some extent arbitrary. Policy change occurs
as the result of a complex sequence of events and ideas not necessarily
distinguishable over time. However, for analytical purposes, it is possible to
focus on five areas:
1 Changing ideas about poverty, health and development
2 Concern about population growth
3 Disillusion with the medical care model
4 Community involvement and self-care
5 Activities and policies of the international organizations
We will consider each of these separately before going on in the next chapter
to look at the concept of CHWs and at governments’ attempts to introduce
CHW programmes.
Changing Ideas about poverty, health ana development
co
The current emphasis on health as an aspect of development can be seen
partly as a reaction against the neglect of health (and other social
dimensions of welfare) in the literature on development which was
produced in the 1950s and 1960s. This emanated mainly from the
developed countries, as a guide to economic and social policy in the newly
independent countries of the Third World. Any simple generalization about
this literature must be to some extent misleading, neglecting the differences
between writers and perhaps exaggerating the effect their theories had on
the actual policies of developing countries. But from the point of view of
their successors in the 1970s, the earlier writers appear to have some
common characteristics which led them to neglect the social aspects of
development.
The early post-Second World War development theories stressed the
overriding importance of investment in the physical elements of national
growth - industry, roads, dams and so on - and saw health and other social
services such as education as non-productive consumption sectors. Thus
government money expended on such services was a dissipation of national
savings.
In order to counter such arguments, and rationalize expenditure on
health, some studies attempted to demonstrate that changes in the health of
populations would result in increased productivity and therefore rising per
capita incomes. Empirical findings were, however, contradictory (Grosse
and Harkavy 1980). For example, studies in St Lucia showed no effect on
production when workers suffering from schistosomiasis were treated
(Weisbrod et al. 1974), although a similar study in Indonesia concluded
that workers without hookworm performed better than those with the
parasite (Basta and Churchill 1974). There were also numerous
methodological problems with the studies (Beenstock 1980).
Other studies pointed to accumulating evidence of the ill-effects on health
of many development projects. Hughes and Hunter (1970) suggested a new
category of diseases, which ‘ they called ‘developo-genic’, that were
analogous to the iatrogenic diseases in medicine but which were caused by
the unanticipated consequences of the implementation of development
schemes. Such arguments, however, made few dents in the generally held
assumptions that developing countries were as yet unformed, infant
versions of modern Western societies. By following the same historical path
as these societies, and particularly through industrialization, development
theorists believed the less-developed countries would become ‘developed’ in
the sense of having high per capita national incomes. Implicit in this theory
was the belief that the benefits of growth would ‘trickle down’ to the poorest
sections of society. Although an emphasis on expanding material
production was not necessarily inconsistent in practice with the expansion
of social services, as Russian experience had shown, most development
theorists in the capitalist world believed that the two were incompatible
unless accompanied by draconian (and therefore unacceptable) political
measures.
However, by the late 1960s and early 1970s there was growing scepticism
as to who was benefiting from development (Myrdal et al. 1968). In many
countries with high rates of economic growth, the rapid rise in per capita
income was firmly concentrated in the hands of fairly small numbers, and
many groups were worse off than they had been:
If one examines the 32 individual countries for which data
are
available, it will be found that the number of ‘destitute’ people
increased in 17 countries in 1963-72 and the number of persons
suffering from serious poverty increased in 14 (ODC/ILO 1976).
It was agreed that the miracle’ of the ‘green revolution’ (increases in
agricultural output based on high-yielding varieties of cereals) had actually
led to no improvement in the productivity and income of poor farmers, but
rather to increasing marginalization of subsistence farmers.
Changing ...
attitudes towards inequalities between social o
groups
’
r*
were not
limited to <developing
J
'
•
countries.
From the early 1960s onwards, the
capitalist developed
’ . ’ world
'1 was ‘rediscovering’ poverty (Harrington 1962;
Abel-Smith and Townsend 1970), and the debate engendered by revelations
of grave differences between social classes led to a spate of rethinking about
social policies, stimulating new policy initiatives such as positive
discrimination (Evetts 1970). Such ideas filtered into the health field
through writings such as those of Bryant (1977) and Navarro (1977) on
social injustice and health, and in the 1970s the inequalities of health
experience between social groups in both developed and less-developed
countries gained more attention.
Inequalities between groups formed the basis for some criticisms of the
practice of defining development mainly in terms of national income. Seers
(1977), for example, argued that it was more pertinent to look at
unemployment, inequality and poverty. If they had all worsened, then even
if gross national product were rising, this was hardly a successful measure of
development. He disagreed with earlier schools of economists who had
always argued that in order to have growth, inequality was necessary: that
rapid development demanded a high level of investment which could only
come from the profits and savings of the rich, and that if these were
squandered on better services for the poor, development would not occur.
In the early 1970s experiences of poor countries like China and Sri Lanka,
as well as middle-income countries such as Cuba and Costa Rica, suggested
that it was possible to have high rates of growth and to redistribute some of
the benefits to the poor, thus improving their relative position (Streeten
1981). Growth and redistribution were not incompatible even within a
capitalist system.
Inequalities between groups broadened to a concern with inequalities
between countries. Development theories that assumed the context of a
capitalist or mixed economy operating in a capitalist internationalist system
-p*
led some critics to argue that underdevelopment could not be seen outside
the historical context of a world economy dominated by capitalism (Frank
1967; Baran 1973). The reasons for continuing underdevelopment lay not
within the underdeveloped countries themselves but in their weak position
within a capitalist system dominated by the industrialized powers. Thus
developing countries had special problems largely engendered by those
nations whose industrialization had taken place at their expense. Many
writers, including non-Marxists, accepted Baran’s emphasis on the
constraints on national development imposed by the international economic
system. These writers made up the ‘dependency’ school.
Dependency was also seen as a technological and intellectual problem.
The case in relation to health was argued succinctly by Navarro (1974) and
Banerji (1974), who showed the negative effects in Latin America and India,
respectively, of using the developed world’s concept of health services and
medical care. The inappropriateness of Western medical ideology and
practice became a central issue in changing ideas about health.
It was perhaps the International Labour Office (ILO) World Employment
Conference in 1976 that most clearly rejected past strategies for
development and identified a new priority based on the eradication of
poverty, the provision of basic needs and productive employment for the
whole population. The ILO conference turned from a narrow focus on jobs
to basic needs, with minimum targets set for food consumption, clothing,
housing and the provision of essential services in the areas of water,
sanitation education, health and public transport (ODC/ILO 1976).
The shift in thinking expressed at the conference had emerged over
several years, at least partly as a result of experience in a number of
countries (Jolly 1976). It was not confined to the ILO but mirrored by many
other institutions. It became more acceptable to see health as integral to
development. The World Bank, for example, which had sometimes
financed health components of development projects in various sectors,
adopted a formal policy towards health in 1974, although it was only in
1980 that it began direct lending for health programmes (World Bank
1980).
By tracing briefly the changing emphasis in development theories it is
possible to see how attitudes to health also changed, and how it began to be
seen as part of an integrated package that would help conquer
underdevelopment (ODI 1979). The overwhelming concern in the health
sector was with unequal access to, and availability of, health services. Rural
populations were being grossly neglected in favour of urban populations,
and in urban areas the poor were neglected in favour of the better-off.
Changing ideas helped to lay the basis for the PHC approach.
Concern about population growth
During the 1960s one of the common explanations for poor countries’ slow
rates of development was that economic growth was being dissipated
because it had to be divided among ever more people. The growth in
population was seen by many as a fundamental brake on development. The
concern of the developed world, however, was not neutral: it stemmed from
the argument that the world’s resources were finite, and focused on the one
hand on pollution and misuse of existing resources, and on the other on
increasing consumption demands. This last was made painfully clear to the
rich countries by a shift in power towards the oil producers in the early
1970s. But concern was not only, or even primarily, about limited resources
and growing populations; it was also about political security. In his
presidential address to the World Bank, Robert McNamara (1979) was
quite explicit about the dangers of uncontrolled population growth,
suggesting it could lead to high levels of poverty, stress and overcrowding
which would threaten social and military stability.
However, the developing world’s view of the population ‘explosion’ did
not always coincide with the developed world’s view. At the United
Nations’ World Population Conference in Bucharest in 1974 the Chinese
Under-Minister of Health said: ‘Is it because of overpopulation that
unemployment and poverty exist today? No, it is due to the exploitation,
aggression and plunder of the Super Powers’ {The Guardian, 22 August
1974). At the same conference the Brazilian delegates were even more
explicit: they argued that they needed an expanded population because all
the great powers had large populations (Bunyard 1974).
Population growth has been a subject of considerable controversy since
before Malthus, but until the 1960s birth control was considered a private
affair, even in the developed world, and certainly not a concern of the state
(Jeger 1962). It was no accident that this changed rapidly with the
introduction of the oral contraceptive - officially sanctioned in the
industrialized world in 1960, having been tested in the Third World
(Vaughan 1970). The oral contraceptive seemed at first sight to be a
technological breakthrough which would revolutionize control over
fertility. In 1966 the World Health Organization (WHO) reversed a 1952
decision to refuse to undertake a population programme by cautiously
agreeing to give technical advice on the development of family planning
activities, but only on request (Cox and Jacobson 1973). In 1969 the United
Nations Fund for Population Activities was established, and by the 1970s
well over US $300 million per year was being spent on population activities
by international, national and private sources, three-quarters of which went
into family planning (Berelson et al. 1980).
Enthusiasm for birth control services as a panacea for population growth
was tempered by the pressures exercised to make people use the new
technologies, especially in India, raising ethical and moral questions
(Banerji 1974), and also by unexpected resistance to contraceptive measures
(Bicknell and Walsh 1976). This was paralleled by the trend against vertical
services, and by the end of the 1970s it was increasingly accepted (although
not everywhere) that family planning (or family spacing) should be
integrated into maternal and child health (MCH) services.
8
COMMUNITY HEALTH WORKERS IN NATIONAL PROGRAMMES
However, greater understanding of the issues has not diminished the
argument in favour of limiting population growth through birth control.
Most developing and developed countries accept that fertility must be
controlled if poor countries are to develop:
The real case for an active population policy is simply that, so long as
the labour force is growing fast, it is almost impossible to relieve
unemployment and poverty since a plentiful supply of labour keeps the
wages of the unskilled, apart perhaps from a privileged modern sector
near levels of barest subsistence. Moreover, the growing pressure of
population on the budget makes it very difficult to expand educational
and other social services (Seers 1977).
Furthermore it has become increasingly clear, although the evidence is
scattered, that many Third World women want to control their fertility,
and, given methods that are feasible and acceptable to them, are doing so
(Population Reports 1984). The emphasis in the 1980s was on in
tegrating family planning into MCH services, not on providing them as a
vertical programme, with the focus on family welfare to protect maternal
and child morbidity and mortality.
Disillusion with the medical care model
In the mid-1960s Maurice Kings (1966) widely disseminated book
articulated a different approach to health services, particularly in Africa.
The book was the result of a symposium in East Africa, and reflected many
people’s concern about the inappropriateness of the Western model of
medical care
care being
being imposed
imposed on,
on, or
or copied by, developing countries. It also
medical
reflected
with purely medical solutions. In spite of
reflected aa general
general disillusionment
disillusionin'
enormous inputs, many mass disease control programmes were failing for
both technical and organizational reasons (Cleaver 1977). TheFe were
successes, like the reduction of yaws, the control of malaria in some areas,
and later’the eradication of smallpox, but the major debilitating or killer
diseases - such as tuberculosis,, gastro-enteritis and measles - continued to
take their toll. Many development projects, such as irrigation schemes or
feeding programmes, had had the unintended consequences of actually
causing more disease (Taghi Farver and Milton 1973). There were no
‘medical’ solutions for malnutrition, a major complicating condition in
many children’s illnesses. The magic bullets capable of reaching and
destroying the responsible demons within the body of the patient (Dubos
1959) did not exist. It was clear that other solutions - social, educational,
economic and political — had to be sought.
Reaction against mechanistic solutions to illness was one side of the
equation The other was disillusion with hospital-based and hospitalorientated medical services. King (1966) emphasized the importance of
looking at the community’s needs, arguing that health services and training
Idb
‘ uraF ’ ed,, -1 ’acir
und--’--g ca—
mo—ase
CHWs: THE EVOLUTION OF A CONCEPT
9
at the level of poverty. In order to increase access to health services the use
of medical auxiliaries was strongly advocated and a general attitude, taken
up by others later, was that appropriate technologies should be developed.
Expensive medical equipment and sophisticated skills did not make sense in
C°
WhLexchan8e was at a Premium. It was during the
mid-1960s that the idea of baste health services (WHO 1973) was
developed, advocating the further extension of peripheral health centres and
dispensaries improving access by taking services to where people lived. (It
is easy to confuse the basic needs approach as enunciated by the
International Labour Office in 1976 (discussed above) and basic health
services which emerged as an alternative to centralized hospital services.)
1 he basic health services policy paved the way for the PHC approach by
recognizing the inappropriateness of hospital care for many of ’the
conditions that were being brought to hospitals, in the absence of
alternatives, and by acknowledging that many sick people lived too far
away to get to hospital in time for effective treatment. Basic health services
it was argued, had to be not only available but also accessible and
acceptable to people. Later a fourth A was added: services had to be
appropriate.
These ideas from sections of the medical profession were supported by
social scientists increasingly poaching' on the medical area, and raising
doubts about the assumption that disease could be fully accounted for by
the medical disease model based on molecular and cellular biology as its
basic scientific discipline (Engel 1977). Anthropologists, sociologists and
psychologists increasingly showed the importance of other factors
There were also immense problems of management, side-effects and
unintended consequences in the prescription of drugs. Although
sulphonamides in the 1930s and antibiotics in the
the 1940s
1940s had
had greatly
greatly
increased medical effectiveness in disease treatment, medical intervention
with some widely used psychotropic drugs was criticized for their
sometimes negative addictive and dependency-creating effects. Illich (1975)
argued that medical action or pharmaceutical solutions all too often made
illness worse. Criticisms in the developed world were not limited to
medical intervention, however. The medical profession’s monopoly of
knowledge was closely examined; dissatisfaction was being expressed with
the private medical systems. Concern about the rising costs of medical
treatment added weight to the doubts expressed about health systems in
general. AU these issues served to raise questions about the medical disease
and medical care models, and to shift health care from professional
protection. In Britain and the USA the self-care movement grew rapidly in
the early 1970s, producing accessible information about health in books
loToTr
Ourselves (Boston Women’s Health Book Collective
1973). It brought the politics of health care into the open.
The issues were, of course, just as relevant to the Third World The
importation of expensive and sophisticated technology and training
pror^mest^l wr’- - W
e cc
ms i ‘ elop
mnt
6
COMMUNITY HEALTH WORKERS IN NATIONAL PROGRAMMES
CHWs: THE EVOLUTION OF A CONCEPT
cn
led some critics to argue that underdevelopment could not be seen outside
the historical context of a world economy dominated by capitalism (Frank
1967; Baran 1973). The reasons for continuing underdevelopment lay not
within the underdeveloped countries themselves but in their weak position
within a capitalist system dominated by the industrialized powers. Thus
developing countries had special problems largely engendered by those
nations whose industrialization had taken place at their expense. Many
writers, including non-Marxists, accepted Baran’s emphasis on the
constraints on national development imposed by the international economic
system. These writers made up the ‘dependency’ school.
Dependency was also seen as a technological and intellectual problem.
The case in relation to health was argued succinctly by Navarro (1974) and
Banerji (1974), who showed the negative effects in Latin America and India,
respectively, of using the developed world’s concept of health services and
medical care. The inappropriateness of Western medical ideology and
practice became a central issue in changing ideas about health.
It was perhaps the International Labour Office (ILO) World Employment
Conference in 1976 that most clearly rejected past strategies for
development and identified a new priority based on the eradication of
poverty, the provision of basic needs and productive employment for the
whole population. The ILO conference turned from a narrow focus on jobs
to basic needs, with minimum targets set for food consumption, clothing,
housing and the provision of essential services in the areas of water,
sanitation education, health and public transport (ODC/ILO 1976).
The shift in thinking expressed at the conference had emerged over
several years, at least partly as a result of experience in a number of
countries (Jolly 1976). It was not confined to the ILO but mirrored by many
other institutions. It became more acceptable to see health as integral to
development. The World Bank, for example, which had sometimes
financed health components of development projects in various sectors,
adopted a formal policy towards health in 1974, although it was only in
1980 that it began direct lending for health programmes (World Bank
1980).
By tracing briefly the changing emphasis in development theories it is
possible to see how attitudes to health also changed, and how it began to be
seen as part of an integrated package that would help conquer
underdevelopment (ODI 1979). The overwhelming concern in the health
sector was with unequal access to, and availability of, health services. Rural
populations were being grossly neglected in favour of urban populations,
and in urban areas the poor were neglected in favour of the better-off.
Changing ideas helped to lay the basis for the PHC approach.
Concern about population growth
During the 1960s one of the common explanations for poor countries’ slow
rates of development was that economic growth was being dissipated
the argument that the world’s resources were f^lnTfoJL'eTon "th
8™^.
suggesting it could lead to high^levels of pove
which would threaten social and military stability
“^crowding
Pop.,.,,,,
,?;ch"'"d
Population growth has been a subject of considerable rnn. „
before Malthus, but until the 1960s birth cont
controversy since
affair,
mi” T
~
™
“S”PS ■h“oofficially
,?",rd sanctioned in the
industrialized world in 1960 ho P k
1970”“d
technological breakthrough which would rpvnl
ro
a
fertility. In 1966 the World Health Orgamzation (WHO?reversed 1952
agrZ ‘to JJZJhn- “
activities, but only on request (Cox and Jacobson 1^73 In 9™ the I
-shei,^tX^^
technologies, especially in Indio
l
peoP'e use r^e new
(Banerji 1974), and alsc>by unexpeaedreshtancew con!
qUeSti°nS
(Bicknell and Walsh 1976) This was paralleled h t“COntra“Ptl''e measures
services, and by the end of the 1970s ft was increa 7"^
vertlcal
not everywhere) that familv nl,
11 Wa® 1 nc7as,ng|y accepted (although
7
4
COMMUNITY HEALTH WORKERS IN NATIONAL PROGRAMMES
Changing ideas about poverty, health and development
The current emphasis on health as an aspect of development can be seen
partly as a reaction against the neglect of health (and other social
dimensions of welfare) in the literature on development which was
produced in the 1950s and 1960s. This emanated mainly from the
developed countries, as a guide to economic and social policy in the newly
independent countries of the Third World. Any simple generalization about
this literature must be to some extent misleading, neglecting the differences
between writers and perhaps exaggerating the effect their theories had on
the actual policies of developing countries. But from the point of view of
their successors in the 1970s, the earlier writers appear to have some
common characteristics which led them to neglect the social aspects of
development.
The early post-Second World War development theories stressed the
overriding importance of investment in the physical elements of national
growth - industry, roads, dams and so on - and saw health and other social
services such as education as non-productive consumption sectors. Thus
government money expended on such services was a dissipation of national
savings.
In order to counter such arguments, and rationalize expenditure on
health, some studies attempted to demonstrate that changes in the health of
populations would result in increased productivity and therefore rising per
capita incomes. Empirical findings were, however, contradictory (Grosse
and Harkavy 1980). For example, studies in St Lucia showed no effect on
production when workers suffering from schistosomiasis were treated
(Weisbrod et al. 1974), although a similar study in Indonesia concluded
that workers without hookworm performed better than those with the
parasite (Basta and Churchill 1974). There were also numerous
methodological problems with the studies (Beenstock 1980).
Other studies pointed to accumulating evidence of the ill-effects on health
of many development projects. Hughes and Hunter (1970) suggested a new
category of diseases, which . they called ‘developo-genic’, that were
analogous to the iatrogenic diseases in medicine but which were caused by
the unanticipated consequences of the implementation of development
schemes. Such arguments, however, made few dents in the generally held
assumptions that developing countries were as yet unformed, infant
versions of modern Western societies. By following the same historical path
as these societies, and particularly through industrialization, development
theorists believed the less-developed countries would become ‘developed’ in
the sense of having high per capita national incomes. Implicit in this theory
was the belief that the benefits of growth would ‘trickle down’ to the poorest
sections of society. Although an emphasis on expanding material
production was not necessarily inconsistent in practice with the expansion
of social services, as Russian experience had shown, most development
*kcoriz'^
the '"'';ralist '‘^’■•d be’^'^d tha*
two
inc^mnatible
CHWs: THE EVOLUTION OF A CONCEPT
5
unless accompanied by draconian (and therefore unacceptable) political
measures.
However, by the late 1960s and early 1970s there was growing scepticism
as to who was benefiting from development (Myrdal et al. 1968). In many
countries with high rates of economic growth, the rapid rise in per capita
income was firmly concentrated in the hands of fairly small numbers, and
many groups were worse off than they had been:
If one examines the 32 individual countries for which data are
available, it will be found that the number of ‘destitute’ people
increased in 17 countries in 1963-72 and the number of persons
suffering from serious poverty increased in 14 (ODC/ILO 1976).
It was agreed that the ‘miracle’ of the ‘green revolution’ (increases in
agricultural output based on high-yielding varieties of cereals) had actually
led to no improvement in the productivity and income of poor farmers, but
rather to increasing marginalization of subsistence farmers.
Changing attitudes towards inequalities between social groups were not
limited to developing countries. From the early 1960s onwards, the
capitalist developed world was ‘rediscovering’ poverty (Harrington 1962;
Abel-Smith and Townsend 1970), and the debate engendered by revelations
of grave differences between social classes led to a spate of rethinking about
social policies, stimulating new policy initiatives such as positive
discrimination (Evetts 1970). Such ideas filtered into the health field
through writings such as those of Bryant (1977) and Navarro (1977) on
social injustice and health, and in the 1970s the inequalities of health
experience between social groups in both developed and less-developed
countries gained more attention.
Inequalities between groups formed the basis for some criticisms of the
practice of defining development mainly in terms of national income. Seers
(1977), for example, argued that it was more pertinent to look at
unemployment, inequality and poverty. If they had all worsened, then even
if gross national product were rising, this was hardly a successful measure of
development. He disagreed with earlier schools of economists who had
always argued that in order to have growth, inequality was necessary: that
rapid development demanded a high level of investment which could only
come from the profits and savings of the rich, and that if these were
squandered on better services for the poor, development would not occur.
In the early 1970s experiences of poor countries like China and Sri Lanka,
as well as middle-income countries such as Cuba and Costa Rica, suggested
that it was possible to have high rates of growth and to redistribute some of
the benefits to the poor, thus improving their relative position (Streeten
1981). Growth and redistribution were not incompatible even within a
capitalist system.
Inequalities between groups broadened to a concern \with
.
inequalities
between countries. Development theories that assumed the
...c context of a
Cp^irniistor ™;^dec------- yop---'gin
itali
rnat
st sy
10
00
COMMUNITY HEALTH WORKERS IN NATIONAL PROGRAMMES
represented a disproportionately high part of the national health budget.
Further, it was clear that sick people sought help from a variety of sources,
not only Western-trained doctors, and recovered (Kleinman and Sung
1979). The ‘witchdoctor’ slowly became the less pejorative ‘traditional’ or
‘indigenous’ practitioner, and traditional midwives were recognized to be
doing useful work in their communities. ‘Medical’ care increasingly became
‘health’ care.
Much of the debate that followed centred around the diffusion of
technology: how, and why, independent countries retained colonial health
infrastructures, and aspired to ideals that were inappropriate to the health
situations in their own countries. From India, for example, Banerji (1974)
suggested that the colonial inheritance had had deleterious effects on health
services. The inappropriateness of selection and training, he suggested, had
alienated health workers from the people they served. The costly emigration
of newly graduated doctors to the Western developed world was indicative
of a professional identification reinforced by inappropriate training, as well
as the pull and push of market forces.
The focus on the inappropriateness of aspects of Western-type medical
training for developing countries spilled over into other areas. For example,
pharmaceuticals came under scrutiny, not only because of the often
unscrupulous behaviour of multinational drug companies, but also because
of poor prescribing habits, and the plethora of brand-named drugs which
added to the costs of many countries’ health services (Muller 1982).
While the pattern of thinking about health was moving from medical care
to health services and from disease care to health care, what was not really
being discussed from within was the notion of community involvement in its
own health care. That came from another source, during the 1970s,
especially from reports of experiences in China.
CHWs: THE EVOLUTION OF A CONCEPT
and their —ides, and
preVenCable
diseases such as sch stosom sTS o '1"
offenng heahh care
r
them to work in the fields part rime
J
first reports by Westerners visitm7chand
Chinese model, and’" was onl Lei
mancia schemes which allowed
f treatment Part-time. The
ab°Ut the
were raised.
questions about its exportability
J
n°d
Sh,,“ "■ ht>"h
resulting Improvements In health «ams1'’cub:,enh0'hT' a’'Cn'IOn (or the
model for its health service Cnko
oommuni,, p„,|e,p„,o„.
>
using a fairly traditional
Tarimo 197S)akn
j ,,c^ae^76) and Tanzania (Chagula and
utlllamg CHWs. In'XbL”Xrte’h"1'1’
P°“«I'S
sssSssee
Community involvement and self-care
The idea of the Chinese barefoot doctor fired the imagination of the
international health establishment. CHWs in various guises had worked
closely with health professionals for decades: the idea was not entirely new
in the 1970s. What was new, however, was the large scale on which CHWs
were trained, and in some cases the role they were envisaged to play. In
many situations CHWs were seen as a way to extend services to otherwise
neglected groups (given the financial and time constraints of training nurses
and doctors), and to relieve professionals of routine, rudimentary treatment
or preventive actions. In a few situations, however, the role of the CHW
was seen much more as political. Here the emphasis was less on service
delivery and more on the determinants of health, and the way in which
CHWs could rally their communities to tackle these: CHWs were seen as
agents of change.
What enthused people about the Chinese system was the active
II
sufcene, and
.on^rXi^rmi'*?' x^^ieT^r”1'
I” ■ e m=S --r
lived in the communiriec rrieJ r
i
was not spontaneous (Holdcroft 'LtsT
purpose workers, who
COmn,Un'ty init'ative when it
Many non-governmental organizations built on
community development
12 COMMUNITY HEALTH WORKERS IN NATIONAL PROGRAMMES
CHWs: THE EVOLUTION OF A CONCEPT
ideas and related them to health. By the mid-1970s there were instances of
ordinary village people receiving a short training and returning to their own
villages to deliver a rudimentary primary care service (Newell 1975).
Although such projects often underlined the difference that could be made
to a community’s health by community participation and mobilization, they
also had the negative effect of emphasizing the powerlessness of the
community within the larger society intent on preserving the status quo.
They were also usually dependent on the voluntary organizations for
limited financial support, which was not always sustained.
By the mid-1970s there was also increasing acknowledgement of
community resources: traditional midwives were still delivering most
babies, mothers and mothers-in-law giving advice. Anthropological studies
added to general knowledge and showed that many health actions people
took themselves were reasonable. This changing emphasis was
accompanied in the industrialized world by the movement in favour of selfcare and support networks, and increasing awareness about lifestyle effects
on health.
progressing along an uncontrollable path ofrhe0™6 W1^'n,them are
satisfying to the health professions Pbut wh eh °Wn
may be
wanted by the consumer
’
H 'S nOt what ls most
The report had two important effects - on
.
promotional. Conceptually it laid the h ' f C0"Ceptual’ the other
Although it concentrated almost t«al v onhTlth" ‘b' PHC aPP—h.
sector, it emphasized the need
to invnlh? hscrv,c« and the health
resources, to ‘make medicme ‘‘beiontt’’ o i'k
t0
local
for a ‘national will’ as well as
mlrnt 1
SerVe’ and calied
Promotionally, the report drew attention toWHO’s 7 PO,S,t'v^,healthconscience’:
s ro e as world health
It >3
is possible
pobsioie to
to use
use WHO
WHO not onlv ac □
dissatisfactions but also as a rnechankm k LUm t0 express ldeas or
in which Member States shX'
rO'nttl,dirat‘O"S
Which those who agree to follow a^ew path can bTas"t^^5
kD
Activities and policies of the international organizations
Two international organizations in particular promoted the PHC approach,
WHO and Unicef, the latter initially playing the supporting role to the
health professionals. The 1978 public launching of‘Primary Health Care’ at
Alma Ata as a vehicle for ‘Health for All by the Year 2000’ was, however,
the result of long discussions about policy in both organizations.
Changes in health policy: the World Health Organization
in hea,th «rvices, the
successful programmes using alternative straXes”'00^ "
°f
care. A number of countries and
g
providing health
had been experimenting with new ideasTn he
°rSanizations,
expansion of health services - through
bfalt.b service delivery. The
involving communities - had begun in a small wavm'n
“ntres and
by non-governmental missionary groups but a^s T3"7 countrles’ often
sifting through a great deal nf
g
P’ Ut , °
governments. By
as ^Christian Med al clmm^Xn3^
by LOr*aniz“ such
it was possible to identify aZ^of^T8
^5 bealth "«”ork,
health services which seemed to offer honef IapprOaches to traditional
In the early 1970s many people within WHO, or connected with the
organization, felt that basic health services were not keeping pace with
changing populations, either in. quantity or quality. The basic health
services concept (see above), which had emerged as an alternative to
centralized hospital services in the 1960s, and to earlier vertical disease
control programmes, was critically examined by a special working group set
up by WHO. This group (WHO 1973) reported that:
There appears to be widespread dissatisfaction of populations with
their health services. ... Such dissatisfaction occurs in the developed as
well as in the third world.
The report went on to enumerate the reasons for such dissatisfactions,
which included failure of health services to meet people’s expectations;
inadequate coverage; great differentials in health status within and between
countries; rising costs; and
|3
Xh.™,
de„lbtd in .
b “ HO
“h
and Mach 1975). The same year Newell (197’5 )cH0 ln,1975 (Djukanovic
p™,,.™.,, bu, w„h „„„ mphasii
th[
^±„“‘”d“P™°„b;8rf ?■, “f1’ '-■»
orchestrated by Halfdan Mahler, whoPbecamei>dlreetaith meS|38e’ firm|y
1975 he launched the ,dea of ‘Health for
k v^n"3'
1973' ,n
contribution to the UN’s ‘New Economic Order' C C3r 2000’ as WHO’s
now to achieve ‘in the twenty-five years of a p PrOpOS'ng U;gent act,on
hitherto been achieved at all’ (Mahler 1975) R 8 "eratlon what has not
achieve ‘an acceptable level of healrh e
1'7 'b/5 he meant ac'ion to
world’s population’. The mLa2 wat a7 ' ^“throughout the
the broader context of its contribnri
bad ro
considered in
health professionals was to consider^0 ben^f r
f''TT'1? Thc
of
terms of their social value rather than of their technLa. e'
-J
14
COMMUNITY HEALTH WORKERS IN NATIONAL PROGRAMMES
was to be used as a lever for social development. ‘Health for All by the Year
2000’ was endorsed by the World Health Assembly in 1977.
It was in this climate of ideas (and preceded by a number of national and
regional meetings on PHC) that the International Conference on Primary
Health Care was held at Alma Ata in 1978, sponsored by Unicef anc^WHO,
with a substantial financial contribution from the host country, the Soviet
Union. A report on primary health care was prepared and circulated
beforehand, and from the meeting, attended by representatives of 134
governments and sixty-seven international organizations, came twenty-two
recommendations (WHO/Unicef 1978). The Declaration of Alma Ata
outlined the role of PHC in Health for All by the Year 2000:
A main social target of governments, international organizations and
the whole world community in the coming decades should be the
attainment by all the peoples of the world by the year 2000 of a level of
health that will permit them to lead a socially and economically
productive life. Primary health care is the key to attaining this target as
part of development in the spirit of social justice (WHO/Unicef 1978).
O
Community health worker programmes were seen as one of the strategies
for PHC. In the Alma Ata document produced after the conference, the
rationale behind CHWs was clear:
For many developing countries, the most realistic solution for attaining
total population coverage with essential health care is to employ
community health workers who can be trained in a short time to
perform specific tasks. They may be required to carry out a wide range
of health care activities, or, alternatively, their functions may be
restricted to certain aspects of health care. ... In many societies it is
advantageous if these health workers come from the community in
which they live and are chosen by it, so that they have its support
(WHO/Unicef 1978).
The people from the less-developed world who attended the conference
(largely ministers of health and their officials) took home with them some of
the evangelizing spirit of Alma Ata. Over the next few years a great deal of
enthusiasm was expounded at all levels to promote PHC strategies, and to
many ministries of health it seemed that the quickest, most visible way of
demonstrating their support for PHC was to introduce a CHW programme
on a national scale, or to expand small-scale programmes so that they
covered larger areas of the country. Those countries that had already
introduced CHW programmes (even if not so named) received a fillip of
interest, and sometimes even some resource support for training. However,
as we shall see in the next chapter, what was meant by a CHW differed from
place to place and there was often a large gap between the concept and what
happened in practice. Expectations of what CHWs could achieve turned out
to be wildly unrealistic.
CHWs: THE EVOLUTION OF A CONCEPT
15
References
Abel-Smith, B. and Townsend, P. (1970). The Poor and the Poorest. Occasional
Papers in Social Administration, Bell & Son, London.
Banerji, D. (1974). Social and cultural foundations of health services systems
Economic and Political Weekly, special no., 1333-46.
Baran, P.A. (1973). The Political Economy of Growth. Penguin, London.
Basta, S.S. and Churchill, A. (1974). Iron Deficiency Anaemia and the Productivity
of Adult Males in Indonesia. Staff Working Paper no. 175. World Bank
Washington, DC.
Beenstock, M. (1980). Health, Immigration and Development. Gower:
Farnborough.
Berelson, B. et al. (1980) Population: current status and policy options. Social
Science and Medicine, 14c, 77-97.
Bicknell, F. and Walsh, D. (1976). Motivation and family planning incentives and
disincentives in the delivery system. Social Science and Medicine 10 579-83
Boston Women’s Health Book Collective (1973). Our Bodies Ourselves.’simon and
Schuster, New York.
Bryant, J. (1977). Principles of justice as a basis for conceptualizing a health care
system. International Journal of Health Services, 7, 707-19.
Bunyard, P. (1974). Brazil - the way to dusty death. The Ecologist 4 83-93
ChKaT8UlaI’I ^-K- 3nd Tarimo’ E- (1975>- Meeting basic needs in Tanzania’ In
Newell, K. Health by the People. WHO, Geneva.
Cleaver, K. (1977). Malaria and the political economy of public health
International Journal of Health Services, 7, 557-80.
Cox, R.W. and Jacobson, H.K. (1973). The Anatomy of Influence. Yale University
Press, New Haven, CT and London.
Djukanovic, V. and Mach, E. (1975). Alternative Approaches to meeting Basic
Health Needs tn Developing Countries. Umcef/WHO, Geneva.
Dubos, R. (1959). Mirage of Health. Doubleday, Garden City, NY.
Engel, G.L. (1977). The need for a new medical model: a challenge for biomedicine
Science, 196, 129-36.
Evetts, J. (1970). Equality of education opportunity: the recent history of a concept
British Journal of Sociology, 21, 425-30.
Fanon, F. (1965). A Dying Colonialism. Penguin, Harmondsworth.
Frank, A.G. (1967). Capitalism and Underdevelopment in Latin America. Monthly
Review Press, New York.
Grosse, R.N. and Harkavy, O. (1980). The role of health in development. Social
Science and Medicine, 14c, 165-9.
Guttmacher, S. and Danielson, R. (1979). Changes in Cuban health carecare: an
an
argument against technological pessimism. Social Science and Medicine, 13c,
87—96.
HaDMfU N' Afya " Tanzania’s health campaign. Information
Bulletin, 9. Clearing House on Development Communications, Washington DC
Harrington, M. (1962). The Other America. Penguin, London.
Holdcroft , L. (1978). The Rise and Fall of Community Development in Developing
Countries 1950-196S. Rural development paper, Michigan State University
Huberman, L. and Sweezy, P. (1969). Socialism in Cuba. Modern Reader
Paperbacks, New York.
Hughes, C. and Hunter, J. (1970). Disease and ‘development’ in Africa. Social
Science and Medicine, 3, 443-93.
SUMHARISED EXTRACT FROM CHAPTER 3 IN: HM LEICHTER
A comparative approach
to policy analysis: health care policy in four nations (Cambridge University
Press) 1979
The range and number of factors that influence or determine what governments
do or, for that matter, what they choose not to do, are virtually infinite.
Public policy may be influenced by prior policy commitments, international
tension, a nation's climate, economic wealth, degree of ethnic conflict,
historical traditions, the personality of its leadership, the level of
literacy of its people, the nature of its party system, and whether it is
governed by civilian or military leaders. The list could be extended almost
indefinitely, Virtually anything can influence or determine what governments
do.
To make the comparative study of public policy more manageable we offer an
accounting or organizing scheme, The scheme is an inventory of those factors
that influence the making of public policy.
The first step in trying to explain the decisions and policies of governments
is to order the available evidence. We do this using a few broad categories:
* situational factors : more or less transient, impermanant or idiosyncratic
conditions that have an impact on policy
* structural factors:
polity
the relatively unchanging elements of the society and
* cultural factors: the value commitments of groups within the community or
the community as a whole
* environmental factors: events, structures, and values that exist outside
the boundaries of a political system but that influence decisions within the
system.
A selection of factors is presented in the table to ilustrate and describe the
dynamics of a sample of policy-influencing variables, but it must be kept in
mind that the policy context actually involves the interplay of many factors,
that these policy-related factors vary according to the policy area and from
one time to another.
See table below.
11
41
Accounting for public policy
Table 3-1. A icheme for analyzing public policy
I
Situational factors
A.
Violent events: international and civil wars, communal conflict, terrorism.
assassination
B
Economic cycles: depression, recession, inflation
C.
Natural disasters: epidemics, droughts, floods, oil spills, earthquakes
D
Political events and conditions
1. Political status change: achieving independence, joining or leaving an inter
national association, integration with another political unit
2. Political regime change
revolution, coup d'etat, election of a radical political
party
3
Change of government electoral shift in power from conservative to liberal party
4. Political reform: extending suffrage
5. Political corruption or scandal: Lockheed scandals. Watergate
6. Change in political leadership: election of a de Gaulle or an F. D. Roosevelt;
death of a Stalin or a Franco
F.
Technological change:
inventions such as
the automobile.
airplane,
nuclear
weapons
F.
The policy agenda: competition among policy issues and their proponents for the
time, attention, and resources available to decision makers
II.
Structural factors
A.
Political structure
1. Type of political regime
military or civilian, socialist or nonsocialist. competi
tive or noncompetitive party system
2. Type of political organization: federal or unitary system
3. Form of government: parliamentary, presidential, nondemocratic
4. Group activity: number, strength, and legitimacy of interest groups
5. Political process: legislative-executive relations, budgetary process, nature of
bureaucracy
6. Policy constraints: incrementalism, prior policy commitments
B
Economic structure
1.
Type of economic system: free market, planned, or mixed economy
2. Economic base: primarily agrarian or industrial, diversified or one-product
dependency
.3. National wealth and income: size and growth rate of GNP. distribution of
wealth
4
C
Complexity of economic organization: modern or traditional economy
Social, demographic, and ecological structure
I
Population:
age structure, birth rate, geographical distribution, communal
divisions, rate of in- and out-migration, level of education
2. Degree of urbanization- proportion of population living in urban and rural
areas
3. Natural resources: land, water, minerals
4
Geographic location: island or landlocked, tropical or temperate climate, proximity to militarily strong or weak neighbors
111.
Cultural factors
A.
Political culture
1. National heritage
2. Political norms and values: concerning the role of the individual and the state
3. Formal political ideology: Marxist, fascist, democratic
B.
General culture
1. Traditional social values: relating to social institutions and arrangements such
as marriage, the family, sex roles
2. Religion: religious values and role of religious institutions in society
IV.
Environmental factors
A.
B.
International political environment: cold war. detente
Policy diffusion: emulation and borrowing of policy ideas and solutions from other
nations
c.
International agreements, obligations, and pressures
I World public opinion
2. International affiliations: United Nations. UNESCO. International Olympic
Committee. Organization for African Unity
3. Participation in international conferences and agreements: Stockholm Confer
4
D
ence on Man and the Environment
International financial obligations: World Bank loans. Agency for International
Development (U.S. AID) assistance
International private corporations: International Telephone & Telegraph. Chase
Manhattan Bank
12
fVijkK ;
J
Ha
4^4
The norms of political systems
.
The three dimensions of norms of political systems
3
GJ
24
The norms of political
systems: patterns of
government in the
contemporary world
The previous chapter was devoted to the anatomy of the political system. Structures
constitute the elements which, in combination, form different configurations. As yet
it is uncertain how the relative weight of different structures in different political
systems may be described precisely, but it is known that these structures exist and
that they perform different activities, and therefore have different effects, in the
various political systems. It is now necessary to turn to the overall character of
political systems, to their overall ‘colour’, so to speak. Political systems are
concerned with the allocation of values: what are these values and how far do they ,
differ from one political system to another? In order to answer this question, it is
necessary to look at the norms of political systems.
The comparison of political systems by reference to their norms is a very old
idea and one in common usage. Everyone talks about democracies and oligarchies,
about liberal and authoritarian regimes, about ‘progressive’ and conservative
countries. In doing so, people are indeed referring to the norms of these systems,
that is to say to the kinds of proposals they make and to the kinds of aims which
regimes achieve (or appear to achieve). Making these judgements involves the type
of activity in which political scientists have engaged for centuries - at least since
Aristotle, who divided societies into such categories as democracies, oligarchies, and
monarchies, and who was later followed by many of the great political theorists,
such as Hobbes, Locke, Rousseau, and others.1
The aim of this chapter is to examine more closely the nature of the norms
which characterise political systems and, on this basis, to place the various political
systems which exist in the world to-day into a number of categories. The next step
will be to investigate how far certain structures can be related more specifically to
certain types of norms, on the understanding that, as was discussed in the previous
chapter, it is still not possible to describe with precision the various configurations of
institutions; nevertheless it is possible to give an impression of the type of activities
which characterise these structures.
The classification of political systems has always been based on the assessment of the
norms which these systems were held to embody or to achieve; examples of these
norms include, for instance, liberalism and democracy. Yet, while the existence of
norms appears to be universally recognised (although there may be controversies in
practice as to whether, for example, a given political system is liberal or not), one
problem which arises is the number or range of norms which should be taken into
account to characterise political systems. Are liberalism and democracy - and their
polar opposites, authoritarianism and ‘monocracy’ - the only two types of norms
which need to be taken into account? Many theorists seem to have thought so and,
indeed, Western regimes are commonly described as ‘liberal democracies (or
‘polyarchies’, to use the expression of R.A. Dahl) in order to stress that these are the
two types of norms which these regimes embody.2 However, a classification of this
type does not take into account the substantive policies which a given political
system might achieve or want to achieve: two political systems may be authoritarian,
but may vary according to their actions with respect to properly, the social structure
or education. A classification of political systems has surely to take these variations
into account, since they appear as relevant to the norms of these systems as
democracy or liberalism. This is indeed recognised in ‘ordinary’ language:
governments, as well as other bodies within the political system, such as parties or
the military, lend to be characterised by the extent to which they are conservative or
‘progressive’ as well as liberal or democratic.3
So far the examples given include only the norms which have been or may be
taken into account in order to classify political systems. Il is possible to be
systematic, however, and, by referring to the definition of the political system, to
determine what areas or domains these norms can be expected to cover. The
political system is concerned with the authoritative allocation of values: such an
allocation can only take place if the following three questions about norms are
answered.
The first question refers to the persons involved in the political process. Who
makes the allocation? One answer may be that all the members of the polity take the
decisions and that, therefore, in the strict sense of the word, the system is a
democracy: no polity of course approximates this situation.4 The second question
refers to the way in which the decisions are taken: are there many restrictions on the
examination of alternatives? This question raises the problem of liberalism or
authoritarianism. The third question relates to the substantive content of the
policies: what does the allocation aim at achieving? Is rhe goal of the polity to spread
goods and services, indeed values in general, evenly and equally, or is it, on the
contrary, to create and maintain inequalities in the distribution of these goods,
services, and values?
Thus the definition of the political system shows that there are just three types
of norms to be examined if one is to characterise a political system. It is immediately
apparent, however, that these norms should be viewed as divided, not in a
2r:
The norms of political systems 2
26
General framework and concepts
dichotomous manner, but along continuous dimensions. Political systems are not
only democratic or non-democratic: they may be located at many points between a
democratic pole (participation of all in an equal manner) and a ‘monocratic’ pole
(one person takes all the decisions), although it is clear that no real-world society is
located at either extreme.5 Similarly, political systems are located between a fully
liberal pole and a wholly au±oriiarian pole.
It may seem difficult to define precisely the third dimension, which relates to
substantive policies. Yet experience shows that this dimension is concerned with a
variety of models of the ‘good society’ which can be said to range between fully
egalitarian and inegalitarian arrangements.6 At one extreme is what might be
described as the ‘communist utopia’; at the other pole is the wholly hierarchical
society in which one or very few draw the very large majority of the benefits. The
grounds for inequality may be diverse: they may be based for instance ©n
inheritance, race, creed, occupation or class; they may be based on some
combination of these characteristics. There will of course be many degrees of
equably and inequality; but the overall effect is to place societies on a third
dimension, which is distinct from the dimensions of liberalism versus authorit
arianism and of democracy versus ‘monocracy’.
Four point can be made about this three-dimensional distribution of the norms
of political systems. The first is that reference is made here to the norms of the
political system as a short-cut to suggest the norms which tend to be expressed by
the behaviour of the authorities of that political system and especially by the
government and the members of the political elite. Clearly, in any polity there are
dissenters from the prevailing norms of the regime, but the views of the dissenters
are either repressed or do not have sufficient force (for instance because they
constitute the views of a very small minority); as a result, at any rate at the point at
which the observation is made, these views do not translate themselves mto norms of
the polity. Over time, however, these views may contribute to a change in the
behaviour of the authorities and thus in the norms of the regime; the existence of
these opposing norms is also likely to contribute significantly to the determination of
the position of the political system on the liberal-authoritarian dunenston as wel as,
though perhaps to a lesser extent, to the position of the political system on the other
two dimensions.
,
Second, the current ability of political scientists to operationalise these norms
remains relatively limited. Yet it is possible to operationalise them in part - and to a
greater extent for some countries than for others. For example degrees of equality
or inequality can be assessed by means of income per head and the distribution of
capital across the population, although other indicators should also be used, for
example the extent to which minorities have equal access to various P0511*^
Degrees of liberalism are typically assessed by the extent to which various fre <fonts
are achieved in the political system, though the indicators are likely often to be of a
qualitative rather than a quantitative nature. The extent of democracy can. of course
be measured in pan by reference to the opportunity given to citizens to participate
in the electoral process, but other indicators also need to be taken into account, such
as the extent of participation tn political parties and in groups which are involved in
national decision-making. Clearly, the measurement is often based on data which are
not wholly reliable and the allocation of weighting to various indicators can give rise
to argument. However, it is at least possible - and efforts have already been made in
this direction - to arrive at some degree of operationalisation.7
Third, the measurements which are made refer to a particular point in time:
thus the assessment given to a political system concerns only that point in time. If a
regime changes and is replaced by one which has different goals (more or less
liberal more or less democratic, or more or less egalitarian), the location of the
system in the three-dimensional distribution of norms also changes. Thus the
assessment of the location of a given political system does not by itself give a
dynamic picture, but a number of observations can provide the dynamics. This also
makes it possible to see whether there are trends which apply to many regimes and
thus characterise the evolution of political systems in general.
Fourth the examination of the evolution of norms over a period of time can
provide a means of assessing the extent to which moves according to one dimension
of norms have an effect on moves on another. The three dimensions are analytically
distinct: liberalism is conceptually different from democracy and egahtananism; but
there are apparent empirical links between positions on the three axes . Thus it
could be claimed that a move towards liberalism will be followed by moves towards
democracy this has been the evolution of Western European countries in the
nineteenth century and it can be argued that, as a state becomes more liberal, more
citizens will be able to participate because they will be able to express demands, in
the first instance, for greater participation. It is also often assumed that changes
towards egalitarianism will have the effect of reducing, at least to a degree, the
opportunities for liberalism, as liberty and equality are at times regarded as
antithetical; in practice, rapid changes towards greater equality - or indeed greater
inequality - often lead to protests and tension; this might result in more
authoritarianism on the part of the regime and in a curtailment of participation as
well.8
f
Overall, therefore, the determination of the position of countries at various
points in time with respect to the three dimensions of norms is both a way of
characterising the nature of political systems and a means of understanding the
dynamics of these systems on a comparative basis. So far, knowledge of these
positions and of the evolution of these positions is still relatively vague: this is
despite the fact that it is common to assess many regimes according to two and often
all three of these dimensions, as the description of Western European countries as
liberal democracies and of Communist states as authoritarian regimes indicates. It
should therefore at least be possible to see in broad terms how contemporary polities
can be characterised, examine how far they tend to be grouped into a number of
categories which can be clearly distinguished from each other, and discover whether
some configurations of structures are particularly important in reflecting or even
even in
in
part determining the characteristics of these regimes.
28
cn
The norms ot political system^ 2.^
General framework and concepts
The five main types of political system in the contemporary world
Liberal-democratic regimes
The three types of norms described above suggest that political systems may be
located at an infinity of points in the three-dimensional space determined by these
norms. Indeed, no two political systems are likely to be placed at exactly the same
point, and even the most stable political system is likely to vary also somewhat in
terms of the norms which it embodies. Yet there are also considerable similarities: as
was noted earher, Western European countries are generally regarded as being
close to each other in terms of their norms; they are all deemed to be liberal
democracies.9 Communist states are characterised by a high degree of authorit
arianism; indeed, some ceased to be Communist when they became less
authoritarian, though there have also been moves among the remaining Communist
stales, and in particular in the Soviet Union, to become more liberal. The situation
is so fluid in this respect that it is difficult to know whether states can remain
Communist and not be relatively authoritarian.
Indeed, imitation is one of the reasons why the norms of political systems are
similar. Western European regimes evolved in the nineteenth and twentieth
centuries on the basis of an adaptation of many of the arrangements of British
practices; in the case of European Communist states, norms were openly imposed
and maintained by the Soviet Union, to the extent that, for a long period at least, it
was relatively difficult to find appreciable differences among the norms of these
countries. But the adoption of the norms of one country by another goes beyond
Western Europe and the Communist world: the influence of colonial countries over
the newly independent states of the Third World, as well as that of the Soviet Union
and China, has had the effect of spreading the norms and the institutions of these
countries to many parts of the globe.
It is therefore not surprising that there should be clusters in the positions of
countries in the three-dimensional distribution of norms. These clusters allow for
some differences in the exact position of each country (it is not possible to determine
the exact position of each country with respect to the three dimensions and thus to
measure the precise difference among the countries in each cluster). Whether
because their political systems have originally been set up with norms adapted from
other political systems or not, the countries in each cluster display characteristics
which are close to those of others, though these positions can be expected to change
occasionally, either slowly or in some cases, for instance after a coup or a revolution,
rather abruptly.
A survey of the contemporary world suggests that there are five such clusters of
positions in the three-dimensional distribution of norms. These clusters can be
labelled ‘liberal-democratic’, ‘egalitarian-authoritarian’, ‘traditional-egalitarian’,
‘populist’, and ‘authoritarian-inegalitarian’.
These include the countries of Western Europe and North America,, as well as
India, and
Japan, Israel, some members of the Commonwealth, and in particular
i
some Latin American states, in particular Costa Rica. The list does of course vary
over time, indeed vary appreciably: over the post-1945 period, Spain, Portugal, and
Greece have entered or re-entered the group, while several Latin American countries
(Chile being a good example) ceased to be liberal democratic, at least for a period, in
the 1970s and 1980s; on the other hand, a number of Latin American countries
adopted liberal-democratic norms in the 1980s. A number of European ex
Communist states have also moved in the direction of these norms in the late 1980s.
These countries also constitute a cluster from the point of view of their
substantive policies, which tend to be neither truly egalitarian nor truly
inegalitarian. Of course, there arc major differences among them from the point ol
view of the distribution of incomes and of the social services; but the substantive
norms which are being embodied and to an extent implemented in these countries
tend to correspond to a half-way position between the two extremes. This is
probably the consequence of the liberal-democratic formula which these countries
adopt: various groups can express themselves at least with a moderate degree of
openness and thev then compete to obtain support from the population, in particular
through elections. The result is a set of policy norms which are in the middle of the
dimension, although there are of course movements on either side of this half-way
position.
Egalitarian-authoritarian regimes
Communist regimes can be described as egalitarian and authoritarian, though they
should also be labelled democratic. The countries of this group have traditionally
included, beyond the Soviet Union and the Eastern European countries, China,
North Korea, Mongolia and Vietnam, as well as a number of other states such as
Cuba, Angola, Mozambique, and Ethiopia. In the late 1980s, Eastern European
states have moved out of the group or have taken steps towards doing so. A further
set of countries, to be found in particular in Africa, has occasionally adopted norms
which are close to those of Communist states, but these norms have not been
pursued sufficiently systematically to justify their inclusion in the group.
The fact that the regimes of these countries are authoritarian is well-known and
does not need to be argued at length, although the evolution of these states in the
course of the 1980s suggests that there is a broad tendency to move away from more
extreme forms of authoritarianism. This has resulted in a number of states no longer
remaining Communist, but there have also been moves away from authoritarianism
amofig those which did, and in the first place in the Soviet Union. The state of flux
is such that it is difficult to be sure that these moves can continue without leading to
the end of Communism in these countries as well. Meanwhile, authontianian norms
30
cn
General framework and concepts
remain markedly in evidence in a number of Communist states which have refused
to be associated with the changes which were initiated in the 1980s in the Soviet
Union.
Communist regimes have also traditionally been relatively egalitarian, even if
doubts are often expressed about the nature and extent of the egalitarianism of these
countries. The fact that there are no substantial concentrations of wealth in the
hands of individuals has a considerable egalitarian effect, although the power of
managers and politicians does compensate in part, in practical terms, for the
limitations upon the economic power of ‘capitalists’. Moreover, Communist states
are characterised by an extensively developed social security system which provides
the whole population with a basic equality of provision with respect to education,
health, and pensions.
Finally, Communist states should be regarded as relatively democratic, even
when they are or were authoritarian. As was pointed out earlier, liberalism and
democracy are two analytically distinct concepts, which tend to be associated in the
West because of the evolution of Western Europe in the nineteenth century;
however, a political system may be democratic without being liberal if it gives an
opportunity for participation without allowing for appreciable competition.
Moreover, the democratic character of Communist societies has to be viewed by
comparison with the situation which prevails in other countries: in Communist
stales, the party and the other ‘mass’ organisations give large numbers of citizens an
opponunity to participate.
Traditional—inegalitarian regimes
8
i
In the contemporary world, the political systems which are neither liberaldemocratic nor Communist are grouped into three clusters. One of these is
composed of the systems which have continued to adopt the traditional norms which
once prevailed in most of the world and in Western Europe in particular. These
countries are absolutist and their head of state, usually a monarch, rules the nation
by counting on the loyal support of the large majority of the population; some
oligarchical republics have had or still have a similar character. This type of regime
is becoming rare in the contemporary world, partly because most Western European
monarchs felt the need to abandon their power in order to remain on the throne
while others were toppled. Thus only in relatively remote and closed parts of the
world (the Arabian peninsula, the Himalayas) have traditional-inegalitarian regimes
continued to exist.
The norms of these systems are ‘traditional’: they preserve inequalities and
highly oligarchical structures, like those which characterised pre-revolutionary
Europe. Power and wealth are concentrated in few hands and there are few moves
towards a political opening up of the society, although in many cases efforts are
made by the monarchs to ensure that their popular support is maintained by
providing some elements of a constitutional regime and by developing the economy;
The norms of political systems
regimes such as those of the Arabian peninsula, which have been fortunate enough
to be able to disperse substantial resources among the population, have been best
able to maintain themselves.
By and large, these regimes are not truly authoritarian, at any rate in the most
oven sense. They remain in being on the basis of traditional popular support.10
Authoritarianism becomes necessary only when a crisis occurs, that is to say when
opposition begins to emerge. The regimes may then be toppled or they have to
transform themselves into either populist or authoritarian-inegalitarian systems.
Populist regimes
Most of the newly independent states of the 1950s and 1960s , especially in Africa,
began as populist regimes,11 as did some of the South American republics in the
early post-independence period. The establishment of a new state requires at least
some involvement of the population in opposition to a colonial power, and
‘traditional’ loyalties are usually insufficient. There has to be some participation by
at least a large part of the population; there has also to be a degree of pluralism.
Populist regimes are thus typically born in reaction to traditionalism and,
consequently, they lend to be half-way between democracy and ‘monocracy’,
between egalitarianism and inegalitarianism and between liberalism and authorit
arianism.
These characteristics account in pan for the high expectations raised by such
regimes at the outset, both within the country and outside; but they account also for
their relative instability. Relative pluralism leads to strong divisions among groups
and factions: this could result in a liberal-democratic form of government, but only
if strong political institutions exist and tensions are not too high, in particular among
the minorities which often have a religious, ethnic, or even tribal character: not
surprisingly, this is relatively rare in a new country. Not surprisingly, too, a strong
leader is not merely a help, but a necessity; if no such ‘charismatic’ leader exists, the
regime is likely to move rapidly to a different form and in particular may become
authoritarian-inegalitarian .
Authoritarian-inegalitarian regimes
By and large, authoritarian-inegalirarian regimes occur as a reaction to a
liberal-democratic system, as was the case in much of Southern, Central, and
Eastern Europe before World War II, with Fascism and Nazism in particular, or as
has periodically occurred in Latin America since World War II; they occur also as a
reaction to populist regimes, as in Africa and to an extent in Asia since the 1960s:
military governments tend then to be the basis on which these regimes are
organised. Authoritarian-inegalitarian regimes can also result from the transforma
tion of a traditional system in which the basis of support for the monarch is
3i
The norms of political systems 33
32
■
!
General framework and concepts
decreasing: this has occurred occasionally in Europe in the past; examples can also
be found since World War II, for example in the Middle East.
These regimes are first and foremost authoritarian: ‘normal political life is
reduced to a minimum and there is even the widespread belief among the authorities
that politics can be abolished altogether and be replaced by management and
administration. Some aulhoritarian-inegalitarian regimes have had to accept a
degree of ‘politicisation’ and set up organisations designed to enrol the population in
a ‘mass’ party whose primary purpose is to express support for the leader and the
regime; but these regimes are typically hierarchically structured: there is emphasis
on the ‘chief and on the need to recognise his superior status while the concept of
democracy is rejected outright. Society itself is viewed as hierarchical, with everyone
having his or her place in an almost biologically ordered set of positions. The aim is
to construct - or reconstruct - a society in which there is a loyal following, an aim
which often remains unfulfilled.
These regimes are also socially inegalitarian because they have been set up in
order io defend a social elite which feels threatened by the growing influence of the
‘popular classes’ and/or because they are associated with ideas of social as well as
political hierarchy. In many cases, there is longing for a return to what is viewed as
the well-organised structure of the past in which everyone had his or her place and
positions were not questioned. These attempts often end in failure: the effort to
remodel the society cannot be pursued for long. The regime is likely to be toppled
and be replaced by aa populist or a liberal-democratic system, although this new
government may in turn be rather weak and have to give way to another
authoritarian-inegalitarian system (or, exceptionally, to a Communist system).
The norms of the political systems of the contemporary world thus fall into quite
distinct groups, though the sharpness of the differences sometimes becomes blunted
as one country moves from one regime to another or when there is oscillation, as
often in Latin America, from one type of norms to another. Whether political
systems embody the same norms for long periods or not, however, the patterns
which emerge are sufficiently clear to provide a satisfactory picture of the variations
among types of government.
Types of norm and types of configuration of institutions
The norms which political systems embody provide an image of the broad direction
in which these systems move as well as of the manner in which decisions are taken.
But, as we know, decisions are taken with the help of institutions which form
different configurations in different political systems. There are, as might be
expected, close relationships between the norms of political systems and the
structures which prevail in these systems. In part, this is because institutions are set
up deliberately in order to embody certain norms: this is the case, for example, with
parliaments and parlies which are set up to provide a means for democratic
participation. However, structures may also have an effect on norms: when they are
well-established, as for instance in the case of tribes or ethnic groups, they affect the
role of these institutions in national decision-making. Il is therefore useful to
describe the relationship between norms and institutions and see how far some
regimes are characterised by specific configurations of institutions. It is not realistic
to expect to do so here in detail: structures are too complex to be easily
circumscribed; but at least a general impression of the relationship can be given.
Configurations of institutions in liberal—democratic regimes
In liberal-democratic regimes, the configuration of institutions is based in large part
- though only in pan - on constitutional arrangements deliberately designed to
implement the norms of the political system. This is particularly the case wit
parliaments or congresses, but couns, the executive, and rhe bureaucracy are also
shaped to a varying degree by the constitution.
Yet, ever since the nineteenth century when earlier constitutions were drafted,
liberal and liberal-democratic systems have included many institutions not even
mentioned in constitutions; the most important of these have been the politica
parties, but other groups have also played a large part m national decision-making.
Consequently, even in liberal-democratic polities, constitutional structures have
often become less influential or have remained influential only in comunction with
non-constitutional bodies, such as parties: parliaments and executives tend to be
dominated by political parties, both because elections occur on party lines an
because day-to-day behaviour takes place on topics and in a manner which
corresponds to the decisions of the parties (together with the most influential
groups). However, of all types of political systems, liberal-democratic regimes are
those where constitutional bodies play the largest part.
The structural configuration of liberal-democratic regimes can therefore be said
to be based on a number of well-defined arenas (parliaments, executives, but also
local and regional parliaments and executives constituting these arenas) in which
there are two main levels of actor, parties and groups, while the bureaucracy is
influential in the-wings. The positions of these two types of actor are different,
parties play the main parts and occupy the front of the stage, typically executing
the main movements or reciting the mam lines; groups are normally less visible,
except when they suddenly irrupt by means of major strikes or demonstrations.
Groups tend to be organised for definite purposes (though their aims may be
relatively broad, as in the case of trade unions or business organisations!; they
normally exercise pressure on the parties, though they also endeavour to have direct
links with rhe civil service.
. . .
The level of participation in groups and parties is ostensibly high but it is in
practice often small: the mass of the population tends to take a spectator’s position,
groups and parties being supported from time to time by vigorous clapping or
attacked by strong booing. Ties between population and structures are not
34
General framework and concepts
necessarily much stronger at the local or regional levels. By and large the ‘grass
roots activities of the national parties and groups directly concern only a minority,
although there may be variations from area to area and from lime to time. Overall,
the system is relatively well-ordered, largely as a result of the acceptance of the
rules of the game’ - that is to say the characteristics of the constitutional
arrangements - by practically all the actors. Where this acceptance is less
widespread the probability of the liberal democratic regime being overthrown is
high, as apart from this acceptance there are relatively few means whereby the
various arenas and actors may be strongly defended.
The norms 01 politic al systems
closely knit web of groups below itself in order to prevent both traditional bodies
and more modern organisations from coming to the suriace: it is far from successful
in this task and changes which have taken place during the 1980s in particular show
that efforts at suppression have been in vain. ‘Holes’ in the structures have always
been large in some countries (such as in Poland, where the Catholic Church has
proved particularly resilient), but the problem has erupted in a major way in all
Eastern European states except Albania in the late 1980s, to the extent that, as is
well known, Communism has ceased to prevail in these countries. Moreover, the
grave disorders which erupted in parts of the Soviet Union have raised doubts about
the future viability of the Communist system in that country as well.13
Configurations of institutions in Communist regimes
oo
In egalitarian-authoritarian regimes such as Communist states, the determination of
the arenas is much less clear , as these regimes have traditionally tended to operate
on the basis of a deliberate ambiguity. There is in effect a political superstructure
and a political infrastructure, with two different configurations of institutions linked
primarily by means of personal ties. The political superstructure is constituted by
the state level, in which constitutional bodies are outwardly similar to those of
liberal-democratic countries, except that a greater emphasis is given to the
bureaucratic side of the machinery than in liberal-democratic countries. The civil
service is not ‘in the wings’, but is part of the configuration itself; indeed, at the
level of the state structure, there is little, if any, differentiation between the
administrative and the non-administrative elements - a distinction which has
become sharp in liberal-democratic countries because political parties wish to
control the executive but, by general agreement, do not enter to more than a limited
extent in the lower echelons of the administrative hierarchy. In Communist states,
the structural configuration at the level of state organisation is essentially based on a
large number of administrative bodies whose personnel is both political and
technical.
The level of the state organisation is effective only because, at the level of
political infrastructure, the Communist party and a host of ancillary bodies both
suggest directions for action and supervise the implementation. Thus the
Communist party does not have clear and circumscribed areas of activity as parties
tend to have in liberal-democratic states; it is at least as active as parties are in
Western countries in directing the executive, but it also controls many aspects of the
administrative machine and supervises the many ‘mass’ organisations which it has
helped to set up, such as trade unions.
There are thus two levels of structural configuration; the linkage between the
two is naturally a source of difficulty, and it can be achieved only by means of key
individuals at both levels. A further source of difficulty comes from the fact that,
below the political mfrastructure of party and groups, there also exists a further,
wholly unofficial, level consisting of more traditional bodies (ethnic or religious in
particular) as well as of more modern (protest) organisations. The party has woven a
Configurations of institutions in traditional—inegalitarian regimes
Structural configurations in traditional-inegalitarian regimes are in sharp contrast
with those of liberal-democratic and egalitarian-authoritarian regimes as they are in
no way the product of deliberate decisions, let alone of imposition on a pre-existing
structure. Traditional regimes have the configuration of institutions which
corresponds most closely to the social structure: indeed, these are the regimes in
which the osmosis between politics and society is the most complete because the
only elements which count are the traditional groupings and the hierarchical positions
which exist within and between these groupings. Thus there is no political arena as
such, whether well- or ill-defined. In particular there are no political parties and
there is often no parliament; the bureaucracy itself is relatively limited, at least in
the most traditional of these countries. What characterises these regimes are sets of
loyalties of a personal or a group character, which start at the level of small units (in
villages qj among bands, for instance) and move to that of the tribe and of the
chiefs.
This situation has two consequences. First, when the system functions well,
groupings are very strong and difficult to shake; their domain is by and large
geographically circumscribed and they are likely to resist any encroachments. While
liberal democratic polities are based on a permanent competition among groups
which have specific activities, traditional-inegalitarian systems are based on the
principle that there is only one grouping within a particular area, for instance a
single tribe.
The second consequence is at the national level. The various groupings may or
may not recognise fully the supremacy of the monarch and of the top political
personnel. Admittedly, traditional-inegalitarian regimes will be maintained for
substantial periods only if some modus vwendi is achieved between the geographical
groupings composing the nation; otherwise, the polity will break up. This is indeed
why ex-colonial countries have rarely given rise to traditional-inegalitarian regimes:
oppositions between geographical groups are typically such that, soon after
independence, a different regime has to be introduced.
Indeed, it i< becoming increasingly difficult to maintain a stable equilibrium
36
General framework and concepts
between monarch and tribal or ethnic groups, in part because every society is
subjected to outside influences which undermine traditional groupings and in part
because of the geographical and social mobility of the population. Thus
traditional-inegalitarian regimes begin to change: institutions such as the bureaucracy
and the military become stronger; new groups with specific purposes, such as
business organisations and even trade unions, start to play a part. As long as these
developments occur on a small scale, the regime can still be described as traditional;
when the supremacy of tribal groupings becomes seriously challenged, however, the
regime typically becomes populist or authoritarian-inegalitarian.
Configurations of institutions in populist regimes
so
The structural configuration of populist regimes is hybrid. It is often characterised
by a profound opposition between declining traditional groupings and new groups,
such as business or trade union organisations, between which uneasy compromises
have to be ironed out. This means that, in populist regimes, the ties between society
and the political system are much less close than in traditional-inegalitarian systems
and, specifically, that political structures, and in particular parties, are normally set
up with the conscious purpose of fostering change in the society. However, these
parties have naturally to confront the problems posed by the opposition which exists
between the weight of traditional groupings and the pressure towards ‘modernisa
tion’ which some of the newer groups, as well as in many cases the bureaucracy and
even the army, wish to promote. This suggests that parties are likely to be divided
between those which represent primarily traditional groupings and those which at
least claim to foster and mobilise the demands of the newer groups (though many
parties in these countries are characterised by both elements).
Hence there is a degree of tension, which often resolves itself by the (more or
less voluntary) merger of political parties and the move towards a single-party
system. Yet the dominance which this type of single-party system (or of a dominant
near single-party system) exercises over society is different from that which is
exercised by Communist parties in egalitarian-authoritarian regimes: single parties
in populist regimes usually cannot hold*in check the traditional groupings. In
Africa, in parts of the Middle East, and to a lesser extent elsewhere, populist single
parties have typically tried to balance the interests of the ‘modernising’ groups,
including the bureaucracy, with those of tribal or ethnic forces. In some cases, the
regime has been successful, typically thanks to the presence of a popular (or
charismatic’) leader, who has been able to strengthen the political structures and the
party in particular through an appeal to the population as a whole. When there are
no (or no longer) such leaders, major difficulties occur which are presented, by and
large rightly, as indications of the inadequacy of the structural configuration to solve
the problems faced by the country. The result is, often at least, the emergence of an
authoritarian-inegalitarian regime.
Tlie norms of political systems
Configurations of institutions in authoritarian—inegalitarian regimes
Authoritarian—inegalitarian regimes tend to develop when internal divisions at the
level of the institutions cannot be overcome by compromises. This lakes place, as
was noted above, when a populist regime is confronted with traditional groupings,
such as strong tribes, which have been alienated by the regime; it also takes place
when, in a liberal-democratic polity, oppositions between parties and between
groups are so strong that the government becomes ineffective. The emergence oi an
authoritarian-inegalitarian regime is then often presented as an alternative to an
authoritarian-egalitarian system of the Communist variety, though there are in fact
very few cases in which Communist takeovers have taken place in this way. 4
While populist regimes attempt, often unsuccessfully, to build new institutions
to counterbalance the influence ol traditional groupings, authoritarian-inegalitarian
regimes typically try to revive these traditional bodies and to base their strength on
the loyalties which they generated in the past. This is of course easier to achieve
when the authoritarian-inegalitarian regime replaces a traditional system, and in
particular when the monarch himself is the originator of the move. Yet there are
difficulties even then, as more modern institutions also emerge, within the
bureaucracy as well. This is why authoritarian-inegalitarian systems rely mainly on
the military, as this not only provides physical power to control and undermine the
opposition, at least for a while, but can also help to foster the principles of hierarchy
which the regime wishes to maintain. Where a ‘mass’ organisation (a party) is set up,
and especially in cases when the move is from a liberal—democratic to an
authoritarian-inegalitarian regime, this is often done on military lines and indeed
based on the army. However, such parties are created only after the military has
been in power for some time, and this helps to extend the support for the military
beyond the army itself.
Thus, while the configuration of institutions in populist regimes is hybrid and
leads to serious internal conflicts, the configuration of institutions in authoritarianinegalitarian regimes is somewhat artificial. Traditional groupings are expected to be
the mainstay of the regime; but they are typically too weak to perform this function
and an attempt is made to fill the gap by using the army, while the bureaucracy is
expected to be concerned with a very large part of the decision-making process. As a
result, the configuration of institutions tends to be divorced from the characteristics
of the society: compulsion has to be strong, unless the leader can maintain the
regime by his own ‘charisma’; but this is rarer than in populist regimes, as there is
typically no groundswell of popular feeling supporting the rulers. Not surprisingly,
authoritarian-inegalitarian regimes face high levels of internal tension and often
collapse as a result.15
37
38
General framework and concepts
Conclusion
There is a considerable variety of types of political system in the contemporary
world, more variety perhaps than in previous periods of human history. Yet one can
find broad patterns among these systems; these patterns can be discovered by
reference to both the norms and the institutional arrangements. There are
liberal-democratic, egalitarian-authoritarian, traditional-inegalitarian, populist, and
authoritarian-inegalitarian systems: each of these types corresponds to particular
situations characterising contemporary politics. Some of these systems experience
greater tensions than others: the configuration of institutions reflects these tensions
more than it overcomes them. As these tensions are in large part the result of the
oppositions which exist in the contemporary world between loyalties based on
tradition and pressures for social change, the question of the development of
political systems is central to the current character and evolution of political
systems: this is therefore the question which will be dealt with in Chapter 4.
no
o
Notes
1. Aristotle, The Politics, Book 3, Chapter 7 Classifications of political system? were
common practice among political theorists afterwards. Both Locke and Montesquieu
developed a constitutional classification (out of which emerged the current distinction
between parliamentary and presidential systems); Rousseau’s classification, in the Social
Contract, was based, as was that of Hobbes in the Leviathan, on a behavioural distinction
among regimes. For a discussion of these classifications, see D.V. Verney, The Analysis of
Political Systems (1958), pp. 17-93.
2. R.A. Dahl, Polyarchy (1971), in particular Chapters 1 and 2.
3. There has been a tendency in political science to classify political systems according to the
extent of participation and the extent of freedom only. As a matter of fact, the substantive
goals of regimes are important, both for the leaders and the citizens; indeed, the
definition of politics - the authoritative allocation of values - suggests that the values
themselves are an important part of political life. A comprehensive classification has
therefore to take these goals into account. This is what will be done in this and the
subsequent chapters of this book.
4. Democracy is taken here in its most extreme and literal sense - government by the whole
people - a conception which Rousseau, of course, thought impossible for men {Social
Contract, Book 3, Chapter 4). The point is simply to define a dimension and the poles of
this dimension must naturally be the most extreme cases.
5. The term most commonly used to refer to dominance by one person is that of ‘autocracy’:
this was the term used in connection with Tsarist Russia, for instance. Strictly speaking,
however, a government by one person is a ‘monocracy’.
6. We shall discuss the matter in the next chapter in connection with political development.
To discover the wide range of uses of the term by political and social theorists, see A.
Arblaster and S. Lukes (eds), The Good Society (1971).
7. R.A. Dahl attempts a rigorous operationalisation in Polyarchy (1971). Chapter 4 will
examine the efforts made to measure political development and to relate it to socio
economic development.
The norms of political systems
8. The question of the moves along the dimensions of goals is one which has not as yet been
given systematic treatment, though it is frequently referred to in general terms in both
political science and ordinary political literature: it is typically believed, for instance, that
greater freedom of expression will make it difficult at least to maintain legal barriers
against participation: the history of nineteenth-century Europe seems to suggest that this
view is correct, but it would need to be explored fully, as would need to be explored the
relationship between liberalism, participation, and moves on the dimension of substantive
goals.
9. There are of course differences in the degree of stability of these systems and indeed in
the extent to which liberalism and participation are allowed. One example is voting: it
was long restricted to men; only in the 1960s and 1970s has the voting age been lowered
to 18; and it is still denied to immigrants, except in some countries and for local elections.
10. This traditional support relates to the type of legitimacy of these regimes. The matter will
be discussed in Chapter 5.
11. The expression ‘populism’ was used in late nineteenth-century America to refer to
movements which wished to help the bulk of the people against political and social
bosses: it spread particularly in the Midwest. Since World War II, the expression
‘populist’ has been used primarily in the context of those regimes and leaders who, in the
newly independent countries of the Third World, were attempting to ‘modernise’ their
societies, for instance to reduce tribal influence, while avoiding the adoption of a Marxist
or communist stance. See for instance S.M. Lipset, Political Man (1983), pp. 52-4.
12. Works describing the characteristics of regimes in the various regions of the globe are of
course extremely numerous. A selected list of studies on different types ot political
systems can be found in the bibliography at the end of this volume.
13. Communist states have been in a state of flux since the second half of the 1980s. After the
events of late 1989 it could be argued that not just Hungary and Poland, but also East
Germany, Czechoslovakia, and perhaps Bulgaria and Romania had moved close to being
liberal democracies, while the Soviet Union was on the verge of becoming a ‘populist’
regime and had ceased to be a Communist system in the strict sense, despite the
pronouncements of its leaders. There had been appreciably fewer changes of goals in the
other Communist states, except perhaps in some of the peripheral ones, such as Laos,
Angola, and Mozambique.
14. Mussolini, Hitler and Franco did claim that their authoritarian systems were the best
‘bulwarks’ against Communist takeovers. The same argument has been used since World
War II in many parts of the Third World.
15. This matter will be examined in Chapter 5 in the context of legitimacy.
MODELS OF POLICY-MAKING
4
Models of Policy-Making
I.
ii
4.1 Types and uses of models
!
-
We are all model builders, in the sense that we need to see some sort of
pattern in the world around us and tend to interpret events in terms of
that perceived pattern. We create ‘reality’ rather than simply observe
it. As Graham Allison (1971) suggests, we carry around ‘bundles of
related assumptions’ or ‘basic frames of references’ in terms of which
we ask and answer such questions as: What happened? Why did it
happen? What will happen next? Such descriptive, explanatory and pre^
dictive models are, in Allison’s phrase, the ‘conceptual lenses’ through
which we view our world and try to make sense of it. In these respects,
practical men such as politicians and administrators are as much
prisoners of theory as any academic social scientist. Keynes’s remark
about economics can be generahzed to all aspects of public policy:
Practical men, who believe themselves to be quite exempt from any
intellectual influences, are usually the slaves of some defunct economist.
11936, ch. 24.1
The academic social scientists should, however, be more self-aware and,
one would hope, more capable of making such elusive but essential
distinctions as that between, say, descriptive and prescriptive models.
The simplest definition of a model is that it is ‘A representation of
something else,designed fora specific purpose’ (Bullock and Stallybrass,
1977). The purpose may be as simple as providing a visual reminder:
for example, a former pilot may keep a model aircraft on his desk.
A more elaborate model could be used to simulate the aeroplane’s
performance under varied conditions in a wind-tunnel. Such a model
43
can assist in hypothesizing and experimentation (‘if we give Concorde a
droop-snout will lift be increased at slow speeds?’). Models need not be
physical, however, and modern aircraft designers work mainly with
mathematical models in which variables and their relationships are
represented in abstract or symbolic terms. The purposes of such abstract
model-building remain those of representation, simulation, explanation,
prediction, experimentation, and hypothesis-testing.
These essentially descriptive models can be derived from complex
social phenomena as well as from material objects. Thus a model of the
working of the economy will seek to represent the interactions of such
variables as investment, consumption, employment and the movement
of prices. The more complex the phenomena to be represented, the
greater will be the tendency towards selectivity, simplification and
generalization in the making of models. Provided that simplification
does not involve gross distortion, such models can assist description,
explanation, and understanding.
Clues to another use of the term ‘model’ are to be found in colloquial
languages, as when one hears of a ‘model husband or model village .
The reference here is to what is desirable or to be emulated. Such
models are normative, or prescriptive rather than descriptive. They raise
questions about what ought to be rather than what is.
Finally, there is a much less readily comprehensible use of the term
‘model’ which involves the exploration of concepts. These include the
development of ideal types or mental constructs dealing with entities
which nowhere exist in real life but which can help us to understand
and explain real phenomena and to formulate or refine statements of
what is desired. Examples from the natural sciences include the friction
less engine and the perfect vacuum. In social sciences there are such
familiar examples as ‘charismatic authority’ (Weber, in Shils and Finch,
1949), ‘perfect competition’ in economics, and ‘pure rationality’ in
decision-making (Simon, 1947).
One of the traditional ways of introducing students to policy analysis
is to compare the ‘rational’ approach of Herbert Simon with the
‘incremental’ approach of Charles Lindblom. However, this simple
comparison obscures the different fuctions which models are called
upon to perform by these writers. We therefore explore their models
(and others) in terms of whether they are ideal types, descriptive or
prescriptive. This classification is itself an ideal-type one, and it is not
how the models are always presented by the authors themselves, but it
is designed to help us understand what functions models can perform.
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AN APPROACH TO POLICY ANALYSIS
4.2 Ideal-type models of ‘rational’ policy-making
4.2.1 THE STATUS OF IDEAL-TYPE MODELS
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In a sense, the term ‘ideal type’ is unfortunate because of the everyday
meaning of ‘ideal’ as ‘highest and best conceivable’ (Chamber's Twen
tieth Century Dictionary). The use of the term in social science models
carries no such normative connotations. An ideal type is an exploration
of an ‘idea’ rather than a statement of an ‘ideal’ in the everyday sense.
Examples will perhaps be more helpful. In teaching economics,
reference is initially made to the concept of ‘perfect competition’ and
to the manner in which prices would be determined in a totally open,
free, and competitive market. This ideal type of perfect competition is
not put forward as a realistic account of how prices are determined in
the real world; nor is it necessarily advanced as something to be desired
and attained. The analyst is concerned with prefect competition as an
idea rather than as an ideal. One reason for building an ideal type of
this sort is to improve our understanding of the real world, which can
be described in terms of deviations from the ideal type—so that the
economics teacher goes on to describe the working of the real economy
in terms of imperfect competition, oligopoly, monopoly, etc.
Ideal types can also have prescriptive utility in that, having described
the real world, one can then ask how satisfactory that world seems and
whether there is a case for attempting to approximate, at least, to
certain features of the ideal type. It is worth repeating, however, that
an ideal type is not the same thing as a prescriptive model. Some
economists might wish to move towards the perfectly competitive
market but others would not, prescribing instead some form of regulated
or planned economy.
In the context of policy analysis, the ‘idea’ most frequently discussed
is that of ‘rationality’. In constructing a ‘model of rational policymaking’ one is posing the question: ‘How would policies be made if
policy-makers pursued and were capable of complete rationality? Here
we look brieOy at the two main approaches: (1) considering values
simultaneously with considering options; (2) setting out objectives at
the beginning and then subsequently considering options designed to
fulfil those objectives.
4.2.2 CONSIDERING VALUES AND OPTIONS TOGETHER
The approach of relating the consequences of all options to all values
rather than pre-specifying objectives is common to a number of theories,
MODELS OF POLICY-MAKING
45
including utility and social welfare functions in economics, and also
provides theoretical underpinning to cost-benefit analysis (CBA), which
is considered in chapter 10. In decision-making theory the most
prominent writer to use this approach in developing an ideal-type
model is Herbert Simon (1957a; also 1957b, 1960, 1983; March and
Simon, 1958). As derived from Simon’s writings, the main activities
which would be involved in rational policy-making are roughly as
follows:
(1) Intelligence gathering. Intelligence is here used as in the sense of
‘military intelligence’, namely the gathering of information prior
to taking action. In a completely rational world, any policymaking agency would continually and systematically scan its
horizon, seeking to identify all present and potential problems
and opportunities relevant to its mission or interests.
(2) Identifying all options. Several policy responses (or ‘behaviour
alternatives’) are usually possible when a problem or opportunity
is perceived. The completely rational policy-maker would
identify all such options and consider them in detail.
(3) Assessing consequences of options. In considering each policy
option, it would be- necessary to know what would happen if it
were to be adopted. This perfect knowledge is unattainable in
real life but would be essential to complete rationality (in
Simon’s terms, ‘objective’ rationality, where the reasoning is not
only rational in intention but correct in the event, unlike ‘sub
jective’ rationality, where reasoning is intendedly rational but
proves, with hindsight, to have been incorrect). Thus the fully
rational policy-maker would identify all the costs and benefits
(‘consequences’) of all his policy options.
(4) Relating consequences to values. From the preceding gathering
of data about problems, options, and consequences, the rational
policy-maker would now have a large amount of information, a
great many facts. But facts alone are useless if they cannot be
related to a set of criteria or some sort of preference-ordering
procedure. Thus for Simon (1957a), ‘rationality is concerned
with the selection of preferred behaviour alternatives in terms
of some system of values whereby the consequences of behaviour
can be evaluated’.
An example may be useful at this point. Let us take the decision
with which any student will soon be familiar if he has not already made
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46
AN APPROACH TO POLICY ANALYSIS
it, namely the choice of a career. What would be involved in making
this important choice in a completely rational manner? First, the
student would have to consider all the career options open to him.
Then he would have to explore in great detail the pros and cons of each
career possibility, including such considerations (‘consequences’) as
job security, career earnings, social status, opportunities for travel,
length of vacations, and so on. But these data would be useless if the
student did not know how he valued job security as against high earn
ings and both against, say, social status and opportunities for travel.
Thus he would have to think through his value system with great
thoroughness. Given both comprehensive information and a fully
worked out preference-ordering set of criteria or values, a rational
career choice would be possible.
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(5) Choosing preferred option. Given full understanding of, and
information about, all his problems and opportunities, all the possible
policy responses, all the consequences of each and every policy option,
and the criteria to be employed in valuing these consequences and thus
assessing his policy options—then and only then would the policy
maker be able to arrive at a fully rational policy.
Simon sets out this way of relating values to the consequences of
options because he does not find what he caDs ‘the means-ends’ schema
useful. The initial specification of objectives may foreclose unduly the
courses of action that are considered and the initial focus on objectives
may distract attention from the actual situation in which the decision
maker is placed.
4.2.3 SETTING OBJECTIVES FIRST
The alternative ideal type of rational decision-making, however, stresses
the importance of .specifying objectives before looking for options
which might achieve them. This approach is common in much ‘mana
gerialist’ writing on decision-making and it tends to be this approach
which appears in prescriptions for administrative reform in the public
sector. This is the approach used by Lindblom (1959) in setting up an
ideal-type model of rational decision-making. Lindblom’s rational
policy-maker would:
(1) define and rank his governing values;
(2) specify objectives compatible with these values;
(3) identify all relevant options or means of achieving these objec
tives;
MODELS OE POLICY-MAKING
47
(4) calculate all the consequences of these options and compare
them;
(5) choose the option or combination of options which would
maximize the values earlier defined as being most important.
As well as stressing the importance of objectives in this ‘rationalcomprehensive model’, Lindblom also places the elements of rational
policy-making in a different sequence from that suggested by Simon.
Most practitioners find Lindblom’s version of rationality more readily
comprehensible or ‘commonsensicaf than Simon’s. Businessmen, for
example, may claim to see in the Lindblomite synoptic model a rather
abstract version of what ought to be involved in corporate planning.
Thus a business or corporate plan should begin by identifying the values
which the firm regards as of overriding importance: profit maximization,
perhaps, but some weight might also be attached to ‘social responsi
bility’ or, say, to providing shareholders with a safe investment based
upon diversified products and markets. These values having been
clarified and ranked, the planners should go on to specify relevant
objectives (rates of return to be achieved on resources employed,
degrees of diversification, levels of market penetration, etc.). There
are usually many different routes to achieving such objectives: not only
many product/market strategies but many mixes of such strategies. In
planning theory all these options would have to be identified and their
consequences calculated and related back to the values earlier defined
as being most important. This, after all, would only be ‘good business .
It comes as a rude shock, then, to discover that Lindblom is setting up
‘comprehensive rationality’ not as a descriptive or prescriptive model
but rather as a straw man to be pulled down!
4.2.4 CRITICISMS OF RATIONALITY MODELS
The most obvious criticism is that models of rational policy-making
are unrealistic or impracticable. In a sense this is an unfair, even irrele
vant, criticism since an ideal type is not required either to represent
reality or to provide a blueprint for action. Even within its own ‘unreal’
terms, however, many people find it difficult to accept the assumption
of perfect knowledge as an integral part of a rationality model. Surely
it is enough, they argue, to require of the decision-maker that he is
intendedly rational and follows rational processes-, he should not also
be required to guarantee a rational outcome. Another version of the
same criticism would attack rationality models for being insufficiently
49
AN APPROACH TO POLICY ANALYSIS
MODELS OF POLICY-MAKING
dynamic. The decision-maker, in other words, might conceivably
acquire perfect knowledge of the present (static) situation but should
not be expected to have similar knowledge of an essentially unknow
able future situation, in which a great many external and unpredictable
f actors may prevent the anticipated ‘consequences’ of a strategy occur
ring in the event.
The main intellectual difficulty with rationality models lies, however,
in the part played by values. Surely this is the arbitrary element in any
decision? Our rational student’s choice of a career, for example, required
him to specify and rank such values as high earnings as against job
security, and so on. How can such ‘value judgements’ be made on
anything other than a personal, intuitive or subjective basis? Ideal-type
rational models are about procedures for developing an argument or
taking a decision and the model does nothing to guarantee the desir
ability of the values fed into it or even the validity of the factual
assumptions made (see Simon, 1983, 16).
Any prescriptive model derived from the ideal-type rationality
model cannot be a complete substitute for political mechanisms for
determining values and priorities, since the model cannot determine
these but requires them to be fed in from outside. To see ‘rationality’
and politics as intrinsically incompatible is based on a fundamental
misunderstanding of the role of values in rational models. Because the
model assumes that at some stage an authoritative person or organiza
tion will inject an explicit set of values there is, however, a tendency for
prescriptive models derived from the ideal-type rationality model to
have centralist, technocratic connotations.
The difficulties do not end there, unfortunately, and the question
arises of whose values should prevail. Simon does grapple with this prob
lem and distinguishes between personal and organizational rationality,
leaving us in little doubt that his concern is with what is rational for
the employing organization rather than what the individual employee
might see as being in his own selfish interest. There is no problem, of
course, when a decision involves and affects only the individual, as in
a choice of career. But let us revisit our student twenty years on in his
chosen career. He is now a senior manager in a British car-making firm. *
He is helping to negotiate a merger with a Japanese competitor, a
merger which is expected to benefit the British firm but might well
threaten his own status and prospects. Here we have two competing
rationalities—the manager’s personal self-interest and the larger organiza
tional interest of the firm and its shareholders. It is even more compli-
cated, however, because the British Government has reservations
about the Japanese merger and asks the firm to consider the national
interest. Whose interests should he favour in his contribution to
corporate policy-making about the proposed merger: those of the
nation, the firm’s shareholders, or his own?
The public sector is particularly vulnerable to such questions about
the most appropriate scale on which to consider policy issues. A topical
example is that of expenditure cutbacks (see Glennerster, 1981). The
necessity for, and incidence of, spending cuts might be viewed from
the narrow perspective of the self-interested individual officer within a
local authority. Or he might take a slightly broader view in terms of
what would be best for his particular sub-division of the department.
Or he might raise his sights to consider cutbacks in terms of the depart
ment as a whole. A more ‘corporate’ level of reasoning would require
him to take into account the scale and balance of spending within
the local authority as a whole. A supreme effort might even allow him
to tak£ into account national criteria for assessing his authority’s
expenditure.
A truly rational policy would be based upon the largest relevant
scale of values and interests. It would avoid the type of sub-optimal
policy-making which results from confusing a sub-system (such as one
department in a local authority) with a larger system (the local authority
itself). This still begs the question, however, of how values at this
largest relevant scale would be set and articulated.
48
4.3 Descriptive models of policy-making
The nature and purpose of a descriptive model seem, at first sight, to
be both more obvious and more straightforward than those of an ideal
type. Whereas the latter is a ‘mental construct’ or essentially artificial
exercise in reasoning, the development of a descriptive model is a very
natural human activity, since we need to see some sort of shape or
pattern in the world about us. Unfortunately, however, we do not all
see the same ‘reality’, especially when it comes to describing and
explaining something as complex as public policy-making. In his classic
study of the Cuban Missile Crisis, Allison (1971) shows how different
descriptive perspectives or ‘conceptual lenses’ lead to different interpre
tations of events.
In terms of highly general descriptive models, Simon and Lindblom,
having set up their largely similar models of rational policy-making,
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50
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AN APPROACH TO POLICY ANALYSIS
both go on to describe reality in terms of deviations from perfect
rationality.
Simon appears to believe that policy-makers seek to be rational but
do not succeed because of bounds or limits to their individual and
collective capacities for logical, economic or maximizing behaviour.
Real-life ‘administrative man’ (unlike ‘economic man’, of the older
textbooks) settles instead for ‘satisficing’ behaviour, that is, for a level
of performance which will ‘get by’ or meet ‘reasonable’ expectations.
(‘Satisficing’ was coined to accommodate in one word both ‘satisfying’
and ‘sufficing’ behaviour.) Simon’s original descriptive model is to be
found in his account of ‘bounded rationality’ (Simon 1957a), in which
he explains the combination of ‘psychological’ and ‘organizational’
deficiencies which limits our capacity for fully rational decision-making
and leads us to satisfice.
Lindblom develops his arguments, partly at least, in the same way as
Simon, by identifying limits to rationality in real-life policy-making. He
emphasizes the ‘costliness of analysis’ and is particularly strong on the
political environment of policy-making and the constraints of the
given situation in which policy is made.
If we combine these contributions of Simon and Lindblom, then, we
can identify at least five important categories of limitations to rationality
in actual decision-making behaviour.
(1) Psychological limitations. Some obvious limits to rationality
lie in the individual policy-maker’s powers of cognition and
calculation. Put simply, we lack the knowledge, the skills and the
value-consistency which would be needed to achieve complete
rationality. To return to an earlier example, why will our student
not be able, in practice, to make a fully rational career choice?
Because: (a) he lacks full knowledge of all his possible career
options; (b) he lacks the skills to calculate all the consequences
(earnings, security, etc.) of even such options as he can identify;
and (c) he lacks the degree of self-knowledge, clarity, or con
sistency about values which would allow him to make use of
such information as he might acquire.
(2) Limitations arising from multiple values. The problem of values
is further exacerbated when we move from individual to collective
rationality (see Simon, 1983, 84). Arrow (1954) in his ‘impossi
bility theorem’ has demonstrated that under quite plausible
assumptions about the conditions that a social welfare function
MODELS OF POLICY-MAKING
51
should satisfy—such as that different people are to be allowed
to weight their values in different ways—then no such aggregate
function can exist. In other words, there is no purely ‘rational’
way of resolving a conflict of interest.
(3) Organizational limitations. Even if the individual could overcome
his personal limitations as policyrmaker, he would still find
great obstacles put in his way because of the tact that he has to
work as part of an organization (business firm, government
department, local authority etc.). In the name of efficiency, for
example, modern organizations tend to involve a high degree
of division of labour and specialization of function. But this
often gets in the way of what might be called the ‘whole problem’
approach, since different aspects of a problem are handled by
organizational sub-units and co-ordination of their problem
solving efforts is usually less than perfect. The treatment of
homeless people (especially the elderly homeless) is a good
example. Another organizational impediment to rationality is
departmentalism of outlook. That is, instead of taking the
‘whole organization’ perspective we often look at problems
through narrower departmental ‘spectacles’. This failure stems
from a refusal to look beyond the sub-system to the larger
system’s requirements. Finally, organizations tend to have major
deficiencies as processors of information. Most MIS (manage
ment information systems) studies indicate that an organization’s
information flows do not relate to its information needs. Organ
izations tend to swamp us with information we do not want
but fail to provide us with information we need for policy-making,
or the right information comes in an unusable form or too late
to be useful (see chapter 5).
(4) Cost limitations. These might also be called ‘resource’ limitations
to rationality. In other words, it costs to be rational, in terms of
tifrie, energy and money. One would have to be very confident
that the benefits accruing from a more rational approach to a
problem would outweigh the costs of the rational approach: if
not, one would be behaving quite irrationally.
(5) Situational limitations. A fifth category of limitations upon
rationality is situational. That is, a policy-maker does not write
on a clean slate, he does not decide in a vacuum. We are all
influenced by the past (e.g. by precedents), by powerful vested
interests in the present, and by people’s assumptions and
52
AN APPROACH TO POLICY ANALYSIS
expectations concerning the future. A good example is budget
ing. A rational approach would require a strong case to be made
anew each year for any and all future expenditure. This is, of
course, the theory of what is now called ‘zero base budgeting”
(see 10.6.6). In practice, however, the constraints of precedents,
politics and expectations create a situation in which the main
determinant of next year’s budget is who got what and how
much in last year’s budget.
Lindblom goes far beyond identifying limits to rationality, however,
and often seems to delight in demonstrating how real-life policy-making
stands rationality on its head. If we sum up the main features of Lind
blom’s descriptive model as developed in his writings in the 1960s, it
will be seen that what emerges is a positive theory rather than a regret
ful account of why fully rational policy-making is impossible (Lindblom,
1959, 1965, 1968; Hirschman and Lindblom, 1962; Braybrooke and
Lindblom, 1963). The main characteristics of real-life policy-making,
as seen by Lindblom, all have an internal logic. They include the
following.
(1) Policy-makers often avoid thinking through or at least spelling
out their objectives. This may reflect a shrewd awareness that to
do so would precipitate conflict rather than agreement. It would
also provide standards by which to judge performance, and why
give such hostages to fortune?
(2) When it is clear that existing policies are failing to cope, the
remedial action taken by legislators and administrators will
tend to be ‘incremental’: That is, they will make relatively small
adjustments to policies rather than sweeping changes. In doing
so, they are moving cautiously and experimentally from a basis
of what is known rather than taking a giant step into an unknown
future.
(3) Policy-makers accept that few, if any, problems are ever solved
once and for all time. Instead, policy-making is ‘serial’ (we keep
coming back at problems as mistakes are corrected and new lines
of attack developed).
(4) Few policies are made by individuals or even single agencies, but
are instead made by the interaction of many policy influential
operating in a power network (‘polycentricity’).
(5) While these actors are self-interested, they are not blindly
partisan and are capable of adjusting to one another, through
MODELS OF POLICY-MAKING
53
bargaining, negotiation, and compromise (‘partisan mutual
adjustment’).
(6) A value is placed in most pluralist liberal democracies on ‘con
sensus seeking’, so that what emerges is not necessarily the one
best policy but rather that compromise policy upon which most
groups can agree.
Simon’s and Lindblom’s descriptive models are at a high level of
generality, though it could be argued that Lindblom’s model reflects
special characteristics of the American political system. Each country
will have its own ‘policy style’ with its own special characteristics
(Richardson, 1982). For example, Richardson and Jordan (1979)characterize the British system as one in which Parliament plays little direct role
in the policy process, with both the formulation and the implementa
tion of policies being determined through consultations within relatively
closed ‘policy communities’ of government departments and interest
groups. Clearly it is important to have an understanding of the policy
process in a particular country (and of .particular policy areas within
it) if we are to be able to assess whether prescriptions for change in
either procedures or policy substance are likely to ‘take’. However,
as the debate about whether or not we have ‘corporatist’ policy-making
in Britain illustrates (see Jordan, 1981), there may not be full agree
ment among political scientists about how to characterize the policy
process in practice.
4.4 Prescriptive models of policy-making
4.4.1 TOWARDS GREATER RATIONALITY?
Simon’s writings of the 1940s and 1950s had demonstrated the extent
to which ‘administrative man’ fell short of rational decision-making
behaviour. But should, and could, administrative man become more
rational? Simon’s answer to both questions is ‘yes’. For his prescriptive
model we must look first to his 1960 book on The New Science of
Management Decision (which has since 1960 been published in various
revised editions and with at least one change of title).
Simon distinguishes between ‘programmed’ and ‘non-programmed’
decision-making. Decisions are programmed ‘to the extent that they
are repetitive and routine [and] to the extent that a definite procedure
has been worked out for handling them’. Decisions are non-programmed
‘to the extent that they are novel [and] unstructured’: the problem
54
AN APPROACH TO POLICY ANALYSIS
may not have arisen before, or its precise nature may be elusive and
complex, or it may be so important ‘that it deserves custom-tailored,
treatment’. In non-programmed decision-making, the system has no
specific procedures or capacity for dealing with the situation but
must instead ‘fall back on whatever general capacity it has for intelli
gent, adaptive, problem-oriented action’. Sinon argues, however, that
such general-purpose capacity is expensive to provide and maintain,
so that programmed, specific procedures and criteria for decision
making should be used wherever possible.
Thus Simon looks first to improvements in programmed decisions.
The new capacity for such decision-making he finds in operations
research (operational research in British usage), systems analysis, and
mathematical techniques such as linear and dynamic programming,
game theory, probability models, etc. Such techniques have only been
made ‘operational’, in many cases, by great advances in computer
technology, allowing of much more elaborate analysis, assessment
of alternatives, simulation, and modelling.
There remain many administrative problems which are not amenable
to programming. But Simon argues that we have learned a good deal
about ‘heuristic problem solving’—that is, methods which help us to
define and solve problems in the absence of scientific, objective or
quantitative methods. Such problem-solving proceeds by way of search
activity, abstraction, analogy; and by groping attempts to break down
problems into sub-problems, and to deal with them on the basis of
precedent, observation, and so on. Such decision-making is essentially
a learning process but, even here, there is some scope for analysis,
including computer-assisted analysis.
Simon then turns to some structural or organizational implications
of ‘the new science of management decision’. He describes organiza
tions as ‘three-layered cakes’: (1) bottom layer—‘the basic work pro
cesses’ (manufacture, distribution, etc.); (2) middle layer—‘programmed
decision-making processes that govern day-to-day operations’; (3) ‘non
programmed decision making processes that are required to design
and redesign the entire system, to provide it with its basic goals and
objectives, and to monitor its performance’. If more decisions could
be programmed, ‘top layer’ management could deal in greater depth
with its remaining, unpredictable, and least tractable problems.
What of the basic organizational problem of ‘centralization versus
decentralization’? Simon rightly says that the issue is not one of smallscale versus large-scale as competing principles of organization, but
MODELS OF POLICY-MAKING
55
rather of defining ‘optimal’ scales for different types of activities. But
he appears to be arguing that modern management methods both
i. In
demand and facilitate larger-scale fields of operation.
.. his 1960 text,
towards
then, Simon would appear to be pointing us l------- a centralized.
technocratic, planned form ot government.
However, in his 1983 book, Reason in Human Affairs, Simon
explicitly addresses (among other topics) the role of rationality m
public policy-making, and the emphasis which emerges is rather different
from that in The New Science of Management Decision. There is still
considerable stress on the way in which computer-based techniques
can aid decision-making. However, Simon also stresses the limitations
to expertise and the need to strengthen our understanding of political
institutions, based partly on his practical experience of public policy
and administration. Thus we find him arguing for adversary proceed
ings in cases (such as allegations of health dangers from nuclear power
stations) where there is a tendency for experts to close ranks and reject
the need for an impartial enquiry. He also urges a more sympathetic
understanding of the role of politics and political processes.
we must recognize that certain kinds of Po'iOcal Phenomena-the
attempt to influence legislation or the administration of aws the
advocacy of special interest- are essential to the operation of politica
institutions in a society where there is, in fact, great diversity of interest.
[Simon, 1 983, 100.1
He bemoans the decline of political parties and the rise of the •indi
vidual voter’ in the United States, claiming that this has lowered the level
of ‘civic rationality’. Unfortunately, Simon does not develop this concept
of ‘civic rationality’ further, but clearly we have moved a long way from
the individualistic rationality of his ideal-type model. Rationality in
public affairs is seen as having an important but heavily qualified role.
Reason taken by itself, is instrumental. It can’t select our final goals
nor can it mediate for us in pure conflicts over what final goal to pursue
-we have to settle these issues in some other way. All reason can
is help us to reach agreed-on goals more effectively. But in this respect
at least, we are getting better (Simon, 1 983, 1 06.1
Simon is probably the most prominent, if misunderstood, name
associated with advocacy of a more rational approach to policy-making,
but other writers have also attempted to make a distinctive contribution.
For example, Dror (1968; 1971)tosome extent dissociates himselt from
Simon, since Trying to point administrators towards an unachievab e
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model of total rationality is likely to be counter-productive’. However,
it is clear that Dror’s approach has much more in common with Simon
and the science of management decision than with Lindblom and the
‘science of muddling through’.
Dror emphasizes the costliness of analysis in his ‘economically
rational model’, which says that the various phases of pure-rationality
policy-making should be developed in practice only in so far as the cost
of the input into making policy-making more rational is less than the
benefit of the output (in terms of the marginal improvement of the
policy’s quality). He is unusual in his readiness to include in both his
descriptive and prescriptive models the contribution of extrarational
(intuitive, judgemental) processes. Finally, he is more specific than the
other theorists discussed in this chapter about the necessity for ‘meta
policymaking’ or ‘deciding how to decide .
Dror thus sees himself as occupying a unique position which avoids
the extremes of both incrementalism and rationalism. While there are
some grounds for such a claim, we believe that Dror does lean towards
the Simonian end of the spectrum. Much of his analysis can be seen in
terms of improvments in the factual and value premisses of the policy
maker as a means of puslung back the bounds of bounded rationality.
His stated purpose could be that of Simon as well, namely: ‘What is
needed is a model which fits reality while being directed towards its
improvement.’
comprehensive model. Dror focused his attack first on incrementalism.
He saw at least three circumstances in which incrementalism would be
inadequate, namely:
56
4.4.2 ‘STILL MUDDLING, NOT YET THROUGH’
If Simon’s normative model can be characterized, perhaps too glibly,
as an attempt to approximate to at least some features of his rationality
(or ideal-type) model, what is Lindblom’s position? On the basis of
his earlier writings (Lindblom, 1959, 1965; Hirschman and Lindblom,
1962; Braybrooke and Lindblom, 1963), it was often said of Lindblom
that his descriptive model (‘muddling through’) was also his prescriptive
model: what is was also what ought to be, and incrementalism and
partisan mutual adjustment were not deplored but rather defended by
Lindblom as the only way in which policies could and should be made
in a pluralist, democratic, and liberal society.
Lindblom’s 1959 essay on ‘The science of muddling through’-which
by 1979 had been reprinted in forty anthologies-became the target
of much criticism in the 1960s and 1970s. For example, Dror (1964),
while admitting the force of Lindblom’s writings as description, viewed
their prescriptive element as a ‘dangerous over-reaction to the rational-
57
(1) Present policies may be so manifestly unsatisfactory that merely
to tinker with them is pointless.
(2) The problems requiring a governmental response may be chang
ing so fast or so fundamentally that policies based on past
experience are inadequate as a guide to future action.
(3) The means available for problem-solving may be expanding, so
that major new opportunities exist but are likely to be neglected
by incrementalists. (For example, changes in political influence,
economic capability, technology, etc. ‘In military technology . . .
incremental change results in the tendency to be excellently
prepared for the last war.’)
Dror then shifted his attack to the ‘second key element’ in Lindblom’s
thinking, namely ‘consensus’. There may be many circumstances where
‘agreement as the criterion of good policy’ is acceptable, especially
when, in times of relative stability, there is informed agreement based
on the lessons of a relevant past. But in times of rapid change such
lessons may not be relevant. For this and other reasons, ‘deceived
consensus’ may result. Dror also appears less than enthusiastic about
the contribution that ‘participatory democracy’ can make to the
solution of highly complex and technical problems.
Lindblom himself has usually been depicted as an arch-conservative
defender of the status quo, champion of market systems and dedicated
opponent of planning. At the close of the 1970s, however, Lindblom
replied to his critics and presented a rather different view of his own
position (Lindblom, 1979; see also Lindblom, 1977; Lindblom and
Cohen, 1979). While Lindblom is as scathing in 1979 as he was in 1959
about the pretensions of full-blown planning, he goes on to develop a
number of distinctions which could be read either as a clarification of
his 1959 position or (as we tend to think) the statement of a rather
different 1979 position.
First, he distinguishes between ‘incremental politics' and ‘incre
mental analysis'. Incremental politics is a‘political pattern’characterized
by ‘political change by small steps’. In his earlier writings, Lindblom
had seemed more than a little complacent about this type of politics.
In 1979, Lindblom makes a significant distinction between the theory
and practice of incremental politics. The theory is still defended, but
58
AN APPROACH TO POLICY ANALYSIS
Lindblom accepts that in practice incremental politics have been
viewed by many Americans as ineffective in coping with ‘big problems
like environmental decay, energy shortage, inflation, and unemploy
ment’. He makes it clear that he shares such concerns. However, he sees
the problem as lying not in incremental politics per se but rather in
particular ‘structural’ features of the American political system. He
attacks the number of ‘veto powers’ in the constitution, legislature,
judiciary, and business interests. These obstacles to change—even, he
points out, to incremental change-also lead Lindblom to reconsider
the practice of ‘partisan mutual adjustment’ in the United States. He
admits that some interests are unrepresented or only weakly represented;
there are ‘disturbing tendencies towards corporatism’; the discussion of
‘grand issues’ is often stifled by a heavily indoctrinated ‘homogeneity
of opinion’; and there are too many issues on which ‘though none of
the participants can on their own initiate a change, many or all can
veto it’.
Lindblom is not, then, the conservative he has been branded, but nor
do his criticisms of incremental politics lead him to renounce the
system, and he continues to deny that a centralized, planned system
offers a feasible or acceptable alternative. His response is in terms of
improvements to incremental politics including the more skilled use of
incremental analysis.
Turning, then, from incremental politics to incremental analysis,
Lindblom insists that ‘incomplete’ analysis is none the less a form of
analysis and as such, it seems, a useful supplement to partisan advocacy
and politics. He distinguishes three types of such analysis. The first
two are familiar from his earlier writings.
Simple incremental analysis is ‘Analysis that is limited to considera
tion of alternative policies all of which are only incrementally different
from the status quo'.
Disjointed incrementalism emphasizes the analytical features of
incrementalism as described in section 4.3, namely: analysis limited to
a few familiar alternatives; analysis of policy goals intertwined with
empirical aspects of the problem; analysis concerned with remedying
ills rather than positive goals to be sought; a sequence of trials, errors
and revised trials; analysis of only some of the important consequences
of those alternatives considered; and analytical work fragmented among
many partisan participants in policy-making.
The third type of ‘incremental’ analysis is less familiar, however,
and he calls it strategic analysis, or ‘Analysis limited to any calculated
MODELS OE POLICY-MAKING
59
or thoughtfully chosen set of stratagems to simplify complex problems,
that is, to short-cut the conventionally comprehensive "scientific”
analysis’. Such ‘strategems’ include “skilfully sequenced trial and error
. . . limitations of analysis to only a few alternatives, routinization of
decisions and focusing decision making on crises’. Moreover, such
analysis can be supplemented by ‘broadranging, often highly specula
tive, and sometimes utopian thinking about directions and possible
features, near and far in time’ (sic: but for ‘features’ we should read
‘futures’?). In other words, Lindblom seems prepared to find a place
for ‘theory’ and for innovative policy analysis?
Surely this 1979 ‘strategic analysis’ plus theoretical insights which
‘liberate us from both synoptic and incremental methods of analysis’
all add up to a form of modified rationality rather than Lindblom’s
earlier attempts to stand rationality on its head. What is in 1979 called
‘grossly incomplete analysis’ (i.e. the ‘muddling through’ of 1959 in
its purest form) is no longer prescribed. Instead Lindblom tells us that
‘we can aspire’ to a shift along the spectrum towards synoptic analysis,
although we shall always fall far short of such ‘completeness’. This
1979 position of Lindblom’s is still different in degree from the ‘new
science of management decision’ of Herbert Simon, since the latter
clearly aspires to move much further towards complete rationality,
but are the early 1980s positions of Lindblom and Simon as different
as appeared to be the case in the early 1960s?
Another writer associated with the ‘pluralist’ or ‘incrementalist’
approach to policy-making, Aaron Wildavsky, has also recently stressed
that analysis has a role to play, albeit as an input to politics. In his
early work (Wildavsky, 1962) he had defended the American political
system, which he characterized in terms of‘coalition politics’ and ‘free
bargaining’. The market-like nature of hj,s view of the political process
was reflected in his praise of the ‘heroic feats of rational calculation
performed through the interplay of interests in the American political
system’. Wildavsky’s reputation is largely based on his debunking of
attempts to achieve rationality in government, especially through the
introduction of budgeting techniques such as PPBS (see Wildavsky,
1969; 1971; 1973; 1975; Heclo and Wildavsky, 1974).
The best guide to Wildavsky’s position at the end of the 1970s is
The Ari and Craft of Policy Analysis (1980). This immensely long
book does not lend itself to brief summary, but one is left with the
impression that, like Lindblom, the later Wildavsky is prepared to
accept a positive, if necessarily limited, role for analysis and planning
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MODELS OF POLICY-MAKING
in the policy process. He tells us that as he began writing the book ‘the
necessity of connecting thought to action was uppermost in my mind’.
He dwells on the tension between ‘social interaction’ (markets and
politics) and ‘intellectual cogitation’ (planning) and argues that ‘pure
planning or pure politics alone are unsatisfactory as modes of making
collective choices’. The task of policy analysis is to balance intellectual
cogitation against social interaction to supplement but never to supplant
the political process. Policy analysis is ‘about improvement, about
improving citizen preferences for the policies they-the people-ought
to prefer’.
areas. The mixed-scanning strategy combines a detailed examination
of some sectors with a more cursory review of the wider weather
scene. This feasible and economically defensible operation is seen as
adequate for most purposes. Also it is flexible since the ‘mix’ of broad
and detailed scanning can be varied depending on changing circum
stances (e.g. in the hurricane season it would be advisable to increase
comprehensive scanning because of the consequences of missing early
signs of an unexpected hurricane formation).
The mixed-scanning approach also emphasizes the need to dif
ferentiate fundamental decisions from incremental ones. Fundamental
decisions should be made by exploring as many as possible of the
options open to the decision-maker, but with deliberate omission of
detailed assessment so that an overview is possible. Before and after
such fundamental decision-making (taken in a relatively rational or
synoptic manner) there will still be wide scope for incremental decisionmaking-within the context set by fundamental decisions.
There are several difficulties in applying Etzioni’s model to the
practical concerns of decision-makers (quite apart from the fact that his
original metaphor of weather satellites is inaccurate as a description of
how weather satellites operate and how they fit into overall weather
forecasting). In the first place, it is not clear whether the analogy
between weather satellites and social problems holds up. The surface
of the world is of fixed geometrical proportions which can be scanned
on a simple pattern and the phenomena to which closer attention has
to be paid are fairly well known. It is not clear in the same way what
the layout of the social world is or what phenomena should be focused
on. In his book on Social Problems (1976) Etzioni discussed the applica
tion of his model to urban renewal and impact statements. What he has
to say about these matters contains a lot of sense (though he neglects
the disadvantages of impact statements) and he is right to point to the
inappropriateness of fully synoptic or fully incremental approaches;
however, the analysis does not derive directly from the original mixedscanning metaphor.
As the name implies, the ‘mixed-scanning’ model is of particular
potential relevance to decisions about how to allocate analytical
resources. However, Etzioni, while providing us with criteria about
what kind of weather formations require detailed analysis, does not
provide a set of criteria for determining which policy-issues should be
analysed in which way (see chapter 5 on ‘Issue Search’, and chapter 6
on ‘Issue Filtration’ in this book).
60
4.4.3 A MIDDLE WAY?
We have made it clear in the previous two subsections that when the
later writings of Simon and Lindblom are taken into account it is a
distorted caricature to cast one as the centralist technocratic rationalist
and the other as the ‘politics as a market’ incrementalist. However, it
cannot be denied that teachers have found it useful to have the 1959
Lindblom available for contrast with the 1960 Simon, since these
prescriptions appear to represent opposite ends of the spectrum. Other
writers can then be ‘located’ at various points along the spectrum. One
writer, Etzioni (1967), sets out quite specifically to explore and lay
claims to the middle ground between Simon and Lindblom—namely,
‘Mixed scanning: a third approach to decision making’.
The term ‘mixed scanning’ is derived from the analogy of cameras
employed in such activities as weather observation. If total information
about weather patterns and trends were required, cameras would have
to incorporate a capacity for scanning the total weather scene plus a
capacity for the most detailed observation of each and every part of
the scene. This is difficult to achieve and what we settle for is a mixedscanning approach, in which wide-lens cameras take in a broad sweep
to provide at least a rough indication of significant new developments
while other cameras are focused much more narrowly on particular
areas where developments are confidently expected and detailed
observation therefore required.
Translated into policy-making terms, rationalism would seek detailed
and comprehensive information about the whole weather scene, thus
swamping the observers in largely unusable and enormously costly data.
Incrementalism would focus only on those areas in which troublesome
patterns had developed in the past and, perhaps, on a few adjacent areas.
It would thus ignore significant weather information in unexpected
62
AN APPROACH TO POLICY ANALYSIS
4.5 A contingency approach to policy analysis
The framework for this book, consisting of analysis related to stages in
the policy process, does not conform to the stereotyped extremes of
either ‘rational comprehensive’ analysis or ‘muddling through’. We
regard such polarization as being, in the end, sterile and smacking too
much of an either/or choice. Nor do we simply seek a ‘middle way’.
The crucial stage in our framework is the second, that of ‘deciding how
to decide’ or issue filtration (see chapter 6). In other words, we suggest
that different policy issues require different policy-making approaches.
Some issues will always require a higlily political, pluralist, bargain
ing, and incrementalist approach. But some other issues-probably
only a small minority—will both require and lend themselves to a much
more planned or analytical approach. These are the issues which, having
been identified at the second or ‘issue-filtration’ stage, should then be
subjected^to all the other stages, with due concern for their logical
sequence (plus, of course, opportunities for feedback and interaction).
At each stage-forecasting, say, or options analysis—full use should
be made of any planning or managerial aids available. Following Dror
(1968) our approach is ‘economically rational’ since we accept that
analysis should be conducted only to the extent that it is likely to
produce benefits commensurate with the cost of analysis.
Thus we advocate a ‘contingency’ approach (adjust policy-making
methods to the circumstances and to the issue in question). There is no
‘one best way’ of making decisions, just as there is no universal pre
scription for ‘good organization’. Among the diagnostic skills required
is a very high degree of political sensitivity and discrimination as well
as a grasp of the technical skills of planning and analysis.
4.6 Models in public policy and policy analysis
A policy analyst must be aware of the existence and importance of
models in everyday life as well as in the literature of policy studies. He
should be explicit and self-critical about the models he himself uses. As
Allison (1971) says, ‘the fact that alternative frames of reference . . .
produce quite different explanations should encourage the analyst’s
self-consciousness about the nets he employs.’ The ‘policy frame’ he
adopts in defining a problem will certainly influence his solution to the
problem. In forecasting, too, he will construct a theory or model of
how several variables are likely to interact to bring about some future
MODELS OF POLICY-MAKING
63
state of affairs. In moving from policy formulation to policy imple
mentation he will have developed a theory of cause and effect, along
the lines that ‘if we dox now,_y will follow’.
Model-building holds its dangers and traps for the unwary. The
analyst, like any social scientist, should understand the distinctions
between ideal-type, descriptive, and prescriptive models and, even in
the heat of argument, should avoid the temptation to slip unobtrusively
from one to another. In developing any model he should realize that a
process of abstraction, selection, and simplification is going on. An
obvious danger is of over-simplification and distortion. However, as
simplifying assumptions are relaxed to make models more realistic, the
elaborate model may become too complex to understand or too clumsy
to use. A particular disciplinary background (such as economics or
psychology) will give a characteristic slant to an analyst’s thinking:
hence the need for an inter-disciplinary approach (see section 3.1.2).
Abo^e all, of course, the analyst should be aware of his own political
and ideological biases and the preconceptions, assumptions, and sheer
wishful thinking which will influence his view of ‘the way things are’
and might be. A useful corrective device is occasionally to reconsider a
particular problem (or solution) in terms of a diametrically opposed
perspective to that so far employed by the analyst.
In seeking to understand the real-world policy process, the analyst
must try to identify the particular models or sets of related assumptions
which influence different policy actors. Such assumptions may, in the
analyst’s eyes, be incoherent or internally inconsistent, but they will
none the less be models of policy which can influence practical action.
Whether he is operating in the academic arena or the world of policy
actors, then, the analyst has an important role to play as an exponent,
identifier, and interpreter of relevant policy models. Where different
participants in an intellectual or political debate have different frames
of reference which are implicit or ambiguous, then there will be par
ticular problems of interpretation (cf. Rose, 1976c). Even though the
same words may be used, different ‘languages’ are often being spoken.
The analyst’s role as interpreter can extend to identifying which values
and perceptions are shared by various models, which are genuinely
incompatible, and which, though not completely shared, are not
mutually contradictory.
When an analyst is working for a particular client, he will have the
often delicate task of clarifying and possibly questioning the assump
tions and implicit models underlying the client’s view of problems and
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AN APPROACH TO POLICY ANALYSIS
acceptable responses. Since securing and then implementing a particular
policy usually involves interactions (conflict, competition, accommoda
tion, collaboration, etc.) with other agencies, the analyst can also help
his client by similar clarification of those agencies’ interests, values,
perceptions, and assumptions.
If he wishes his policy advice to be ‘consumed’, either generally or
by a particular client, the analyst must give considerable thought to the
language and reference points he employs. To believe that a sufficiently
rigorous analysis will lead the analyst to an unarguable ‘one best answer
which the consumer will immediately recognize and adopt, is simply to
be naive about the status of policy advice and the activity of policy
advising. Where the underlying perceptions, assumptions, and values of
analyst and consumer are at odds or, worse, simply do not relate to
one another, then very little influence is likely to be exerted.
The approach in this book is, we hope, reasonably aware of most of
the problems and traps indicated above. It emphasizes the political
nature of the policy process, the subjectivity of much analysis, and the
need for the analyst to concern himself with the consumption as well
as the production of policy advice.
h At-,u
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77
RATIONAL MODELS
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Rationality and
Decision-Making
Writers on decision-making may be divided, broadly and
roughly, into two schools: those who focus on the relationship
between power and decision-making; and those who examine
the relationship between rationality and decision-making.
The literature on power and decision-making was discussed at
some length in the previous chapter. In this chapter we turn
our attention to the analysis of rationality and decision
making, concentrating in particular on the debate between
writers who analyse decision-making by reference to rational
models and writers who portray decision-making as an incre
mental process. Unlike some recent commentators we do not
accept that this is an artificial debate (Smith and May, 1980).
While it is correct to observe that rational models usually
serve prescriptive purposes, and incremental models are often
intended to be descriptive, there is an important continuing
search for a prescriptive model which suffers from neither the
unrealism of the ideal type rational model nor the incomplete
ness of incremental approaches. It is this search, and the
debate between the writers who have been engaged in it,
which is the central concern of this chapter. The chapter
proceeds through an examination of the ideal type rational
model, to a consideration of incrementalism and an analysis
of middle ways between these two approaches. The strengths
and weaknesses of each model are assessed, and at the end of
the chapter an attempt is made to establish links between the
discussion of rationality and decision-making and the analysis
of the role of the state and of power contained in earlier
chapters.
Herbert Simon’s Administrative Behaviour, first published in
1945, constitutes an important early contribution to thinking
about decision-making within organisations. In his book
Simon argues that theories of administration must take
decision-making as a central focus. In contrast to previous
writers, who concentrated on ways of securing effective action
within organisations, Simon seeks to examine in some detail
the processes leading up to action. In his view, a theory of
administration has to be concerned with ‘the processes of
decision as well as with the processes of action' (Simon, 1945,
p. 1), and to this end Simon attempts to specify exactly what is
involved in decision-making.
Beginning with a definition of a decision as a choice
between alternatives, Simon states that rational choice
involves selecting alternatives ‘which are conducive to the
achievement of . . . previously selected goals' (p.5). In
Simon’s view, the existence of goals or objectives within
organisations is of fundamental importance in giving meaning
to administrative behaviour. That is, administrative
behaviour is purposive if it is guided by goals. In any organisa
tion there might be a number of ways of reaching goals, and
when faced with the need to make a choice between alterna
tives the rational decision-maker should choose the alterna
tive most likely to achieve the desired outcome. In essence,
then, rational decision-making involves the selection of the
alternative which will maximise the decision-maker’s values,
the selection being made following a comprehensive analysis
of alternatives and their consequences.
Simon acknowledges that there are several difficulties with
this approach. The first is: whose values and objectives are to
be used in the decision-making process? Clearly, organisa
tions are not homogeneous entities, and the values of the
organisation as a whole may differ from those of individuals
within the organisation. Simon’s response to this point is to
argue that ‘a decision is “organisationally ” rational if it is
oriented to the organisation’s goals; it is “personally” rational
if it is oriented to the individual’s goals’ (pp. 76—7).
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Rationality and Decision-Making
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achieving ends are not devoid of values, and a way of coping
with this has to be found in decision-making. Simon's pro
posed solution is ‘A theory of decisions in terms of alternative
behaviour possibilities and their consequences’ (p. 66) in
which ‘The task of decision involves three steps: (1) the listing
of all the alternative strategies; (2) the determination of all the
consequences that follow upon each of these strategies; (3)
the comparative evaluation of these sets of consequences’ (p.
67). Rationality has a place in this model in that ‘The task of
rational decision is to select that one of the strategies which is
followed by the preferred set of consequences’ (ibid.).
It follows that the means-ends rational model is, as Simon
always intended, an idealised view of decision-making in
organisations. However, it is by no means clear that the
theory of alternative behaviour possibilities is any less idealis
tic. Simon recognises this, and he notes various ways in which
actual behaviour departs from the theory. Accordingly, in his
later work Simon elaborates the idea of ‘bounded rationality ’
(1957, p. xxiv) to describe decision-making in practice.
Bounded rationality involves the decision-maker choosing an
alternative intended not to maximise his values but to be
satisfactory or good enough. The term ‘satisficing’ describes
this process, and bounded rationality enables the administra
tor faced with a decision to simplify by not examining all
possible alternatives. Rather, rules of thumb are adopted,
and as a result important options and consequences may be
ignored. In this way the exacting demands of the rationalcomprehensive model are avoided and replaced with a more
realistic set of criteria. Simon argues that both common sense
and computer simulation of human behaviour in decision
making serve to verify bounded rationality as a correct
description of decision-making ‘in its main features' (1957, p.
This leads on to a second difficulty with Simon’s approach,
namely that it may not make sense to refer to the goals of an
organisation. A similar problem arises here as in the discus
sion of policy (see Chapter 1), namely that general statements
of intention within organisations are implemented by indivi
duals and groups who often have discretion in interpreting
these statements. If, as we argue in the next chapter, policy is
to some extent made, or at least reformulated, as it is imple
mented, then it may be less useful to refer to an organisation’s
goals than to the goalsof the individuals and groups who make
up the organisation.
The third major difficulty with Simon’s model of rationality
is that in practice decision-making rarely proceeds in such a
logical, comprehensive and purposive manner. Among the
reasons for this are that it is almost impossible to consider all
alternatives during the process of decision; knowledge of the
consequences of the various alternatives is necessarily incom
plete; and evaluating these consequences involves consider
able uncertainties. It is precisely because of these limits to
human rationality, maintains Simon, that administrative
theory is needed. As he observes in Administrative
Behaviour,
The need for an administrative theory resides in the fact that there
are practical limits to human rationality, and that these limits are
not static, but depend upon the organisational environment in
which the individual’s decision takes place. The task of administra
tion is so to design this environment that the individual will
approach as close as practicable to rationality (judged in terms ol
the organisation’s goals) in his decisions (p. 241).
What Simon is arguing then is the need to explore ways of
enhancing organisational rationality.
There is a fourth difficulty in achieving this, namely how to
separate facts and values, and means and ends, in the
decision-making process. The ideal rational model postulates
the prior specification of ends by the administrator and the
identification of means of reaching these ends. Simon notes a
number of problems with the means-ends schema, including
that of separating facts and values. As he argues, the means of
79
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INCREMENTALISM
Simon’s espousal of bounded rationality finds many echoes in
the work of Charles Lindblom (1959). Like Simon, Lindblom
is critical of the rational-comprehensive method of decision-
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making. In its place, Lindblom sets out an approach termed
‘successive limited comparisons’. The rational-comprehen
sive approach is characterised as the root method, starting
with basic issues on each occasion and building from the
ground up; the successive limited comparisons approach is
characterised as the branch method, starting from the existing
situation and changing incrementally. The two approaches
are compared in Figure 5.1.
In describing decision-making by successive limited com
parisons, Lindblom reiterates many of Simon’s reservations
about the rational model. These reservations are listed most
fully in Lindblom’s later work where he notes eight failures of
adaptation of the rational-comprehensive model, which is
also referred to as the synoptic ideal. According to Lindblom,
the synoptic ideal is (1) not adapted to man’s limited problem
solving capacities; (2) not adapted to inadequacy of informa
tion; (3) not adapted to the costliness of analysis; (4) not
adapted to failures in constructing a satisfactory evaluative
method; (5) not adapted to the closeness of observed relation
ships between fact and value in policy-making; (6) not
adapted to the openness of the system of variables with which
it contends; (7) not adapted to the analyst’s need for strategic
sequences of analytical moves; and (8) not adapted to the
diverse forms in which policy problems actually arise (Braybrooke and Lindblom, 1963).
Consequently, decision-making in practice proceeds by
successive limited comparisons. This achieves simplification
not only through limiting the number of alternatives con
sidered to those that differ in small degrees from existing
policies, but also by ignoring consequences of possible
policies. Further, deciding through successive limited com
parisons involves simultaneous analysis of facts and values,
and means and ends. As Lindblom states, ‘one chooses
among values and among policies at one and the same time'
(1959, p. 82). That is, instead of specifying objectives and
then assessing what policies would fulfil these objectives, the
decision-maker reaches decisions by comparing specific
policies and the extent to which these policies will result in the
attainment of objectives. For Lindblom, the test of a good
policy is not, as the rational-comprehensive model posits, that
Rationality and Decision-Making
Rational-comprehensive (root)
Successive limited comparisons
(branch)
la
Clarification of values or
objectives distinct from and
usually prerequisite to
empirical analysis of alter
native policies
lb
Selection of value goals and
empirical analysis of the
needed action are not distinct
from one another but are
closely intertwined
2a
Policy-formulation is there
fore approached through
means-end analysis: first the
ends are isolated, then the
means to achieve them are
sought
2b
Since means and ends are not
distinct, means-end analysis
is often inappropriate or
limited
3a
The test of a ‘good’ policy is
that it can be shown to be the
most apropriate means to
desired ends
3b
The test of a ‘good’ policy is
typically that various analysts
find themselves directly
agreeing on a policy (without
their agreeing that it is the
most appropriate means to an
agreed objective)
4a
Analysis is comprehensive;
every important relevant
factor is taken into account
4b
Analysis is drastically limited:
i) Important possible out
comes are neglected
ii) Important alternative
potential policies are
neglected
iii) Important affected values
arc neglected
5a
Theory is often heavily relied
upon
5b
A succession of comparisons
greatly reduces or eliminates
reliance on theory
f igure 5.1: Models of decision-making
Source: Lindlom (1959)
81
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Rationality and Decision-Making
the policy maximises the decision-maker’s values. Rather it is
whether the policy secures agreement of the interests
involved.
Lindblom argues that incrementalism is both a good
description of how policies are actually made, and a model for
how decisions should be made. Prescriptively, one of the
claimed advantages of muddling through is that serious mis
takes can be avoided if only incremental changes are made.
By testing the water the decision-maker can assess the wisdom
of the moves he is undertaking and can decide whether to
make further progress or to change direction. Lindblom
emphasises that successive limited comparisons is a method.
Despite its acknowledged shortcomings, the method is to be
preferred to 4a futile attempt at superhuman comprehensive
ness’ (p. 88). Given the rough process which is usually
involved in making decisions, Lindblom maintains that the
best that can be hoped for is to muddle through more effec
tively.
These points are developed at some length in Lindblom’s
later writings. In A Strategy of Decision, a book he co
authored with David Braybrooke (1963), Lindblom describes
in detail the strategy of disjointed incrementalism, which is a
refinement of the successive limited comparisons method.
Disjointed incrementalism involves examining policies which
differ from each other incrementally, and which differ incre
mentally from the status quo. Analysis is not comprehensive
but is limited to comparisons of marginal differences in
expected consequences. Using disjointed incrementalism, the
decision-maker keeps on returning to problems, and attempts
to ameliorate those problems rather than to achieve some
ideal future state. What is more, decision-makers adjust
objectives to available means instead of striving for a fixed set
of objectives. Braybrooke and Lindblom note that disjointed
incrementalism is characteristic of the United States where
‘policy-making proceeds through a series of approximations.
A policy is directed at a problem; it is tried, altered, tried in its
altered form, altered again, and so forth’ (p. 7.3). There are
similarities here with the writings of Wildavsky (1979) who
argues that problems are not so much solved as succeeded and
replaced by other problems, and who is equally critical of the
rational model. Braybrooke and Lindblom describe the
strategy as disjointed incrementalism because policies and
problems are analysed at different points without apparent
coordination.
This theme of coordination is taken up in Lindblom’s book,
The Intelligence of Democracy (1965). The problem
addressed in that book is of how to achieve coordination
between people in the absence of a central coordinator. Par
tisan mutual adjustment is the concept Lindblom develops to
describe how coordination can be achieved in such a situation.
Partisan mutual adjustment is the process by which indepen
dent decision-makers coordinate their behaviour. It involves
adaptive adjustments ‘in which a decision-maker simply
adapts to decisions around him’ and manipulated adjustments
‘in which he seeks to enlist a response desired from the other
decision-maker’ (1965, p. 33). Each of these forms of adjust
ment is further divided into a variety of more specific
behaviour, including negotiation and bargaining. In a later
article, Lindblom (1979) notes that although there is no neces
sary connection between partisan mutual adjustment and
political change by small steps, in practice the two are usually
closely linked. Taken together, partisan mutual adjustment,
disjointed incrementalism and successive limited comparisons
form the key concepts in the incrementalist model of decision
making.
There is a large measure of agreement in the literature on
decision-making that disjointed incrementalism is a good
description of how decisions arc actually made in organisa
tions. Yet the rational-comprehensive model remains impor
tant because it continues to influence attempts to improve the
machinery of government in various countries. In the British
context, this can be seen in the development of the Public
Expenditure Survey Committee (PESC) system for planning
public expenditure, and the subsequent introduction of pro
gramme budgeting, programme analysis and review, and the
Central Policy Review Staff (Richardson and Jordan, 1979).
Again, the planning system introduced into the National
Health Service in 1976 was presented as a process involving
taking stock of services, setting objectives, defining strategy,
developing a plan and monitoring implementation. These
82
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The Policy Process in the Modern Capitalist State
examples, many of which have their roots in American
experience, suggest that the ideal of rational-comprehensive
ness is still powerful.
Nevertheless, the experience of a number of these innova
tions bears out Lindblom’s objections to the synoptic
approach. A study of PESC, for example, came to the con
clusion that far from enhancing rationality, PESC ended up
strengthening incrementalism (Heclo and Wildavsky, 1981).
Similarly, researchers who analysed the operation of the NHS
planning system noted the failure of health planners to live up
to the synoptic ideal, concluding that ‘Health planning is
necessarily the subject of adaptation, compromise, bargaining
and reconciliation of conflicting interests’ (Barnard et al.,
1980, p. 263). Studies of policy-making in organisations are
replete with examples which demonstrate the failure of
rational-comprehensiveness and the prevalence of incremen
talism. This is not to say that incrementalism is the only way in
which decisions are made in practice for there is evidence that
other approaches are sometimes adopted (Vickers, 1965;
Ham, 1981). The question this raises is what prescriptive
stance should be adopted in view of the less than satisfactory
experience of the rational ideal? Of the many attempts to
address this question, two in particular stand out: Dror’s
(1964) discussion of a normative optimum model, and
Etzioni’s (1967) work on mixed scanning. We will consider
each of the models in turn.
OPTIMAL METHODS AND MIXED SCANNING
While Dror finds much to admire in Lindblom's work, he is
critical of the conservative bias he detects in incrementalism.
The problem identified by Dror is that Lindblom’s favoured
strategy of muddling through more skilfully acts ‘as an ideo
logical reinforcement of the pro-inertia and anti-innovation
forces’ (p. 153). According to Dror this strategy is only accept
able if existing policies are in the main satisfactory, there is a
high degree of continuity in the nature of problems and there
is a high degree of continuity in the means available for
dealing with problems. These criteria may be met when there
Rationality and Decision-Making
85
is a large measure of social stability, and Dror argues that
incrementalism may be appropriate in many policy areas in
the USA. But where the conditions do not prevail, and where
a society is seeking to bring about significant social changes,
then incrementalism will not be appropriate.
The alternative to muddling through, suggests Dror, is not
the rational-comprehensive model but a normative optimum
model which is able to ‘combine realism and idealism’ (p.
157). In broad outline, such a model involves attempts to
increase both the rational and extra-rational elements in
decision-making. The extra-rational elements comprise the
use of judgements, creative invention, brainstorming and
other approaches. The rational elements involve not a com
prehensive examination of alternatives and their con
sequences and the complete clarification of values and objec
tives but a selective review of options and some explication of
goals. What this implies is a decision-making method some
where between the rational-comprehensive and incremental
methods. Thus, while Dror is prepared to accept the validity
of incrementalism as a descriptive theory, he argues for an
optimal method as a means of strengthening and improving
decision-making. One of the features of the method is the
stress placed on mcta-policy-making, that is ‘policy-making
on how to make policy’ (1968, p. 160). In Dror’s analysis,
there is a need to invest resources in designing procedures for
making policies in order to produce better decisions.
Lindblom’s response to Dror is to argue that in a political
democracy like the USA and also in relatively stable dictator
ships like the Soviet Union the conditions necessary for incre
mentalism are met (Lindblom, 1964). Further, Lindblom
expresses scepticism about the criticism that muddling
through has a conservative bias. He maintains that significant
changes can be achieved through a succession of small steps as
well as through infrequent large steps.
This point is taken up by Etzioni who, like Dror, seeks a
middle way between rationality and incrementalism. Etzioni
accepts the force of the argument that a series of small steps
could produce significant change, but adds that ‘there is
nothing in this approach to guide the accumulation; the steps
may be circular - leading back to where they started, or
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dispersed - leading in many directions at once but leading
nowhere’ (1967, p. 387). In place of incrementalism, Etzioni
outlines the mixed scanning model of decision-making, a
model he suggests is both a good description of how decisions
are made in a number of fields and a strategy which can guide
decision-making.
Mixed scanning rests on the distinction between funda
mental decisions and incremental or bit decisions. Etzioni
suggests that fundamental decisions, such as the declaration
of war and the initiation of the space programme, are recog
nised by the incrementalists but are not given sufficient
emphasis. In Etzioni’s view, fundamental decisions are
important because they ‘set basic directions’ (p. 388) and
provide the context for incremental decisions. Mixed scan
ning is an appropriate method for arriving at fundamental
decisions because it enables a range of alternatives to be
explored. Essentially, mixed scanning involves the decision
maker undertaking a broad review of the field of decision
without engaging in the detailed exploration of options sug
gested by the rational model. This broad review enables
longer-run alternatives to be examined and leads to funda
mental decisions. In turn, incremental decisions lead up to
and follow on from fundamental decisions and involve more
detailed analysis of specific options. According to Etzioni,
of the rational-comprehensive model. Wary of the potential
dangers of inertia and conservatism, Dror seeks to provide
guidelines for those attempting to improve policy-making. In
his book, Public Policy Making Re-examined, Dror details
eighteen phases of optimal policy-making, ranging from the
meta-policy-making stage of designing policy-making
systems, through the policy-making stage of examining alter
natives and making decisions, and on to the post-policy
making and feedback stages. There is no doubt that Dror
offers one of the most considered attempts to devise a pres
criptive policy-making model and, in our view, a particular
strength of Dror’s work is its recognition of the extra-rational
elements in the process of decision-making.
As the writings of experienced policy-makers like Vickers
(1965) attest, judgement, hunch and intuition do play a part in
the mind of the decision-maker. It is paradoxical then that at
the same time as incorporating extra-rational aspects, the
optimal model emphasises many of the key features of the
rational-comprehensive model. As Smith and May (1980)
note, Dror recapitulates various stages in the model, but adds
caveats in order to avoid the charge of unrealism. What is
more, it is not clear what criteria are to be employed when the
decision-maker is advised by Dror to undertake ‘some clarifi
cation of values, objectives, and decision-criteria’ and a ‘pre
liminary estimation of expected pay-offs’. For these reasons,
it is difficult to see how the optimal model can be successfully
operationalised.
Turning to Etzioni, one of the questions which needs to be
raised about mixed scanning is whether fundamental deci
sions are as significant as he suggests. While in some situations
fundamental decisions are important in setting broad direc
tions, in other situations decision-making proceeds in a much
less structured way. In many organisations and policy areas,
action is justified because ‘things have always been done this
way', rather than through reference to fundamental decisions
which serve as a context for action. When this occurs, un
planned drift rather than conscious design characterises the
policy process, and unplanned drift may be more common
than Etzioni assumes.
86
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each of the two elements in mixed scanning helps to reduce the
effects of the particular shortcomings of the other; incrementalism
reduces the unrealistic aspects of rationalism by limiting the details
required in fundamental decisions, and contextuating rationalism
helps to overcome the conservative slant of incrementalism by
exploring longer-run alternatives (p. 390).
Despite Etzioni’s claim that his strategy is an adequate
description 6f decision-making in various fields, the impor
tance of mixed scanning and also of Dror’s optimal model is
mainly that they are attempts to meet widely held reservations
about incrementalism as a prescriptive approach. What then
are the strengths and weaknesses of mixed scanning and the
optimal model? Taking Dror’s work first, it is clear that in
many respects he shares the assumptions and the aspirations
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A further difficulty with mixed scanning is how to distin-
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aguish fundamental decisions and incremental decisions. As
Smith and May note, ‘fundamental decisions in one context
are incremental in another and vice versa’ (p. 153). It would
therefore seem important to specify criteria for distinguishing
the two types of decision and Etzioni does not do this. Despite
these criticisms, a number of writers have pointed to the
virtues of mixed scanning as a prescriptive model (Gershuny,
1978; Wiseman, 1978 and 1979). Particularly in the planning
context, it is suggested that decision-makers may find the twin
strategies of overall scanning followed by a more detailed
exploration of specific problems and alternative ways of tack
ling these problems to be a useful and realistic way of proceed
ing. The longer time scale usually associated with planning
decisions offers the possibility of overcoming some of the
constraints which ordinarily preclude any more than incre
mental analysis. Often these may be the sorts of fundamental
or contextualising decisions discussed by Etzioni. While there
will no doubt be continuing disputes over the distinction
between fundamental and incremental decisions, in many
cases it is not difficult to identify fundamental decisions. As
Braybrooke and Lindblom argue, ‘in any society there
develops a strong tendency towards convergence in estimates
of what changes are important and unimportant’ (1963,
p. 62). Some examples include: whether to undertake a pro
gramme of building nuclear reactors to provide energy;
whether to undertake a programme of space exploration;
whether to develop supersonic passenger aircraft; and
whether to rely on nuclear or non-nuclear armed forces. On
these kinds of issues it may be possible to use a strategy which
combines features of bounded rationality, mixed scanning
and Lindblom’s later elaboration of incrementalism, which
we now consider.
INCREMENTALISM REVISITED
Bounded rationality, it will be recalled, involves the decision
maker in choosing an alternative which is good enough. Satis
ficing in this way enables the decision-maker to stop his search
for alternatives long before all possible alternatives and their
Rationality and Decision-Making
89
consequences have been examined. This approach, originally
outlined by Simon, is seen by a number of writers as having
merit. Vickers, for example, argues that satisficing is the way
in which most decisions are made in practice. As Vickers
comments, ‘Only if nothing “good enough” is found . . . are
other possibilities seriously considered’ (1965, p. 91).
Bounded rationality also receives favourable comment from
_Lindblom. In an article published in 1979 reviewing the
debate surrounding incrementalism, Lindblom argues that
the limitations on rationality are such that bounded
rationality is the best that can be achieved. Lindblom intro
duces the term strategic analysis to describe a form of incre
mentalism which appears to be similar to bounded rationality.
What is significant in Lindblom’s 1979 article is that strategic
analysis emerges as only one form of incrementalism. Accord
ing to Lindblom we need to distinguish simple incremental
analysis, disjointed incrementalism and strategic analysis.
Simple incremental analysis involves analysis limited to con
sideration of alternatives which arc only incrementally dif
ferent from the status quo. Disjointed incrementalism involves
limiting analysis to a few familiar alternatives, an intertwining
of goals and values with the empirical aspects of the problem,
a greater preoccupation with the problem than the goals to be
sought, a sequence of trials, errors and revised (rials, analysis
that explores only some consequences of an alternative, and
fragmentation of analytical work to many participants.
Strategic analysis involves analysis limited to any calculated or
thoughtfully chosen set of stratagems to simplify complex
policy problems. Simple incremental analysis is one element
in disjointed incrementalism, and disjointed incrementalism
is one form of strategic analysis. Lindblom argues that
strategic analysis is a preferable ideal to synoptic analysis.
Figure 5.2 illustrates the range of options discussed by
Lindblom.
A further refinement introduced into the discussion is the
distinction between the various forms of incremental analysis,
as outlined above, and incremental politics. Incremental
politics involves political change by small steps, and may or
may not result from incremental analysis. The distinction then
is between the process of decision - incremental analysis-and
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seat-of-pants semi-strategies
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(We ought to be in this range)
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informed and thoughtful
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SOURCE: Lindblom (1979)
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Ultimately, this amounts to an argument for strategic analysis
on appropriate issues to be joined with various forms of
creative problem-solving. It is in this direction that a new form
of rationality may emerge.
system, and which prevent even incremental change occur
ring in some policy areas, need to be challenged through a
restructuring of mutual adjustment. Specifically, he proposes
that planners should be brought into policy-making to give
absentees a voice. The overall aim should be ‘greatly
improved strategic policy-making, both analytical and inter
active’ (1977, p. 346).
On the second point, Lindblom accepts that partisan
mutual adjustment is only active on ordinary questions of
policy. Certain grand issues such as the existence of private
enterprise and private property and the distribution of income
and wealth are not resolved through adjustment. Rather,
because of ‘a high degree of homogeneity of opinion’ (1979, p.
523) grand issues are not included on the agenda. Lindblom
adds that this homogeneity of opinion is heavily indoctri
nated, and in Politics and Markets he explores the operation
of what, in the previous chapter, we have referred to as
ideology. Lindblom’s argument is that in any stable society
there is a unifying set of beliefs which are communicated to
the population through the church, the media, the schools
and other mechanisms (1977, Ch. 15). These beliefs appear to
be spontaneous because they are so much taken for granted,
but in Lindblom's analysis they are seen as favouring and to
some extent emanating from dominant social groups.
Is there an inconsistency here between Lindblom's early
and later work? Lindblom argues not, reiterating that the
pluralism which results from partisan mutual adjustment is
heavily lopsided, at the same time arguing that the key task is
to muddle through more skilfully and to strengthen strategic
analysis. Nevertheless, it does seem that the optimistic tone of
the original incrementalist thesis has by the late 1970s been
replaced by a more critical and pessimistic analysis. It may not
be going too far to suggest that in his early writings Lindblom
was content to endorse incrementalism because of his inter
pretation of the US power structure in pluralistic terms. In
contrast, in his later writings, Lindblom, reflecting the chang
ing political conditions of the USA, and the accompanying
challenge to pluralism within political science, explicitly
acknowledges the limitations of pluralism, and is less sanguine
CONCLUSION: RATIONALITY AND POWER
I
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93
The Policy Process in the Modern Capitalist State
92
One of the issues underlying the debate about models of
decision-making is the relationship between the way decisions
are made and the distribution of power in contemporary
society. Lindblom’s early work provides an important link
between incrementalism and pluralism. He argues that, in a
society like the USA, groups are able to defend the interests
of different sections of society and in this way no interests are
entirely ignored. Through a process of mutual adjustment
issues are resolved and a system of dispersed power centres
enables more values to be protected than a system of cen
tralised coordination. It was this that led Etzioni to argue that
disjointed incrementalism ‘is presented as the typical
decision-making process of pluralistic societies, as contrasted
with the master planning of totalitarian societies’ (1967,
p. 387). In Etzioni’s view this interpretation needs to be
challenged, for two reasons: first, because mutual adjustment
will favour the well-organised partisans and work against the
underprivileged; and second, because incrementalism will
neglect basic innovations and fundamental questions. A third
reason why the association of incrementalism with pluralistic
societies and comprehensive planning with totalitarian
societies needs to be questioned is that empirical studies
suggest that incrementalism may be prevalent even in totali
tarian societies (see for example Crouch, 1981).
Lindblom recognises the strength of Etzioni’s points. As far
as the first is concerned, in Politics and Markets (1977),
Lindblom accepts that pluralism is biased in favour of certain
groups, particularly businesses and corporations. Yet he
resists the argument that centralised planning would be a
preferable means of making decisions. Rather. Lindblom
argues that the veto powers so prevalent in the US political
1
r.
-r.
94
The Policy Process in the Modern Capitalist State
about incrementalism. In short, it would seem that his call for
improved strategic analysis follows on from a recognition that
the distribution of power is less equal than he once assumed.
i
1
ro
1
1
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Uni.
5
Issue Search
5.1 The importance of issue search
The potential contribution which analysis can make at later stages of
the policy process depends on when and how a potential public policy
problem or opportunity is initially identified. The introduction of
expensive policy analysis techniques for options appraisal may*be wasted
if the failure to identify a potential problem at an early enough stage
means that many options are foreclosed because of time constraints,
or that they can only be adopted at a much greater cost. All organiza
tions in the public sector currently employ both formal and informal
methods of identifying possible problems, opportunities, or threats
to the organization. The questions to be explored are whether these
existing channels, many of them ‘political’, are fully adequate for
establishing the ‘agenda’ of public policy issues, or whether the use
of more active issue search approaches might improve the overall issue
processing capacity of public organizations
5.2 Agenda setting in practice
How and why do some issues get on the policy agenda for discussion
and perhaps action, while others do not or, if they do, receive only
cursory or belated attention? There are, of course, different typesand
levels of agendas (see Cobb and Elder, 1972, on ‘systemic’ and ‘institu
tional’ agendas) and agenda items can also be categorized in various
ways, such as annually recurring (for example, budget-related) items,
less regular but cyclically recurring items such as demands for an
incomes policy, and apparently ‘new’ items which, in turn, either
become recurring items or quietly disappear.
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ANALYSIS IN THE POLICY PROCESS
To the extent that it is possible to generalize, however, an issueespecially a new issue—seems most likely to reach the agenda if one or
more of the following circumstances apply. First, the issue has reached
crisis proportions and can no longer be ignored (see Kimber et al.,
1974, on the origins of the Deposit of Poisonous Wastes Act, 1972),
or is perceived as threatening a future crisis (for example, nuclear waste
in the 1980s). Second, the issue has achieved particularity (Solesbury,
1976): for example, ‘acid rain’ has recently served to exemplify and
dramatize the larger issue of atmospheric pollution from sulphur
dioxide and other industrial emissions. Third, the issue has an emotive
aspect or the ‘human interest angle’ which attracts media attention,
such as the tragedy of the ‘Thalidomide children’ which aroused
concern about the side-effects of modern drugs and the plight of the
severely handicapped. Fourth, the issue seems likely to have wide
impact: most ‘pocketbook’ issues (such as higher rate demands by local
authorities) come into this category, as do health ‘scares’ such as the
possible link between the contraceptive pill and certain types of cancer
in women. Fifth, the issue raises questions about power and legitimacy
in society, as in recent disputes about the ‘closed shop’ principle and
the use of ‘secondary picketing’ by trade unions. Sixth, the issue is
fashionable in some way which is difficult to explain but easy to
recognize: for example, problems of the ‘inner city’ or concern about
mugging and other forms of ‘street crime’.
Such predisposing circumstances do not guarantee politicization
and access to the public policy agenda. For a fuller understanding of
why issues do or do not achieve political salience we need further
study of the activities and influence of various agenda setters, such as
organized interests, protest groups, party leaders and influentials,
senior officials and advisers, ‘informed opinion’, and the gatekeepers
of the mass media such as newspaper editors and television producers.
Fortunately there has been growing interest among political scientists
(for example, Anderson, 1975; Richardson and Jordan, 1979) in the
politics of agenda setting. Certain policy areas, such as ecology and the
environment, have been particularly well served (Brookes et al., 1976;
Downs, 1972; Kimber et al., 1974; Sandbach, 1980; Solesbury, 1976;
Stringer and Richardson, 1980) but agenda setting in other areas,
especially the more ‘closed’ fields such as defence or science policy,
requires further research and discussion.
ISSUE SEARCH
69
5.3 The case for (and against) more active issue search
5.3.1 THE NEED TO ANTICIPATE PROBLEMS AND
OPPORTUNITIES
Governments often become aware ol problems or their ramifications
too late to act upon them in the optimal way. The best time to start
treating (or averting) a problem might well be before a crisis forced the
issue onto the political agenda. Relatedly, it often takes a considerable
amount of ‘lead’ lime to set up the organizational structure to deal
with a problem. Thirdly, if a decision has to be made very quickly once
crisis has arisen, it may be based on inadequate or misleading informa
tion. There may be inadequate time for definition of just what the
problem is and for exploration of the implications of alternative
options. Many of the techniques available to policy analysts can only
be brought to bear if there is adequate time for analysis; hence antici
pation of occasions when decisions may be required is a precondition
for effective policy analysis at other stages.
There are, of course, formidable technical and intellectual problems
in devising methods of ensuring advance warning. However, it is politi
cal factors which help to explain the relatively passive role of govern
ments in problem search. There is a temptation tor governments to
concentrate on current problems requiring action now rather than
hypothetical problems where any adverse political efiectsof not taking
action now will not occur until the future, and perhaps affect a dii terent
political party. In Britain, because of the frequent reshuffling of
ministerial posts, an individual minister also faces the temptation to
concentrate on issues with an immediate impact, since ‘He knows that
he will probably not be in the same post long and therefore not be held
responsible for the consequences of his policies’ (Headey, 1974, 99).
Similarly, civil servants are likely to have moved on before any hypo
thetical crisis actually materializes. On the other side of the coin, the
rewards for foresight for both politicians and civil servants are negligible,
and are just as likely to be reaped by others as by those actually respon
sible for the anticipatory action.
Thus, there may be a mismatch between what is ‘rational’ in terms
of bringing analysis and programmes to bear on problems at the optimal
time, and what is ‘rational’ from the perspective of the career rewards
of policy-makers. Thus, more active issue search would entail not only
the introduction of new techniques, but alterations to the political
reward structure so that foresight is rewarded (and perhaps lack of it
penalized).
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ANALYSIS IN THE POLICY PROCESS
5.3.2 THE NEED TO IDENTIFY PROBLEMS WHERE THERE
ARE ONLY ‘WEAK SIGNALS’
er
The type of information required for issue search may differ from that
required for strategic planning or forecasting approaches, which tend to
assume massive information input (see Ansoff, 1975, 22). If we are to
be able to anticipate potential problems rather than merely identify
problems which already exist we need to be able to respond to ‘weak
signals’, particularly when there may be discontinuity from the present
pattern. There is a paradox that a comprehensive planning approach
is easiest (and arguably only possible) when it is least necessary, that is,
when there is plenty of information and high continuity or certainty.
On the other hand, incremental approaches are singularly ill-equipped
to deal with large discontinuities, particularly those requiring long
decision or lead times.
The purpose in seeking to identify potential threats or opportunities
which are highly uncertain or may have only a low probability of occur
ring is to enable these to be taken into account when designing organiza
tions and other policies so that a capacity to deal with potential
problems is built in, or at least not precluded. In addition'Ht might be
decided to establish a contingency or crisis team designed to carry out
or co-ordinate contingency plans should the crisis actually occur. Such
preparations may be politically sensitive, as indicated by the resistance
of some local and health authorities to making appointments to posts
concerned with civil defence preparations for nuclear war.
The identification of a potential problem on the basis of only
limited information does not preclude fuller analysis later when more
(or more certain) information becomes available, but at that stage it
may be too late to start effective contingency preparations.
5.3.3 THE NEED TO RECTIFY UNEQUAL ACCESS TO
THE POLICY AGENDA
We have already noted the political nature of any prescription for more
active problem search, but the most explicitly political is the argument
that access to the policy agenda is currently unequal, and therefore
there is variation in the extent to which problems affecting particular
groups get on the policy agenda. Policy analysts should therefore, it
could be argued, take on the role of ensuring that the problems of all
groups in society receive equal attention.
This issue is an academic minefield in terms of both descriptive and
prescriptive models. In terms of descriptive models, there is a long-
ISSUE SEARCH
71
standing disagreement about the distribution of power in Western
societies, both in terms of how issues get on the policy agenda in the
first place and how this affects the final outcome (see Castles, Murray
and Potter, 1971, part three; Jenkins, 1978, 105-16; Lukes, 1974,
Polsby, 1980). ‘Pluralist’ writers tend to emphasize the widespread
distribution of power among a variety of often competing groups and
the existence of a multiplicity of channels for raising grievances, where
as ‘class’ or ‘elite’ writers emphasize the concentration of power in a
particular elite group or economic class by virtue of office-holding,
political power, or the way the State is structured to favour the interests
of the dominant class. However, all but the most naive pluralist theorists
would accept that the ability of citizens to get issues on the agendas
of decision-makers is not distributed evenly. A particularly relevant
development in the literature is the concept of ‘non-decisions’, by
which potential issues are kept off the agenda either by action or even
by inaction on the part of those holding political power (see e.g. Lukes,
1974); pluralist writers, such as Polsby (1980) have attempted to cast
doubts on the validity of the findings of those who claim to have
empirical evidence of‘non-decisions’.
When we turn to the normative aspects of the models we can see the
ideological problems which face a ‘rational policy analyst’ trying to
‘improve’ various stages of the policy process. If there is a tendency in
the relatively closed British ‘policy communities’ of government depart
ments and associated interest groups to raise issues which reflect only
mutually shared values, how can a policy analyst, perhaps employed
by the department, ensure that other issues are raised, and, indeed, is
this a proper role for him rather than for elected politicians9 Marxist
models would indicate that the only way to remove the problem of
unequal access-and indeed solve the substantive problems of societyis to overthrow the capitalist system. The pluralist writers would recog
nize the existence of inequalities in access to the political agenda, but
would argue that this is inevitable in any political system and that
pluralist societies represent the best, il unsatisfactory, form.
Thus to ask whether il should be the role of the policy analyst to
seek to place on the policy agenda issues which are not currently
receiving attention may also imply arguments for changing political
institutions or for changing the distribution of political power, and the
nature of the political system. For example, Stringer and Richardson
(1980, 36-7) call for more open government in Britain on the grounds
that more attention would be paid by government to the identification
'll
ANALYSIS IN THE POLICY PROCESS
and definition of problems if these were subject to critical review from
outside the government apparatus.
5.3.4 THE PROBLEM 01 ANALYTICAL OVERLOAD
More active issue search would involve further problems receiving
serious attention from government in addition to those it already
considers. Even given a substantial increase in the analytical capacity
of government, it would not be possible to bring costly analytical
techniques to bear on all existing issues, let alone new ones thrown up
by a deliberate search lor more problems which might require analysis.
However, this is an argument for explicit priorities in deciding which
issues should be subject to analysis of the planning kind, and which
should be decided by conventional routes. Such priorities should not be
determined by default, through the failure to give consideration to
some issues at all. We present procedures for drawing up priorities for
the allocation of analytical resources in chapter 6 on issue filtration.
-P*
5.3.5 THE PROBLEM OF POLITICAL OVERLOAD
It could be argued that policy analysts should not actively engage in
seeking out new problems for consideration by government, since this
would entail increasing the demands made on the political system with
out necessarily increasing resources to meet those demands, ‘supports’
for the political system, or the capacity of the political system to
resolve issues. Since many of the ‘new’ problems may be intractable
(and this may be one of the reasons why these issues were not on the
political agenda before), the effect of creating new demands without
necessarily providing the resources for corresponding solutions may be
to create additional strains on the political system.
Set against this are the counter-arguments that better recognition of
the problems and opportunities that exist in a society would increase
general support for the political system and would improve the capacity
of the political system to cope with problems. If improved issue search
was part of a wider improvement of decision-making, then fewer
resources might be wasted on bad decisions (some of which arise from
inadequate warning of problems).
However, it has to be recognized that the idea still has to be sold to
the decision-makers who have to cope with more information and
increased problems. Their reaction may be that they have enough
problems already, thank you. Advocates of issue search have to convince
decision-makers that there are political or other benefits to them as well
as to ‘society as a whole’.
ISSUE SEARCH
73
5.4 Distinctive characteristics of public sector issue search
We should be cautious of simply transposing prescriptions from the
management literature to policy analysis, since the nature of the
problems, environment, and organizational structure all differ; arguably,
these are normally much more complex and ambiguous in the public
sector. However, some insights from the management literature are
potentially relevant (see e.g. Aguilar, 1967). One of the themes of the
management ‘scanning’ literature is the need to scan for problems and
opportunities in a range of different contexts. For example, Hellriegel
and Slocum (1974) draw attention to the different modes of scanning
ranging from highly structured to quite unstructured:
(1) Undirected viewing. This is exposure to information without any
specific purpose in mind. Thus firms ‘keep their eyes open’ for
information about political, economic, and social developments,
but without quite knowing what they hope to derive from this
information.
(2) Conditioned viewing. This involves a degree of purposefulness in
terms of the information sources to which the organization
exposes itself and of the purposes to which that information may
be applied. A manager travelling abroad may notice particular
types of opportunity or methods of delivery which are potentially
applicable to his own organization.
(3) Informal search. Here the organization is in a less passive or
reactive stance. Branch managers or regional representatives
might be requested to look out for certain types of information
for specified purposes. For example, Inland Revenue tax inspec
tors might be asked to look out for signs of growth in the ‘black
economy’.
(4) Formal search. This involves quite deliberate scanning: the aim is
to acquire specific information for specific purposes. This could
include market analyses and forecasts; technological state-of-theart surveys and forecasts; political analysis, etc. Sometimes a
specific unit is set up within a firm for such purposes. More often
it is a matter of policy information acquired by various depart
ments within a firm: R. & D., marketing, finance, etc.
The last category, formal search, has an aura of being more sophisti
cated and more rational than other modes of scanning. However, it is
these other modes which are likely to lead to the identification of
problems and opportunities which had not previously been anticipated
74
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ANALYSIS IN THE POLICY PROCESS
ISSUE SEARCH
or which would not be thrown up by the appraisal of routine data.
The problem is to ensure that all this information is passed on to the
parts of the organization where it will be utilized.
Similarly, there is the problem of co-ordination of information
from a variety of sources, both personal and impersonal, and of varying
degrees of reliability. The problem arises from the fact that effective
information flows do not necessarily correspond to either functions
or formal hierarchies within and between organizations. The ‘official’
flows of information will tend to be impersonal: trade publications,
trade shows, technical conferences, regular reports, scheduled meet
ings, etc. However, personal information is often potentially more
important: business contacts, customers, bankers’ advice, recruits
transferring to the firm, even (or especially) gossip. Such personal,
and often oral, information may not necessarily reach the relevant
sections of the organization (especially if there is internal distrust)
or may be discounted relative to supposedly harder, formal printed
information.
Any organization will seek, or simply receive, different types of
information. For a firm, these will include market information, tech
nical information, information about broad issues such as general
economic conditions, government policies, social trends, leads about
potential mergers and acquisitions, and information about suppliers and
resources. For most public sector organizations, information about the
clientele served or target group regulated would be most important for
the identification of future problems and opportunities.
Despite some similarities between scanning for industry and issue
search for public policy, there are important differences, some of which
reflect the less well-defined nature of public policy concerns, but others
of which derive from the Government’s special authority to collect
data which it requires.
Arguably it is easier for industry to conduct scanning because there
will be greater agreement about what to scan for, how to measure it,
and how to interpret the findings in terms of their implications for the
firm. Within government one can distinguish between economic and
social data, with social data being more fragmented because of the lack
of any central social theory (Moser, 1980, 9). However, even with
macroeconomic data there is now less certainty about the policy
implications, even within the known margins of uncertainty. The
potential range of data that government has to scan is much wider
than for firms, though some firms are now becoming sensitive to wider
social and political implications of their activities.
Government has certain advantages in the different sources of
information on which it can call. We can distinguish between by
product statistics, which are produced incidentally to the carrying on of
the administrative process, and survey statistics, where the main pur
pose of collecting the statistics is to produce information (Thomas,
1980). Because of the scale of its activities, government generates a
wide range of statistics on everything from crimes reported to the
number of vehicles licensed to the volume of imports checked by
customs and excise. In addition there are a number of statistics which
could be said to be a main product rather than simply a by-product
of a government activity: this is true of statistics of the numbers
eligible to vote, which can be obtained from the electoral roll, and
vital statistics collected as part of the process of registration of births,
deaths, and marriages. While many by-product statistics are a valuable
potential basis for scanning activity, care should be exercised that
figures do not simply reflect administrative procedures rather than the
phenomenon with which one is concerned. For example, figures for
crimes reported or those registered as unemployed are not accurate
measures of crime or unemployment, and changes in the statistics may
not reflect corresponding changes in the phenomena (and vice versa) or
may even be perverse in their measurement effects: a vigorous anti
crime campaign by the police may lead to a greater success in arrests,
but because of that very success people may report crimes which
previously they would have failed to report.
Government also has particular advantages when it seeks to collect
information it needs. First of all, its sheer size means that it has the
resources to carry out surveys of a type which might not be justifiable
by smaller organizations. Secondly, government has the power to
compel people to provide the information, such as business statistics
from firms or personal details from individuals in the decennial census.
However, much of the data that government does collect is through
voluntary responses, as in the General Household Survey.
Government might, in principle, seem to have fewer difficulties in
the transfer of information between public organizations than is the
case in the transfer of information between firms which may be in
competition with each other. However, this ease of transfer is not
always apparent in practice. Central government is profoundly ignorant
of the pattern of policy delivery at local level on many indicators.
Even within central government there are problems of the transfer of
data. As is so often the case in policy analysis, apparently technical
questions turn out to have political ramifications.
75
76
ANALYSIS IN THE POLICY PROCESS
Governments also have a wide variety of other sources of more
informal information and demands, such as public inquiries, select
committees (though much of the information they collect comes
from government), consultative and advisory committees, interestgroup representations, and information from MPs, as well as internal
information-generating mechanisms such as reports from regional
offices, embassy reports, intelligence and espionage activities, etc. The
defects of these channels as mechanisms for agenda-setting have already
been discussed in section 5.2.
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00
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ANALYSIS IN THE POLICY PROCESS
6.3.1 ISSUE’S CONTEXT
6.3.1.1 Is there time for analysis?
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co
An obvious first question to ask (though one ignored by those who
assume that systematic analysis is always desirable) is whether or not
there is sufficient time available to carry out an analysis. Political
or other constraints may require that a decision has to be taken in the
near future (for example, because the minister has committed himself
to make a statement by a specified date). If the need is for a ‘decision’
rather than a fully documented ‘conclusion’ there is likely to be little
enthusiasm for formal analysis.
Shortage of time need not mean, however, that there is no role for
analysis at all. The analytical input may take the form of a ‘quick and
dirty’ exercise. If so, it should try to limit decisions to those which have
to be taken in the short term and retain flexibility to allow subsequent
alteration (Wiseman, 1978, 78). Clearly this will be easiest in cases
where the minimum outlay of resources is low (cf. 6.3.4.2). In any case,
time is rarely an absolute constraint (for example, ministers can some
times be persuaded to make a holding statement) and if kh issue scores
liigh on other criteria indicating the need for further analysis, any time
constraint may have to be reassessed. Also the time by which an issue
has to be decided is only one aspect of whether or not there will be
time for analysis; the other aspect is the length of time the proposed
analysis will take, which will in turn reflect the complexity and signifi
cance of the issue (see 6.3.2.3 and 6.3.3.1). Where appropriate, the
starting time of an analysis can be advanced (i.e. it can be given
preference in the queue of problems awaiting analysis) and the minimum
time involved can be reduced by concentrating analytical resources
upon it.
6.3.1.2 To what extent does the issue have political overtones?
‘Political’ here is not confined to party political issues, though these
are obviously important. There are many other types of politics: inter
departmental and intradepartmental politics, interprofessional and
interregional politics, and many others. What often happens is that a
disagreement about a particular issue falls along the same fissure-lines
as those which already tend to divide parties, or departments, or pro
fessions on many other issues. This means that the particular issue in
question will more readily become ‘politicized’. It will thereby also
become potentially more significant in the eyes of the organization,
ISSUE FILTRATION
93
which might suggest the need for analysis. But the very fact that it is
a ‘sensitive’ issue may serve to exclude analysis, especially where the
organisation’s leaders fear that an open, frank, and allegedly ‘objective’
analysis may expose them to criticism or exacerbate relations between
contending groups. This sort of political sensitivity was one reason for
the rejection by Whitehall departments of some subjects as potential
candidates for PARs (programme analysis and review) in the early
1970s (Gray and Jenkins, 1983).
Thus the ‘political’ criterion is double-edged. A political issue may
seem to require analysis, especially when it relates to fundamental
questions of purposes and priorities within the organization; but a
high degree of political sensitivity may mean that the issue does not
lend itself to analysis.
6.3.1.3 Have fixed positions been adopted on the issue?
When an issue is ‘political’ in one of the senses indicated abqve, there is
a tendency for party politicians or powerful figures within the bureau
cracy to have preconceived ideas and to adopt fixed positions from
which analysis is unlikely to move them. Indeed even the suggestion
that an analysis should be carried out may receive very short shrift
indeed. Thus, in Mrs Thatcher’s Whitehall, it would be a brave analyst
who proposed a study of alternatives to monetarism. Nor have recent
Labour governments seemed likely to welcome a possibly critical
review of comprehensive education.
6.3.1.4 How central to the concerns of the organization is the issue?
A final criterion related to the ‘context’ in which an issue presents
itself (also to ‘repercussions’, see 6.3.3 below) is the extent to which it
is perceived as having ‘centrality’. This test is difficult to define but
easy to recognize in practice. That is, some issues are seen as relating
to the key values or purposes of an organization, or as bringing to
gether many strands of policy, or as having long-term implications or
widespread ramifications, or as creating precedents or guidelines for
future decisions. For these or other reasons, such issues are seen as
central rather than peripheral. Provided they are not too sensitive
politically, they appear eminently suited to analysis.
6.3.2 ISSUE’S INTERNAL CHARACTERISTICS
6.3.2.1 Is there scope for choice?
It is important to establish what range of options is open in tackling
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ANALYSIS IN THE POLICY PROCESS
ISSUE FILTRATION
the issue. The really difficult policy issues are t'those which require
choices to be made, particularly where the choices involve large numbers
of diverse factors. Where there are no real choices, or all options seem
likely to produce much the same outcomes, or a policy line is heavily
indicated by political or circumstantial factors (e.g. financial con
straints), then there might seem little point in conducting in-depth
analysis. Conversely where there appear to be genuine policy choices
the case for reference to analysis would seem stronger.
but the more general point is that the contribution of analysis is likely
to be more obvious and acceptable when dealing with issues which
lend themselves to fact-finding, quantification, the comparison of
commensurables, and relatively ’objective’ analysis. There are other
issues which can only be considered in ‘subjective’ or value-laden terms.
Abortion is perhaps an extreme example of an issue where the grounds
of dispute are located in strongly held and widely differing value
judgements, related to ethical and even religious beliefs. Capital punish
ment is another example of a value-laden issue. This is not to say that
analysis has no contribution to make to such issues, but the contri
bution will be limited to, say, appraising the validity of the ‘facts’
advanced by contending groups or clarifying the value differences
underlying the debate. Given the limited resources available for analysis,
it might seem wise to attach only low priority to value-laden issues.
6.3.2.2 How much consensus is there about the issue and the solution?
CH
O
Related to the criterion of choice is the question of how much con
sensus there is about both the nature of the issue and the best policy
lor tackling it. If there is virtual consensus then analysts may have little
to contribute, unless they can see value in acting as devil’s advocate
on occasion (e.g. when it seems that other options are being neglected
or that the consensus is based upon an unquestioning ‘conventional
wisdom’). Where there is not only a range of choice but also disagree
ment, (here might seem to be a particularly useful role for analysis.
6.3.2.3 How complex is the issue?
Systematic analysis would seem to have a major contribution to make
where there is disagreement about the definition and scope of an issue
or where there are many. considerations
and ------criteriaj to
t be
\ weighed
--------- —
against each other in selecting a solution. Issues which involve a number
of different factors have particular appeal for the analyst.
6.3.2.4 How much uncertainty is there about the issue and possible
outcomes?
The complexity of an issue-and its appeal for analysis-will be increased if there is a high degree of uncertainty about the nature of an
issue, the causal factors at work, the likely outcomes, and the feasibility
of various solutions. Deciding between alternative solutions often
involves choices between small, but fairly certain, gains and much larger,
but also quite uncertain, gains. Analysis should have a good deal to’
contribute to issues involving the identification and consideration of
probabilities. An issue might be expected to be of particular interest
to an analyst if its outcome was both potentially significant (see 6.3.1.4
and 6.3.3) and highly uncertain.
6.3.2.5 How value-laden is the issue?
This may overlap with the question of political overtones (6.3.1.2)
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6.3.3 ISSUE’S REPERCUSSIONS
6.3.3.1 What scale of consequences is involved?
The resolution of a particular issue may involve bringing the organiza
tion (perhaps even the State) into a completely new area of activity,
or terminating existing activities, or replacing an entire programme
rather than altering it incrementally. An example might be deciding
whether or not to omit the next generation of development of fission
technology in civil nuclear policy and go directly in pursuit of fusion
technology (the ‘controlled hydrogen bomb’). As Americans say, the
latter would be ‘a whole new ball-game’ with not only technological
and industrial but also social, political, and military implications. Such
a policy issue would clearly demand a larger input of analysis than
other issues with less far-reaching consequences.
6.3.3.2 Will many people be affected?
Different issues impact upon different sizes of ‘constituencies’ or
affected groups. Some issues involve very large numbers of people.
For example ..legislation to make wearing of seal-belts in cars compulsory
affects all drivers and front-seat passengers. Simple political reasoning
suggests that issues which affect large groups of people appear more
likely to justify the expense of large analytical inputs.
6.3.3.3 How significant are the affected groups?
More advanced political reasoning will remind us that the size of an
affected group is not the only determinant of its significance. In the
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ANALYSIS IN THE POLICY PROCESS
ISSUE FILTRATION
health services, for example, a small ‘client group’ can be politically
significant if its members are well-organized and vocal (such as the
drivers of invalid cars) or evocative of popular and media concern (such
as the thalidomide children). Such groups may be able to secure the
attention of both analysts and politicians. Conversely, much larger but
less organized client groups, such as sufferers from bronchial diseases,
may receive little consideration.
the denial of the same funds to project B and C with the loss of oppor
tunities for possibly higher returns (‘opportunity cost’). These are all
examples of the same insight, namely that certain issues (or certain
ways of handling those issues) are important because they have the
effect of seriously restricting the alternatives open to the agency and/
or limiting the agency’s future freedom of action. Such issues and their
resolution both require and lend themselves to analysis. As Wiseman
(1978, 77) puts it:
6.3.3.4 How significantly is the group affected?
o
TJ
rn
As Wiseman (1978, 78) suggests, ‘A small client group which could be
provided with life-saving conditions might therefore be as important
as a much larger group where disease condition(s) can only be reduced
in severity and not cured’. More generally, an issue which involves
significant consequences for a significant group is likely to be given
high priority on the agenda of both politicians and analysts.
97
Because there is usually considerable uncertainty about the future
situation, decisions about the future should wherever possible be made
in the future. When commitments have to be made, the level of flexi
bility of action they allow to be retained into the future is important
in adapting to the inevitably changing circumstances. If any options are
such that they will commit significant resources far into the future in
a virtually irreversible way then very detailed and careful study of them
will be required before any implementation should be contemplated.
6.3.3.5 Is the issue likely to ramify and affect other issues?
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Many issues are relatively insulated, so that decisions on them will
have little or no impact upon other issues, policies, or agencies. The
need for analysis would seem to be limited accordtfigly. However,
some issues tend to ramify, to have ‘knock-on’ or side effects, and to
have far-reaching consequences for the parent organization and for
other agencies. These may qualify for analysis on the grounds of
centrality (6.3.1.4) and complexity (6.3.2.3); but analysts have a more
direct contribution to make to such issues in terms of tracing and
assessing their ramifications and repercussions throughout the larger
system. This type of analytical activity may be particularly suitable for a
central unit such as a corporate planning group in a local authority or the
former Central Policy Review Staff in the Cabinet Office. The influential
work of CPRS on population trends and their impheations for public
services is a good example of this sort of analysis (CPRS, 1977).
6.3.3.6 Will acting upon the issue restrict the agency’s future
flexibility of action?
Former US Defense Secretary McNamara used to warn his colleagues
against adopting policy options which would ‘foreclose’ other options.
British civil servants are taught to recognize decisions which may be
quoted as precedents or ‘decision rules’ (Keeling, 1972) and thus
commit their department. Any economist knows that the true cost of
‘project A’ is not simply the cash outlay (‘accountant’s cost’) but rather
6.3.4 COSTS OF ACTION AND ANALYSIS
6.3.4.1 How large are the costs of acting on the issue?
Almost every policy issue will have a cost dimension. Issues which
involve major costs (not simply in terms of money but also real re
sources of manpower, materials, land, etc.) might seem to be selfevidently those deserving high priority in terms of analytical inputs.
However, there are other aspects of the cost question. For example, an
agency head might insist that any ‘spending option’ involving an outlay
of more than £100,000 should be referred for analysis. However,
£100,000 is a significant sum for a small agency and almost insignificant
for a much larger agency. Thus, if any rule of thumb about costs were
to be applied, it would be more realistic to refer a spending option for
analysis if it committed, say 2% or more of the budgeted revenue
expenditure. In other words, relative cost is more relevant than absolute
cost in determining any threshold for analysis.
6.3.4.2 Cost increment or quantum jump?
The argument for incrementalism (see chapter 4) is that an agency can
move from a known present into an unknown future by a series of
small steps based upon trial and error and experiential learning, with
little or no need for costly analysis. For example, it would be possible
to introduce a small-scale traffic-management scheme in Bradford and,
if it worked, to expand it gradually in other towns, even nation-wide
ANALYSIS IN THE POLICY PROCESS
ISSUE FILTRATION
eventually, without any prior or formal analysis being involved. Con
trast this with the case, quoted earlier, of pursuing the ‘fusion’ option
in nuclear civil policy. A fusion reactor cannot be developed incre
mentally (or, for that matter, terminated decrementally): both literally
and metaphorically, it has a ‘critical size’ below which nothing will
happen and the minimum commitment of resources involved in
embarking upon such a policy initiative is enormous and irreducible
(Schulman, 1980). Many programmes based upon advanced tech
nology (Concorde, space travel, etc.) have extremely high ‘entry fees’
and the funding agency’s budget will rapidly move on to a new plateau
rather than increase gradually over the years. This used to be called
‘lumpy expenditure’ but has now attracted the more impressive label
of a ‘quantum jump’ in expenditure.
Where tackling a policy issue will commit an agency to a very large
minimum outlay, especially one which is virtually irreversible (e.g.
Concorde), there is the clearest of cases for prior and extensive datagathering, forecasting, research and analysis.
be denied to another, potentially fruitful, analysis so that there are con
siderations of opportunity cost involved here as well. Other things being
equal, analyses which would tie up many resources should be approached
with great caution.
98
6.3.4.3 For how long a period will resources be committed?
CH
ro
J. K. Galbraith (1969) argues that one of the ‘planning imperatives’
in modern industry arises from the fact that the average ‘lead time’
of investment is increasing (i.e. the period elapsing between the decision
to invest and any return on that investment). When large volumes of
resources (see 6.3.4.2) are likely to be tied up for long periods of time,
there would seem to be a strong case for planning to precede commit
ments, in the public sector as in industry. Among other considerations,
the opportunity costs (6.3.3.6) of such decisions will be high.
Time considerations also add to the complexity (6.3.2.3) of a
decision, since a pound spent (or received) today has a different value
from a pound to be spent (or received) several years ahead. Modern
methods of investment appraisal include provision for ‘discounting
for time’ (‘discounted cash flow’ methods): although the calculations
are fairly simple, some of the assumptions involved are controversial
and such project appraisal is best put in the hands of professional
analysts.
6.3.4.4 What will be the cost of analysis?
Perhaps surprisingly, given its emphasis on the rational use of resources,
much of the policy analysis literature ignores the cost of the analysis
itself. The resources of money and manpower available for analysis are
usually severely limited. The resources committed to one analysis may
99
6.3.4.5 Will rhe analysis have pay-off?
Other things are rarely equal, however, and the cost of any analysis
must be set against the anticipated benefit in terms of better policy,
especially when the issue involved is central, complex, likely to ramify,
and significant in terms of the various dimensions identified above.
J
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1
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When we think about the political world, (he names of certain governmental insti
tutions come to mind. These institutions have such names as the Senate, (he
Chamber of Deputies, the prime minister, the Ministry of Defense, the KGB. the
Treasury, and the Supreme Court. Each of these labels represents a particular
component of one of the four major structures of governance, which are generally
termed the legislature, the executive, the administration, and the judiciary. Thisr
chapter provides some broad descriptive generalizations about the nature and
roles of these four common governmental structures (hat operate within most na
tion-slates.
In Chapter 5, an analytic distinction was made between certain functions of
governance, such as rule making and rule adjudication, and the institutional struc
tures that might be involved in the performance of those functions. This distinc
tion between functions and structures can be confusing, because there is a ten
dency to identify a certain function with a certain structure. For example, one
might assume that the national legislature is the structure (hat dominates the rule
making function. But the distinction between function and structure is useful be
cause, minimally, there might be other structures besides the legislature that are
significantly involved in the rule-making function. In (he United Stales, for exam
ple, there are major rule-making activities not only in the Congress, but also
from the chief executive (the president), the upper levels of the administration
(the cabinet departments), and the judiciary (particularly the Supreme Court).
And in China, the national legislature has almost no real power over the rule
making function, which is carried out by the Communist parly and the political
executive.
This chapter emphasizes the general nature of each major institutional struc
ture, the basic building blocks of most contemporary political systems. Il also
indicates the primary functions that are typically performed by each institutional
structure. As you read this chapter, remember that each of the four major struc
tures can perform a variety of functions in a particular political system and can
be composed of many different substructures. For these reasons, (he discussions
emphasize broad patterns and generalizations, although there are always excep
tions and variations across the many nation-states.
THE LEGISLATURE
Most states (about 80 percent) have a legislature as a part of their basic structures
of governance. Among the names of legislatures (which can have one or two
“houses”) are the Senate and the House of Representatives (United States), the
Senate and the Chamber of Deputies (Chile, Mexico, and Venezuela, among oth
ers), (he Legislative Assembly (Costa Rica), the National People’s Congress
(China), (he People’s Chamber (East Germany), the National Assembly (Egypt
and Tanzania, among others), the Lok Sabha and the Rajya Sabha (India), (he
Knesset (Israel), the House of Representatives and the House of Councillors (Ja- pan), and the House of Commons and House of Lords (United Kingdom).
Roles of the Legislature
Legislatures have always been structures where policy issues are discussed and
assessed. Indeed, the roots of the name of the first modern legislature, the British
Parliament, suggests this crucial function—the French word purler, “to talk".
Most early legislatures were initially created to provide advice to the political
executive, typically a monarch, and to represent politically relevant groups. Many
legislatures have also been responsible for a second major function—enacting
public’policies. 1 he roots ol the word legislature itself are the Latin words legis,
meaning “law,” and latio. “bringing or proposing.” Some of the earliest legisla
tures, such as the Roman Senate (from about 5(X) n.c. to 100 A.D.), had great
power to discuss and enact laws.
Although a particular legislature might not exercise these powers, most legis
latures are supposed to have three broad roles: (I) enacting legislation, (2) repre
senting the citizenry, and (3) overseeing the executive. In (he discussion of these
roles that follows, be aware that it is difficult to generalize about (he actual func
tions of the legislatures in all contemporary political systems. First, these actual
(unctions arc often quite different from those specified in the state s normative
rules, such as those in constitutions. Second, the actual functions of legislatures
vary considerably from stale to slate. Third, they vary through time within a slate.
Fourth, even in one lime period, the role of the legislature within a slate can vary
bccaose of the particular issue or set of personalities who are active.
Enactment of Legislation. It might seem obvious that legislatures draft, modify,
and then ratify public policy in the form of legislation. But in fact, most contempo
rary legislatures do not have the dominant role in the rule-making function. As I
suggest below, dominance in rule making has passed to the executive in most
political systems.
Nonetheless, many legislatures continue to have an active and significant role
in the rule-making function. The essence of the legislature’s power in rule making
is, in most political systems, a constitutional provision that a majority vole of
the members of the legislature is required to authorize the passage of any law
(“legislative enactment”). The power to enact laws that raise revenue and to au
thorize its expenditure on public policies (“the power of the purse”) has been a
central responsibility of the legislative majority. In some systems, legislatures
have a system of special committees that thoroughly assess and can amend all
proposed legislation that is under the committees’ jurisdiction. And in some politi
cal systems, many laws are also initiated and drafted by members of the legisla
ture.
Representation of the Citizenry. A second major role of the legislature is to repre
sent, within the governing process, the opinions and interests of the citizenry.
Most legislators are elected by some set of the eligible voters, and it is assumed
that a key responsibility of a legislator is to reflect and to serve the best interests
of those voters.
However, the concept of representation is not straightforward, because there
EOLIFICAL INSTITUTIONS II. STRUCTURES
are at least four different conceptions of the “interests” that a legislator might
attempt to represent: (I) the group that is most dominant in the legislator’s consti
tuency, possibly a social class or an occupational class or an ethnic group; (2) (he
political party to which the legislator owes loyalty; (3) the nation-state as a whole,
whose broad interests might transcend those of any group or party; or (4) the
legislator’s own conscience, which provides a moral/inlellectual judgment about
appropriate political behavior (a position made famous in a brilliant justification
in 1774 by British parliamentarian Edmund Burke in his “Address to the Electors
of Bristol” (1855/1967:219-222)).
Is it possible for a legislator to represent all four voices simultaneously? In
reality, (he legislators in most contemporary legislatures do not experience deep
conflict in dealing with the problem of representation.
CH
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For some legislators there is no choice, because they hold office in undemo
cratic systems where their actions are dictated by the political leadership,
and thus they act as little more than “rubber stamps.” This would charac
terize the behavior of a legislator in Cuba or Iran, for example.
Some legislators, in both nondemocralic and relatively democratic political
systems, are deeply committed to adhere to their political party’s line or
must obey the party to survive politically. This is usually the situation for
most members of the British House of Commons, for example.
Some legislators feel such deep loyalty to particular group or societal norms
(hat (hey seldom experience seriously conflicting pressures.
There arc only a few political systems where most national legislators are
not significantly constrained by these forces. The U.S. Congress is an example.
Legislators can experience underlying tensions, as they attempt to balance legiti
mate but competing interests that would lead them to support different decisions
or actions. Even in such systems, there is predictability in most legislators'
choices (on the basis of some dimension such as conservative-radical ideology or
party-political loyally). But there can be considerable variation, as the legislator
attempts to balance competing interests, and also as she attempts to do some vote
trading, compromising on some issues to insure greater support for the issues
about which she cares most deeply.
Oversight of the Executive. The third major role of legislators concerns their inter
actions with the executive. In general, the legislature is responsible to oversee (he
actions of the political executive, and legislators in some systems have substantial
capacity to influence what the executive does. The legislature might have (he
constitutional right to select the executive, to authorize major policy decisions by
the executive, and to approve the chief executive’s selection of key appointments.
In some systems, such as India and West Germany, the president is actually cho
sen by the legislature (although it is the prime minister, not (he president, who is
(he most powerful executive officer in these systems).
Many legislatures have the right to approve the executive's selection of major
appointments. The Israeli legislature must approve the cabinet as a whole. And
%
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131
the U.S. Senate has the right to “advise and consent" on such presidential ap
pointments as cabinet members or Supreme Court justices. The Senate’s 1987
rejection of Judge Robert Bork, President Reagan s nominee for the Supreme
Court, is an example of a legislature asserting its power over appointments. Also,
in cabinet systems, the cabinet and prime minister hold office only if they have
the confidence of the majority of (he members of (he legislature. Also, the cabi
net s policies are only enacted if they are approved by the legislative majority
A second area ol legislative oversight involves the right of the legislature to
scrutinize executive performance. In many political systems, there are regular
procedures by which the legislature can question and even investigate whether
the executive has acted properly in the implementation of public policies. Al mini
mum, the legislature serves as a discussion and debating chamber. In subjecting
the plans and actions ol the political executive to public debate, a modest check
on executive power is established. Many legislatures have a more direct right,
during legislative sessions, to question the specific plans and actions of particular
members of the executive. In Britain, Italy, and West Germany, for example,
each^minister in the executive cabinet must appear before the legislature and jus
tify any actions taken by her department that are questioned by a legislator.
Most legislatures also have formal investigatory powers on a continuing or a
case-by-case basis, investigations by the U .S. Congress of the Watergate burglary
(1972) and of the Iran/Nicaragua arms-for-hostages-for-co/nr^-aid deal (1987) arc
dramatic American examples of such oversight. In addition, some legislatures
have followed the innovative idea of Sweden, selling up an ombudsman—an inde
pendent agency that investigates complaints regarding the actions of the executive
branch and its bureaucracies. If legislative questioning, committees, or the om
budsman discover inappropriate behavior by the executive, there is significant
political pressure on the executive to correct it. Of course, if the executive resists
such pressure, the ultimate resolution of the dispute entails either legal adjudica
tion or. in most cases, a power struggle between the executive and the legislature.
The most fundamental power of oversight held by some legislatures is their
capacity to overturn the government. In a cabinet system, the legislature can
oblige ot; pressure the executive to resign from office by a vote of censure or of
no confidence or by defeating a major bill put forth by the executive. Even in
presidential systems, the legislature has the power to overturn the executive, by
means of the extraordinary process of impeachment. Impeachment is quite rare
in presidential systems. In the United States, no president has left office due to
impeachment, although Andrew Johnson was acquitted on the House’s impeach
ment charge by only one vote in the Senate (in 1868), and Richard Nixon avoided
an impeachment trial only by resignation (in 1974).
Structural Arrangements
Number of Houses. There is one very visible difference in the structural arrange
ments of different legislatures—the number of houses (often called chambers).
About three-fifths of the nation-states with legislatures have unicameral or onechamber legislatures. The presumed advantages of a unicameral system are that
)
132
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POLITICAL SYSTEMS
political responsibility is clearly located in one body and that risks of duplication
or stalemate between parallel legislative bodies are eliminated. These arguments
sound similar to those put forth in favor of a unitary stale. And, in fact, most
unitary states have unicameral legislatures. Among the many slates with unicam
eral legislatures are Algeria, Bulgaria; China, Costa Rica, Denmark, Finland,
Greece, Hungary, Israel, New Zealand, Kenya, Poland, South Korea, Sweden,
and Tanzania.
In contrast, many of the states that have two legislative chambers—bicam
eral legislatures—are federations. These federal stales include Australia, Canada,
India, Mexico, the Soviet Union, the United States, Venezuela, and West Ger
many. There are bicameral systems in some unitary stales such as Britain.
France, Italy, and Japan. Given the apparent advantages of a unicameral system,
what is the justification for a second chamber?
One argument is that two legislative houses insure more careful and thorough
deliberation on issues and laws. Secondly, the two houses can be based on two
different and desirable principles of representation. Thus in the United Slates, the
Soviet Union, and West Germany, one house represents the regional govern
ments in the federal system and the other house more directly represents the nu
merical and geographic distribution of citizens. Some upper houses also represent
functional groups in the society, as in the Republic of Ireland, where most mem
bers are appointed as representatives of such groups as agriculture, labor, indus
try, culture, and public services. Thirdly, in a few bicameral systems some mem
bers are selected on more individualistic criteria, as in (he Canadian Senate
(where all members are appointed for life) and the British House of Lords (where
many lords are members because of their families’ aristocratic status and (he rest
are “life” peers appointed for merit).
Over lime, some bicameral systems have evolved toward unicameral sys
tems. This has occurred where the need for extensive checks and balances within
(he legislative branch has not seemed compelling, representation in (he “peo
ple’s” chamber has seemed adequate, and the problems of overlap and stalemate
between the two chambers have increased. Some political systems, such as Swe
den and Costa Rica, have constitutionally abolished one chamber. And in other
systems, such as Norway and Britain, the powers of one chamber have been so
reduced that it can delay, but cannot veto, the decisions of the more powerful
chamber. In fact, the United States is now one of the few bicameral political
systems in which the upper chamber (the Senate) is both directly elected and
politically powerful (more powerful than the House of Representatives).
Box 7.1
A Peripheral Puzzle: Nebraska_____________________________________________
Nebraska is the only American slate government with a unicameral legislature. Can
you suggest reasons why Nebraska’s decision was a good one or a bad one?
POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS II: STRUCTURES
133
Size of Legislatures. There is enormous variation in the numbers of members
within a legislature. In his comparative study of 108 national legislatures in the
early 1970s, Jean Blondel (1973:148-153) reported considerable variation. Lower
chambers ranged from 24 to 888 members and second (“upper”) chambers ranged
from 6 to more than 800 members. The range is even larger now. with the expan
sion of some legislatures. Currently, the British House of Lords has 1.174 mem
bers. the Congress of People’s Deputies implemented in the Soviet Union in 1989
has 2,250 members, and the National People's Congress in China has 2,978 mem
bers. The U.S. Senate, by contrast, has only 100 members. In the U.S. House.
435 members are elected, proportionate to population. Japan, with half the U.S.
population, has 51 I members, and (he United Kingdom, with less than one-third
the U.S. population, has 650 members elected proportionately in their lower
chambers. Can you think of an appropriate decision rule for deciding how many
members there should be? Are there persuasive reasons for the U.S. Senate hav
ing two rather (han three—or four or N—representatives for each state?
The Decline of Legislatures
Many observers claim that in the twentieth century there has been a general de
cline in the power of legislatures, relative to executives and bureaucracies. Has
the power of the legislature declined, and if so. why? Actually, it is very difficult
to provide a definitive answer to these questions about relative power, using (he
techniques of cross-national empirical analysis. In large part, this is because the
precise measurement of power continues to be a puzzle for which political science
has no clear solution (see Box 7.2).
Given the difficulty of assessing political power with precision, can any an
swer be provided to the question of measuring the decline of legislative power?
An empirical test of the relative decline of legislative power is especially difficult,
it requires measurement and comparison of the power not only of the legislature,
but also of the executive and the bureaucracy, al several points in lime and across
several (many?) different countries. Since no studies have provided a rigorous
analysis of this issue, we might begin with a more modest question: Is there evi
dence that contemporary legislatures display significant political weaknesses? De
spite the absence of precise measures, there are a few types of circumstantial
evidence that suggest legislative weakness.
To begin with, the weakness of the legislature seems undeniable in about one
in five contemporary political systems, which have no working legislatures whose
power we might assess.
Moreover, in nearly all those slates that are classified as totalitarian and
many that are authoritarian, the legislature is essentially a “rubber stamp” for
the actions of the political executive. This lack of significant power applies to 2040 percent of the remaining states. Thus in as many as 60 percent of (he contempo
rary political systems, the legislature need not even be considered a major power
structure.
Among the 40-50 percent of political systems where there do seem to be
POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS II: STRUCTURES
cn
135
real legislatures, there are indirect indicators of the relative weakness of most
national legislatures. First, most legislatures do not provide a coherent structure
within which power can be concentrated and exercised effectively. Many legisla
tures have relatively slow and cumbersome procedures for the lawmaking func
tion. especially where there are institutionalized legislative committees that
amend legislation. This complexity in the legislative process is even more evident
in bicameral systems, since there is often disagreement between the two cham
bers.
Second, legislatures almost never have the level of support services available
to the executive. Their budgets, facilities, staff sizes, and even the legislators'
own salaries are significantly lower than those of lop members of the executive
and administrative structures. Similarly, the technical expertise and knowledge
resources within legislatures are far less than those of the executive and adminis
trative structures, a major liability when legislators attempt to deal with (he com
plex subjects facing governments in modern societies.
Third, such factors pul most legislatures al a decided disadvantage, relative
Jo the executive, as a source of major policy. In most national political systems,
the executives clearly dominate the legislatures as the source of crucial legisla
tion. Most legislatures react to policy initiatives from (he executive more than
they create policy. This is particularly true in cabinet systems, where the constitu
tional power center for lawmaking as well as law application is the executive (the
prime minister and the cabinet) rather than the legislature. And in most presiden
tial systems, policy initiatives by the executive are far more extensive than one
might expect from examining the constitutional division of power and authority
(Blondel 1973; Loewenberg 1971).
Some analysts have argued for a fourth, more social-psychological weakness
of legislatures, although there is little empirical data on this point. The claim is
(hat most citizens desire clear, dynamic, and singular political leadership; but leg
islatures are typically composed of many people who. for most citizens, are either
indistinguishable or offer loo many different identities. In the United States, for
example, it is usually possible to answer the question. What does the president
think about issue K? But how docs one answer the corresponding question. What
does the legislature think? In this case, there are not only (wo chambers and two
parties, but there is also a great diversity of different opinions among the individu
als and factions within the legislature. In a sense, even though legislatures usually
have spokespersons and leaders, no one can truly speak for the legislature. One
might even conclude that the legislature in a domestic society lends to fulfill one
of its roles too well—its members too accurately represent the diversity among
the society’s population, and thus speak with many voices.
Studies of major political institutions often mention the relative decline of
many legislatures in the twentieth century. While the empirical evidence on this
point is sketchy rather than systematic, the reasons cited in the discussion above
suggest why the power of legislatures might not have kept pace with that of other
institutions, especially the executive and the administration.
Clearly, not all legislatures are impotent or dying institutions. Certain na-
)
I JO
KULI IILAL 5 » i I
lional legislatures remain extremely powerful political structures, such as those in
the United States, Japan, Sweden, and Italy. In most other relatively democratic
political systems, legislatures have significant impacts on the authoritative alloca
tion of values through their roles in enacting legislation, in representation, and in
oversight. And in virtually all societies that have a legislature, its members can
exercise political power in many subtle ways. At least, its members have dramati
cally more political power than most other citizens.
EXECUTIVES
The historical evidence indicates that as long as there have been political systems,
there have been individuals or small groups who assume top leadership roles.
Such a leader or leaders, who arc responsible for formulating and especially for
implementing public policy, can be broadly called the executive structure. The
word executive comes from the Latin e.v seqtti. meaning “to follow out" or "to
carry out.” Thus the particular role of the executive is to carry out (he political
system’s policies, laws, or directives.
One might be tempted to generalize that a few individuals emerge as the lead
ership cadre in every political order. But (here are some historical counterexam
ples. especially from Africa and Asia, of societies that are acephalous, which
means that they are without a head. In such systems, many people in the com
munity share power relatively equally, as a collective leadership. Nonetheless, in
most sociopolitical systems a few people do assume the positions of executive
power.
Al the apex of the executive structure, there is usually a chief executive.
This might be a single individual with a title like president, prime minister, chief,
premier, supreme leader, or queen. Or there might be a small number of people
exercising collective executive leadership, as in a ruling council or a junta.
A broader definition of the executive includes net only this lop leadership,
but also the entire administrative system. Such a definition derives from the no
tion that the rule-application function (the “execution" of policy) is shared by the
lop executive group and the administration. The top executive group cannot sur
vive without the continuing support of an extensive system of people who inter
pret. administer, and enforce the policy directives of the executive. But in order
to differentiate analytically between the major political structures, we shall exam
ine the lop executive and the administration in separate sections of this chapter
Chapter 6 has already provided some analytic information about the execu
tive structure. The executive was central lo lhe description of different patterns
linking the rule-making and lhe rule-application functions. Typically, the execu
tive structure is partially or primarily responsible for rule making, as well as for
rule application. While the executive is clearly differentiated from the legislature
in lhe presidential system, lhe two structures are more integrated in cabinet,
council, and assembly systems.
Also, lhe discussions of democratic and nondemocralic political systems in
Chapter 6 emphasized lhe mechanisms by which top executive leaders attain
KOLlliCAL inoi 11 u 11 kJ no 11: ainwiisnLj
power and the conditions under which executives are replaced. Democratic exec
utives arc empowered by a limited mandate from (he citizens and can be removed
by regularized procedures that do not'require the use of power. In contrast, nondemocratic executives maintain their position in the absence of a limited mandate.
The basis of their position might be heredity or the threat/use of power. Despite
the considerable variations across states, this section will attempt to describe the
components of the executive structure and certain common roles that most politi
cal executives undertake.
Structural Arrangments
(Ji
The Chief Executive versus the Executive. The term chief executive refers to lhe
one individual or small group (such as a president, prime minister, or ruling junta)
at the apex of the executive structure of lhe political system. The executive is a
much broader term, including all the people and organizational machinery that
are below the chief executive in lhe executive structure. Thus it encompasses
upper- and middle-level decision makers in all the departments, agencies, or other
administrative units that are in the chief executive’s chain of command. As noted
above, a definition of the executive far broader than the one is this book might
also include the entire administrative system.
In theory, and usually in practice, this is a hierarchical system of political
control, in lhe sense that the actors in the executive structure are supposed lo
follow lhe directives of the chief executive. But the chief executive’s power over
lhe rest of the executive is rarely absolute. Among the reasons why lhe chief
executive’s directives might not be carried out are these:
1.
2.
3.
4.
Units within the executive might be loo disorganized to act effectively.
The executive might lack the resources to carry out policies in the man
ner desired by the chief executive.
Units might be more involved in competing against other units than in
coordinating their actions to meet the chief executive's policies.
Units might misunderstand or resist or defy the chief executive.
Can you think of other reasons?
Fused versus Dual Executives. Many political systems have a dual executive, in
which one actor performs the more ceremonial aspects of top leadership and an
other is responsible for the more political aspects of the executive role. The essen
tial virtue of the dual executive is that a citizen can be angry or hostile toward
the political executive while still remaining loyal to the nation and to the political
system through one’s affection and support for the ceremonial part of the top
executive.
Constitutional monarchies are obvious examples of political systems with a
dual executive. In these systems, there is a ruling king or queen (such as Queen
Elizabeth in Britain, Queen Margrethe II in Denmark, or Emperor Akihilo in Ja
pan) and there is also a prime minister or other political executive. The monarch
138
POLITICAL SYSTEMS
has little or no power to make authoritative value allocations; rather she serves
mainly symbolic or ceremonial functions, as an embodiment of (he nation and the
people. Chapter 6 noted some ‘hybrid” forms of government that have attempted
to create a dual executive in the absence of a monarch. They have created a
second executive office (such as the presidency in India) that is typically insulated
from the daily struggles of politics and thus can be a symbol of national unity.
A different form of dual executive exists in some political systems where the
monarch is the strong element of (he executive, but there is also a governmental
executive that exercises modest political power. For example, in the Kingdom of
Morocco. King Hassan II dominates the political process. In 1965, he suspended
the constitution and dissolved Parliament, ruling by decree until 1977, when he
allowed a new legislature to be elected, with a prime minister as chief executive.
Kuwait and the kingdoms of Bhutan and of Swaziland arc other examples where
the monarch has greater power than the prime minister.
Most political systems have a fused executive, in which (he ceremonial and
political functions of (he top executive both reside in a single actor. In such cases,
it can be difficult or impossible to distinguish loyally lo a partisan political leader
from loyalty lo lhe nation. This is often used (o advantage by political executives,
who criticize or even punish their opponents by claiming that such opponents arc
traitors lo lhe political order (although they are usually only critics of the current
lop leadership).
Roles of Executives
Leadership Roles. In modern political systems, the crucial role of the chief execu
tive is lo lead. The leadership role entails taking the initiative in formulating, artic
ulating. and implementing goals for lhe political system. In lhe contemporary po
litical’world, political leadership is virtually always identified with chid
executives. The effective chief executive becomes lhe spokesperson for lhe aspi
rations of the people, can galvanize lhe people's support for these goals, and de
velops strategies that facilitate their accomplishment. The crucial skill of lhe
“great” chief executive is this capacity to lead—to mobilize people and objects
in (he accomplishment of desirable goals.
To a large extent, initiative in policy formation is centered in lhe chief execu
tive. Executive policy leadership is especially crucial during limes of crisis, be
cause the executive structure has the potential for coherence and unanimity of
action that are often lacking in the legislature. Moreover, in most political sys
tems. lhe chief executive has lhe capacity to veto, either directly or indirectly,
the legislation that is initialed by lhe legislature. Increasingly, even (he dialling
of legislation is a function dominated by lhe executive, since many major bills
require the expertise and policy direction of lhe chief executive and its staff.
Symbolic and Ceremonial Roles. Whether a modern nation-state has a dual execu
tive or a fused executive, lhe actors in lhe executive role usually function as the
unifying symbol for lhe entire society, becoming lhe ultimate mother/falher Tig-
urcs for the people. This is especially true if (he chief executive has a strong
image, as with such leaders as Britain’s Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, Lib
ya's Muammar Qaddafi, or former U.S. president Ronald Reagan. The execu
tive’s presence becomes central to many rituals and ceremonies in the society,
whether it is the appearance of the Soviet president on the reviewing stand at the
May Day parade in Moscow’s Red Square, (he Kenyan president’s official sendoff of the national team to the Olympic games, or the British queen's Christmas
Day message on television.
Supervision of the Administration. In virtually all contemporary political systems,
the executive has primary responsibility for the rule-application function—the im
plementation of the policies and laws of the political order. At the apex of this
administrative hierarchy, which might include millions of public employees in the
state’s departments, bureaus, and agencies, is the lop group of the executive
structure. Most systems have an executive cabinet, each of whose members is
directly and personally responsible for some major area of administration. Given
the scale and complexity of the activities that arc being supervised, these top
executive actors can*nei(her know nor control all of the actions that occur in their
domain. But they are supposed to sttf (he broad guidelines of rule application
and in many political systems they are accountable for any major failures that oc
cur. In cabinet systems, for example, the minister of a department will usually
resign if there is a serious shortcoming or blunder in the area under her respon
• cn
sibility.
• The Age of the Executive?
Although chief executives have nearly always been evident, and usually ascen
dent, in political systems, some analysis call the twentieth century the “age of
the executive.” This label reflects (he apparent concentration of power in execu
tives and the relative decline of legislatures’ powers. Why do analysts claim that
(his has occurred? To some extent, this is a chicken-and-egg issue: The reduced
capacity of the legislature for coherent and decisive slate action is linked to the
emergence of coherent and decisive executives.
In comparison to legislatures, the executive structure lends to be more
streamlined and less prone to stalemale and inaction. And the executive, centered
in a single individual or small group, can offer a unified focus for a mass public
that desires simplicity and clarity in an age of great complexity. If a contemporary
mass public wants some form of heroic leadership, it is most likely to be sought
from the chief executive. The chief executive typically speaks with one voice and,
when effective, can assure the people that political power will be exercised with
certainty and efficiency to respond to the pressures and demands in the society
and in the international environment.
Even if a chief executive cannot deliver, she can al least promise decisive
leadership in a manner that no other political structure can. Since most political
systems have always had a significant or even a dominant executive structure, the
twentieth century might merely be more executive-dominated than many other
historical periods. Can you specify conditions under which a stale would be likely
to be dominated by a structure pther than the political executive?
CO
Supervision of the Military and Foreign Affairs. Given the slate’s monopoly ot the
legitimate use of force, the military, including internal security forces, is an area
over which the top political executive usually has direct control. In such cases,
the lop executive is the commander in chief of the entire military system of the
stale, including personnel and other resources (aircraft, nuclear weapons, military
intelligence, etc.). The chief executive must set policy and supervise the organiza
tion and utilization of the state’s military capabilities, a task that can carry the
most serious consequences for the security and well-being of the society.
Associated with control of the military is the executive’s responsibility for
foreign affairs—the stale’s relations with other nation-states. As Chapter 13 will
describe more fully, the relations between slates involve complex patterns of co
operation and conflict, as each stale attempts to accomplish its own goals in the
international environment. The chief executive, or her delegates, represents the
stale in its dealings with other countries. Particular significance is often attached
to situations where the chief executives of different states meet directly, as in
a stale visit or a “summit conference.” In fact, such meetings among heads of
stale typically are symbolic gestures of cooperation or ratify agreements that have
been reached by the chief executives’ representatives. But the concentration
of the state’s political power in the chief executives is so great that such meet
ings can provide opportunities for major breakthroughs in the relations between
the stales.
THE ADMINISTRATION
While the chief executive can be understood as the managers of the rule-applica
tion function, the broader executive of a political system—the administration—
consists of the thousand’s or even millions of public employees who do the ongo
ing business of interpreting and implementing the policies enacted by the stale.
These employees arc divided into organizational units called by such names as
departments, ministries, agencies, or bureaus. The stale’s military and police
forces are often a particularly crucial component of the administration.
The administration is the machinery of government without which the politi
cal system could barely function. The units perform such important activities as
the maintenance of order, the collection of revenues, the keeping of records, the
provision of public goods and services (e g., roads, education, solid waste dis
posal. health care, monetary aid for the needy), and the regulation or actual con
trol of the factors of production (eg., production of steel, provision of transporta
tion, growth and distribution of food).
Bureaucracy as One Form of Administration
In most discussions, administration and bureaucracy are synonymous concepts.
In (he attempt to clarify our language of political analysis, it might be helpful to
distinguish them. In this view, adminisiraiion is (he general term for (he machin-
4
BOX 7.3________________________________________________ ______
rl A’
un
-.Vw-.-.
Government Bureau" by George Tooker (Metropolitan Museum ol An)
UP
ery and also the processes through which rules and policies are applied and imple
mented. Bureaucracy ts a particular structure and style through which the admin
istration can operate. Bureaucratic structure and style have received their
efimtive description from the great German sociologist. Max Weber, whom wc
first encountered in Chapter I. Structurally, bureaucracy is characterized by hier
archical organization and specialization by means of an elaborate division of laor. Weber also defined the “ideal-type” bureaucracy by several key characteris
tics of its style of operation: (1) Its members apply specific rules of action to each
case. (2) so that the resulting treatment of each case is rational (3) and nondiscretionary, (4) and predictable, (5) and impersonal (Weber 1958a: 196-244).
Some readers might always have experienced treatment by public administra
tors that is consistent with these distinguishing features. This is quite possible,
"Dealing" with the Administration
in Gamma and Delta_______________
An imaginary example might help illustrate the contrast between a classic bureau
cracy and one that does not fulfill Weber’s criteria. Two citizens, A and B, each
intend to undertake an identical activity: to open and operate a small shop selling
tea and pastries in the market district.
In the country of Gamma, both A and B apply to the Ministry of Business,
where an employee requires each to complete a standard form and to pay a fixed
application fee. An inspector from the Ministry of Health examines the premises to
insure that all health and sanitation regulations are met. When rat droppings are
found in both premises, both A and B are obliged to hire an extermination service.
Each receives the health certificate only after pest eradication and a second inspec
tion. Both A and B open their shops.
In the country of Delta, A and B make the same application. However, A is a
member of the dominant ethnic group and B is not. When A applies to the Ministry
of Business, she is given a form to complete by the clerk, also a member of her ethnic
group, and the form is approved. When B applies, she is told that the maximum
number of permits for the market district has already been issued. After lengthy
discussion, B telephones her cousin, who is an important politician in the local gov
ernment. The cousin contacts the undersecretary in the Ministry, on behalf of B's
request, and the application form is now provided and permission is granted. When
the inspector from the Ministry of Health examines A’s shop, she finds rat droppings.
She threatens to refuse the certificate, and so A offers her a substantial amount of
money. The inspector completes a report in which the shop passes the inspection.
When the same inspector goes to B’s shop, she claims to find evidence of rats. When
she can show B no evidence, B demands her certificate. The inspector shrugs, pro
vides the name of the only extermination service she “guarantees,” refuses the cer
tificate to open the shop, and leaves.
The contrast between the two imaginary cases is clear. The administrators in
Gamma behave in accordance with the bureaucratic ideal. Both A and B receive fair
and identical treatment and all rules of procedure are scrupulously followed. In
Delta, however, the treatment of A and B is very different. A manages to succeed
because she is a member of the favored ethnic group and because she is willing to
bribe an inspector. B overcomes the hurdle of her unfavored ethnicity because she
has an influential contact; but she fails to open her shop because she is not willing
to accede to the extortion attempt by the inspector.
since some nation-states have deeply incorporated this bureaucratic style But
there are also many contemporary political systems, and even more examples
historically, where there are frequent instances of unpredictable and personal
treatment. In these systems, the treatment that you receive can depend on the
attitudes of the administrator with whom you interact, as well as who you are.
and whom you know. Or it can depend on what favors or benefits you offer to
the administrative actor who deals with your case (see Box 7.3).
Among contemporary political systems, situations like that in the imaginary
system of Delta are widespread. Personal contacts and bribes (in various socie
ties, these are referred to as grease, chai, baksheesh, or dash} are often an essen-
tial clement of success in dealing with the administration. Indeed, in some socie
ties, a style like that in Della is viewed as normal and even appropriate, because
it is assumed that individual treatment and personal favors are preferable to rigid
application of the rules.
Is there a reasonable argument against a Weberian-slyle bureaucracy? In
complex societies, terming an organization ''bureaucratic” is not usually intended
to be a compliment. Some criticisms of bureaucracy are really directed at all large
administrative structures that exercise increasing control over people’s lives and
Ik- £+
that expand their organizational domain (i.e., their turf) to a level where they arc
seen as too large and powerful. But at its heart, the negative use of the bureau
cracy label has come to connote a system that is too inflexible and impersonal.
The application of rules is so rigid that extenuating circumstances tend to be over
looked. and every individual is merely treated as a number. Bureaucrats them
selves are seen to be relatively free of political accountability, because they are
protected by professional norms and hiring/firing rules, which give them quasi
permanent tenure and insulate them from political pressure.
Despite criticisms of its occasional excesses in practice, the Weberian bu
reaucracy is celebrated as an ideal form in most contemporary political systems.
In the abstract, most people would prefer an administrative system that is overly
rigid and impersonal to one that is based on corruption and personal favoritism.
Rather like the ideal of democracy, many countries claim to be operating in terms
of the ideals of Weberian bureaucracy. But there are enormous differences in the
extent to which such ideals are consistently applied, especially in environments
where the ideals are inconsistent with traditional practice.
Administrative Functions and Power *
CTt
O
The scale of activity of the slate's administrative structure depends upon that
political system’s definition of res publica. As the political system penetrates a
larger sphere of the society and economy, there is a corresponding need for a
more extensive administrative structure, since the administration serves as the
basic apparatus through which the state interprets, implements, and monitors its
value allocation decisions. Thus the administrative system tends to be larger, in
relation to the society, as the political system becomes more totalitarian.
Given the very substantial variations in the definition of res publica, there
arc at least five broad functions that are performed, more or less extensively, by
the administrative structures in contemporary political systems.
Information management. Administrators are responsible for the collec
tion. storage, and analysis of huge amounts of data and information about
the individuals and processes in the society. This information provides
a crucial data base—recording activities and conditions in the society,
measuring the nature and impact of public policies, and informing many
ongoing decisions and actions related to the allocation of public values.
2. Provision of knowledge. Many administrators develop great expertise
within their specialized areas. This knowledge can be of enormous utility
for virtually every decision and action undertaken by the political
I.
3.
4.
system.
.
(
Provision of public goods and services. The essential work of the admin
istrative structure’is the rule-application function. Administrators must
constantly interpret and apply public policies that provide public goods
and services to individuals and groups.
Regulation and enforcement of public policies. The administrators are
also responsible lo interpret and apply many public policies that set
5.
guidelines for the behavior of individuals or groups. These can vary
greatly, from monitoring collusion among corporations lo enforcing traf
fic laws to protecting the civil rights of ethnic minorities.
Extraction of resources. In roles such as collector of revenues from citi
zens and businesses or operator of state-owned companies producing
goods and services, the administrative structure is in charge of many
tasks that generate resources for the political system.
This brief and general list of functions suggests the enormous breadth and
depth of the administrative structure and its activities. Some observers argue that
in the complex, extensive, and knowledge-based political systems of the laic
twentieth century, the power of the bureaucracy is supreme. Although the admin
istrators are, in theory, “servants” of their political masters and clients, it might
be that in reality these roles are reversed. Bureaucrats have such unmatched
knowledge and experience in their specialized domains that generalist politicians
rarely have sufficient expertise to question the bureaucrats' information, recom
mendations. or actions. And their power to grant or withhold benefits provides
them with considerable leverage over clients. Career administrators have quasipermanenl tenure while politicians and clients come and go. The modern bureau
cracy has such wide-ranging power and competence that it is typically credited
with maintaining political systems when executives and legislatures arc ineffec
tive. as in the Third and Fourth Republics in France and in many modernizing
states in Africa and Asia. Max Weber himself might have had the last word when
he observed that, “in the modern state, the actual ruler is necessarily and un
avoidably the bureaucracy
.” (I958a:211).
THE JUDICIARY
In a Hobbesian slate of nature, disputes among individuals would normally be
resolved by force or the threat of force. In such a selling, “might makes right “
Thus a primary reason for the social contracl is lo authorize the slate to intervene
in the potential and actual disputes among individuals and groups, by creating and
enforcing rules regarding proper forms of interaction.
Every society holds that those who violate its rules and laws must be sanc
tioned. But the rules in each society are deeply inOuenced by its unique culture
history, and politics, and there are usually ambiguities regarding the rules:
What docs the rule mean0
Has a rule been violated?
Who are the “guilty” actors0
How serious is the offense0
What sanctions are appropriate?
These kinds of ambiguities are resolved through the rule-adjudication function in
POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS II: STRUCTURES
147
now treat political structures more richly.
For a while, political structures seemed so fluid that they were trea ed as
secondary elements, merely forming a context with which various political, eco
nomic and social groups must deal as the groups’ actions result in the allocation
of values for the society. But in the past decade, many scholars have reempha
sized the importance of institutional arrangements. For the new institutional
ists •• the particular configuration of political structures can powerful y shape poHtical actions and outcomes (March and Olson 1984). For the ••neostattsts.
he
Packing the Supreme Court:
F.D.R. versus the Judicial Branch»
CT»
POLITICAL SYSTEMS
lure. Thus precise behaviorally oriented and process-based analyses of politics
BOX 7.4
There is a constant interplay of power between the judiciary and other structures. A
classic example of this interplay occurred in the United States during President
Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal (1933-1940). Roosevelt drafted and pushed through
Congress a series of sweeping laws meant to use national government policies to pull
the country out of the Depression. However, the U.S. Supreme Court consistently
ruled these laws unconstitutional, since the New Deal legislation gave the central
government a role far exceeding its constitutional powers, as the Court interpreted
them. After considerable grumbling and frustration, Roosevelt devised a different
strategy for influencing the court. Since there was nothing in the Constitution that
limited the Court to nine justices. Roosevelt implied that he would increase the size
of the Court.
Congress blocked President Roosevelt’s initiative to expand the Court. But his
appointment of two new justices and His threat to “pack” the Court was followed
shortly by a change of heart on the Court regarding the constitutionality of New Dea)
legislation. By 1937, the Court majority no longer objected to the central govern
ment’s expanded activities. While it cannot be proven empirically that Roosevelt’s
threat changed the judicial reasoning of the justices, it was punned at the time that
“a switch in time saved nine.”
148
structures of the state—its institutional arrangements, the actors who have majo
roles in its institutions, and its policy activities-are autonomous and have funda
mental impacts on political, economic, and social life (Evans, Rueschemeyer, and
Skocpol 1985; Nordlinger 1987).
A full understanding of the political world reqmres a dear grasp °f he e^ntial features of executive, legislative, administrative, and judicial structures. Insti
»
ro
tutional structures are the skeleton and organs of the body politic. As one cou
explain certain biological functions and processes of the body without explicit
reference to skeleton and organs, so one could explam certain functions and pro
cesses of the political system without reference to structures But such an abstract
description of a biological organism would be incomplete without. mdica tn; the
way in Which the structures constrain and shape the functions. Slmlla^'y\^lemp,,
to describe or explain politics, especially in actual settings, are much richer and
more complete if they include a characterization ot how political institutions con
strain and shape the political process.
independence, it still might respond to political pressure. In most systems, the
individuals in top judicial positions are likely to share the values of the ruling
groups, since they are appointed by chief executive leaders. And when judicial
officials displease the dominant power group, they can be ignored, replaced, or
even eliminated. In Argentina during the 1970s, more than 150 high-level judges
disappeared and are presumed dead, and it is speculated that the Argentinian gov
ernment ordered the executions.
Actually, the most common pattern among contemporary states is for the
judiciary to be little more than a loyal administrative arm of executive power.
While the rituals of the judicial structures offer the appearance of protecting “jus
tice,” the reality is that the judicial structures serve the political elite. In short,
while most judiciaries exercise some discretion in rule adjudication, the existence
of a truly independent judiciary is a rarity.
CONCLUDING OBSERVATIONS
Traditional political science emphasized a description of political structures as the
best means to explain how politics worked. But further empirical research has
revealed considerable diversity in the roles of particular political structures.
There is no straightforward and necessary correspondence between a political
structure and the political functions that seem logically associated with the struc-
every political system. Many political systems have constituted judicial structures
whose primary role is. or al least appears to be. rule adjudication.
Aspects of Rule Adjudication
The rule-adjudication function attempts to interpret and apply the relevant rules
or laws to a given situation. When the issue involves civil law—the rules regarding
the relations between private actors (individuals or groups)—the main objective
of rule adjudication is to settle the dispute. Examples of such rules include di
vorce, contracts, or personal liability litigation
When an individual or group behaves in a manner interpreted as an offense
against the social order, rule adjudication can be an important mechanism of so
cial control. Much of this is the area of criminal law, and the offenses are ones
like murder, substance abuse, theft, bribery, extortion, or environmental pollu
tion. The state represents the public interest and protects the social contract, in
suring that the relations among actors are within the boundaries of “acceptable
social behavior." In the same manner that the definition and scope of res publico
differs greatly across political systems, the definition of acceptable social behav
ior varies dramatically. In some political systems, such social control entails little
more than regulation of the conditions under which people can do physical and
economic violence to one another. In contrast, there are other political systems
where mere public criticism of the political order or its leaders is viewed as a
violation of acceptable social behavior, punishable by imprisonment or death.
In some instances, rule adjudication can center in arbitration regarding the
behavior of the political system itself. This is especially evident in cases involving
constitutional, administrative, or statutory law—the rules concerning the rights
and actions of the political system. The main issues for adjudication involve ques
tions about the legitimate domain of action by a governmental actor, in its rela
tions with other governmental units or private actors. Such a dispute might con
cern a quite technical disagreement over the implementation of a specific policy
(e.g., is a person with vision correctable to 20/400 qualified to receive state-subsi
dized services for the “visually impaired’’?) or it might raise fundamental consti
tutional questions about the distribution of political power (e.g., does the central
government have the right, in a federal system, to force the state government to
force a locally elected school board to implement full racial integration against
the board’s wishes?).
Judicial Structures
Most, but not all, political systems have specialized judicial structures—the sys
tem of courts and personnel that determine whether the rules of the society have
been transgressed and. if so. whether sanctions ought to be imposed on the trans
gressor. (Some broad definitions of judicial structures even include agencies of
law enforcement, such as police and security forces, and agencies that apply sanc
tions against rule breakers, such as jails and prisons, although 1 have included
these among (he administrative structures.)
In the United States we tend to link the rule-adjudication function closely
with explicit judicial structures. The United States has one of the world s most
complex systems of judicial structures, with a Supreme Court and an extensive
system of federal, state, and local courts, including judges, prosecuting attorneys,
defense attorneys for the indigent, court clerks, and so on.
While there are significant cross-national variations, most political systems
do have a hierarchical system of judicial structures, with appeal processes possi
ble from lower- to higher-level courts. Most judicial systems also have subsys
tems that are responsible for different aspects of adjudication. For example, the
French judicial structure separates the criminal and civil law system from a sec
ond system that handles administrative law. In the Soviet Union, one system han
dles criminal and civil law, but the second major system is composed of special
prosecutors who monitor actions in all types of cases and who can challenge,
retry, or even withdraw cases from the regular courts. In Great Britain, one majoi
judicial system is responsible for criminal law and a second handles civil law.
The conception of an “independent” judiciary is a particularly interesting
one. The legal system and the set of judicial structures in every political systeir
are political. By its very nature, rule adjudication entails crucial decisions abom
the allocation of values and meanings for a society. Thus the only sense in whicT
it is reasonable to speak of an independent judiciary is to assess the extent tc
which the judicial structures make decisions and take actions that are al variance
with other powerful political structures in the society, particularly the executive
legislative, and administrative structures. While there is no systematic researcl
to clarify this question, the judicial structures in most states consistently suppor
and rarely challenge the power and authority of the lop leadership groups in thei
society. In general, the judicial structures are dependent on political power to
their own power and survival.
However, there are some political systems where the judiciary is relativel'
independent. By exercising the power of judicial review, such judicial structure
can reinterpret or even revoke the policy decisions of the other political struc
lures. About one in ten nation-states has a significant level of judicial review
Such states include Canada, Colombia. India. Israel, Italy. Mexico. Norway
Switzerland, the United States, and West Germany. Even in states where th
judiciary is relatively independent, it is ultimately dependent upon other polilict
structures, especially the executive and the administration, to enforce its dec
sibns.
The conflict between Franklin Roosevelt and the Supreme Court (see Bo
7.4) is a rather visible example of a process that occurs continually in a mor
subtle manner—the impacts of external political power on judicial processes an
decisions. More recent examples in (he United States are the refusal of Caliform
voters to reconfirm Rose Bird as chief justice of the Stale Supreme Court in N<
vember 1986 and the refusal of the Senate to confirm Robert Bork, Presidei
Reagan’s nominee for the U.S. Supreme Court in October 1987. in each cas<
these jurists were rejected on political grounds (Bird too liberal. Bork too conse
valive).
And even when (he judicial structure docs strive to maintain some politic
)
*
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17
PRESSURE GROUPS
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I he theory which underpins our government is that of represen
tative democracy. At least once every five years voters elect their
representatives to the House of Commons. The majority parly
lorms the government and proceeds to carry out its programme
with the help of the civil service and the regular parliamentary
endorsement which its majority provides. At the next election voters
can decide whether or not the ruling party deserves another term
ol oil ice. The diagram below illustrates the theory.
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endorsed by Parliament
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BRITISH POLITICS TODAY
PRESSURE GROUPS
This is a very simplified view, of course. In reality voters never
express a genuine collective wish, and even those who have voted
for the party in power will disagree with aspects of government
policy. Many will use their membership of pressure groups - over
half the population belong to one kind of pressure group or another
- to influence, counteract or reverse government policy in certain
cases. Similarly, governments do not faithfully carry out their
programmes in a vacuum. At every stage they consult and negotiate
with these organised groups, amending, transforming or even aban
doning their policies where necessary.
What happens at elections sets the general context for policy
decisions - by selecting the party which forms the government.
Remember, too, that policies are usually formed in opposition only
in outline. The determination of specific policies in government
emerges from a complex process involving, at its heart, consultation
between Ministers, civil servants and representatives of those
interests likely to be affected. The latter are often pressure-group
4*
Government decisions
i
-------------------------
Pressure Group influence
if
leaders, who seek to strengthen their hand in dealing with Ministers
and civil servants by influencing Parliament, other pressure groups,
the media and public opinion. A classic study of pressure groups
concludes that ‘Their day-to-day activities pervade every sphere of
domestic policy, every day, every way, in every nook and cranny
of government (Finer, p. 17). The second diagram shows how the
theory is affected in practice by the permeation of pressure-group
influence.
Representative democracy, which under the present voting
system is based upon geographical areas, is therefore supple
mented in practice by what can be seen as functional or group
representation.
Some scholars, S. E. Finer and S. H. Beer included, have argued
that such ‘informal’ representation is now more important than
the ‘formal’ parliamentary system. Certainly people are more
prepared to join and be active in groups which defend or advance
their various interests than political parties which organise electoral
representation. Some see the two systems as complementary, but
others fear that pressure groups ‘short-circuit’ the democratic chain
of representation and accountability. This question is returned to
in the final section.
I
Development of pressure groups
Im
i :
Government has always had to deal with groups in society, but in
the last two centuries they have organised themselves more
effectively as society has become more complex and government
intervenes in more areas of life. The anti-slavery movement and
the Anti-Corn Law League were two early examples. Many
philanthropic societies grew up in the nineteenth century, and
government came to support, subsidise or even take over their roles
altogether.
The nineteenth century also saw the formation of the major
economic groups concerned with industrial production. Trade
unions increased in membership and coalesced to form bigger units,
while business groups too formed federations in order to negotiate
more effectively with the unions and the government, itself an
increasingly important economic interest. This process was
catalysed by two world wars and Labour’s 1945-50 nationalisation
measures.
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BRITISH POLITICS TODAY
Types of pressure group
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Pressure groups can be described as organised groups which seek
to influence government policies. This definition is a useful catch
all for all the extra-governmental influences upon policy, but it puts
a youth club that writes to its local MP on the same level as the
TUC seeking to influence economic policy. When over half the
population belong to groups which at some time or other try to
influence government policy is hardly surprising that most
definitions are unsatisfactory.
Useful distinctions can be made between:
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PRESSURE GROUPS
187
Electoral Reform Society, the National Council for Civil Liberties
(NCCL).
Such classifications can be misleading in that some pressure
groups have more than one of the above characteristics: for
example, inasmuch as they represent the interests of working-class
people, trade unions are also sectional groups; and the Politics
Association - closely connected with this book - is both a
professional organisation representing the interests of politics
teachers and an attitude group seeking to alert government and
society to the need for political education.
/. Economic (or interest) groups
(fl) Trade unions, representing workers, seek to improve their
members’ pay and conditions of employment, and to influence
public and government thinking on a whole range of social and
economic issues. Their central or ‘peak’ organisation is the Trades
Union Congress (TUC).
(b) Business organisations are interested in maintaining the
social and political conditions that favour their activites. Their peak
organisation is the Confederation of British Industry (CBI).
Increasingly important are the multinational companies. These are
large international businesses with varied interests which use
enormous investment power and the ability to switch operations
to other countries (where conditions might be more favourable)
to influence government decisions.
(c) Professional associations that represent and defend the
interests of people with advanced training and qualifications, e.g.
the British Medical Association, the National Union of Teachers.
Increasingly these organisations are affiliating to the TUC.
5. Values and pressure groups are closely related and provide
an interesting alternative form of classification. The more accept
able its objectives the more likely a pressure group is to achieve
them. Richard Rose {Politics in England, 1980, pp.234-5)
identifies six possible relationships between group aims and cultural
norms briefly summarised and adapted as: (a) harmony, e.g. the
RSPCA; (b) increasingly acceptable values, e.g. the women’s
rights movement; (c) fluctuating acceptability, e.g. trade unions;
{d) indifference, e.g. the anti-smoking movement before it was
backed by medical evidence; (e) fading support, e.g. the Lord’s Day
Observance Society, and (/) conflict with cultural values.
Having no need to win acceptability, a group in harmony with
cultural norms may seek to identify its aims with the interests of
the country as a whole or, more typically, to concentrate upon
influencing administrative decisions; other groups will need to
spend time and resources fighting for acceptability.
2. Cause groups
(fl) Sectional groups defend and promote the interests of specific
social groups, e.g. Age Concern (old people), Shelter (the homeless
or badly housed), the Child Poverty Action Group, the Automobile
Association (motorists), and the typically British local voluntary
associations which exist in great numbers.
(/?) Attitude groups share common beliefs and objectives
on a particular issue and seek change in the interests of society
as a whole, e.g. the Howard League for Penal Reform, the
Wyn Gram (1989 and 1990) uses a somewhat similar typology based
upon the degree of intimacy pressure groups have with the policymaking process. He identifies three kinds of insider groups, all of
which are constrained to some extent by the ‘rules of the game’:
prisoner groups dependent upon government support (e.g. those
Third World charities financed mainly by government); low-profile
or high-profile groups (e.g. the CBI used to be a discreet, behindthe-scenes group, but then chose to court the media and acquire a
higher profile). Outsider groups are less constrained; once again
(here are three. Potential insider groups will strive to establish
there
Insider and outsider groups
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BRITISH POLITICS TODAY
credibility through media campaigns, meetings with ministers and
civil servants. Outsider groups by necessity lack the political skills
to become insiders; for example, they will tend to couch their
demands in extravagant or strident language, instead of the
sophisticated, esoteric codes of the Whitehall bureaucracy.
Ideological outsider groups deliberately place themselves beyond
the pale of Whitehall because they wish to challenge its values
and authority. Grant illustrates his typology with the example
of animal welfare groups, which range from the respectable,
insider RSPCA, to the outsider, Animal Liberation groups,
using threats and violence to pursue their ends.
i.
i
i
Pressure-group personnel
Cause groups usually have only a small permanent staff and
rely upon voluntary help which is often middle or upper-class
in origin. Government sometimes channels funds into cause
groups which it regards as particularly important - e.g. MIND
receives one-fifth of its income from central government - or
helps establish them where they are thought to be necessary,
e.g. in the field of race relations. Trade unions and professional
and business associations have large staffs, and the TUC and
CBI employ several hundred people who shadow the work of
government departments. Over the years the large pressure
groups and government bureaucracies have become increasingly
similar in recruitment and mode of operation, and pressuregroup personnel are often drawn into government employ.
Nowadays (hey are often career professionals rather than activists,
but this is not so true of pressure-group leaders, who tend to
be committed people who often move over into mainstream
politics, e.g. in the 1970s John Davies from CBI to Conservative
Cabinet, David Ennals from MIND to Labour Cabinet, and
Frank Field from CPAG to Labour MP.
Relations with government
3
These are usually cordial and co-operative: each can give what
the other wants.
Pressure groups want to protect and advance the interests
of their members through: access to the decision-making process;
PRESSURE GROUPS
189
the recognised right to be consulted; contacts with Ministers and
civil servants; real influence on policy formulation.
Governments rely heavily upon pressure groups for information
and advice; civil servants, alter all, are not experts in all the matters
they must advise Ministers upon. They also hope that, in exchange
lor a say in policy-making (i.e. becoming ‘insider’ groups), pressure
groups will: support measures passed; co-operate in their implemen
tation; accept the authority of government; respect the confiden
tiality of discussions and behave in a ‘responsible’ fashion.
Hidden from public view, these transactions take place all the
lime. Indeed, without them government would be impossible. With
government controlling nearly half of all economic activity it is
inevitable that it should work closely with the economic pressure
groups: they are virtually interdependent. Occasionally, however,
they cannot agree and conflict ensues. It may be because govern
ment policy has changed radically, as in 1945 when the British
Medical Association challenged Labour’s plans to nationalise the
health service or as in 1971, when Mr Heath tried to bring trade
unions within the framework of his Industrial Relations Act. On
such occasions both government and pressure groups are forced
back upon the power they can command.
Government naturally has the greater power. It controls the vast
economic resources of the Stale and the decision-making process,
can freeze out a group from the process if it chooses, has the
authority of law and in the last resort commands the forces of law
and order.
Pressure groups do not have such monolithic power but
they can bargain, threaten or retaliate in a variety of ways,
as follows.
Methods
/. Violence and illegality. Hijackers and terrorists have shown
how effective these techniques can be, albeit at high risk to
themselves. Few groups would consider such extreme measures,
but some do occasionally break the law to draw attention to their
cases. Particularly active from the mid-1980s onwards have been
various Animal Liberation groups, which have frequently broken
the law to direct attention to the use of live animals in scientific
experiments, the killing of animals for furs, and so forth. In June
I
ii
190
BRITISH POLITICS TODAY
PRESSURE GROUPS
1990 a bomb under the car of a scientific researcher exploded badly
injuring a one-year-old in Bristol.
!
I
2. Dental offunction. As mosi cause groups seek to publicise
ideas or serve the mteresis of social groups, this is not a technique
they can use. it is the preserve of economic groups. Business
concerns can lock out lheir workers, or direct investment else
where; multinationals can, and often do, threaten to move their
activities to other, more agreeable countries. Trade unions of
course, can withdraw their labour through strike action.
pi--
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I'
:
3. Publicity-seeking techniques are used by all pressure groups
and include demonstrations, marches, advertising, articles
books, specialist reports, broadcasts and so forth: a glance
at the papers any day will reveal how successful their efforts
have been. The more unusual the technique the more likely the
media are to be interesled; women camping outside the cruise
medi^'ovVrage^
C°mmOn
8°S a“raCted consid^ble
meia^el(hTXpd.t.calZa^e^bu.Tom/seek to'inHuence
(CNnTV0 partlCU'ar- Thc Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament
(CND), for example, has been able to command substantial
support tn the Labour Party and this was a key factor in the
mt^ePt‘°n °f 3 nOn'nUClear defence PO1'^
a time
6. Ministers and civil servants, substantially control the taking
of executive decisions and the initiation of major legislation
Consultations with pressure groups take place mostly away from
public view, most typically in the hundreds of joint advisory comsm'"e“' JshlS 1S the lnner sanctum of inHuence to which most groups
Governability
As the economy has become more complex since the war its
e ements have become more interdependent. Small groups of key
workers are consequently able to wield great power by threatening
to disrupt the working of the economy. To be successful, govern
ment economic policy has to win general acceptance, but this is not
easy. In the 1970s many urged thc TUC and CBI to reach annual
agreements on such subjects as wage levels - as in Sweden or West
Germany - but these bodies are only loose coalitions: they cannot
enter into agreements and be sure their members will keep to them
Some commeniators, like Professor Anthony King, have argued
that the dil ficullies of reaching consensus between such wide ranges
oi antithetical, autonomous groups has made Britain harder to
govern. Mrs Thatcher’s answer was to disavow the consensus
approach and assert the executive power of government. Her style
and to an extent the style of her government, has been to squeeze
pressure groups towards the periphery of decision-making, to be
less interested in listening and more concerned to act in accordance
with what has already been decided as necessary.
5. Parhament. Many MPs automatically represent economic
mterests by virtue of being businessmen, trade unionists, doctors
Sx W.hatever’f andkcan be relied upon to articulate and
defend the mterests of such groups. Additionally, certain pressure
groups persuade MPs, and often pay them a retainer, to represent
and defend their interests in Parliament. The practice is regarded
as acceptable as long as MPs do not prejudice their voting freedom
m the Commons - 'hough some do have contractual agreements,
ome MPs strongly criticise this practice as a form of ‘buying’
support. Also criticised is the increasing activity of professional
lobbyists who seek to influence MPs on behalf of powerful
economic interests.
191
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196
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?
1. Detailed infdrmation on specific areas of economic and social
activity without which good government would be impossible.
iK:
i
BRITISH POLITICS TODAY
2. Continuity of communication and consultation between
government and public between elections.
I‘
3. Defence for minority interests, particularly those connected
with parties not in government.
4. Increased participation in the political process by people not
necessarily active in political parties.
5. A counter to the monopoly of the political process in
Parliament by political parlies. Cause groups raise items for dis
cussion which fall outside party manifestos, and economic groups
by-pass much potential party conflict by dealing direct with
Ministers and civil servants.
cn
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6. Dispersal of power downwards from the centralised
legislative and executive institutions and in the process providing
checks upon their power.
Against (his it can be argued:
/. Pressure groups are often unrepresentative and only rarely
reflect the broad mass of their membership. Union leaders are often
elected by small activist minorities, though we should note that
business organisations and other pressure groups often have
appointed officers. Neither is accountable to the public as a whole,
despite the fact that their influence on policy is considerable.
2. A corporate state? Pressure groups have reduced the power
of Parliament by working so closely with Ministers and civil
servants. By the time Parliament sees legislation it is all but decided,
and only a small minority of Bills are substantially amended on
the way to the Queen’s signature. Some commentators have dis
cerned the rise of a ‘corporate state’ in which decisions are shaped
and even made by Ministers and officials who are not elected by
the public (see Moran, pp. 144-9).
PRESSURE GROUPS
197
3. Pressure groups do not represent society equally. For
example, they favour the strong groups in society - key industrial
workers, educated professionals, the business elite - and they
favour producer groups rather than consumer interests. Weaker
group- like immigrants, old-age pensioners, children or the
unemployed have low bargaining strength, and are often poorly
organised.
4. They often work in secret. Their consultations with top
decision-makers take place behind closed doors, hidden from public
scrutiny. S. E. Finer rather dramatically ends his classic study of
pressure groups with a plea for ‘More light!’
Concluding comment
The nature of pressure-group politics has demonstrated consider
able change over the last twenty years: business interests are
concentrated into fewer and fewer hands; the traditionally powerful
pressure groups - especially the unions - have found their access
to decision-making less easy and less effective. On the other hand,
(here has been a startling increase in nation-wide popular move
ments, many of them using opinion-influencing techniques to good
effect.
This has been particularly true of environmental groups.
Between 1971 and 1988, membership grew from 1,000 to 65,000
in Friends of the Earth: 278,000 to 1,634,000 in the National Trust
and 98,000 to 540,000 in the Royal Society for the Protection of
Birds. Band Aid, Live Aid and, in 1990, the Mandela Concert, have
shown the power of the media and popular music to change people’s
minds and win their support. The anti-apartheid movement,
moreover, has chalked up many successes in the last decade, notably
the withdrawal of Barclays Bank from South Africa in 1986.
The professional campaigner Des Wilson has been a potent
influence in the development of citizen power. Despite Mrs
Thatcher’s assertion of executive initiative and the decline of trade
union power, pressure-group politics at the national and local level
seem to be as vigorous as ever.
1
|i
Pressure Groups in
the Global System
lip’?'
f
The Transnational Relations
of Issue-Orientated
Non-Governmental Organizations
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Edited by
Peter Willetts
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Frances Pinter (Publishers), London
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1
Pressure Groups as Transnational Actors
PETER WILLETTS
A variety of terms have been used to describe organized groups of people who
seek to influence political decisions. Some like to call them pressure groups,
while many others prefer to speak of interest groups and Professor Finer puts
them all under the heading of ‘the lobby’.1 Diplomats nearly always talk of
Non-Governmental Organizations and ‘NGOs’ has now become a standard
piece of jargon in the world of diplomacy. It seems inappropriate to use the term
‘interest groups’ because it carries a strong bias towards considering sectional
economic interests as being more important and more influential. Indeed some
sectional interests may have never become involved in the wider politics of
society. Most of them have interests to pursue within the group that take up
far more of their time and resources. For the study of politics, it is preferable
to refer to pressure groups, because this emphasizes our concern with the way
such groups seek to exercise influence. They may try to bring about social
change by the direct effect of their actions on other individuals, by their impact
upon other groups or by affecting government policy. It is the act of applying
pressure that brings them into politics. But this is not to say that all pressure
groups are active in politics all the time.
Pressure groups have conventionally been considered relevant to the study
of the domestic politics of each country. If international relations in the tradi
tional view concerns the interactions between ‘states’, which seek to mobilize
‘power’ to promote their respective ‘national interests’, then pressure groups
are not relevant to international relations. It used to be assumed by Realists
that there were few non-governmental interactions between different countries;
certainly they were not discussed. Now when faced with the large literature
on transnationalism (that is, relations between different societies across country
boundaries, which bypass governments),2 the interactions may be dismissed
as being of secondary importance, because they are not seen as affecting sub
stantially the power relationships between different countries. Pressure groups
cannot themselves be considered by Realists to utilize power. In addition, it is
argued that governments have the authority to control transnational activities
and tolerate them as long as they are compatible with the ‘national interest’, but
stop them when the ‘national interest’ is threatened.3 All of these theoretical
assumptions will be challenged, but first of all it is worth considering the great
diversity among the pressure groups.
70
1
l ypcN of I*ic5.s«nc Groups
eernun quahf,earions and exercise some of ,he employers’ funerions in moni(..'."K work xuunlar.ls. Their really dis.incuve
.
,s rhe prmn.ni
a
In the literature on British politics, a distinction has been made between sectional
groups which ‘seek to prok-ci the iiHvicsts of a particular section of society*
and promotional groups which ‘seek to promote causes arising from a given
set of attitudes’.4 It is argued that this distinction is related to the difference
strong moral code, which can place loyalty to the profession and to the clients
above loyalty to employers or to the government. If the organizational links for
one ol the professions was outlined in the same way as it was for the companies
and the unions the result would be very similar, with there being extensive
between aiming for a specialized small membership or a general mass move
ment; it affects a strategy of aiming to influence government directly or gaining
support in public opinion; and it largely explains whether there will be success
or failure in applying pressure.5 b'or our purposes, it is worth making lurther
10
Professional associations ami io intergovernmental
bodies, particularly the UN speciahzed agencies such as the World Health Organ
sub-divisions among both sectional and promotional groups and it will be seen
that the above relationships do not hold uniformly.
Sectional groups
The first of our eight categories of pressure groups covers sectional economic
groups. These include companies, commerce, financial institutions, trade unions
and agriculture. They are specialized groups, with restricted membership, are
generally believed to have direct access to government and to be highly success
ful in achieving their goals, particularly on matters of economic policy. They arc
usually involved in a complex hierarchical structure of organization, b'or ex
ample, in Britain we have the companies, such as Imperial Tobacco Ltd, or
Gallaher Ltd., both of which manufacture cigarettes, and the trade unions,
such as the Tobacco Workers Union, the Transport and General Workers Union
and the General and Municipal Workers Union, all of which represent tobacco
workers. The individual companies co-operate in their employers’ association
and the Tobacco Advisory Council, while the unions have joint negotiating
committees. Further up the hierarchy representing much more general economic
interests, we have the Confederation of British Industry and the Trades Union
Congress. However, the structure does not stop at the boundaries of Britain.
Both the CBI and the TUC are members of world bodies, the International
Organization of Employers and the International Confederation of Free Trade
Unions, respectively. The CBI and the TUC each send delegates to the Inter
national Labour Organization, are members of European confederations, serve
on OECD advisory committees and have been involved with the UN. The IOE
and the ICFTU also have a formal consultative status themselves with the ILO
and several other intergovernmental organizations, including the UN. The
complexity of these arrangements shows that country boundaries do not neces
sarily provide major discontinuities for pressure groups
Professional associations form a second category. Doctors, nurses, lawyers,
teachers, social workers, the various scientific and technical disciplines, journal
ists and so on, all have their own professional bodies. In some respects these
act like trade unions in defending the sectional economic interests of their
members, but in many cases they restrict membership to those who have attained
ization or UNESCO But in addition, the professions are fundamentally trans
national m .wo further ways. Cencrally speaking, the professional ethics of each
profession are very similar in each country of the world, even though the political
cultures may differ substantially. All doctors feel bound to obsen-e the Hippo
cratic oath, wherever they practise medicine. Secondly, much of the work of
rhe |professional depends upon the free flow of information and the accumulation of knowledge
- within1 a s*ng^c» global, professional community. ’
Recreational , clubs
. , , are a third
J category of sectional groups. Even chough
recreation is a Ihighly
’ ‘ ' personal form of activity, these clubs also have transnational links and, with the great increase in
the volume of tourism which has
occurred since the Second World War, they
promote exchanges between different countries and offer reciprocal facilities
to their members. Some of these
also form full-blown International Non-Governmental Organizations, (INGOs')’
here is a Boy Scouts World Bureau and a World Association of Girl Guides
O h of which have a recognized status with several intergovernmental organ-
. attons. Among the most widespread and popular forms of recreation are the
sports. These too, in the competitive element to find the best performer
OUS sports
are intrinsically transnational. Here the groups are involved in a very special
usuZh P WKh WOrld P°litiCS- The indlVidUal "P^^people and their clubs
sually have a strong commitment to sport for its own sake and the desire 'to
p politics out of sport’, while governments try energetically to associate
themselves with the prestige of staging and winning sporting competitions
shou°d reflectIS ‘"Tt
should reflect upon the history of the Olympic Games.
tO ‘"'-national politics
Promotional groups
Next, we may turn to the five categories of promotional groups, starting with
proved" agenC'e^ ?bCh rUn 0perati0nal Programmes and/or raise funds to
of rh
h
°n’ heaJth °r SOcial services °r to relieve poverty. Very many
f , h ^haritles- trusts and foundations are very specialized in their concerns
and highly parochial in their area of work. Even with some of the larger agencies
OU side01 eir”:' PrCSUmC
'nM
-ta's
tn terms of he
am°ng
C°P
British Parities
terms of their annual income, two. Oxfam and Christian Aid, collect money
almost entirely to benefit people overseas, another two have large overseas
t.
I’clrr Wiitrli*
wealth Secretariat and the EEC',6 and is itself a member of an INGO, the In
national Council on Social Welfare. Under British law, chant.es are not allowed
to be active in politics, but such a concept is only tenable with a very narrow,
■common sense’ definition of politics as covering the relationships between th
political parties. If politics is taken to cover all the activities of governments,
whether or not they are contentious, then there can be few chanties o any
size which do not at some point in every year co-operate with central or loca
government. Under the broadest definition of polities
politics as the process y w ic
*society assigns the moral..ii
values which arc ...
to I supported and decides the
distribution of resources to accord with those assignments, all the charities
• • ■ choose
’
arc fundamentally political. Thus, charities which
toa transfer resources
boundaries arc taking part
or engage in other activities across international
i
in world politics.
Religious organizations are concerned with the general promotion of values.
”
i should not be
ics there
is a frequently held belief that religion
In some countries
.
mvoiveu ...
other countries few would find such a belief to
involved in politics, while in o---- be comprehensible, liven within the same country, religious organizations
no vary substantially in the amount they affect the political process: from helping
to set a climate of opinion to being a major challenge to government, w ■
Lsu'es central to their' religious concerns are raised. What the relig.ons have tn
common is that none of the organizations which have a stgmfteant number of
adherents within one country is confined solely to that country. Most of them
have a formal transnational structure, such as the Anglican Communion or the
Baptist World Alliance, with the Protestant churches being further grouped in
the World Council of Churches. The Catholics and Islam each have arrangements,
which result in unique hybrids in a world where NGOs and governments are
seen as being separate. The Vatican as the headquarters of a major INGO is
for historical reasons treated as a state by the governments of the world and
the rise in Islamic consciousness has contributed to the formanon of the Islamic
Conference, an intergovernmental organization. Nevertheless, despite its co
transnational political
option by governments, Islam also remains a potent l------
influence.
distinct segments of society, such as people of
Communal groups arise when
common ethnic origin or resident within a particular area, come together in
order to promote their group identity and group status. They can have highly
specialized concerns, such as the Welsh Language Society nominally concentrating on promotion of the use of Welsh, but frequently they beome active on
wide range of political questions: the Welsh Language Society has been ina >
volved in seeking to change policy on court procedures, road signs, education,
!
i
■i.
■'••I
'■i
television broadcasting and home ownership in rural areas. In many colonial
societies, communal groups were the source from which nationalist political
parties grew. Very few communal groups have established formal links in INGOs,
such as the Celtic League or the Inuit Circumpolar Conference, but many
obtain support from governments which are hostile to the government in their
own country or have strong informal bilateral transnational communications
with their ethnic kin. All communal groups can, in theory at least, have access
to the United Nations via the Commission on Human Rights, Sub-Commission
on Prevention of Discrimination and Protection of Minorities. Some communal
groups move beyond specific cultural concerns to make economic or political
demands, including claiming the right to form their own government. A few
groups which have done this have become important global actors. African
liberation movements have been accorded observer status by many intergovern
mental organizations and at times have been given full membership. Even more
successful has been the PLO, with membership of the Arab League, the Group
of 77 and the Non-Aligned Movement, the right to attend all UN organs and
conferences and recognition from a majority of the world’s governments. To
some people it may seem inappropriate to regard liberation movements as a type
of communal promotional group, but really all that occurs is an attempt to
move from domestic politics to an involvement in world politics. It is the claim
for international recognition of the ‘national right to self-determination’ which
converts a domestic communal group into a liberation movement.
Women’s groups are another distinct sub-category among the communal
groups. They do not have a narrow numerical base, which can often be a dis
advantage for minority groups, but they arc dealing with the same issues of
group identity and group status. In many societies there is a large number and
a great diversity to the women's groups. They have often been established
since the early years of the twentieth century or the late nineteenth century
and a dozen of the corresponding transnational associations date back this far.
The majority of formal organizations have restricted memberships such as the
Medical Women’s International Association, or specialized concerns, such as
the International Contraception, Abortion and Sterilization Campaign, but
a few are more broadly based aiming for a general membership and covering
a wide range of women’s questions. An anomalous feature of the contemporary
scene is that modern feminist groups do not co-ordinate well either by linking
different issues or by moving beyond the local community, particularly to the
transnational level. This may be due to a strong ideological predisposition
towards seeing ‘organization’ as a male concept for promoting structures of
hierarchy and domination. It is not unreasonable to assume that this pattern
will change, in response to the desire to achieve political results, and that new
feminist INGOs will in increasing numbers join the forty-seven relatively tradi
tional women’s INGOs already active in world politics by 1970.7 The formation
of ICASC in 1978 is evidence that the change is already starting to take place.
o
Peter Willetts
Political parties are normally considered to be analytically distinct from
pressure groups, on the basis that they seek to take over office rather than
to influence a limited range of policy outcomes. In practice this distinction
docs not accurately reflect how groups behave. Pressure groups, when they
have widespread support, always have the option of converting themselves
into political parties. Both agrarian parties and ecology parties have occurred
in a variety of European countries. Anti-Common Market and unofficial
Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament candidates have been markedly unsuccess
ful in Britain, but the Progress Party in Denmark achieved a spectacular growth
mainly on the single issue of abolishing income tax. On the other hand, groups
which have always claimed to be broadly based political parties, such as the
National Front in Britain or refugee parties in West Germany, may appear
to the government and to the electorate to represent minorities concerned
with a very limited range of questions and only able to influence politics through
their indirect impact on the other parties.8 Even major parties, when they arc
in opposition and no election is in the offing, may have few strategies for apply
ing political pressure on the government, which are not equally available to
pressure groups. (In fact, in most countries the potential for taking office lies
not so much with opposition parties as with particular economic-professional
groups: the military and/or the police.) When they arc in government, a certain
distance still remains between government as an operational institution and
party as a repository of ideology, so that the parry is akin to a pressure group
with privileged access to government. F'rom the point of view of world politics,
the distinction between party and pressure group is not at all appropriate. Legal
doctrines assert that governments are the representatives of states and that
relationships with any other body constitute interference in its domestic juris
diction. From the Realist, theoretical perspective parties are like pressure groups
in being unable to mobilize international ‘power’.
In a manner similar to professional associations, political parties in the
modern world are intrinsically drawn into a transnational exchange of ideas.
Party ideologies provide a structure through which people may interpret the
political world around them, but there is no logic by which our need for under
standing is restricted to what is occurring within the boundaries of our own
country. Baffling events in far-off places demand explanation; foreign people
and institutions, which have a clear image, can be used as reference points for
the advocacy of domestic policy, support from prestigious external sources is
beneficial, while one’s opponent may be discredited by being identified with
hostile elements in the environment. From a perspective that sees political
parties as being involved in global politics, it is not so surprising to find that
major foreign policy failures can lead a party to topple its leader from office.
There are some remarkable examples, from Lyndon Johnson in the United
States, to Anthony Eden in Britain and Nikita Khrushchev in the Soviet Union.
However, not all political parties arc formally organized on a transational
bas.s.
I he socialists have the longest history, because international solidarity
I
has been part of the .deology of most socialists. Two formal organizations
i
were establ.shed successively in the nineteenth century. The Second Internauonal was seriously weakened by the failure of socialist parties to unite against
the outbreak of war in 1914, but co-operation between social democrats did
continue in the inter-war years. The current Socialist International, which is
a successor to the Second International, was founded in 1951 and now has forty
eight member parties from forty-two countries. In 1919 the Third International
of communist parties, Comintern, was formed, but it came under Stalin's dommauon and was d.sbanded in May 1943 as a gesture ofgoodw.il towards the
Western alhes. A comparable organization, the Communist Information Bureau
Commform, was established in September 1947, to assist in the strengthening
of Soviet influence m Eastern Europe and the development of ideologiea!
Trf
Colo'S *aS
thC instrumc« of Stalin's ideological war against
Tito from 1948 onwards and was disbanded in Aprd I 956 as part of Khrushchev's
exis^ buTt”h W h
h'0' SlnCe thCn 00 f°rrnal COmmunist international has
existed, but there has been an intermittent series of world conferences of com
munist parties. In addition, the party congresses of each of the ruling parties
from 78
h"' r
7
Sccrctarics or at
Politburo member
bas^fo^dis
' '
61 Part? With
rCSUlt tha‘ thcy Pr°vidc a” b'f-mal
basis tor discussion and co-ordination.
In the Third World during the colonial period nationalist parties often had
other
SOhhatl°n W' u S0Cia‘iSt
COmmUnist Partics in Europe and met each
other m lobbying at the UN and other international meetings. Since indepen-
.?nLe' 1 C
ro Asian Peoples' Solidarity Organization (AAPSO) founded in
LaVin^
br'd in Cair°' al°ng With thC Or^nization of Afro-Asian,
Latin Amencan Peoples Solidarity (OSPAAL) founded in January 1966 and
based in Havana, have tended
------- J to attract only the minor and/or the more radical
nationalist parties. In
some regions where close parry ties have at times developcd, such as f
the^'Mulungushi Club’ in East Africa around 1970, the party
ties have been difficult
... to
.o distinguish from intergovernmental relations.
Moving to other areas of the political map, we find that there has been a
Liberal International since April 1947, but the right wi„B
r wing has been much slower
to organize transnational^. A European Christian Democrat
---------- 1 Union was founded
in 1947, but it was not until 1961 that
a Christian Democrat World Union
appeared. In the Assembly of the European
Community the Christian Democrats
whichTnivf 5rpdrate from 'fhe European Dcmocrat‘c Grou’’
the Com
to^heTTl
Pnrt,CS
3 tOtb 7
thC UnitCd K‘ngdom and Dc,"ark-
b°dy' the Eur°pean Democrat Union bri"gs
together twelve member part.es (half from within the EC and half from the
ZealandUandein
aSSOciatc menrbers from Australia, Canada. New
Japan, he EDU was formed as recently
recently as April 1978 While it
might eventually recruit world-wide, there is no
' s*gn yet of a global organization
, I ...nscivalive parlies. OlluT lyp-'s "I parlies, anarehisi. apiarian. Islaime.
fascist or ethnic parties, for example, and the Republicans and the Democrats
in the USA have not established substantial transnational links. Clearly, of all
lhc groups which we have considered, political parties arc the only ones to
be completely absent from some countries and they are also among the least
likely to have strong, institutionalized transnational links.
Lastly in contrast to the three types of general promotional groups there
arc svecific-i^ue, promotional groups. These consist of groups of people who
have come together solely for (he purpose of promotmg social change on a
particular issue, usually by seeking change in government pokey. I hey a.t
the groups which most readily spring to mind when the term pressure group
is used. By the nature of their work, specific-issue groups are likely to be chal
lenging orthodoxy. Often they are either raising new issues, wh.ch have not
before appeared on the political agenda, or are trying to change the way existing
issues arc handled. Thus, they usually concentrate on influencing public opmion
and the media and so they become household names. Erequently, new issues
will not lead to specific-issue groups being formed because existing groups sue
as sectional economic groups or political parties can readily take them up In
many countries there has developed a consensus on questions of foreign policy
which established groups become reluctant to challenge for fear of being re
garded disloyal. As a result specific-issue groups do arise quite often on foreign
policy. In Britain the development of nuclear weapons led to the Campaign
for Nuclear Disarmament being formed; increasing public awareness of the con
trast between decolonization in the Commonwealth and trends in the opposite
direction within South Africa led to the Anti-Apartheid Movement; and the
steady decline in the priority given to Official Development Assistance led to
the World Development Movement. Each of the groups quoted is based in
Britain and is known for its attempts to influence British foreign policy. How
ever, it should occasion no surprise that such concerns frequently lead them
into’transnational activities in order to obtain information or to gain external
allies. Furthermore, the events to which the groups were responding were also
relevant in similar ways to those in other countries and so similar groups were
formed elsewhere. In each case an INGO has resulted to provide a channel of
communication between the groups in each country.
New issues of the last two decades have also produced transnational activities
through a totally different process. It has frequently been noted that problems
arising from pollution and environmental issues cannot be solved by governments
acting on their own. The technical need for co-operation is one of the factors
producing interdependence. What is rarely, if ever, noted as well is that this has
produced an international political process, in which pressure groups must engage
in transnational lobbying in order to have any chance of affecting the outcomes.
Friends of the Earth Ltd. in Britain is a member of Friends of the Earth Inter
national and is in frequent contact with the FOE groups in many other countries.
I hc (juimclioiis Bclwccn DillcHiil 1‘rr.sMirc Groups
To some extent the eight categories of pressure groups given above are ideal
types and very few groups belong unambiguously in just one category. The
International Committee of Catholic Nurses is both professional and religious,
while the International Council of Social Democratic Women involves both
transnational links between parties and the group identity of women. Alter
natively, some activities may have only one significant aspect to them for
each of the participants, but belong in quite different categories according
to which participants we arc considering. The foreign lour of an orchestra
may be an economic interest of the company, a professional opportunity for
the players, recreation for the audience and a prestige promotion for the govern
ment which has subsidized the trip.
The first major point to note is the very great diversity among the pressure
groups, 'i hc eight categories of groups are very different from each other in the
motivation and goals which bring them together, yet there is both overlap
between the categories and an enormous number and range of groups within
each category. Secondly, although pressure groups are widely seen as a feature
of Western democratic political systems, they do in fact exist in every country
in the world, including both the least developed and the most totalitarian.
There can be few, if any, countries which do not have groups from at least
five of the eight categories. Thirdly, all types of groups can be significantly
affected (from their own perspectives) by international politics and directly
or indirectly engage in a wide variety of international and transnational inter
actions.
Any description of non-governmental groups being primarily concerned with
promoting co-operation among their members and then moving from this base,
with greater or lesser frequency depending upon the type of group, to seek
influence in decision making by government, is too simple a picture. In most
complex societies (and the term complex should not be equated with developed;
India or even Uganda are considerably more complex than Iceland) several
pressure groups arise within a single area of concern, frequently these co
operate with each other by evolving distinctive specialization in membership,
objectives or tactics; by exchanging information; and by co-ordinating activities,
when they apply political pressure or engage in operational programmes. Some
times by working together groups can obtain services and undertake activities
which would be beyond the resources of any of the individual groups. The
result can be not only a great deal of communication and co-operation but
also a complex network of country-wide and transnational organizations.
If we take Oxfam as an example, it is part of an extensive network of re
search, fund-raising, educational and promotional groups concerned with de
velopment. The ‘Development Guide’, published by (he Overseas Development
Institute, lists 198 groups based in Britain.10 In two major specialized areas
of work Oxfam is in national bodies: the Standing Conference on Refugees
includes Oxfam and thirty-one other agencies, to exchange information and
as being inseparable. Thus, Oxfam run a Wastesaver Project to recycle aluminium
and rags, partly in order to raise funds but also to reduce profligate consumption
in a world of want. Oxfam’s Youth Department runs work-camps in conjunction
with I'riends of the Earth, while Oxfam and the Conservation Society have a
joint imprint on sticky labels for re-using envelopes. The Brandt Commission
Report argued that expenditure on armaments represents *a huge waste of
resources which should be deployed for peaceful development’,11 a link which
was also made in the Final Document of the UN Special Session on Disarma
ment.12 In April 1980 the World Disarmament Campaign was launched in
make joint representations to government, and the Disasters Emergency Com
mittee links Oxfam to four of the major relief agencies, primarily to enable
joint fund-raising appeals to be made. To deal with its general concerns as a
charity, Oxfam is a member along with 236 other non-governmental organiza
tions of the National Council of Voluntary Organizations. For the purposes of
sharing their experiences and skills in producing information, the Centre for
World Development Education organizes a Public Information Group. In
October 1980 this brought together forty-seven representatives from twentyfour agencies, four members of the UK government’s Overseas Development
Administration and forty-four press and broadcasting journalists, and the con
ference was funded in part by the EEC Development Commission and the
UN NGO Liaison Office. Thus, in addition to its own activities, Oxfam has
at least four other routes, SCOR, DEC, NCVO and CWDE, through which it
can communicate with the public and with government at the national level.
The situation becomes more, not less, complex at the global level, as a pres
sure group can relate to the United Nations and the specialized agencies (1)
directly, on its own initiative, (2) via national co-ordinating bodies, and (3) via
transnational co-ordinating bodies (INGOs). Oxfam is a member of Euro Action
ACORD (Agency for Co-operation and Research in Development), a consortium
for the promotion of joint relief and development programmes. In Geneva, it
U1
works with the American based Catholic Relief Services and three INGOs, the
League of Red Cross Societies, the Lutheran World Federation and the World
Council of Churches, in a Steering Committee for Disasters. Oxfam is also a
direct member of the International Council of Voluntary Agencies and an
indirect member both via the national body, SCOR, and also via the INGO,
Euro Action ACORD. For a while Oxfam’s Director held the Chair of the
International Council. Several other formal <organizational connections of
less direct concern to Oxfam exist, along withi a whole multitude of ad hoc
and non-formal links.
Not all groups work in as complex a network of domestic and transnational
organizations as does Oxfam. Indeed, Amnesty International, as an explicit
matter of policy, docs not allow its National Sections to affiliate to any other
organization, while for the Anti-Apartheid Movement it is not a matter of
policy but there are few formal channels to other groups. On the other hand,
both of them have extensive non-formal links. Eor example, Amnesty is strongly
promoted by the churches and Anti-Apartheid maintains a close working re
lationship with the ANC and SWAPO offices in London.
Ir is not just co-operation between the bureaucracies which brings groups
together. The structure of political beliefs also serves to integrate issues.
Ordinary people do not necessarily relate environmental, development and
disarmament issues to each other, but for political activists they are often seen
J
Britain with the objective being the implementation of the proposals in the
UN Final Document. Three months later, ‘Oxfam had donated £10,000 to
wards that part of (the Campaign’s) work which emphasises the relationship
of disarmament to development’.13 Six months later, three local Friends of
the I'.arth groups and four other ecology groups, along with some eighty United
Nations Associations and more than 200 other varied groups were listed as
‘Support Groups’ of the World Disarmament Campaign.14 These examples
illustrate not just issue linkages but also how global political processes can
have a major input to political interactions within a country.
Pressure Groups and die Intergovernmental Organizations
Reference has been made at several points to connections between pressure
groups and the United Nations. This is not a new phenomenon and it dates
back to the formation of the UN, yet it is not mentioned in standard works
by as diverse a range of scholars as Alker and Russett, Bailey, Claude, Gregg
and Barkun, Luardand Nicholas.One thousand two hundred non-governmental
organizations attended the San Francisco conference which finalized the UN
Charter.16 Although the original proposals drawn up at Dumbarton Oaks by
the ‘Big Four’ made no mention of NGOs, they were successful in applying
pressure, mainly via the United States delegation, so that NGOs were granted
an official status.17 The result was Article 71 of the Charter:
I he Economic and Social Council may make suitable arrangements for
consultation with non-governmental organisations which arc concerned with
matters within its competence. Such arrangements may be made with inter
national organisations and, where appropriate, with national organisations
after consultation with the Member of the United Nations concerned.
The NGOs wanted to widen the UN’s responsibilities as much as possible be
yond security questions. They 'strove for the inclusion . . . of some provision
for dealing with questions related to educational and cultural co-operation,
human rights . . . and to the economic and social area in general’.18 Some authors
claim that the NGOs were directly responsible for the existence of the Charter’s
provisions on human rights.19
•
r
■
12
I'eier wuiciu*
I
In miplcmcnting Ardclc 71, ECOSOC has iliawn up ami icgula.ly .< vu ws
h;i*. al*><> <k< uik'i| regularly, lull l.n nioir ol lhe new group*, .idniilled |o (‘.ilc
a list of NGOs which have been granted ‘consultative status’. The work is done
ilii'oiigh (he Cmmniucc on NGOs. which has to apply several entena before
accepting any NGO on the lisi. The activities of the orgamzaimn should lull
within the Council’s competence. It should have an established headquarters,
an administration, authorized representatives and a policy-making body. Although
gory II have not previously been on lhe Rosier. When one scans (he list il is
clear that the Category I NGOs are the more broadly based, non-specialist
one government urged that an organization should only be considered inter
national if it had branches in ten or more countries, it has been accepted that
two countries arc sufficient.20 It soon became plain that there was resistance
to granting consultative status to ‘national organizations'. But the possibility
had to remain, because of the Charter provision, and in 1949 there were five
'j on the list.21 When the arrangenational bodies along with eighty-five INGOs
for suspension or withdrawal
ments were reviewed in 1968, provision was made
t
from consultative status, if an organization was shown to be improperly under
Evolution of the system has produced other changes which arc of general
political significance. In an early report it was said: ‘In order to avoid duplicalion, an organisation whose work is mainly or wholly within lhe field of activity
ol a specialised agency is generally not admitted to consultation under Article
71.’ 5 Now, as part of the trend towards a decline in the independence of the
22
the influence of a government.
The list of organizations originally was divided into Category A, those which
have ‘a basic interest in most of the activities of the Council, and are closely
cn
linked with the economic or social life of the areas which they represent;
Category B, those with a special competence but in limited fields, and Cate
gory C, those ‘primarily concerned with the development of public opinion
and with the dissemination of information.
These categories might appear
to match the ones we discussed earlier in this paper, with Category A covering
the sectional economic groups, Category B the more specialized professional
associations, recreational clubs and welfare agencies and leaving the other
promotional groups in Category C. In practice by 1949, when the system had
settled down, the major trade unions’ and producers’ INGOs were m Cate
gory A; the vast majority, seventy-seven out of ninety organizations, including
ten religious and sixteen women’s organizations, were in Category B; and the
four in Category C did not have any obvious distinguishing feature to them.
The two exceptions in Category A are not so surprising, when one remembers
they were chosen by United Nations delegates rather than by impartial adjudi
cators. They were a professional association, the Inter-Parliamentary Union,
a group with which diplomats must maintain good relations, and a specific
issue promotional group, the World Federation of United Nations Associations,
a group promoting the organization in which they spend their working lives.
The classifications were modified in 1950 and again in 1968, when they
became Category I, Category II and the Roster. The three categories arc still
supposed to correspond to differences in the breadth of the organization s
activities and its relevance to ECOSOC’s mandate, but ‘in practice the Conv
mittee has tended to treat the consultative status categories as a hierarchy.
Since 1968 the number of NGOs with Category I status has been increased
from sixteen to thirty-one and in all except two cases the fifteen new groups
have been promoted from Category II. Promotion from the Roster to Category II
groups, bui ii is impossible lo sec any opcralioiial crilviia which disiiiip.uisli
those on Category II from those on the Koster. Thus, the three categories
do appear as a status ranking.
agencies and the extension of the authority of the United Nations over their
work, the situation has been totally reversed. Acquisition of consultative status
with one of the specialized agencies, since 1968, has led automatically to listing
in the Roster. Secondly, among the many small increases in the powers of the
UN Secretary-General is the authority he was given in 1968 to place NGOs
on the Roster on his own initiative. Thirdly, ‘national organizations' which
only operate in, or have personnel from, a single country have begun to gain
consultative status in slightly larger numbers in the 1970s.
Apart from being a status ranking, the main significance of the different
categories of consultative status has been in the differences in the procedural
rights which arc obtained. Erom the beginning Category A organizations had the
same rights as governments to receive documents and to circulate their own
written communications to all delegations as official ECOSOC documents.
They could propose items for the agenda and be heard on the question of the
inclusion of the item. If the item was accepted, they could open the debate
and might be invited to reply to the discussion. Organizations in the other
two categories could only have their written statements circulated, if it was
requested by a government, and could only speak before the NGO Committee
rather than the full Council. The Committee could also approve a request
by a Category A organization to speak before the Council on any of the other
items on the agenda. With the review of the arrangements, approved in new
regulations in 1968, the procedures remain basically the same, except for a
slight liberalization. Now Category II NGOs can also have their written state
ments circulated as an automatic right, but they are limited to 500 words
whereas Category I are allowed 2000 words. Category II organizations have
also gained the right, upon approval by the NGO Committee, to speak before
the full Council when there is no relevant subsidiary body for the subject. The
origin of the 1968 revision had been the disclosure that several non governmental
organizations had received funds, sometimes indirectly and without their know
ledge, from the United States Central Intelligence Agency. The result was the
addition of a requirement that the INGOs should in principle be funded by
their ‘national affiliates' and/or by individual members (i.e. individual people)
and that any other sources ol lumls should be dcdaicd. I his was backed up by
a new requirement that those with consultative status should submit a report
on their work every four years and a new provision that (he NGO Committee
could recommend suspension or expulsion from consuliaiivc status. Although
several governments may be hostile to particular NGOs, notably those active
Ikiiii iccciving nil)' N(.() coiiiiiiuiiiciiiioiis .hkI h;ivc used the Coilll t*1
chair for this purpose.
I (he
on human rights questions, it seems unlikely that the provisions for suspension
Secondly, the existence ol the consultaiivc status with the Council has
legitimized communication between the .Secretarial and the NGOs. Without
Article 71, it would have been possible to argue that, in dealing with anybody
other than government representatives, the Secretariat was violating Article
or exclusion will ever be utilized, except to delete groups which become
moribund.26
2(7), which prohibits intervention ‘in matters which arc essentially within
the domestic jurisdiction of any state’. Merc the practice of giving overriding
In practice lhe system has not always worked smoothly from the NGOs’
point of view, in 1974, as part of the general attempt to rationalize the Council’s
work, the NGO Committee was required after 1975, like many other subsidiary
bodies, to meet every two years instead of annually. The result was that the
ECOSOC session opened in early 1976 without there being any provision for
participation by NGOs. Considerable pressure had to be exercised by the NGOs
as a whole before those in Category I were allowed to speak. However, in 1977
the NGO Committee was authorized to meet outside the normal biennial cycle,
ptclcrcncc lo INGOs has helped,
as contact with the- citizens
.
.
ol any
country}
is not direct, but via the world headquarters of each organization. The Secre
tariat has found it useful, as it has been given more and more tasks, to tap
the resources provided by NGOs. The General Assembly at its first session
so that the problem did not arise again in 1978 and thereafter.
ECOSOC started life as a relatively small group of eighteen members. With
the Charter amendments which came into effect in 1965 and 1973, the Council
increased to twenty-seven and then to fifty-four members. The volume of
business has also increased substantially. In such a situation governments have
tended to ignore rather than encourage the NGOs. When the contribution of
a NGO has been unwelcome to particular governments, then the tendency has
been to deny the legitimacy of the NGO and to deny its right to take part in
the intergovernmental forums. As with most of the UN’s activities, the legal
authority provided by the Charter, by resolutions and by rules of procedure,
is little guide to the regular political behaviour. Peacekeeping operations lie
in an unspecified and ambiguous manner somewhere within the authority
provided by Chapters VI and VII of the Charter. The independent role of the
Secretary-General lies in Article 99. This legal authority has rarely been invoked,
but the political legitimacy which it conveys has been used with great frequency.
Similarly, Article 71 and the ECOSOC provisions have only been used by a
small minority of the NGOs, but the legal authority they provide conveys
political legitimacy to a variety of other links.
Firstly, consultative arrangements work much better in the Commissions
and Committees of ECOSOC. The rules are applied more flexibly, giving NGOs
more freedom to take part, and the Committee on NGOs does not have to be
used as an intermediary. Here much depends on both the nature of the specific
issue under consideration and which country is in the chair. In the case of the
discussion of Chile during 1975-76 in the Commission on Human Rights, it
would seem to be no exaggeration to say that the written report and oral state
ments of the NGOs dominated the debates and the decision-making.27 On
other occasions, Argentina and the Soviet Union have tried to stop Commissions
encouraged this contact in one specific way. The Office of Public Information
within the Secretariat was asked to disseminate information about the United
Nations through the NGOs. The OPI has established its own list of organizations
with which it has contact in New York. Weekly briefings are given by top
personnel, periodic conferences arc held and documents on UN activities are
supplied. Different United Nations organs and programmes now are developing
their own constituencies, by using the OPI. Some go direct to the NGOs and
the public, as with the monthly newspaper Development l-orurn or the journals,
United Nations Chronicle, Objective Justice, concentrating on action against
apartheid, and Disarmament. Others, such as the Special Unit on Palestinian
Kights Bulletin, are aimed at the press.
It has now become standard practice, when specialized conferences arc
called, to set up a small unit to act as a secretariat for the conference and it is
authorized to make contact with the NGOs. They arc thus involved in the
earliest stages of the preparations and provide an input before some govern
ments have even begun to formulate policy. The intergovernmental preparatory
committees for global conferences also work closely with NGOs. When the
conferences actually take place, the diplomats become dominant and often
do not allow formal NGO participation. At the 1980 UN Conference on Women,
all the NGOs were given a total of 15 minutes between them to address the
delegates. But the agenda for the conferences and the basic documentation
have been prepared long before the delegates arrive and the NGOs have helped
to set the frame of reference within which the debates take place. Since 1970
all the major global intergovernmental conferences have had ‘unofficial’ con
ferences take place alongside them, involving thousands of participants, from
hundreds of INGOs and domestic NGOs, from all over the world.
lhe term ‘unofficial’ is rather inaccurately applied to these NGO Forums,
as the basic administrative work to enable them to take place and the political
briefing on the work of the intergovernmental conference is provided not by
the NGOs themselves, but by the government of the host country and by the
UN Secretariat. Among the more interesting features of the NGO work is the
r'
luicklruck in llicir allack. They nflcr ’complex inicidcpcmlciicc' as .in iilcal
school. Ihc lilcralurc on ihc domcsiii souiccs ol loicign policy, biiieaio i.iiic
politics, transnationalism and interdependence has been referred to as the
'pluralist perspective’44 or more simply 'the international relations paradigm .
Because the current author would wish to include greater emphasis on the way
in which global communications arc producing linkages between issues and
the development of intergovernmental organizations, as separate loci of decision
type, an explanatory model in which transnational actors are important and
the distinction between high and low politics is irrelevant. However, they also
say ’sometimes, realist assumptions will be accurate, or largely accurate, but
frequently complex interdependence will provide a better portrait of reality.’51
They arc not far from saying that there arc two distinct types of systems of
making, the term ‘Global Politics' school is preferred. The main writers in this
school have been Rosenau, Keohane and Nye, and Mansbach.46 They all accept
that both governments and non-governmental actors arc important and that
both security issues and economic and technical issues are important. I he
argument about whether the state is dominant or subordinate is not resolved
by simple assertion of an axiom, as it is with the Realists, the Marxists and
the Functionalists, but is a matter for empirical investigation and dependent
upon the particular issue process under consideration.
Keohane and Nye’s book, Transnational Relations and World Politics, is
the most relevant work for the study of pressure groups. I heir approach was
ambitious and they said 'the conclusion to this volume attempts ... to introduce
our alternative “world politics paradigm’’ as a substitute for the state-centric
analytical framework’.
CD
O
The difference . . . can be clarified most easily by focusing on the nature of
the actors. The world politics paradigm attempts to transcend the ‘level of
analysis problem’ both by broadening the conception of actors to include
transnational actors and by conceptually breaking down the ‘hard shell’ of
nation-state.
I
I
The empirical material covered by Keohane and Nye is predominantly economic.
The six chapters on ‘issue areas’ are all on economic and technological questions.
Only in ‘Part II. Transnational Organisations’, where there arc chapters on the
Roman Catholic Church and on revolutionary organizations, does the emphasis
change. This is not due to problems they had as editors in search of contributors.
It is quite explicitly built into their theoretical perspective.
In the modernized Western world and its ancillary areas the acceptability of
multiple loyalties is taken for granted. Yet, this toleration seems to be ex
tended more readily when the transnational actor is explicitly economic in
purpose than when it is explicitly political. Thus, it seems less incompatible
to be loyal to both IBM and France . . . than . . . for Americans to identify
with Israel. In the West, therefore, nationalism probably hinders overt political
organization across boundaries more than it hinders transnational economic
activity.49
At three places they go further and speak of ‘the decline of transnational political
organizations’, but no evidence is offered that such a trend exists.50
!
4
I .
■
In a more recent book, Power and Interdependence, Keohane and Nye
(
•I
1
interaction: security relationships and economic relationships.
The overwhelming impact of all the academic literature is that transnationalism
operates in a distinct realm and that the actors come mainly from our first two
categories of pressure groups: sectional economic interests and professional
associations. The Global Politics paradigm ought to make a sharper break with
Realism, Marxism and Functionalism, because in each of the six other cate
gories there arc major transnational actors and significant transnational pro
cesses. In the area of recreation and culture, there is the International Olympic
Committee, foreign broadcasting and cultural exchange. In the field of welfare,
there is a myriad of development and relief agencies, such as Oxfam. The re
ligions are high organized through the Vatican, the World Council of Churches,
Jewish and Islamic bodies. Communal groups, such as the PLO, African libera
tion movements and women’s groups, have an impact throughout the world.
The Socialist International and communism bring political parties into inter
national relations. Specific-issue promotional groups, such as Anti-Apartheid,
Amnesty and Friends of the Earth, cannot be understood in terms of the politics
of any one country, or even within the context of interactions between just
two or three countries. From all the six categories, there comes a world of
transnational politics which has its own impact upon both security and eco
nomic issues.
At this point it is necessary for us to clear up a confusion which occurs in
the use of the word 'politics’. This has two components. Politics is the process
by which groups take decisions, which will be regarded as binding upon the
group. For the country as a whole, the government is considered to be the
appropriate sub-group to take decisions which are binding on society, including
all the pressure groups operating within it. A decision taken by the due process
has legal authority. A second meaning to politics covers the process by which
groups allocate moral values and hence derive preferences for different patterns
of social relationships. Communication and debate produce each person’s
ideas of political legitimacy. Government generally is obeyed not just because
it has authority but also because among a sufficient number of people it has
legitimacy. The particular strength of government is that in most countries
of the world nationalism and/or democracy (in whatever way it is defined and
practised) promote the idea that government should be obeyed even when the
individual disapproves of the decision that has been taken. The distinction
between the two meanings of the word ‘politics’ is necessary because govern
ments may have high authority and low legitimacy. Alternatively, pressure
22
I’rcssurc hrijnp^
I'ei^r Wilh-lis
both intergovernmental organizations and non governmental organizations.
Pressure groups attempt to influence outcomes on issues which arc salient
to them. It certain outcomes, which they desire, require the exercise of its
authority by a government, any government in any country, then pressure
groups will seek to put their case to that government. They enter politics in the
traditional sense of the word. The system of interest for the study of an issue
groups may have low authority and high legitimacy. Realists, Marxists and
l,'unciionalists lend l<> coni'cnlraie on the .oilhoriiy aspects of government,
al the expense of its role lor (he mobilization ol legitimacy.
The distinction between authority and legitimacy helps us to have a clearer
conceptualization of the relationship between politics, economics and security.
In the sense of politics being decision-making by governments, then it may
well be true that some governments spend more time taking decisions about
security and diplomacy relations with the rest of the world than they do about
international economic relations. This is one aspect of maintaining their authority
to continue making decisions. But there is nothing intrinsic in the nature of
the exercise of authority to produce an automatic concern with security and
diplomacy. William Wallace in writing about The Foreign Policy Process in
lirilaiii says ‘High policy issues arc those which arc seen by policy-makers as
affecting Britain’s fundamental standing in the world: as involving national
security or national prestige, as linked to values and symbols important to
society as a whole.’52 Where Wallace differs from other writers is in the asser
consists of all those actors for whom the issue is salient. They are the ones
that chose to engage in interactions to effect outcomes. The part of the global
political system which we wish to study may or may not consist predominantly
of governments. It may or may not contain large numbers of transnational
political actors, from any of the eight categories of pressure groups. The situa
tion will depend upon the issue under consideration and the time period under
consideration.
The extent to which any actor will be the target of pressure will depend,
significantly but not solely, upon the extent to which the actor has the ability
to take and enforce decisions. Generally, this is perceived to coincide with the
legal authority of the actor. As most governments have extremely wide authority,
but never unlimited authority, they become major focal points for interactions.
But it must be remembered that all other organizations possess some authority,
cither in a recognized legal sense or in some analogous rule-making capacity.
Thus, virtually all organizations can determine eligibility and conditions of
membership of their own organization. Usually they can freely dispose of their
own resources. As a result any organization may become the target of pressure.
The issue of apartheid raises such a diversity of questions, which are of high
salience to such a diverse range of actors and affects the exercise of their
authority for so many of the actors, that virtually any organization with cither
wide global links or engaged in direct interactions with South Africa finds itself
within the global political system on the issue of apartheid. In the UN, the
process of delegitimizing the South African government is linked to most other
issues with which it deals. Governments are under pressure, but specific-issue
tion of the subjective nature of these questions: ‘What is or is not a matter
of high policy is above all a matter of perception, of definition.’53 In other
words, it is not the geographical situation of a country, its power in relation
to its neighbours and questions of military strategy that determine security
Co to be a matter of high politics. (On such a basis, the prevention of a military
alliance between France and America would be the top item on Britain’s
political agenda.) 1 he determination of ‘high policy' is a matter of choice.
As Wallace points out, the question of Britain’s relations with the EEC was
at first seen as mainly a matter of foreign trade policy and as such not ‘high
policy’,
to be redefined, rather painfully, as a matter of high policy when the
Treasury, the Foreign Office, the Cabinet and the leaders of British in
dustry realized that wider questions were involved and that a reassessment
of the assumptions underlying British foreign policy might be necessary.54
For many governments of the Third World, such as Jamaica, Ghana or Sri
Lanka, there may be no significant problems of ‘national security’ affecting
their international relations. The security problems may be severe, but they
arise from the domestic system. For them the high politics of international
relations lies in trade and aid issues, The logic of Wallace’s approach leads us
to abandon the concept of high and low politics and replace it with the more
precise and more widely applicable concept of issue salience. If priorities are
a matter of choice, if they can change over time and can vary at the same time
between one government and another, then to study any issue we need to
know how much salience governments attach to the issue and how much they
are attempting to exercise their authority on the issue.
The advantage of the concept is that we can generalize it to other actors,
?
4
groups, notably Anti-Apartheid, and religious bodies also try directly to affect
the employment policies of multi-national companies. The EEC is drawn in to
harmonize the impact on companies. Recreational clubs are asked to break
their contacts with South Africa; political parties are expected to take a stand;
and professional associations have debated how to apply their professional
ethics to work in a society practising apartheid.
When we move from politics as the exercise of authority to the second
meaning of politics as the mobilization of legitimacy, once again governments,
intergovernmental organizations and pressure groups arc all involved. But govern
ments arc no longer the dominant actors. Legitimacy attaches to actors, in the
way we perceive their status, and to ideas or policies, in the way wc measure
their moral value. The concept of power (as capability rather than as influence)
is usually taken to cover the ability to utilize coercion, with the more recent
/
2-1
Pdcr Willetts
Pressure Groups us I ransnationul Actors
emphasis in international relations on the ability to dispose of economic re
sources. The ability to mobilize legitimacy should also be seen as a power
capability, in this domain, it is conceivable that Amnesty International, lor
example, has greater power than any single government. It derives global legiti
macy both from its very high status, one recognition of which was the award
of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1977, and from the high moral value that so many
people attach to the policies it is pursuing.
One reason for the interaction between different actors can be the attempt
of an actor to increase its legitimacy by association with another actor of high
status. The United Nations may have little power, in the sense of a very limited
ability to impose coercion or to dispose of economic resources, but it does have
considerable power, by virtue of its high status and widespread support for
the ideals it seeks to promote. This helps to explain the interaction between
pressure groups and the United Nations and other intergovernmental organiza
tions. On each side there is the potential for increasing legitimacy by participa
tion in the relationship.
I
We can now produce a definition of global politics, which is fundamentally
different from that of the three established schools. International relations
is not concerned just with the exercise of power, predominantly in the form
of military capabilities, in order to influence outcomes. Nor can interactions
CO
re across the world be seen as predominantly concerned with the production and
disposal of economic resources. Global politics covers the utilization of coercion
and the disposal of economic resources and the mobilization of legitimacy,
. by governments and intergovernmental organizations and pressure groups.
Governments are important as loci of authority and in the possession of military
capabilities. Sectional interest groups are important as transnational economic
actors. In addition we must regard the five types of promotional pressure groups,
along with intergovernmental organizations, as important transnational political
actors, mobilizing legitimacy. Indeed, all types of global actors may in principle
engage in all three types of interactions. If we wish to explain political processes,
we should not assume in advance that certain types of actors or certain types
of interactions can be ignored. Our models of global politics, unfortunately,
must become more complex.
)
References
1 Finer, S. Anonymous Empire (London, Pall Mall, 1958, second cdn. 1966).
2 The most important early works on transnationalism were Rosenau, J. N. (ed.), Linkages
Politics: Essays on the Convergence of National and International Systems (New York,
Free Press, 1969) and Keohane, R. O. and Nye, J. S. (eds.), Transnational Relations
and World Politics (Cambridge, USA and London, UK. Harvard University Press, 1971).
Since then there have been many articles and books dealing with case studies, too many
to be listed here. The more important general works are Mansbach, R. W., Ferguson, Y. H.,
and Lampert, D. E., The Web of World Politics: Non-State Actors in the Global System
(Englewood Cliffs, N.J.. Prentice Hall, 1976), Rosenau, J. N., The Study of Global
I
Interdependence. Essays on the Transnatiunalisalion of World Afjairs (London, I ranccs
Pinter. 1980), and Mansbach, R. W. and Vasqucz. J., In Search of Theory. A New Para
digm for Global Politics (New York, Columbia University Press. 1981).
J l or example, K. N. Waltz says that the '.study ol transnational movcmenl.s deals with
important factual questions, which theories can help one to cope with. But the help
will not be gained if it is thought that nonstate actors call the state-centric view of the
world into question' - Theory of International Politics (Reading, Mass., USA and
London, UK, Addison-Wesley Publishing, 1979). p. 95 - and in a section on 'Trans
national Organisations', which predominantly discusses multinational corporations,
II. Bull says 'll is sovereign states which command most of the armed forces of the
world, which are the objects of the most powerful human loyalties, ami whose con
flict and co-operation determine the political structure of the world. The multi
national corporation does not even remotely provide a challenge to the state in the
exercise of these functions’ - The Anarchical Society. A Study of Order in World
Politics (London, Macmillan Press, 1977), pp. 272-3.
4 Kimber. R. and Richardson, J. J. (eds.). Pressure Groups in Britain (London, J. M.
Dent, 1974), p. 3.
5 in making this summary, a paper by Grant, W. 'Insider Groups. Outsider Groups and
Interest Group Strategies in Britain* (University of Warwick, Department of Politics
Working Paper No. 19, May 1978), was most useful. More detailed references are given
in his paper.
6 Quote from Lord Wolfendcn, The Future of Voluntary Organisations. Report of the
Wolfenden Committee (London, Croom Helm, 1978), p. 131. The list of the top
twenty charities, in terms of their income, was derived from the Wolfendcn Report,
pp. 264-6. The data on income was from 1975. Membership of the National Council
for Voluntary Organizations was taken from their 61st Annual Report 1979/80,
pp. 30-1.
7 The forty-seven women's INGOs are listed, with their dates of foundation and some
other information, in Boulding, E., 'Female Alternatives to Hierarchical Systems. Past
and Present — A Critique of Women's NGO’s in the Light of History', International
Associations, 1975, pp. 340-6. This article, as is indicated by the title, is an example
of an ideological rejection of 'organization'. It is permeated with the sexist assumption
that women have ‘their traditional networking skills' as opposed to ‘male organizational
patterns’ of dominance and hierarchy (p. 343).
8 The classic study of pressure groups in United States politics is Truman, D. B., The
Governmental Process. Political Interests and Public Opinion (New York, A. A. Knopf.
1951, second cdn., 1971). Truman also takes the view that political parties can be
comparable to pressure groups in domestic politics. Minor ‘ “parties" essentially are
weak political interest groups that adopt this form of activity (nominating candidates
and electioneering! because they cannot command access to government through other
means,’ p. 282.
9 The Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament is a member of the International Confederation
for Disarmament and Peace; the Anti-Apartheid Movement is on the committee of
ICSA, the International Committee against Apartheid, Racism and Colonialism in
Southern Africa; and the World Development Movement is a member of the Inter
national Coalition for Development Action. These three INGOs all have their head
quarters in London.
10 Development Guide. A Directory of non-commercial organisations in Britain actively
concerned in overseas development and training (London, George Allen and Unwin,
for the Overseas Development Institute, 1978, Third Edn.). The overwhelming majority
of the 198 organizations listed are technical or professional bodies involved in research
and/or training. Perhaps about twenty groups have an overseas operational programme
and another thirty or so are concerned with promoting interest in, knowledge of, and
support for development.
11 North-South: A programme for survival. Report of the Independent Commission on
International Development Issues (London and Sydney. Pan Books, and Cambridge,
Mass., MIT Press, 1980), quote from p. 117 of the Pan edition.
▲
26
co
GO
I’eler Willetts
1 2 Final Document of the Tenth Special Session of the United Nations General Assembly,
Resolution S-10/2, adopted by consensus on 30 June 1978, paragraphs 16. 89, 9-1
and 95.
13 World Disarmament Campaign bulletin, No. 2, November 1980, p. 1.
14 The source was a document, W. I). C. Support Groups, November I9RR, su pplicd to
the author by the General-Secretary, containing a list of names and addresses.
15 Alkcr, II. R. and Russell, B. M., World Politics in the General Assembly (New Haven
ami London, Yale University Press, 1965). Bailey, S. I). The General Assembly of
the United Nations. A Study of iSocedure and Practice (London, Stevens and Sons,
and New York, l;. A. Praeger, for the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace,
1960). Claude, I. L., Swords into Ploughshares. The Problems and Progress of Inter
national Organisation (New York, Random House, 1971, Tourth Edn.). Gregg, R. W.
and Barkun, M. (eds.), The United Nations System and its Functions - selected readings
(Princeton, London, Melbourne and Toronto, Van Nostrand, 1968). Luard, E., The
United Nations. How it Works and What it Does (London, Macmillian Press, 1979).
Nicholas, II. G., The United Nations as a Political Institution (London, tlxloul Uni
versity Press, 1971, l-’ourth Edn.).
16 Perkins, E. V., Comparative Pressure Group Politics and Transnational Relations. The
Case of Non-Governmental Organisations at the United Nations (unpublished Ph.I).
Dissertation, Texas Tech University, May 1977), p. 10.
17 Ibid, and p. 78. Sec also Eichelberger, C. M., Organizing for Peace. A Personal History
of the T'ounding of the United Nations (New York and London, Harper and Row,
1977), ch. 17.
18 ‘Brief history of the consultative relationship of non-governmental organisations with
the Economic and Social Council. Report of the Secretary-General', United Nations
Document E/C.2/661 of 7 May 1968, p. 1, quoted by Perkins, op. cit., p. 1 1.
19 Perkins, op. cit., p. 1 1, referring to Carey, J., UN Protection of Civil and Political Rights
(Syracuse, Syracuse University Press, 1970), p. 131, and White, L. C., et al., Inter
national Non-Governmental Organisations; Their Purposes, Methods and Accomplish
ments (New Brunswick, Rutgers University Press, 1951), p. 171. Eichelberger, op. cit.,
pp. 269-72, partially substantiates the point.
20 Consultation between the United Nations and Non-Governmental Organisations. A Work
ing Paper Transmitted by the Interim Committee to Consultative Nmi-Guvernmental
Organisations (Westport, Conn., Greenwood Press, 1978, reprint of 1949 cd., published
for the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace), p. 23.
21 Ibid., the full list is given on pp. 69-71.
22 ECOSOC Resolution 1296(XL1V), adopted unanimously on 23 May 1968. Ibis is a
long and detailed resolution with forty-six paragraphs specifying the mechanisms for
'Arrangements for Consultation with Non-Governmental Organisations’.
23 Op. cit., in note 20, p. 24.
24 Perkins, op. cit., p. 83.
25 Op. cit., in note 20, p. 23.
26 P'or the original provisions see op. cit. in note 20, pp. 24-5, and for the current pro
visions see ECOSOC Resolution 1296CXL1V).
27 Perkins, op. cit., pp. 219-35.
28 Lodge, J. and Herman, V., ‘'The Economic and Social Committee in EEC decision
making’, International Organization, Vol. 34, No. 2, Spring 1980, pp. 265-84, quote
from p. 269.
29 Ibid., p. 284.
30 Economic and Social Committee of the European Communities General Secretariat,
European Interest Groups and their Relationship with the Economic and Social Com
mittee (Saxon House, Earnborough, UK, 1980). A table on p. 15 gives the ranking
of the amount of contact with Community institutions for each of the twenty-two
groups.
31 Averages calculated by the author and not in the original source.
32 The forty-six committees arc listed on pp. 45-8 of Economic and Social Committee of
the European Communities General Secretariat, Community Advisory Committees
i
i
1
jor the Representation oj Socio Tconomic Interests (Saxon House, l arnborough,
UK, 1980).
33 European Interest Groups, p. 16.
34 All these figures were derived from counting up the entries in the table on pp. 5-6 of
European Interest Groups. All three indicators of a Community orientation (being
established after 1955, having a Brussels hcad<|uarlcrs and being confined to members
from Community countries), arc satisfied by fifteen of the twenty-two groups. Seven
of the eighteen which only have members from the Community area do have associates
from other European countries.
35 Keohanc, R. O. and Nye, J. S., Power and Interdependence. World Politics in Transition
(Boston, Little Brown, 1977), p. 24.
36 Reynolds, P. A. and McKinlay, R. D. ‘The Concept of Interdependence: Its Uses and
Misuses', in Goldmann, K. and Sjbstcdt, G., Power, Capabilities and Interdependence
Problems in the Study of International Influence (London and Beverly Hills, Sage,
1979), p. 154.
37 Mitrany, I)., 'A Political Theory for the New Society’, in Groom, A. J. K. and Taylor, I*
(eds.), T'unctionahsm. Theory and Practice in Inlernalionai Relations (London, Uni
versity of London Press, 1975), pp. 31-2.
38 Ibid., p. 32.
39 Burton, J. W., World Society (Cambridge, UK, Cambridge University Press, 1972),
p. 45.
40 Burton, J. W., ‘International Relations or World Society’, in Burton, J. W. ct al.. The
Study of World Society. A London Perspective (International Studies Association,
Occasional Paper No. 1, 1974), p. 5.
41 Ibid., p. 17.
42 Ibid., p. 16.
43 Table 5 on p. 79 of Skjclsback, K., ‘ The Growth of International Nongovernmental
Organisation in the Twentieth Century’, pp. 70-92 of Keohanc and Nye, Iransniiliomil
Relations . . sec note 2.
44 When the Open University course team were preparing the new ‘World Politics' course,
which was first offered in 1981, they frequently spoke of ‘the pluralist perspective’.
The phrase docs not appear in the course reader that has now been published. There
is just a reference on p. 117 to ’a kind of pluralism at the international level’. The
relevant section of readings is headed "The Politics of Interdependence and Trans
national Relations’ in Smith, M., Little, R., and Shackleton, M. (eds.), Perspectives
on World Politics (London, Croom Helm, 1981).
45 Banks, M., ’Ways of Analyzing the World Society', pp. 195-215 of Groom, A. J. R.
and Mitchell, C. R. (eds.), International Relations Theory, A liibliograpby (London,
Prances Pinter, and New York, Nichols, 1978). Banks’ labels for the four different
paradigms arc not the same as mine, but the distinctions made are the same, except
that we disagree on how to categorize the work of Keohane and Nye.
46 Sec the references in note 2 and Section 2 of Smith, Little and Shackleton, Perspec
tives on World Politics.
47 Keohanc and Nye, Transnational Relations, p. xxv.
48 Ibid., p. 380.
49 Ibid., p. 378.
50 Ibid., pp. 376, 377 and 378.
51 Keohanc and Nye, Power and Interdependence, p. 24.
52 Wallace, W., The Foreign Policy Process in Hritain (London, George Allen and Unwin,
1977), p. 11.
53 Ibid., p. 12.
54 Ibid., p. 13.
II
&
ELEVEN • Implementation Amidst Scarcity
and Apathy: Political Power
and Policy Design
&
PETER S. CLEAVES
L
r
ll
^1
&
ill
What are the conditions for a policy or program to be success
fully implemented in the Third World? Each of the case studies
in this volume has reiterated two central ideas in response to this
question. First, political and administrative actors need to mobi
lize sufficient power to execute a policy design, and their ability
to do. so depends on the influence and predilections of others in
the political environment. Second, because of their content, some
policies or programs themselves can be more or less difficult to
implement. Thus, the scope of political power available to imple
mentors and what I would call the policy’s problematique are two
broad categories of variables that need to be considered by ana
lysts when they evaluate the potential of various programs to be
carried to completion. The specific examples of policy execution
in this book present a number of operational lessons of how
policymakers, bureaucrats, and political activists may be able to
manipulate these variables to facilitate the implementation of re
form programs. Briefly, they may be able to do so either by mo
bilizing additional political resources to achieve their goals or by
making policies less complex and more responsive to the interests
of affected populations.
It should be clear, however, that the “success” of program im
plementation depends upon the perspective of the observer. Im
plementation involves a process of moving toward a policy objec
tive by means of administrative and political steps. To the degree
that these steps approximate the desired end, the program is beNote-. This chapter was written while the author was a visiting fellow at
Yale University. He is currently Ford Foundation representative for Mexico
and Central America. The ideas expressed herein are his and do not neces
sarily represent those of either of these institutions.
281
84
r"
.....
. _ - ...
‘z
!
I
i
-^c•
-.
•'T
... *
' ' '■■^2
ELEVEN • Cleaves
•h
03
CJ1
ing implemented and the policymaker is pleased. When the policy
itself, however, contains features that are contrary to the interests
of the target populations, successful implementation will not cause
them to rejoice. Indeed, the failure of such a program may be a
source of relief. Thus, when the words “successful implementa
tion” have been used in this book, they refer to the outlook of
those groups that favor the respective policy objectives.
In this summary chapter, I draw on the case studies to explore
broadly the nature of the policy context in terms of the political
power available to different actors in the society, including the
government, and to analyze how the problematique of a policy
affects its implementation. Also, I attempt to join these two ele
ments schematically as a means of explaining why some policies
are implemented and others are not. The chapter concludes with a
number of recommendations for how implementors can proceed
under unpropitious conditions, either by altering the correlation
of forces mobilized around a policy or by modifying its content,
to bring about change in their societies. Thus, while most of the
previous chapters have dealt with failures in implementation, my
task here is to try to suggest how things “might have been dif
ferent.”
Political Power and Policy ProblSmatique
1
Political power can be understood
as difectly
a ’.............................
variable that
affects implementation because the amount of resources that can
be mobilized in favor of or in opposition to a specific policy is
vital to estimating its chances for implementation.1 But the re
sources available to policy actors are not uniform in all societies.
Power is divided differently in various types of political systems,
and implementors need to be aware that its distribution influences
both the content of policy and the success with which policy is
executed. Although it is difficult to classify specific systems into
rigidly defined ideal types, it is possible to make at least three dis
tinctions among regimes depending on the amount of power vested
in the government and the structural arrangements linking the
bureaucratic apparatus to groups, classes, and individuals in the
society at large. Systems approaching each type—open, closed,
1 By resources I refer to the differentiated definition of power developed
by W. Ilchman and N. Uphoff in The Political Economy of Change (Berke
ley: University of California Press, 1969), pp. 49-91.
I
ELEVEN • Power and Policy Design
and intermediate—have been included in this volume, and each
type calls forth different tasks for policy implementors and ana
lysts to address.2
Open political systems are characterized by a large number of
relatively autonomous interest associations, political organizations,
and governmental agencies. These diverse actors generally have
competing ideas about what the government should do in response
to public problems and the scope and direction of change to be
sought in the society. In such a context, classes and groups that
join alliances or maneuver skillfully can till the content of policy
in their favor or undermine policies that are contrary to their in
terests. In fact, it is often misleading to consider policies in these
systems as being simply “public” or "governmental.” Quite fre
quently, important private groups also pursue policies that have
an affect on the public domain. Moreover, as soon as public poli
cies elicit an organized response from nonofl'icial sources, they
may generate counterproposals and activities that change the in
tentions and perceptions of the original policymakers in govern
mental circles. This sort of pluralism can enhance policy imple
mentation when public and private resources eventually support
compatible goals, but it can also entail costs. For instance, when
2 It is venturesome to utilize all-encompassing labels for contemporary
political systems, and this nomenclature is a compromise that applies gen
erally to the cases in this book and to many other Third World countries.
The “open” type refers to systems that might also be called liberal, demo
cratic, pluralistic, or multiparty. Characteristic features of the open system
are manifest in works following upon D. Truman’s The Governmental
Process (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1965). "Closed" systems would in
clude most authoritarian, totalitarian, centralist, or single-party dominant
governments. One type is described by V. Lenin, State and Revolution (New
York: International Publishers, 1932), but such systems are not confined
to the left of the political spectrum, as G. O’Donnell spells out in Moderni
zation and Bureaucratic-Authoritarianism (Berkeley: University of Cali
fornia, Institute of International Studies, 1973). “Intermediate" systems are
those that have sectoral or communal subsystems with relatively little au
tonomy, and are alternatively labelled neocorporatist, consociational, or pre
mobilized. The corporatist type is described in Philippe Schmitter, "Still the
Century of Corporatism?” The Review of Politics, 36, No. I (January 1974),
85-131. For useful attempts at systems comparisons across geographic and
cultural regions, see G. Almond and B. Powell, Jr., Comparative Politics A
Developmental Approach (Boston: Little, Brown & Co., 1966); D. Apter,
The Politics of Modernization (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1965); and J. Linz, “Totalitarian and Authoritarian Regimes,” in F. Greenstein and N. Polsby, eds., Handbook of Political Science, 3 (Reading, Mass.:
Addison-Wesley, 1975), 175-411.
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282
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co
power is widely distributed in a policy arena, there is less chance
for (he implementation of a policy connoting significant change.
The case of housing programs in Cali, Colombia, documented in
this volume by Irene Fraser Rothenberg, is an example of the
pathological effect of severe power fragmentation on policy imple
mentation. In this case, stalemate and failure were the conse
quences of a multiplicity of actors seeking incongruent objectives,
not compromise and subsequent collaboration. In open systems
like the cases of Colombia and India discussed in this volume, the
basic issue for the analyst often is not the degree to which a pub
lic agency achieves its original goals but what mix of interestedparty objectives appears to be most consolidated in response to
the policy initiative. There is a need, in such a situation, to ask
how this alliance of forces has affected the ability of (he govern
ment to approximate its goals. Government programs in such
systems are most likely to be revamped (or discarded) during
their execution when officials have set their original priorities with
little regard for the preferences of influential opponents or po
tential supporters in the society at large.
When the state apparatus itself monopolizes economic and so
cial power in the society and retains full discretion over policy
initiatives, the system can be labelled closed. Its policies generally
respond to the institutional interests of the group that dorqmates
the government machinery. Commonly in such systems, national
elites conclude that their goals for the society, such as economic
development or national security, are prejudiced by the social and
economic patterns characterizing “marginal” populations. The
chapter by Janice Perlman provides an example of how this type
of regime—Brazil in her case—may embark on programs to co
ordinate the behavior of the poor with national plans. She is also
able to suggest reasons why these policies are usually inconclusive,
pointing to the tendency of the regimes to be unresponsive and to
misperceive the factors that in actuality determine the behavior of
the underclasses. Interestingly, although a unified core may domi
nate organized political activity in the country, such a system may
not have sufficient power to force compliance from disorganized
but wary people who are well aware that the government’s policies
do not respond to their particular needs. In this case, the subdued
antipathy of Brazilian favelados toward their new dwellings sabo
taged the government’s stated intentions and actually exacerbated
many of the problems that relocation was to resolve. Thus, al284
!
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ELEVEN • Power and Policy Design
I
though these sectors did not articulate overt hostility toward the
policy during execution, and indeed were incapable of opposition
on a group basis, they could withhold their individual cooperation
to a point of representing a barrier to implementation that sur
passed the resources of the political leadership and bureaucracy.
In closed systems, negative sanctions are usually more frequently
employed than positive inducements because of the difficulty of
reconciling the logic of ideologically inspired policy with the eco
nomic and social interests of affected populations. The task for
the analyst here is to question how much coercion the regime will
employ to achieve its goals, the impact that this will have on the
responses of the affected population, and whether the goals ac
tually are a viable solution to the problem, given the aloofness of
policy planners from the interests and life styles of the poor.
The situation is somewhat different in intermediate systems,
where power is less centrally concentrated. Policy content corre
sponds partially to the interests of national elites and of popular
sectors who, theoretically, are harmoniously integrated into the
state via nationalism (or an organicist ideology) and special po
litical structures are managed vertically. In Africa, Asia, andTatin
America, such systems are usually found in countries with long
standing corporate or communal structures (church, army, tribe,
village), and where large portions of the population are parochial
in outlook, living at close to subsistence levels, and unorganized
for collective political action. Classes and privileged groups in the
“modern” sector of these countries typically behave in ways that
are similar to those in open societies. They generate demands,
form coalitions, and may even share the reins of power on a ro
tational basis. The existence of large unmobilized populations,
however, distorts many aspects of “normal” political life, includ
ing public policy. Although traditional groups do not generate
policy alternatives nor determine their outcome, their very num
bers have an important effect on elites’ perspectives, as Merilee
Grindle points out in her discussion of agriculture and food policy
in Mexico. In this case, the government provided positive incen
tives to integrate potentially unruly groups into the distributional
network and attempted to design a policy that would forestall
violence or public dissent. Similarly, in Kenya, the Temples indi
cate that housing policy became a tool to be used in clicntelist
fashion to help allocate rewards in the political system. When
assessing implementation problems in cas such as these, the
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ELEVEN ■ Power and Policy Design
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I ;
I
tl
00
analyst needs to be sensitive to the extent to which policies serve
as symbols rather than designs for execution, and side bargains or
payoffs are tolerated as a means of system preservation despite
the negative effect they may have on achieving stated policy goals.
The political leadership makes periodic decisions about the
priority of each sector of the population, and these choices tend
to be supportive of the type of political system that the elite hopes
to sustain. Given the limits on the government’s capability, re
sources allocated to one sector obviously cannot be invested in
another, even though the regime may announce uniformly high
priority for most of its economic, political, and social goals. Im
plementors often find that even an initial, formalized allocation
plan, such as a yearly budget or a five-year plan, may be altered
during the course of its execution because of an underestimate
of program needs, general resource shortfalls, or new priorities
announced at mid-stream. System-threatening disturbances in
some sectors may draw a sudden influx of resources to attend to
the crisis, draining them from other programs. Also, the failure
of certain sectors to provide outputs crucial for the success of a
coordinated plan will deprive other policy areas of the means for
achieving their objectives.
These introductory remarks, which will be amplified later in
the chapter, should be sufficient to demonstrate (hat the kinds of
power underlying implementation attempts are conditioned by
varying state-society relations. They should not be interpreted to
mean, however, that the only factor weighing on policy imple
mentation is the distribution of power among implementors, their
allies, and their opponents, measured along some scale. If so,
ideologically convinced or intensely goal-oriented political actors
would have no compunction about ‘‘shooting for the stars” in
terms of policy objectives whenever they perceived a favorable
political advantage, however slight. Similarly, more prudent po
litical or bureaucratic leaders might hesitate to implement even
modest changes if their power was on the decline. The policies
that these actors pursue can vary significantly in terms of how
difficult they are to implement.
There are at least six intrinsic aspects of any policy that affect
its chances for successful implementation (see Table 11-1). First,
there is the complexity of the change mechanism itself. When in
novative organizational forms, untried technology, extensive co
ordination, or complicated methodologies are prerequisites, the
chances for successful implementation are reduced, as Jeffrey
Pressman and Aaron Wildavsky have pointed out.3 In Chapter
Five, David Pyle argues that these factors of complicated organi
zation, staging, and supply lines were crucial in determining the
outcome of the nutrition project in India. Likewise, one of the
findings of the community development pilot project that Gerald
Sussman discusses was “keep it simple,” but the lesson was not
applied in subsequent efforts. A second aspect of policy content
to consider is that, as Charles Lindblom has argued, when the
change sought is incremental in comparison with the prepolicy
status quo, the possibilities for execution are greater because the
risks of error and the amount of information required are both
smaller? It is conceivable that an incremental approach might
have resulted in more positive results in the case of the coopera
tive organizations in Zambia that are analyzed in Chapter Two.
Certainly the rapid and extensive attempt to spread the program
nationally for maximum visibility and impact discouraged policy
planners from paying much attention to the concrete details of
the effort or to the amount of change realistically possible through
the program.
TABI.I- II I
Charac rtRlSfICS Ob Pui icy Aiiiciing lis IMHI I Ml NIAIION
Less Problematic
1. Simple technical features
2. Marginal change from status
quo
3. One-actor target
4 One-goal objective
5. Clearly stated goals
6. Short duration
More Pmlilematic
Complex technical features
Comprehensive change from
status quo
Multi-actor targets
Multi-goal objectives
Ambiguous or unclear goals
Long duration
Implementation is also affected by the number of actors in
volved and the variety of goals that each espouses vis-iLvis the
policy in question. In the simplest case, a unified set of policy
makers with a single goal confronts a target group with a similar
preference regarding the same issue area. Such two-actor, limited
goal interfaces are rare, however, and when the number of actors
increases, the incidence of trade-offs generally increases as does
3 J. Pressman and A. Wildavsky, Implementation (Berkeley; University
of California Press, 1973), pp. 6, 93, 100-101
* C. Lindblom, The Intelligence of Democracy (New York: Free Press.
1965).
286
287
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ELEVEN • Cleaves
ELEVEN • Power and Policy Design
the cost of competence. Cynthia McClintock shows f
that peasants
m Peru attempted to maximize the agrarian reform’s positive
elements while minimizing its negative aspects in terms of their
own
goals, and in so doing significantly altered the feasibility of the
policy. Such activities may not oblige a public reformulation of
policy object.ves but can result in sufficiently severe alterations
in the original guidelines to force the conclusion that the plan
being carried out is no longer the one originally designed
Implementation and its measurement are complicated by the ex
istence of the multiple goals a policy may incorporate. A policy to
increase expenditures in health care for the urban poor for ex
ample, may derive from a variety of interests, many of them diffi
cult to pm down, ranging from the stated objectives to tend to the
sick to a desire to promote the hospital construction industry op
give greater visibility to the newly appointed minister of health
N. Roos pomts out that goal definition may vary because people
disagree about the objectives of a given program or because "no
one is willing or has given time to defining them,” often because
it is not to their advantage to do so? Certainly McClintock Quick
and Pyle, in their separate chapters, emphasize the ramifications
of goals not agreed upon or not clearly stated for the outcome of
implementation activities. Indeed, clarity of objectives is one of
the most important factors singled out by Susan Hadden in de
termining the utility of the strategy of controlled decentralization
for successful policy execution.
On other
otner occasions,
occasions, the
the policymaki
policymaker simply assumes he knows
c aims of the groups whose situation he is attempting to ameliorate. Thts is a persistent cause of failure of social policies directed
toward nonmobilized populations, as Perlman's Brazilian case il
lustrates. Consequently, the researcher often must deduce in
herent policy goals from the behavior of participating actors over
time, rather than from their stated preferences. Frederick and
Nelle Temple utilize this approach astutely to learn that the real
purpose of public housing in Nairobi was not to build shelter for
the poor, but to respond to nationalist sentiments and to provide
status and income property for the middle and upper-middle
classes. If all other factors are
equal, when
when many
goals r.r?
are pur
are equal,
many goals
sued at once, or when goals are unclear, a policy
nolicv has
h»c i„o
,,r a
less of
6N.
1
Roos, "Proposed Guidelines for f valuation
Journal, 3,. No.
- 7. (Aulumn
- - j 1974), 107-1 11
288
Research." Policy Studies
chance for successful execution than when its goals are limited,
explicit, and mutually reinforcing.
The final element of a policy’s problematique is the length of
time programmed for its implementation. If the policy lends itself
to rapid execution, the policymaker can reduce uncertainty to a
minimum. On the other hand, the greater the duration of sequen
tial steps involved in the implementation stage, the greater the
possibilities for existing actors to alter their goals, for leadership
to turn over, for new actors to enter the scene, or for uninten
tional consequences to take their toll.*1 Gerald Sussman points to
such factors of liming in considering why the original pattern for
community development was abandoned and a new model adopt
ed in India. Since it is unlikely that policymakers can foresee the
exact mixture of these contingencies and compensate lor them in
the original plan, the longer the duration of implementation, the
slimmer the possibility that the original policy will prevail, even
if relative power factors have not altered significantly.
This discussion of the resources of political power available to
a regime and the problematic aspects of a policy suggests that
both factors need to be taken into consideration by implementors
and policymakers in gauging chances for successful execution.
Table 11-2 postulates four possible outcomes of implementation
activities depending upon whether the regime has more or fewer
resources to apply and whether the policy itself is more or less
problematic, based on a composite reading of the six continua in
Table 11-1. This table presents a number of basic hypotheses. It
suggests, for example, that the more problematic the intrinsic
features of the reform, the greater the amount of power that will
be required for implementation. The kind of policy and political
context conforming to Box I in the figure are the most absorbing
and difficult. The policies in question are technically complicated,
comprehensive, with many actors seeking multiple goals; they im
ply long-term horizons, and require a large amount of physical
and material resources for implementation. This type of policy is
exemplified by the Peruvian agrarian reform in the McClintock
chapter. Box IV suggests the corresponding hypothesis that the less
problematic the policy, the less power required. As a consequence,
8 D. R. Bunker makes a similar point and presents a three-dimensional
figure to illustrate his argument in "Bolicy Science Pers|>eciives on Imple
mentation Processes,” Policy Sciences, 3, No. 7 (Minch 1973), 75-77.
289
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ELEVEN • Cleaves
ELEVEN • Power and Policy Design
ments while minimizing its n
t
Srar,an reform s positive ele-
give rreler^bn-rr?
N Roo. n
yu
,he neW'y aPP°inled "-inister of health
N- Roos points out that goal definition may vary because oenn
disagree about the obiertivec
o
7
y Decause people
T-p,.
“
purpose of public housing in Nairobi was not to build shelter for
Jalus^and inc°
‘0 ^a'iOnaliS, Sen,imen,s and
property
middle
classes
Pr°Pertyarefor the
,he when
midd'e a"d “PPer-nriddle
classy If
if aaln 0[her r(ac(ors
------ j are equal, when many goals r-----once, or when goals» are
has less
are unclear,
unclear, aa policy
policy has
less of
of a
5 n. rRoos. “Proposed Guidelines f "
for Evaluation Research." Policy Studies
Journal, 3. No. 7 (Autumn
----------- 1 1974), J07-I 11
chance for successful execution than when its goals are limited
explicit, and mutually reinforcing.
The final element of a policy’s problernatique is the length of
time programmed for its implementation. If the policy lends itself
to rapid execution, the policymaker can reduce uncertainty to a
minimum. On the other hand, the greater the duration of sequen
tial steps involved in the implementation stage, the greater the
possibilities for existing actors to alter their goals, for leadership
to turn over, for new actors to enter the scene, or for uninten
tional consequences to take their toll." Gerald Sussman points to
such factors of timing in considering why the original pattern for
community development was abandoned and a new model adopt
ed in India. Since it is unlikely that policymakers can foresee the
exact mixture of these contingencies and compensate for them in
the original plan, the longer the duration of implementation the
slimmer the possibility that the original policy will prevail, even
if relative power factors have not altered significantly.
This discussion of the resources of political power available to
a regime and the problematic aspects of a policy suggests that
both factors need to be taken into consideration by implementors
and policymakers in gauging chances for successful execution.
Table 11-2 postulates four possible outcomes of implementation
activities depending upon whether the regime has more or fewer
resources to apply and whether the policy itself is more or less
problematic, based on a composite reading of the six continua in
Table 11-1. This table presents a number of basic hypotheses. It
suggests, for example, that the more problematic the intrinsic
features of the reform, the greater the amount of power that will
be required for implementation. The kind of policy and political
context conforming to Box I in the figure are the most absorbing
and difficult. The policies in question are technically complicated,
comprehensive, with many actors seeking multiple goals; they im
ply long-term horizons, and require a large amount of physical
and material resources for implementation. This type of policy is
exemplified by the Peruvian agrarian reform in the McClintock
chapter. Box IV suggests the corresponding hypothesis that the less
problematic the policy, the less power required. As a consequence,
8 D. R. Bunker makes a similar point and presents a three-dimensional
figure to illustrate his argument in “Policy Science Perspectives on Imple
mentation Processes," Policy Sciences, 3, No. 7 (March 1973), 75-77.
288
289
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when policy actors have reduced power they are well advised to
deal in less problematic policies, as I will discuss in the next sec
tion. In addition, Table 11-2 indicates that a policymaker could
expect to face defeat if he attempted to implement an extremely
complicated policy with very few resources, a situation corre
sponding to Box II. Nutrition policy in India clearly faced this
problem, as David Pyle reported. Likewise, the policymaker would
be foolish to engage in overkill in Box III, which besides squander
ing resources might engender exaggerated unintended conse
quences, such as Perlman foresees as a possible outcome of the
favela relocation project in Brazil.
TABLE 11-2
Coordinates Affecting Policy Implementation
Policy Features
Policy Actor
More resources
Fewer resources
More Problematic
Less Problematic
II
IV
in
These statements on the problematique of a reform policy and
the power generated by different parties during its execution in
dicate that reformers may be able to manipulate some aspects of
the policy or its environment in order to bring about changes in
a society. The main lessons to be drawn from the preceding chap
ters relate to this observation. But not all factors that impinge on
an implementation outcome can be controlled or even predicted.
One such factor is the “historical moment” of the reform attempt.
This term is less esoteric than it sounds, referring simply to the
coincidence of events, many of them seemingly insignificant by
other standards, that appear to play an important role at a par
ticular point in time with respect to a policy outcome. The fact
that these variables often cannot be systematically classified ana
lytically does not diminish their importance. The arrival of a re
form leader with deeply felt commitments or animosities, the
emergence of an outside threat bringing together erstwhile enemies
in a coalition of convenience, or the partial breakdown of a po
litical system may generate sufficient momentum for reformers to
overcome normal resistance. The importance of historical moment
is exemplified by attempts at land reform. In Mexico, China, Ja
pan, Cuba, Algeria, and Peru, severe disjunctions occurred in the
national political systems that fixed attention on the rural sector
290
ELEVEN • Power and Policy Design
and provided reformers with considerable impetus to push their
policies forward.7 Similarly, national independence and antico
lonialism in Zambia, India, and Kenya were important forces be
hind the policies described by Quick, Sussman, and the Temples.
These structural breaks are not explicitly linked to theoretical
propositions about implementation because they occur earlier in
the policy process. When they occur, however, they do affect the
ideological predispositions of both policymakers and those af
fected by policy in their perceptions of what can and should be
accomplished. They often result in simultaneous policy initiatives
in other sectors, which modify the environment for implementa
tion. They may change the total political power in the system as a
whole (by means of force or additional budget, for instance), and
imply a new relationship with unintegrated or only marginally
participant sectors of the population.
Another factor weighing on implementation not fully apparent
in Table 11-2 is nonopposition to reform. The table suggests that
were implementors to face no resistance, the chances for successful
implementation would be greater. Such is not always true, how
ever. Stephen Quick refers to this point by arguing that bureau
cratic adversaries can have a salubrious effect on policy implemen
tation by obliging program advocates to specify their goals and
procedures in advance. Nonopposition to reform may also camou
flage public apathy. This issue pops up frequently in the case of
social or economic policies (such as “basic needs”) ostensibly
favorable for, but foisted upon, unmobilized groups. Policymakers
often design such legislation by themeslves, justify the measures on
ethical grounds, and create the necessary infrastructure for their
implementation, counting on few if any allies and facing no visible
opponents. When the implementors leave, the beneficiaries feel
little attachment or gratitude for the services rendered. The whole
operation may be counterproductive because it deprives the recipi
ents of the practical experience of having demanded and obtained
these public goods through their own pressure and initiative. Since
the “cheap” goods of the basic infrastructure have already been
granted, the next level of ostensible demand on the government
(such as greater employment opportunities, rent laws, progressive
tax policies) requires more negotiating skill than these groups can
7 Sec Hung-Chao Tai, Land Reform and Politics A Comparative Analy
sis (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974).
291
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ELEVEN • Cleaves
GO
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i
lion is not the same as showcasing. Model projects are susceptible
to the Hawthorne effect, whereby the participants change their
normal behavtor because of the extra attention focused upon their
activittes. Social experiments often benefit from management ex
pertise, funding, and institutional backing that are not generally
replicated on a national basis. Pilot projects must absorb no more
resources than would be available if the program were deployed
throughout the pohcy arena. The Etawah project, for example, as
described in Chapter Four of this volume, was faithful to these
and other criteria typical of a well-designed social experiment The
lessons that Sussman enumerates about such experiments might
^ful y be apphed elsewhere. Third, once new approaches are
mst.tuted, conllnuily is essential. The first year or two of a reform
may simply inform relevant populations that the project exists.
iven the understandable hesitancy of traditional groups to upset
exis mg re ationships. patience and perserverance are preconditions
for the policy to take hold. Steady rather than momentous change
is sufficient proof that nonproblematic policies are effective This
precauuon might have enhanced the viability of the cooperatives
stimulated by the government of Zambia. Unfortunately,.by the
time policy directors no longer demanded immediate results par
ticipants and political supporters alike had become largely’disil
lusioned with the entire program because of the erratic way in
which it had previously been pursued.
Fourth, national leaders and policymakers must change their
rame of reference as to the definition of personal and policy suc
cess and reward policy implementors accordingly. When money
is hmited, quality personnel in outlying districts scarce, and possi
bilities for change marginal, administrators who undertake these
assignments must be recompensed, in terms of both remuneration
and prestige, for handling small budgets, working in difficult ter
rains, and accomplishing small, gradual, and continuous change.
The policy must contain self-evident measures of social improve
ment so that administrators and supervisors can record their
progress. While appeals for altruism are 1legitimate
’ ‘
ways to build
motivation, they cannot completely substituTe f^ct
-------- compensahon especially when implementors sense that they are bearing
the brunt of the responsibility for national development. In cases
of doubt or alienation, they are likely to seek advantage from their
working environments, which could vitiate policy objectives a
subject of concern in Grindle's discussion of Mexico. The contact
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ELEVEN • Power and Policy Design
points between implementors and clients, and implementors and
the central bureaucracy, must be monitored closely to assure that
inducements and sanctions motivate behavior consistent with
policy goals.
Instructively, David Pyle attributes the failure of the Poshak
nutrition policy in India to each of these factors and to all of them
acting together. It is clear in this case that thoughful analysis of
the policy context was absent prior to implementation. The food
supplement, Instant Corn-Soya-Milk, was a sophisticated import
chosen instead of an effective product developed locally. Pro
moted by CARE, the pilot project was a showcase requiring sub
stantial financial resources and administrative resources that clearly
were unavailable on a large scale. Continuity suffered when only
part of the project extended for more than one year. And the
lower echelon health workers, on whose shoulders the success of
the intervention rested, were demoralized because the project
added responsibilities to their jobs without increasing their prestige
or salaries.
Contrarily, Susan Hadden’s case study of rural electrification in
India exhibited quite opposite features, which she summarizes
under the heading of “controlled decentralization.’’ Policymakers
thoroughly examined the stale’s electrification needs beforehand,
including the relative capacity of electricity to raise the agricultural
productivity and income of village farmers. The technology utilized
was easily available and maintained. Policymakers accurately cal
culated the cost of the project, and established criteria for ex
tending electricity to villages that were based primarily on eco
nomic factors. The administration of the project was rather simple,
because cost was measurable along a single scale. Widespread
knowledge of operating rules allowed engineers and accountants
to resist political and social pressures for inorganic electricity
growth. The program’s long duration did not trigger goal distortion
because its continuity had a soothing effect on popular expecta
tions. Villages denied one year knew that their position on the
eligibility list would rise. Finally, implementors worked earnestly
in their jobs partially because of their belief that they were par
ticipating in the dramatic modernization of rural India and because
their status as engineers and “scientists” was protected and en
hanced throughout the program.
These are a few general suggestions for manipulating the content
of various policies to ensure more successful implementation of
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ELEVEN • Power and Policy Design
reformist policies. Nevertheless, even though problematic policies
are thus reduced in scale, it is still important that the bureaucratic
and environmental contexts be sensitively nurtured by policy pro
moters to further enhance the possibilities for success. If not, it is
unlikely that policy actors will be able to take best advantage of the
small amount of resources that are available to them. In the follow
ing section, various strategies for affecting the policy environment
to encourage successful implementation are discussed.
I
Changing (he Power Balance
I
I
Many policymakers and political activists refuse to abandon the
notion that comprehensive or highly problematic policies can in
deed be implemented, and rightly so. A question then arises: Is it
possible to mobilize sufficient resources in a policy arena to over
come the inherent constraints of technically complicated, compre
hensive, muitiactored and multigoaled, long-term policies?
There are, of course, several ways to do so, and all are difficult.
The first is by means of revolution, or a total modification in the
structure of power in a society which displaces dominant elites
and incorporates previously powerless groups and their articulated
preferences into the decision-making structure. The occurrence of
such upheaval is linked to the concept of historical moment dis
cussed earlier. Revolution” is possible only at specific moments
of social disjunction, and is not often an event that can be planned
in detail beforehand. Even when such drastic change occurs and
progressive political leadership takes advantage of it, problems
emerge concerning how to direct the energies that are unleashed.
Attending to short-term, individualistic, or material values that
motivate many popular sectors may help sweep away the defenders
of a pernicious system, but may also result in a new set of rela
tionships that is little more economically or socially advantageous
to the poor and, more importantly, has no effect on consolidating
their power for future initiatives. Spontaneous redress of deep
grievances, such as land invasions in rural areas or vengeance
against an alien commercial class, can have the effect of weakening
the class power of the perpetrators, because once the political act
is complete, the threat of its occurrence in the future disappears.
One practice proposed to solve this problem is the “mass line.”
As developed in Maoist ideology, the concept involves abstracting
particular aspirations of the masses into an awareness of total
interrelations and corollaries for action. The leaders who abide by
298
the mass line are also the followers of the popular sectors. The
responsibility of the government is to gather the ideas of the
masses, which are scattered and inconsistent, merge them into a
consensus, and then discuss them with the masses so that the ideas
can be incorporated as their own? While there is debate as to the
precise nature of Chinese revolutionary praxis, and whether it can
be repeated in less extraordinary historical circumstances, the gen
eral objective is sound, especially if policies are to be compre
hensive, not incremental, and their implementation to depend on
the internalization of their goals by the populations and leaders
affected by them.
A frequent occurrence in revolutionary situations, however, is
that one elite is displaced by another, but the masses do not lake
part; or, if they do participate, they disaggregate soon afterwards
and continue to reflect defensive, short-term, security-maximizing
attitudes toward new initiatives. In such instances, it is clear that
no significant change occurs in the total amount of power gen
erated that can be used to underwrite various policies for change.
Soon the revolutionary government is faced with the same set of
hurdles in implementing problematic policies affecting poorer con
stituencies, and the latter have no means of proposing systematic
alternatives. More seriously, because the new regime does not
rest solidly on the organized backing of previously nondominant
groups, opponents not eradicated by the revolutionary thrust can
rear up and undermine its progressive intent.
In summary, revolutions are not commonplace because their
necessary preconditions occur infrequently, and often revolution
aries are incapable of seizing the moment. Even when revolutions
topple the elite in power, this does not guarantee that comprehen
sive policies can be implemented to benefit the country s poorer
sectors, because transforming the society’s unintegrated population
into a new power bloc is far from simple. When revolutionary
leadership fails to do so, or abandons the task, a possibility exists
for counterrevolutionary forces to fill the void.
A second means of generating extraordinary resources for prob
lematic policies (though not of the magnitude potentially avail
able in a revolutionary situation) is through bureaucratic mechan
isms, both within and among reigning national institutions and in
Association With various social classes. This tactic, however, is
» See S. Schram, The Political Thought of Mao Tse-Tung (New York
Praeger Publishers, 1963), pp. 315-317.
299
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ELEVEN • Cleaves
delicate, requires political acumen, and runs some risks Bureau
crane response to social demands is related to the type of political
ystem m which the policy actors are embedded. When an open
soda|rninstffmr
d'ffeJer,tiated among ^rious political parties'
°cial institutions, and relatively autonomous public agencies’
power contenders claiming to represent the masses can"’
in their favo^ Es8^! '!* h°PeS °f Cha"Eing ,he pOwer balance
of dissatisfaction aeCla y n
aCCOmpanied by is°^'ed outbursts
”,q“ d taX"’ “hn
kO
cn
reacLonaandesOraandrCerr tS; den°Uncing Peakers as exploiters,
further renression
!
’
Pr0V°ke *he S-ernment into
rther repression on the notion that coercion is preferable to re
parTdoxTth XeSSi?n ag8raVateS miSery and alienalion The
P
that liberal politicians must tolerate and encourage
ceed'yet th8eaniZa!'°n
n'66’ 8r°UPS f°r implemei”ation to suc-
i“ t’o h
ponents
VS m °n °
Prer iS °f,en perce,ved as lhreat°ISter ‘he position of ref°™ °P-
In closed c--*systems, on the other hand, the state concentrates
enormous relative
-...e power within its boundaries, but it tends to be
come
blind to the S°Cluy °f Wh'Ch is a part' The Public institutionsof
poor because th!'™5
' diffiCU'ty IaPPing the resources of the
poor because the poors most effective resource lies in numbers
and mass pressure is inconsistent with bureaucratic norms of de’
hberanon, procedure, and control. Typical!? the norms for nt
motion and recognition make administrators respond to superiors’
PXon
'l,e image °f SUCCeSS’ ra*her tha" bentTaff™
n addition power concentration may in reality be somewhat
mnary because the overall poverty of the society places absolute limits on f•he regime’s capabilities to execute far-reaching
change. A frequentt coccurrence is that leadership, exhilarated by
the reflection of its own power,
- -.3 own power, sponsors highly problematic
policies that fail spectacularly.
300
ELEVEN • Power and Policy Design
Implementation in such systems can be enhanced when internal
control is translated into disciplined monitoring of policies of
intermediate levels of complexity. To compensate for the rigidity
spawned by control and discipline, bureaucratic organizations in
these systems need to devise means to assimilate new information
at the project site and to learn from program beneficiaries. In this
system, but in others as well, administrators often decry the lack
of participation in myriad organizations created by supposedly
innovative policies. The invocation, “Participate,” is confusing
because groups not organized on a national basis have roles and
obligations that they fulfill quite actively locally. Animated by
criteria formulated by political superiors, reform implementors
refuse to participate in their systems. And if policies do not reach
some sort of compromise with these short-term, material, and in
dividualistic orientations, successful implementation is unlikely.
The challenge for reformers therefore lies in utilizing the discipline
inherent in a closed system to loosen the structure and thus to
permit the system to adapt and learn rather than remain persist
ently sealed from the social forces in its midst. When this task is
accomplished, the resources available for policy implementation
are recombined and increased.
In an intermediate state-society power relationship, the poten
tial power of unmobilized groups is implicitly acknowledged and
the regime caters clientelistically to some of their demands while
assuring that these pressures do not reach a level requiring more
severe structural reform. Dispensing valued services on a selective
basis creates an image of resource distribution that is more sym
bolic than real. The positive aspect of corporatist or communal
structures is that their local agents do tend to maintain close touch
with the mood and preferences of traditional sectors, and the
goods distributed, while insufficient in quantity to serve the whole
population, at least are suited to their immediate needs. On the
other hand, stability is dependent on steady economic growth and
an ideology that creates a mystical barrier between the popular
sector’s awareness of its relative impoverishment and of the opera
tions of the overall system. Corporatist structures tend to foment
competition within the same class over valued goods, defusing
popular agitation but at an ever increasing cost.
In these systems, Grindle and the Temples agree separately that
the most promising means of increasing the ability of the popular
sectors to receive benefits from public policies is through direct
301
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ELEVEN • Power and Policy Design
ELEVEN • Cleaves
CT>
organization. Historically, political activists who have been most
successful mobilizing power among potential benefactors of social
policy operate outside of the government machinery and define
their followers’ interests in class terms. Since this type of system
can move toward either a more closed or open mode, however,
these activists are well advised to proceed gingerly. Their tactics
generally involve a mixture of incentives, including a close atten
tion to their constituencies’ material aspirations and need for
short-term results. In some situations, building voting strength is
an alternative. In others, rural land invasions, workers’ strikes, and
urban squatting are feasible tactics because they operate on the
margin of the poor’s tolerance for risk taking. Furthermore, they
provide an opportunity for popular leaders to demonstrate that
collective action can bear fruits.
It is in the interests of the bureaucracy to establish links with
the most organized of these groups, if only to absorb them into
national structures and make them dependent on government lar
gesse. The combination of popular mobilization and official con
cern in intermediate systems results in an uneven and staggered
distribution of political goods. The gradual implementation of
social policies is in the interests of the regime and the populace
until the magnitude of the operation outdistances the govern
ment s resources. At that point, the integrating ideology may be
challenged, and deep transformations may lake place. If popular
groups have remained organized, they may be in a position to Ip
define the nature of the new system.
low economic resources and low to intermediate political mobili
zation is not as difficult as complete social transformation, but
elusive nonetheless.
Identifying the most pertinent lessons from the preceding chap
ters depends on the vantage point and goals of the observer.
Whether inside or outside of government, however, the imple
mentor should have a general idea of how power is distributed in
the society, and the margin of change that can be realistically ac
complished al that particular moment. In normal times, policies
and programs should be explicit in their objectives and proce
dures, and modest in their pretensions. For best results, the con
tent of the policy should reinforce many of the propensities of the
target populations so that their support is likely to abet the im
plementation process. Determining those propensities, however,
requires sensitivity and insight on the part of policy advocates and
administrative personnel. Implementation itself requires bureau
cratic responsiveness even if, as in the case of closed political
systems, it must be artificially manufactured. In general, it appears
that the tolerance of relatively autonomous political organization
among the poorest sections of the population is an essential fea
ture of the implementation of both gradual and large-scale poli
cies for change. In cases where the politically dominant groups
are unable or unwilling to carry out this assignment, or even
actively oppose it, the way is left open for antisystem advocates
to try to fill the breach.
I
Ik
Conclusion
In brief, drawing on the preceding chapters, I have tried to in
dicate how the content of policies and the resources available to
political leaders in various kinds of political systems might be
changed to enhance the possibilities for successful implementa
tion. Conditions in Third World .countries will occasionally emerge
that are favorable to a revolutionary breakthrough. In usual cases,
however, the situation will be one in which only less problematic
change can be implemented. In the past, opportunities for gradual
change have been scorned, poorly analyzed, and rarely seized,
meaning that for all the development rhetoric, little improvement
has occurred in the living standards of vast sectors of Third World
peoples. The implementation of workable policies in situations of
303
302
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a
2
The Many Meanings of Research
Utilization*
CAROL H. WEISS’*
VO
This is a time when more and more social scientists are becoming
concerned about making their research useful for public policy
makers, and policy-makers are displaying spurts of well-publicized
concern about the usefulness of the social science research supported
by government funds. There is mutual interest in whether social
science research intended to influence policy is actually ‘used’, but
before that important issue can profitably be addressed it is essential
to understand what ‘using research’ actually means.
A review of the literature reveals that a diverse array of meanings is
attached to the term. Much of the ambiguity in the discussion of‘re
search utilization’ - and conflicting interpretations of its prevalence
and the routes by which it occurs-derives from conceptual confusion. If
we are to gain a better understanding of the extent to which social science
research has affected public policy in the past, and learn how to make its
contribution more effective in the future, we need to clarify the concept.
Upon examination, the use of social science research in the sphere
ofpublic policy is an extraordinarily complex phenomenon. Authors
who have addressed the subject have evoked diverse images of the
processes and purposes of utilization. Here I will try to extract seven
different meanings that have been associated with the concept.
The Knowledge-Driven Model
The first image of research utilization is probably the most venerable
in the literature and derives from the natural sciences. Il assumes the
following sequence of events: basic research
applied research
* Reprinted with permission from Public Administration Review, vol. 39, no. 5,
Sept.-Oct. 1979, pp. 426-31. 1979 by the American Society for Public Administra
tion, I 120G. Street NW, Washington DC. All rights reserved.
** Senior Fellow, Programs in Administration, Planning and Social Policy,
Graduate School ofEducation, Harvard University.
1
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SOCIAL SCIENCE AND SOCIAL POLICY
MEANINGS OF RESEARCH UTILIZA TION
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development —» application. The notion is that basic research
discloses some opportunity that may have relevance for public
policy; applied research is conducted to define and test the findings of
basic research for practical action; if all goes well, appropriate
technologies are developed to implement the findings; whereupon
application occurs. (An example is Havelock, 1969, ch. 1.)
Examples of this model of research utilization generally come from
the physical sciences: biochemical research makes available oral
contraceptive pills, research in electronics enables television to
multiply the number of broadcast channels. Because of the fruits of
basic research, new applications are developed and new policies
emerge (cf. Comroe and Dripps, 1976).
The assumption is that the sheer fact that knowledge exists presses
il towards development and use. It is debatable how well or poorly
this model describes events in the natural sciences. There is some
evidence that even in areas of need in the natural sciences, basic
research does not necessarily push towards application. For example,
Project Hindsight indicated faster, and probably greater, use of basic
science when it was directed toward filling a recognized need in weapons
technology (Sherwin el al., 1966; Sherwin and Isenson, 1967). In the
social sciences few examples can be found. The reasons appear to be
several. Social science knowledge is not apt to be so compelling or
authoritative as to drive inevitably towards implementation. Social
science knowledge does not readily lend itself to conversion into
replicable technologies, either material or social. Perhaps most
important, unless a social condition has been consensually defined as
a pressing social problem, and unless the condition has become fully
politicized and debated, and the parameters of potential action agreed
upon, there is little likelihood that policy-making bodies will be
receptive to the results of social science research.
I do not mean to imply that basic research in the social sciences is
not useful for policy-making. Certainly many social policies and
programmes of government are based, explicitly or implicitly, on
basic psychological, sociological, economic, anthropological and
political scientific understandings. When they surface to affect
government decisions, however, it is not likely to be through the
sequence ofevents posited in this model.
Problem-Solving Model
The most common concept of research utilization involves the direct
application of the results of a specific social science study to a
33
pending decision. The expectation is that research provides
empirical evidence and conclusions that help to solve a policy
problem. The model is again a linear one, but the steps are different
from those in the knowledge-driven model. Here the decision drives
the application of research. A problem exists and a decision has to be
made; information or understanding is lacking either to generate a
solution to the problem or to select among alternative solutions;
research provides the missing knowledge. With the gap filled a
decision is reached.
Implicit in this model is a sense that there is a consensus on goals. It
is assumed that policy-makers and researchers tend to agree on what
the desired end state shall Ipe. The main contribution ofsocial science
research is to help identily and select appropriate means to reach the
goal.
The evidence that social science research provides for the decision
making process can be of several orders. It can be qualitative and
descriptive, for example, rich observational accounts of social
conditions or of programme processes. It can be quantitative data,
either on relatively soft indicators, such as public attitudes, or on hard
factual matters, such as number of hospital beds. It can be statistical
relationships between variables, generalized conclusions about the
associations among factors, even relatively abstract (middle-range)
theories about cause and effect. Whatever the nature ofthe empirical
evidence that social science research supplies, the expectation is that
it clarifies the situation and reduces uncertainty, and therefore it
influences the decisions of policy-makers.
In this formulation of research utilization, there are two general
ways in which social science research can enter the policy-making
arena. First, the research antedates the policy problem and is drawn
in on need. Policy-makers faced with a decision may go out and
search for intormation from existing research to delimit the scope of
the question or identify a promising policy response. Or the
information can be called to their attention by aides, staff analysts,
colleagues, consultants or social science researchers. Or they may
happen upon it in professional journals, agency newsletters news
papers and magazines, or at conferences. There is an element of
chance in this route from problem to research to decision. Available
research may not directly fit the problem. The location of
appropriate research, even with sophisticated and computerized
information systems, may be difficult. Inside experts and outside
consultants may fail to come up with relevant sources. The located
information may appear to be out of date or not generalizable to the
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SOCIAL SCIENCE AND SOCIAL POLICY
immediate context. Whether or not the best and most relevant research
reaches the person with the problem depends on the efficiency of the
communications links. Therefore, when this imagery of research
utilization prevails, the usual prescription for improving the use of
research is to improve the means ofcommunication to policy-makers.
A second route to problem-solving use is the purposeful
commissioning of social science research and analysis to fill the
knowledge gap. The assumptions, as with the search route, are that
decision-makers have a clear idea of their goals and a map of
acceptable alternatives and that they have identified some specific
informational needs to clarify their choice. This time they engage
social scientists to provide the data, analytic generalizations and
possibly the interpretations of these generalizations to the case in
hand by way of recommendations. The process follows this sequence:
definition of pending decision identification of missing knowledge
—> acquisition of social science research -* interpretation of the
research for the decision context -> policy choice.
The expectation is that research generated in this type of sequence,
even more than research located through search procedures, will
have direct and immediate applicability and will be used for decision
making. In fact, it is usually assumed that the specific study
commissioned by the responsible government office will have an
impact and that its recommendations will affect ensuing choices.
Particularly the large-scale, government-contracted policy study,
tailored to the specifications set by government staff, is expected to
make a difference in plans, programmes and policies. If the research
goes unused, the prescription to improve utilization that arises from
this imagery is to increase government control over both the
specification of requested research and its conduct in the field. If the
research had actually met decision-makers’ information needs, it is
assumed, it would have been used.
Even a cursory review of the fate of social science research,
including policy research on government-defined issues, suggests
that these kinds of expectations are wildly optimistic. Occasional
studies have a direct effect on decisions, but usually on relatively lowlevel, narrow-gauge decisions. Most studies appear to come and go
without leaving any discernible mark on the direction or substance of
policy. It probably takes an extraordinary concatenation of circum
stances for research to influence policy decisions directly: a welldefined decision situation, a set of policy actors who have
responsibility and jurisdiction for making the decision, an issue
whose resolution depends at least to some extent on information.
MEANINGS OF RESEARCH UTILIZA TION
35
identification of the requisite informational need, research that
provides the information in terms that match the circumstances
within which choices will be made, research findings that are clearcut, unambiguous, firmly supported and powerful, that reach
decision-makers at the time they are wrestling with the issues, that are
comprehensible and understood, and that do not run counter to
strong political interests. Because chances are small that all these
conditions will fall into line around any one issue, the problem
solving model of research use probably describes a relatively small
number of cases.
However, the problem-solving model remains the prevailing
imagery of research utilization. Its prevalence probably accounts for
much of the disillusionment about the contribution of social science
research to social policy. Because people expect research use to occur
through the sequence of stages posited by this model, they become
discouraged when events do not take the expected course. However,
there are other ways in which social science research can be ‘used’ in
policy-making.
Interactive Model
Another way that social science research can enter the decision arena
is as part of an interactive search for knowledge. Those engaged in
developing policy seek information not only from social scientists
but from a variety of sources - administrators, practitioners,
politicians, planners, journalists, clients, interest groups, aides,
friends, and social scientists, too. The process is not one of linear
order from research to decision but a disorderly set of inter
connections and back-and-forthness that defies neat diagrams.
All kinds of people involved in an issue area pool their talents,
beliefs and understandings in an effort to make sense of a problem.
Social scientists are one set of participants among many. Seldom do
they have conclusions available that bear directly and explicitly on
the issue at hand. More rarely still do they have a body of convergent
evidence. Nevertheless, they can engage in mutual consultations that
progressively move closer to potential policy responses.
Donnison describes this interactive model of research use in the
development of two pieces of legislation in Great Britain. He notes
that decisions could not wait upon completion of research but had to
be made when political circumstances compelled.
Research workers could not present authoritative findings for
36
SOCIAL SCIENCE AND SOCIAL POLICY
others to apply; neither could others commission them to find the
‘correct’ solution to policy problems: they were not that kind of
problem. Those in the four fields from which experience had to be
brought to bear [politics, technology, practice, and research]
contributed on equal terms. Each was expert in a few things,
ignorant about most things, offered what he could, and generally
learnt more than he could teach. (Donnison, 1972, p. 527)
In this model, the use of research is only one part of a complicated
process that also uses experience, political insight, pressure, social
technologies and judgement. It has applicability not only to face-toface settings but also to the multiple ways in which intelligence is
gathered through intermediaries and brought to bear. It describes a
familiar process by which decision-makers inform themselves of the
range of knowledge and opinion in a policy area.
Political Model
o
o
Often the constellation of interests around a policy issue
predetermines the positions that decision-makers take. Or debate has
gone on over a period of years and opinions have hardened. At this
point, decision-makers are not likely to be receptive to new evidence
from social science research. For reasons of interest, ideology, or
intellect, they have taken a stand that research is not likely to shake.
In such cases, research can still be used. It becomes ammunition for
the side that finds its conclusions congenial and supportive. Partisans
flourish the evidence in an attempt to neutralize opponents, convince
waverers and bolster supporters. Even if conclusions have to be
ripped out of context (with suppression of qualifications and of
evidence ‘on the other hand’), research becomes grist to the mill.
Social scientists tend to look askance at the impressment of
research results into service for a position that decision-makers have
taken on other grounds. They generally see it as an illegitimate attempt
to ‘use’ research (in the pejorative sense) for self-serving purposes of
agency justification and personal aggrandizement. Using research to
support a predetermined position is, however, research utilization,
too, in a form which would seem to be neither an unimportant noran
improper use. Only distortion and misinterpretation of findings are
illegitimate. To the extent that the research, accurately interpreted,
supports the position of one group, it gives the advocates of that
position confidence, reduces their uncertainties, and provides them
an edge in the continuing debate. Since the research finds ready-made
MEANINGS OF RESEARCH UTILIZA TION
37
partisans who will fight for its implementation, it stands a better
chance of making a difference in the outcome (Weiss, 1973).
One of the appropriate conditions for this model of research use is
that all parties to the issue have access to the evidence. If, for
example, bureaucrats monopolize research that would support the
position of clients, then equity is not served, but when research is
available to all participants in the policy process, research as political
ammunition can be a worthy model of utilization.
Tactical Model
There are occasions when sqcial science research is used for purposes
that have little relation to the substance of the research. It is not the
content of the findings that is invoked but the sheer fact that research
is being done. For example, government agencies confronted with
demands for action may respond by saying, ‘Yes, we know that’s an
important need. We’re doing research on it right now.’ Research
becomes proof of their responsiveness. Faced with unwelcome
demands, they may use research as a tactic for delaying action (‘We
are waiting until the research is completed’).
Sometimes government agencies use research to deflect criticism.
By claiming that their actions were based on the implications and
recommendations of social science research studies, they may try to
avoid responsibility for unpopular policy outcomes. Or support for a
research programme can become a tactic for enhancing the prestige
of the agency by allying it with social scientists of high repute. Some
agencies support substantial amounts of research and, in so doing,
build a constituency of academic supporters who rally to their
defence when appropriations are under Congressional review. These
are illustrations of uses of research, irrespective of its conclusions, as
a tactic in bureaucratic politics.
Enlightenment Model
Perhaps the way in which social science research most frequently
enters the policy arena is through the process that has come to be
called ‘enlightenment’ (Crawford and Biderman, 1969; Janowitz,
1972). Here it is not the findings of a single study nor even of a body of
related studies that directly affect policy. Rather it is the concepts and
theoretical perspectives that social science research has engendered
that permeate the policy-making process.
There is no assumption in this model that decision-makers seek
38
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SOCIAL SCIENCE AND SOCIAL POLICY
out social science research when faced with a policy issue or even that
they are receptive to, or aware of, specific research conclusions. The
imagery is that of social science generalizations and orientations
percolating through informed publics and coming to shape the way in
which people think about social issues. Social science research
diffuses circuitously through manifold channels - professional
journals, the mass media, conversations with colleagues - and over
time the variables it deals with and the generalizations it offers
provide decision-makers with ways of making sense out of a complex
world.
Rarely will policy-makers be able to cite the findings of a specific
study that influenced their decisions, but they have a sense that social
science research has given them a backdrop of ideas and orientations
that has had important consequences (see, for example, Caplan,
Morrison and Stambaugh, 1975). Research sensitizes decision
makers to new issues and helps turn what were non-problems into
policy problems. A recent example is child abuse (Weiss, 1976).
Conversely, research may convert existing problems into non
problems, for example, marijuana use. Research can drastically
revise the way that policy-makers define issues, such as acceptable
rates of unemployment, the facets of the issue they view as susceptible
to alteration, and the alternative measures they consider. It helps to
change the parameters within which policy solutions are sought. In
the long run, along with other influences, it often redefines the policy
agenda.
Unlike the problem-solving model, this model of research use does
not assume that, in order to be useful, research results must be
compatible with decision-makers’ values and goals. Research that
challenges current verities may work its way into official conscious
ness (Aaron, 1978) and, with support from dissident undergrounds,
overturn accustomed values and patterns ofthought.
The notion of research utilization in the enlightenment mode has a
comforting quality. It seems to promise that, without any special
effort, truth will triumph; but the enlightenment process has its full
share of deficiencies. When research diffuses to the policy sphere
through indirect and unguided channels, it dispenses invalid as well
as valid generalizations. Many of the social science understandings
that gain currency are partial, oversimplified, inadequate or wrong.
There are no procedures for screening out the shoddy and obsolete.
Sometimes unexpected or sensational research results, however
incomplete or inadequately supported by data, take the limelight. As
an environmental researcher has noted, ‘Bad science, being more
MEANINGS OF RESEARCH UTILIZATION
39
newsworthy, will tend to be publicized and seized on by some to
support their convictions’ (Comar, 1978). The indirect diffusion
process is vulnerable to oversimplification and distortion, and it may
come to resemble ‘endarkenment’ as much as enlightenment.
Moreover, the enlightenment model is an inefficient means for
reaching policy audiences. Many vital results of social science
research never penetrate to decision-making centres. Some results
take so long to come into currency that they are out of date by the
time they arrive, their conclusions having been modified, or even
contradicted, by later and more comprehensive analysis.
Finally, recent reviews of research on poverty, incomes,
unemployment and education suggest that social science research has
not led to convergent conclusions (Aaron, 1978; Cohen and Weiss,
1977); as more studies are done, they often elaborate rather than
simplify. They generate complex, varied and even contradictory
views of the social phenomena under study, rather than cumulating
into sharper and more coherent explanation. The effect may be to
widen and enrich our understanding of the multiple facets of reality,
but the implications for policy are less simple and clear cut. When the
diverse research conclusions enter the policy arena, the direction
they provide for policy is confused. Advocates of almost any policy
prescription are likely to find some research generalizations in
circulation to support their points of view.
Research as Part of the Intellectual Enterprise of the Society
A final view of research utilization looks upon social science research
as one of the intellectual pursuits of a society. It is not so much an
independent variable whose effects on policy remain to be
determined as it is another of the dependent variables, collateral with
policy - and with philosophy journalism, history, law and criticism.
Like policy, social science research responds to the currents of
thought, the fads and fancies, of the period. Social science and policy
interact, influencing each other and being influenced by the larger
fashionsofsocial thought.
It is often emerging policy interest in a social issue that leads to the
appropriation of funds for social science research in the first place,
and only with the availability of funds are social scientists attracted to
study of the issue. Early studies may accept the parameters set by the
policy discussion, limiting investigation to those aspects of the issue
that have engaged official attention. Later, as social science research
widens its horizons, it may contribute to reconceptualization of the
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SOCIAL SCIENCE AND SOCIAL POLICY
issue by policy-makers. Meanwhile, both the policy and research
colloquies may respond, consciously or unconsciously, to concerns
sweeping through intellectual and popular thought (‘citizen
participation’, ‘local control’, spiralling inflation, individual
privacy). In this view, research is one part of the interconnected
intellectual enterprise.
These, then, are some of the meanings that ‘the use ofsocial science
research’ can carry. Probably all of them are applicable in some
situations. Certainly none of them represents a fully satisfactory
answer to the question of how a polity best mobilizes its research
resources to inform public action.
An understanding of the diversity of perspectives on research
utilization may serve many purposes. For one, it may help to
overcome the disenchantment with the usefulness of social science
research that has afflicted those who search for use only in problem
solving contexts. For another, it may enable us to engage in empirical
study ofthe policy uses of research with better awareness of its diverse
and often subtle manifestations; if immediate impact of a specific
study on a specific decision is only one indicator of use, we will have
to devise more complex but more appropriate modes ofstudy.
Finally, we may need to think more deeply about the proper role of
social science in public policy-making. There has been much glib
rhetoric about the vast benefits that social science can offer if only
policy-makers paid attention. Perhaps it is time for social scientists to
pay attention to the imperatives of policy-making systems and to
consider soberly what they can do, not necessarily to increase the use
of research, but to improve the contribution that research makes to
the wisdom of social policy.
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International lobbying
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1
I
“Don’t just do something. Stand there!”
O
GO
Most Northern NGOs spend a small portion of their budgets on
“development education” - to influence their own societies about
Third World issues. They seek to give a more accurate impression of
the Third World, particularly to school children. The commonplace
images of perennial starvation, mass ignorance, scorched earth, and
beggary are challenged by images of vibrant cultures, ingenuity
and self-reliance. Discussion of the problems faced by developing
countries emphasizes the social, historical and political factors.
Though with schools NGOs avoid overt bias, NGOs are adopting
a more propagandist, action-oriented approach with the general
public, calling on their supporters to join in advocacy or lobbying
campaigns. They quite deliberately seek to influence decision mak
ers into changing some aspects of policy or practice.
A two pronged approach is needed. No matter how well re
searched their case and articulate their presenters, significant
political change is unlikely unless there is a groundswell of public
opinion demanding those changes. The converse is also the case. If
a campaign skilfully mobilizes public opinion but does not have a
water-tight argument, the decision makers will find it easy to dismiss
it as little more than hot air. Hence an NGO needs skills of both
lobbying and public campaigning. Their supporters must be
informed about the issue in question, invited to join the lobbying
(for example by raising the issue with their local Member of
Parliament or by writing letters to decision makers), and asked to
help mobilize public opinion (for example through publicity stunts
or writing letters to newspapers).
Effective lobbying affords a powerful and increasingly important
H5
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DEMOCRATIZING DEVELOPMENT
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means for NGOs to multiply their impact on significant develop
ment questions, ranging from the design of specific World Bank
projects to the debt crisis. Such lobbying on the international stage
has been largely dominated by Northern NGOs until recently, with
Southern NGOs concentrating their efforts on influencing decision
makers within their own countries. This is, however, beginning to
change quite swiftly.
Northern NGOs are increasingly being challenged by their South
ern partners to put more resources into education, campaigning and
advocacy. An international meeting of Southern NGO leaders in
June 1989, for example, called on their Northern counterparts
to monitor and campaign on issues such as official aid and
multinational corporations (“Manila Declaration”). African NGOs
meeting at the UN Special Session on Africa in 1986 drafted
a declaration which, inter alia, called on Northern NGOs to
“re-orientate their activities” towards development education, ad
vocacy and information flows, and in particular to attack “policies
of their governments, corporations and multilateral institutions
. . . which adversely affect the quality of life and political and
economic independence of African countries”. (“Declaration of
NGOs on the African Economic and Social Crisis”). In 1989
a larger gathering of African NGOs and officials meeting in
Arusha made similar points.93 And many Latin American NGO
leaders have called for a new relationship with Northern NGOs in
which “influencing” is the shared goal. For instance Mario Padron
criticizes the majority of Northern NGOs for their reluctance to
spend money on development education, saying that they “accept
too easily the idea that funds are only for the poor”.94 A new,
genuinely two-way relationship between Northern and Southern
NGOs, in which development education in the North is a shared
responsibility, is essential, he argues, for moving “from develop
ment aid to development co-operation”.
Southern NGOs are saying that it is not enough to give money,
what is needed is political action to help them in the struggle to get
the Rich North off the backs of the South’s Poor. As Larry Minear
points out, in effect they are saying, “Don’t just do something.
Stand there!”95
All but the most unobservant NGOs working with the poor must
have experience of international factors exacerbating problems of
poverty. More often than not, however, they fail to take action
on them. This could be because they don’t see it as their job to
do so, because they distrust the anecdotal nature of their own
evidence, because they feel powerless to effect change, or because
they fear reprisals from indulging in political action, both from
host governments and from donors. The dangers and drawbacks
are valid, but can be surmounted.
The NGO decides its own work objectives - these haven’t been
handed down from a higher power. For instance, the NGO
will move from hospital-oriented to primary health care when
convinced of the superiority of prevention over cure. It should
equally be prepared to take up “preventive development” — that
is, lobbying to eradicate impediments to just development. This
does not mean giving up conventional project work (“curative
development”) but instead seeing advocacy as a natural extension
of its project work.
Many Northern NGOs have assumed the role of ambassadors
for the world’s poor. With this goes a responsibility to represent
the political concerns of the poor, to be a “conduit for popular
democracy”. This entails helping to make the political and eco
nomic institutions of the world more broadly accountable, injecting
the voice of the traditionally voiceless into international decision
making, and facilitating the two-way flow of information that
might both improve decision making and improve the capacity of
the poor to influence those decisions.
Progressive NGOs may agree with this in theory, but in practice
neglect to act. Advocacy may be seen as important but it is not
urgent. Consequently it is easily squeezed out by the day-to-day
dilemmas and crises arising from the project activities, from donor
pressures and from media enquiries.
International factors are not necessarily the most important root
causes of poverty but they are ones which Northern NGOs should
not ignore. If they do so they must expect to be viewed with increas
ing suspicion by their Southern partners. The latter are increasingly
making it clear that they want a more equal partnership. As donors
expect regular financial and progress reports from the projects they
fund, so Southern NGOs are starting to ask their donors to report
to them on the action they are taking to educate Northern publics
and to tackle the international causes of global poverty.
The question should not be whether international advocacy is the
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Not the NGO’s job
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job for a Northern NGO. It is whether NGOs which neglect this
role should have a job at all.
butter” task of basic agricultural marketing was widely regarded as
one of the more efficient examples of state marketing operations in
Africa.
Traditionally ADMARC bought cereals after harvest, sold some
to the cities and stored the remainder in its rural depots. Some
months later the rural poor would have tun out of food they
kept back after harvest for their own use and they would engage
in wage labour activities. They would then purchase food back from
ADMARC depots. When the World Bank inspired programme
of market liberalization came in, licences were given to private
merchants to buy and sell cereals and other crops. In the regions
where it was felt that there were sufficient private traders to fill the
gap, the ADMARC depots were closed down. ADMARC was to be
reduced to a “trader of last resort”.
From its contact with poor farmers in these areas, particularly
with female-headed households, Oxfam became concerned that
the valuable “food security” role played by ADMARC would
be lost. Oxfam relayed these concerns to the World Bank,
however the closure of depots continued. Come the harvest,
most of the sales in Phalombe and Mulanje were to private
merchants. As the NGO had predicted when, a few months
later, farmers came to buy back food they found they simply
couldn’t afford the prices. Whereas traditionally the buying price
would be about zo per cent higher than the sale price at harvest
time, the merchants were charging up to 7 times the sale price. It
was proving more profitable to sell the food in the nearby city of
Blantyre. This resulted in immense difficulties for the poor in that
region.96
When this fresh evidence was presented, the Bank became re
sponsive. It investigated the claims and found them to be accurate
in certain districts of the country. Generally, they maintained,
the new system was working well but they did admit that mis
takes had been made which should be corrected by strengthen
ing the food security role played by ADMARC in vulnerable
regions.
This is an illustration of how NGO evidence, based on day
to day contact with poor people in a dozen villages in one
region, revealed a problem which had been overlooked by the
“aerial view” and led to the authorities pledging to take corrective
action.
Anecdotal evidence
o
cn
When pitted against great volumes of statistical data, evidence that
an NGO may have of the impact of a particular policy on the poor
living in one community may seem insubstantial and anecdotal.
This lack of confidence is unwarranted.
To get a portrait of a city there are two approaches. The first is
to charter an aeroplane and take photographs of the city from the
air. This shows the main housing areas, the industrial complexes,
the principal buildings, the main communication routes and the
physical terrain. It is a complete view but it only allows guesses
to be made about the condition of life in the different quarters.
The alternative approach is to visit particular communities or
work-places, talk to the community workers or residents and stay
with them long enough to appreciate their concerns and aspirations.
This gives a more accurate portrait of the human condition, but
a patchy view - a snapshot of a few streets, districts or ethnic
groups.
Since development is essentially about the human condition, the
“street view” is at least as valid as the “aerial view” and one in
which the NGO has unchallenged advantage. The street view is
perhaps less scientific but it may reveal serious problems and im
portant issues which are not picked up by the aerial view. Whether
or not these issues are general or unique to the community studied
is important, but the uncertainty should not prevent the NGO from
making its experience known. NGOs should make little apology
for the somewhat anecdotal nature of their evidence, infuriating as
development economists often find it.
For example in 1987 through its work in two poor districts of Ma
lawi (Phalombe and Mulanje), Oxfam became concerned about
the costs to the poor of closing down the agricultural parastatal’s
marketing depots. As part of the World Bank-funded structural
adjustment programme, the government of Malawi had agreed to
start dismantling a number of parastatals, including the Agricultural
Development and Marketing Corporation (ADMARC). There is
no doubt that some changes in ADMARC were required, since it
was losing money heavily. However most of the losses were on its
estate management and food processing operations. The “bread and
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is changing, especially as many of the problems they address have
clear northern connections.
These NGOs may, like their Northern counterparts, comprise
highly educated, politicized staff and have a Western outlook and
communications style. Or they may be grassroots organizations
which have direct experience of the problems.
For example, the rubber-tappers union and a number of tribal
indian groups in Brazil have led worldwide action for international
responsibility for the protection of the Amazon rainforests. And
village-level health workers have provided much of the evidence on
which campaigns against the marketing malpractices of baby milk
and pharmaceutical manufacturers have been based.
Many of these grassroots organizations have long had connec
tions with northern NGOs but the funding relationship has been
the basis for this. They now seek a different form of partnership
in which the northern NGOs lend their name, media skills and
contact with people of influence to help champion the cause they
are fighting.
NGOs together from the North and South. This was followed by
concerted action against careless planning of big dams, and later
by the launch of international campaigning on the rainforest issue.
Similarly the analysis by NGOs of the gender relationships in devel
opment has engaged the interest of the women’s movement. They
have helped campaign against male bias in development planning.
Campaigns to reform or scrap projects which involve the dis
placement of large numbers of people have been greatly strength
ened by the support of Northern human rights groups. For example
Survival International and other Northern NGOs have joined forces
with Indonesian NGOs against the World Bank funded Transmi
gration Programme. In this scheme tens of thousands of people have
been moved from the densely populated islands - especially Java to the sparsely populated territory of Irian Jaya where the culture
and environment of the indigenous tribes has become severely
threatened. Other campaign issues have brought developmental
NGOs together with labour unions (e.g. regarding the conditions
of Bolivian tin miners), and with consumers organizations (such
as regarding the dumping of hazardous products in the Third
World).
New campaigning alliances
o
oo
The increased prominence of Southern NGOs has both strength
ened international lobbying and changed its focus. Campaigns for
the New International Economic Order, for official aid targets and
for commodity agreements have given way to campaigns against
environment damaging logging operations, against marketing mal
practices by Western companies and against inhuman adjustment
programmes. The former set dwell on the unjust treatment of poor
nations by rich ones, while the latter set dwell on the injustices done
to poor people. The former set demand Northern institutions “to
do something”, implying that their sin has been past failure to
act, rather than the active causing of damage. The latter set call
for harmful practices to be stopped.
These trends have not only fostered new allegiances between
Northern and Southern NGOs but have also opened doors to
movements outside the development sphere. At the same time
as development NGOs have become more concerned with other
social issues, so too various social movements have become more
concerned with development and international issues.
International action on hazardous practices in the marketing of
pesticides first brought a group of development and environmental
Many international campaigns have been successful because they
have been led by NGOs uniquely set up for the purpose. Though
small in staff terms these have the advantage of being able to
concentrate totally on their chosen issue, and to have spokespeople
with direct experience of it. Examples are to be seen in the Cana
dian NGO Probe International, concentrating on environmentally
damaging energy generating programmes; a number of “solidarity
groups” campaigning on specific geopolitical issues such as Nica
ragua or the Philippines; and of course the Anti-Apartheid
Movement campaigning for international sanctions and other action
against South Africa.
Of particular importance are the specialized networks which
bring together in an exciting and equal partnership NGOs from
North and South, from the developing community and from
other disciplines. For example both the International Baby Foods
Action Network (IBFAN) and Health Action International (HAI) which campaigns against the marketing malpractices of pharmaceu
tical companies - comprise NGOs, health professionals, consumer
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Specialist campaign groups
DEMOCRATIZING DEVELOPMENT
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groups, women’s organizations and others. Other networks cam
paign on the EEC’s Common Agricultural Policy, the marketing of
pesticides, rainforest destruction, Third World debt, the provision
of development aid to Cambodia, and a variety of other issues. The
important lesson learnt from the effectiveness of this networking is
that, through co-ordination, the whole can become more than the
sum of the parts.
the public imagination. One of the earliest examples of this was a
British campaign in which the World Development Movement and
War on Want joined forces to challenge the below-starvation wages
paid by UK food giants to tea pickers in Sri Lanka and elsewhere.
This achieved massive media coverage and forced some of the major
tea companies to revise their employment practices.
Another British campaign, which subsequently spread to other
countries, was the attack on coffee multinationals by the specially
formed Campaign Co-operative. This group financed their venture
by selling instant coffee they imported directly from a governmentowned factory in Tanzania. The coffee also formed the vehicle
for their message - “political packaging” - and for action. Their
supporters set up stalls to sell the “Campaign Coffee”, persuaded
their student unions to switch to it, got local shops to stock it, and
organized coffee mornings using it.
This was an early example of an NGO importing a basic com
modity. Similar ventures during the 1970s, particularly in Holland,
have influenced an important category of NGOs which are today
known as the Alternative Marketing Organizations. For example
the Max Havelaar campaign in Holland has now captured some
z.4 per cent of the country’s coffee market for its own brand name.
In this case the consortium of NGOs license the name, they do not
import the coffee themselves. Instead they persuade major Dutch
coffee roasters to import from suppliers on a list they provide,
and offer some collateral to safeguard imports and arrange the
advertising and promotion.
What NGOs campaign on
The range of issues has evolved over time as the profile of lobbying
NGOs has evolved and the increasing contribution of southern
NGOs to international lobbying endeavours has shifted the focus
of this lobbying from the macro concerns of Southern governments
to issues which are of more direct relevance to Southern people.
The seventies
o
In the early 1970s the major campaigning activities of northern
NGOs followed an- agenda which was largely determined by
the UN system, in particular by the objectives declared for the
Second Development Decade and by the FAO’s Freedom From
Hunger Campaign. This trend continued throughout the 1970s
with attention generated by the World Food Conference in 1974
and UNCTAD IV in 1976.98 Much of the NGO campaigning
was rather untargeted in nature. It sought to bring about more
caring attitudes among northern publics and decision makers, and
to describe the immoral contrast between Western opulence and
Third World misery, rather than to lever for specific changes or
new policies. Where specific targets were set they again reflected
the UN offered agenda. Examples were campaigns to reach the 0.7
per cent of GNP target for official aid, to increase the multilateral
(as opposed to bilateral) component of official aid, to set up
specific commodity agreements and to support proposals for the
New International Economic Order.
In parallel to these campaigning activities was a more politically
charged strand, which attacked multinational corporations for
exploiting the Third World. These campaigns were little financed
by establishment sources, were usually run by highly committed
but inexperienced volunteers, and were highly effective at capturing
In the late 1970s development campaigning became considerably
more sophisticated. A landmark was the international Baby Milk
campaign.
The problem of marasmus induced by the unhygienic use of
bottle feeds in the Third World had been discussed by health
workers throughout the 1960s. However it wasn’t until 1973
that the issue, and its relation to the aggressive marketing of those
products in the Third World by the manufacturers, was brought
into the public domain by the Neiv Internationalist magazine. The
following year War on Want (WOW) produced a report called
“The Baby Killers”. A small Swiss pressure group translated the
WOW report into German under the provocative title “Nestle
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DEMOCRATIZING DEVELOPMENT
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Kills Babies” - the Swiss-based multinational being the dominant
Third World supplier of baby-milk. Nestle filed a libel action which
they technically won, however the outcome was generally seen as
a triumph for the campaigners. The judge in summing up made it
clear that the moral victory went to the campaigners.
The international publicity generated by this case triggered in
tense citizen action in the USA. A church group called Interfaith
Centre for Corporate Responsibility (ICCR) organized pressure
from church leaders and shareholders. And a small group of
baby milk campaigners, inspired by Ralph Nader’s new radical
consumer movement, set up the Infant Formula Action Group
(INFACT) whose main purpose was to organize an extremely
effective nationwide boycott of all Nestle products.
In October 1979 the World Health Organization and UNICEF
organized a meeting of unprecedented composition. It brought
together in Geneva for the first time representatives of governments,
health professional bodies, the industry and the NGO sector. The
stormy meeting eventually agreed to recommend to the World
Health Assembly that an international code of conduct be drafted
to restrict the marketing activities of the baby milk companies.
An incidental outcome of this event was the physical com
ing together for the first time of many of the major NGOs Northern and Southern - which had been active on the issue.
Until this time the NGOs had corresponded with each other
but few had met. They decided to maintain and broaden this
new partnership and so, after the formal meeting closed, repre
sentatives from six NGOs held a press conference to announce
the launch of the International Baby Foods Action Network
(IBFAN). Within a year there were well over 100 NGOs within
the network, including a number of very experienced southern
NGOs.
Thanks to the efforts of IBFAN and its member agencies, the
1981 World Health Assembly was to debate the adoption of an
International Code of Marketing of Breastmilk Substitutes - the
first global agreement ever to restrict the marketing practices of
multinational corporations. The 1981 Assembly — normally a
sober occasion - was a hive of lobbying, bribery and intrigue.
Confidential telexes to the US State Department were leaked which
showed collusion between US officials and the industry in a plan to
steer the Assembly away from its course of consensus. And media
“exposes” of the political inclinations of the activists in prestigious
journals were shown to have been generously financed by Nestle, as
part of its orchestrated plan to discredit its critics.
These dubious activities back-fired on the industry and served to
harden the attitude of delegates in favour of the proposed Code.
When it came to the vote only one government, the USA, opposed
it. Ironically this was the country where citizens action had been
most prominent.
Since this momentous Assembly, 1BFAN has continued to play
a prominent and powerful role. It has lobbied at national level in
many countries for governmental and legislative action to make
the code effective and binding. And it has published regular
reports describing continued violations of the code by major
manufacturers.
Many governments have taken significant action and as a result
some of the more offensive marketing practices have been curbed.
The politicization of the issue has also prompted many governments
to invest heavily in breastfeeding promotion campaigns which have
helped to reverse the trend towards the bottle.
Sadly there has been no evaluation of this campaign. Were one
able to calculate the global results - in terms of infant lives saved,
reduction in infant diarrhoea and marasma, the return to breast
feeding and the wasted foreign exchange saved - it would almost
certainly conclude that the combined effort of NGOs, WHO,
UNICEF and others has been one of the most cost effective ventures
in infant health care ever.
Lobbying and campaigning have continued to become more sophis
ticated and targeted throughout the 1980s. The campaigns tend
to focus on aid, trade, international finance and foreign policy
in the governmental domain; and buying, selling, investing and
employment practices in the corporate sphere. The major trends
have been an increasing strength of the “NGO lobby”, a more
strategic approach to advocacy, closer integration of lobbying and
public campaigning/education, and more attention to the use of the
media.
The increasing strength of the NGO lobby comes in part from
the substantial resources some of the larger northern NGOs with
overseas operations have begun to put into advocacy activities and
from the growing credibility of the NGO sector as a whole.
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The eighties
DEMOCRATIZING DEVELOPMENT
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Learning how best to use democratic channels has led to more
strategic lobbying. For example many US groups and coalitions
regularly present evidence to congressional committees and draft
bills for individual congressmen and senators (the structure of the
US political system gives greater opportunities for this than in most
other countries). In the UK NGOs frequently submit evidence to
Select Committees or to other parliamentary bodies and distribute
briefings to MPs prior to debates on international issues. Further
more events on the mainstream political calendar are used more
systematically as fora to present NGO concerns (for example the
World Health Assembly on the marketing of pharmaceuticals, the
World Bank Annual Meeting on “problem projects”, the “Group of
Seven” summit on debt).
NGOs have become more forthright in inviting their supporters
and the public at large to join in the lobbying. Their publicity
materials regularly suggest action in addition to making donations.
This, together with public concern generated by the African famine
and mounting environmental crises, has sharply increased public
support for NGO campaigns. For example the “Fight World
Poverty” lobby of the UK parliament in 1985 set an all-time record
for the number of people who met their MPs in a single day.
Westminster was besieged for the whole day, every meeting room
in the Commons was booked for the occasion, some 16,000 people
managed to meet their MP and several thousand more took part in
other meetings.
NGOs have also formed closer links with journalists and the
broadcast media. Their causes are, as a result, more likely to be
the subject of documentaries and feature articles. And their events
are more likely to be planned with a view to being “media worthy”.
Some of the more significant campaigning throughout the 1980s is
described below.
was backed by a number of development academics as well as
NGOs.
Trade With a few notable exceptions, campaigning on the eco
nomic issue of trade has been relatively unexciting. Most NGOs
agree that Trade is a far more important subject than Aid. The
problems are very clear but the solutions are so intractable.
Continuing the style of the 1970s, NGOs loyally make inputs into
the agenda set by the UN system (UNCTAD, General Agreement on
Tariffs and Trade, support for the Common Fund, and so on) but
it is doubtful whether this effort is richly rewarded. International
lobbying concerning the EEC’s Lome agreement has been extensive,
however, and with some success.
Some specific trade campaigns have achieved considerable promi
nence - especially concerning trade of “problem products” from
North to South. Baby-milk, pharmaceuticals and pesticides have
already been mentioned in this context. In many countries high
profile attacks have been made on the escalating arms trade and
in particular on government subsidies for this. Reforms have been
called for to the EEC’s Common Agricultural Policy, particu
larly by French NGOs. And in some countries campaigns for
the reform of the Multi-Fibre Agreement have achieved signifi
cant success. In the UK, for example, a campaign led by the
World Development Movement succeeded in getting the govern
ment to scrap restrictive quotas on the imports of shirts made in
Bangladesh.
Aid Pressure for increasing official aid, using the UN target
of 0.7 per cent, remains a familiar agenda item for Northern
NGOs. In some countries, such as Finland and Italy, there have
been considerable increases in aid budgets as a result. However
campaigns for increasing the quality of official aid (as defined
by NGOs this means increasing the benefits and reducing the
costs for the poor) have become of greater significance. In the
UK the campaign for “Real Aid” (described by the government
as the development lobby’s most significant venture at the time)
International Finance Debt has become an increasingly prominent
campaigning item. Though complex, there have been some highly
imaginative and provocative ways of presenting the subject to the
public, for example the “Profits out of Poverty” campaign against
commercial debt in the UK and the campaign to “Stop the Aid from
South to North” in Germany. The emphasis has always been
on how the debt crisis is at root an unacceptable human or
environmental crisis.
NGOs in both the US and UK have formed “Debt Crisis
Networks” to co-ordinate action (in the UK this includes envi
ronmental NGOs). In Germany NGO preparations for the 1988
Annual Meetings of the World Bank and IMF gave rise to two
coalitions, one oriented to environmental issues, the other to debt.
And there is now a European-wide network of NGOs designed to
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plan and take forward common action. This concentrated initially
on commercial bank debt.
The mam specific issues raised by these campaigns have been
the need for special debt relief measures for the poorest countries
in Africa; the demand for changes to the orthodox approach to
adjustment pursued by the IMF and World Bank; the responsibility
of commercial banks to use some of their considerable profits to
reduce Third World debt; and the connection between the debt and
environmental crises.
non-South African alternative wherever possible. The other has been
the campaign against unsustainable logging of tropical hardwoods.
This has led a number of furniture manufacturers and other wood
users to switch to other sources. Some campaigns have attacked the
low prices paid to Third World producers for their commodities,
such as sugar. This has exposed the low proportion of the final
selling price that reaches the farmer or labourer but it has done
little to change trade relations.
Campaigning on investment has concentrated on environmental
issues and on the role of commercial banks. In Japan, for example,
NGOs have attacked companies whose Third World subsidiaries
have bad pollution records. And in the UK the End Loans to
South Africa Campaign has mounted shareholder actions against
the banks who make major investments in South Africa. Activists
each buy a single share in the bank so that they can attend and raise
awkward questions at the company’s AGM.
Activities relating to employment policies focus on issues such as
the exploitative and discriminatory practices with regard to women
employees, manipulative use of Free Trade Zones, maintaining
appalling standards of health and safety, poor wages and repressive
practices by Third World subsidiaries of multinational corporations,
and racist employment practices and below-starvation wages in
South Africa.
Foreign policy
no
Geopolitical issues have taken an increasingly prominent place in
NGO campaigning. In the UK, campaigns on Central America and
South Africa have achieved massive public support but have had
little success in shifting the government’s position. The campaign
for a review of the West’s attitude to Cambodia, conducted by an
international consortium of NGOs has been greeted with rather
more concessions. Similarly the NGO campaign to give increased
support to the Frontline States, and to isolate the South African
backed Mozambique National Resistance rebel forces in Mozam
bique has helped shift the British government’s position.
Experience indicates that the major issues of foreign policy are
ones on which governments have deeply entrenched views. NGOs
have considerable potential for putting a new item on the political
agenda, or for changing a weakly held view on a subject on
which there has been little debate. But to change a government’s
approach to an issue on which it has taken a firm stand requires a
monumental effort which lies well outside of the NGOs’ potential
unless they can engage remarkably strong allies.
Choice of issues
The most effective campaigns relating to multinational corporations
in the 1980s have centred on irresponsible selling of potentially
hazardous or undesirable products in the Third World.
Campaigns on"corporate buying practice have been less promin
ent, with two notable exceptions. One is the boycott of supermar
kets selling South African produce. This has led many supermarket
chains either to withdraw such lines or to have a policy of offering a
NGOs clearly need to be guided first and foremost by their experi
ence and in particular by the messages they receive from grassroots
workers in the South. But this has to be balanced by an objective
assessment of what causes are winnable.
This presents a dilemma. Field level experience might indicate
that what is needed amounts to fundamental, far reaching changes
in North-South relations, for example the cancellation of debts,
doubling of commodity prices and a completely new approach to
official aid. But “real politik” in most Northern countries relegates
such goals to the realm of pie-in-the-sky. On the other hand, setting
sights solely on minor reforms which might be winnable risks
side-lining the NGO into marginal causes.
A pragmatic course is to concentrate on campaigning for changes
which are conceivably winnable in the prevailing climate but to
see those changes as stepping stones to more profound reforms.
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Corporate campaigning
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Changes won can be used as precedents to secure similar, further
reaching victories in related areas - a case-law approach.
*
This has parallels with the typical NGO project approach. An
NGO may wish, for example, to eliminate the barriers which
prevent women’s access to credit. It may establish a women’s credit
scheme in one region. This amounts to no more than a drop in the
ocean, but it reflects the capacity of the NGO and it might lead to
bigger and bolder ventures in the future, and it should plan for this.
The NGO starts with the single project because it realizes the need
to match its work tasks to the resources at its disposal.
An example of the pragmatic choice of targets can be found in
campaigning on debt. Most NGOs would like a massive writing-off
of both official and commercial debt and a considerable reduction
of interest rates for the remainder. After seven years of global
concern about the issue, however, we have only seen marginal
debt reductions and debt service concessions — and these have been
dwarfed by the on-going process of debt escalation. For Northern
NGOs to call for total debt write-off, in this climate, is fanciful
(this is not to say it is fanciful for Northern NGOs to call for major
debt relief, nor for Southern NGOs to call on their governments to
default).
The campaign of Oxfam and others which drew public and mass
media attention in the UK to the intolerable debt service of the
poorest countries of Africa hit a raw nerve. The slogan was: “The
scandal of the money that Africa gave to us. For every £1 we all
gave for famine relief in Africa, £2 came back in debt payments.
Don’t stop the giving, stop the taking”. It would have seemed
unconscionable *for Northern governments to ignore such public
concern in the aftermath of the African famine. The Chancellor
duly proposed a “Group of Seven” debt initiative in April 1987,
encouraged to do so by many members of parliament.
His plan - initially resisted by the US, Japan and West Germany
— was eventually modified and accepted by the Group of Seven
meeting in Toronto in autumn 1988. However what was agreed
to amounted to a fraction of Africa’s needs. To restore growth
and reverse the relentless increase in Africa’s debt burden would
require perhaps $3 or $4 billion per year. The Chancellor’s plan
amounted to at most $1 billion per year of debt relief (only coun
tries undergoing IMF-approved adjustment programmes would be
eligible). In practice the process of translating promises of relief
into action has proved extremely slow, to say the least. In its first
full year, the so-called Toronto plan has provided only $50 million
of relief, a twentieth of the original estimate. Several meetings
of the world’s most powerful finance ministers and 18 months
of high-level negotiation between governments was only able to
come up with this derisory effort, amounting to less in financial
terms than was contributed to Africa that year by the UK’s two
leading NGOs, Oxfam and Save the Children Fund.
Disappointing as it has been, the UK NGOs guardedly welcomed
the launch of this initiative. They pointed out that it set a precedent. It
was the first occasion (other than the translation of past aid loans
into grants) that Northern governments have accepted a share of
the burden of the debt crisis and have accepted anything other than
a market determined path forward. It opens the door to pressure for
the scheme to be extended to other poor countries and deepened, as
the UK chancellor proposed to other finance ministers in September
Does the NGO have direct experience of the issue?
Is the NGO seen as a credible authority on the issue?
Is there much prospect of generating popul ar appeal? (if not then a
central lobbying operation rather than a public campaign will be
more appropriate).
Can clear and realistic policy changes be advocated?
Are there intermediate goals that are possibly winnable?
(For Northern NGOs) would Southern partners support the campaign objectives?
Can the campaign objectives be shown to be of direct relevance to
poor people?
(For public campaigns) does the NGO have the information,
photographs and so on, necessary to prepare effective campaign
materials?
Has a suitable media strategy been devised, again, focusing on
human appeal?
Are there forthcoming meetings, debates or other events which
provide useful pegs for the campaign?
Can a network of concerned NGOs be formed?
What allies can be encouraged to lend their weight to the campaign ?
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1990.
To summarize, experience indicates that when identifying the sub
ject of a campaign, it is important to ask the following questions:
Is there a clear link, connecting the issue to the society campaigned
in?
DEMOCRATIZING DEVELOPMENT
Can pitfalls be anticipated and planned for?
How to make campaigns effective
The NGO needs to demonstrate expertise regarding both the issue
itself and the policy opportunities and dilemmas. It also needs to
demonstrate that its field-based experience is thorough, convincing
and not merely emotive. It needs to have evident widespread
and influential support for its cause. And it needs to establish
a negotiating relationship with the authorities it seeks to influence.
Valuable lessons can be learnt from the experience of southern
NGOs in influencing policy makers (see earlier chapters on “Build
ing Grassroots Movements” and “Influencing Policy Reform”). In
addition there are a number of practical techniques indicated by
experience of effective campaigning.
Balance analysts and prescription
4*
INTERNATIONAL LOBBYING
the exercise. For a strategic lobbyist it should be the starting
point.
Scholars can present some justification for shying away from
action. Their task is to assist in the pursuit of knowledge, not its
application. Their neutrality might be questioned if they become
identified with a political cause. And they might feel that they
don’t have the skills needed for condensing years of research into
a pamphlet or a parliamentary bill. NGOs have no such excuses.
Their task is action. They are required to have a pro-poor bias. And
their constituency is the general public.
The converse of the “academic disease” is naive simplicity. An
NGO might spend weeks planning, for example, the shipment
of relief food to a troubled region. It knows how complex the
operation is, how many things can go wrong, and how important
it is to plan for every eventuality. But the same NGO might take just
a few hours to prepare a blueprint on changing world structures. An
objective reflection should warn the NGO that this is a disservice.
It may gain a moment of media attention but it won’t change
the world and it could devalue its image in the eyes of decision
makers.
The foundation of an effective campaign must be a compelling and
authoritative analysis of the problem concerned, but this must be
balanced by an equally thoughtful analysis of the possible solutions.
Authors of a campaign report, may put 90 per cent of their labour
into the main body of the report and only 10 per cent into the
concluding recommendations, but the the attention given by its
readers is in inverse proportion.
Many NGOs, however, give scant attention to the specific
policies they recommend or to the plan of attack they map out.
A wearisome number of so-called campaigns amount to little more
than broadsheets or pamphlets in which the NGO demonstrates its
knowledge of a subject, presents its own analysis, and adds, by way
of an afterthought, a few ideas for action its supporters can take.
Few will be so motivated, and the “campaign” will enter a lull until
the next pamphlet is published.
Such NGOs have been unable to shake off an academic ap
proach. The task of the scholar is to research and to reflect.
Their conclusions are presented in a paper or book and they
are then likely to turn to fresh pastures, unless another scholar
chooses to make a riposte. It is lamentable how few academics
seek to encourage decision makers to take note of their con
clusions. For most academics, the book or paper is the end of
The first people to hear of the concerns outside of the NGO
network and close advisers should be those who the campaign seeks
to influence. It may be that the reception will be hostile but it will
certainly be more hostile if the authorities first hear of the campaign
through the media or through letter writing campaigns. When this
happens the authorities can be forgiven for thinking that the main
object is to embarrass them rather than to resolve the problem at
issue.
The initial presentation of the case is all important. If too timid
and apologetic it will be dismissed as no threat. But if too
hectoring and categoric it will be dismissed as arrogant. The
lobbyists, in judging their strategy, should think about their own
experience: when were they themselves sufficiently convinced by the
argument of another to change their views; how was this argument
presented?
Before presenting the case the lobbyists should do enough
homework about the institution to be lobbied to know who
the people are who have the power to effect the desired changes, and
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Plan a strategy for presenting the case
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who - in positions of seniority - are most likely to be sympathetic
to the cause. Lobbyists should angle to have those people present
at the meeting. This might indicate that the lobbyist should engage
others in their team who are of comparable status.
to take. This means it should neither be daunting nor marginal.
And if they receive responses from their lobbying which reveal that
the proposals they submitted were unrealistic then they will feel let
down by the NGO and become disillusioned.
Action proposals should also reflect the degree of experience
of the activists. An effective campaign strategy should be like a
ladder. It rests on the ground - which is the level of the bulk of
the population; a level of basic human compassion for the world’s
hungry but no practical involvement and little knowledge of the
underlying issues. The ladder should stand there, inviting people to
climb on to it. The first rung is an easy step - a simple donation or
the signing of a petition. People should be thanked for taking that
step but encouraged to move to the second step. The rung might
challenge people to learn something about the underlying causes of
hunger and to make a commitment to action, such as to take part in
a fun-run, attend a demonstration, or join a meeting with a member
of parliament. At this stage they should be urged to move on to the
third rung of deeper involvement and deeper understanding and
so on.
This strategy of gradual involvement and facilitating the entry
of “new blood” may seem self-evident, but it is disturbing how
inaccessible much NGO literature is to the lay public and how
off-putting are the actions asked of them. Such an approach
amounts to asking people to jump straight to the top of the ladder
- a daunting prospect for anyone.
Plan when and how to use public campaigning
The NGO has to decide whether it wishes to engage its supporters
and the public at large in the campaign, or to take it forward solely
by the work of the NGO’s representatives. It is tempting to jump
to the conclusion that public campaigning is necessary without
considering the pros and cons, and without being clear what the
campaigners will actually contribute.
The pros are obvious, in terms of increasing the momentum of the
campaign, but these will only be realized if the NGO really has the
ability to excite a significant number of people. An activity billed as
a public campaign, but in which few participate, will signal to the
authorities concerned that it is a tired and unthreatening exercise.
To run an effective public campaign also requires considerable
investment of time from the issue specialists and they may find
that their time is eaten up by giving public talks to the extent that
they are not investing enough of it in the direct lobbying work. The
effective public campaign also requires considerable inputs of time
and money to produce the materials required.
When the public campaigning route is decided its objectives
should be clear. Many so-called campaigns are really nq more
than educational exercises. Public education may be laudable but
the NGO should consider whether it is a cost effective way of
achieving heightened public understanding of the issue. It might
be more effective to put time into first persuading and then helping
a television producer to make a documentary on the subject.
If a public campaign is embarked on, the action the supporters
are asked to take should be clear, compelling and realistic. A
wide array of options which the supporter is asked to choose
from will give the impression that the strategy is unclear and that
none of the component actions are really important. Conversely
if the guidelines are too rigid (for example providing the text of
leners which are to be sent to decision makers) then supporters are
made to feel like “lobby fodder”, and those lobbied resent having
to respond to large numbers of identikit letters.
Supporters should feel excited by the action they are being asked
Campaigning NGOs are well aware that the contribution made by
dedicated, imaginative supporters is invaluable. A few hours of well
targeted lobbying or media work can be worth more than the most
generous donation. But on the whole NGOs are poor at rewarding
their supporters or confirming the worth of their contribution.
No NGO would dream of accepting a sizeable donation without
sending back a receipt and a note of thanks, and yet the donation
of labour to a campaign can go unmarked.
Campaigning NGOs should make a special point of giving out
“receipts” to their activists. One NGO which is excellent in this
respect is the US-based development pressure group, Results. They
have some 150 groups throughout USA (and some in Canada, the
UK, Australia and West Germany). Results groups are mostly small -
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169
Reward supporters
cn
DEMOCRATIZING DEVELOPMENT
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four to ten members - but each person is expected on almost a
contractuaTbasis to make a very significant contribution of time
and money each month. The campaign objectives, set nationally,
are to achieve very specific changes, such as an increase in the US
contributions to specialized UN agencies (UNICEF and the Inter
national Fund for Agricultural Development) or the introduction
of a “micro-enterprise” bill to vote a portion of USAID funds for
small-scale credit.
Results’ members are asked to lobby politicians and to get
articles published in the State’s newspapers. The organization gives
excellent briefings, including monthly telephone conferences, which
make the members feel valued and professional, and which ensure
well-informed advocacy. At major meetings, Results organizers
make a point of introducing the audience to the speaker, as well
as the speaker to the audience. They will ask all those to stand who
have written articles on the subject which were published. Then
each person standing shouts out in turn the name of the newspaper
which published it. Next, the process is repeated for articles inspired
by Results activities but written by journalists. Then for letters
printed by newspapers and so on. By the end of this process the
speaker is impressed by the commitment and effectiveness of the
audience and energized to give a good performance; those standing
are proud to have had their personal victory noted and see how it
fits into a nationwide campaign which is making a real impact; and
those still sitting feel determined that, come the next meeting, they
too will be one of those standing.
NGO campaign leaders should avoid the temptation during
briefing meetings to spend all the time explaining the issue. Time
should also be reserved for carefully explaining the action that is
requested and for debating/clarifying it. And, most importantly,
time should be made for praising the particularly effective action
of specific groups, for summarizing the popular action taken to date
(so that supporters feel part of a significant movement for change),
and for relaying any significant campaign advances, such as any
noteworthy responses or concessions from the decision makers (so
that the supporters can share in any sense of progress).
A typical NGO spends half to three-quarters of its operating
budget on salaries. Well targeted labour is its principal tool. But
donated labour is all too often deployed with little thought and
little thanks. It might well be more effective to have far fewer
campaign volunteers which the NGO staff try to relate to directly
and to ensure that these are well used, well supported and well
thanked.
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Achieve bargaining power
Most decision makers in public life are constantly engaged in
balancing dynamic forces. Senior civil servants, for example, ex
periences pressures from ministers, parliament, other departments,
industry, interest groups, the media and from their staff. Each of
these pressures waxes and wanes to different rhythms, but the civil
servant knows that they must all be reckoned with. The NGO needs
to position itself as one such force. It needs to shift from being a
body that has something to say, to being a legitimate interest group
that knows what it is talking about and that authority feels obliged
to negotiate with.
This happens, crudely, when authority cannot afford to ignore the
case being made and cannot satisfy it with vague expressions of good
will. The NGO needs to have frequent meetings with the relevant de
cision makers (again, homework is needed to ascertain who these
are). One-off meetings can appear constructive, but good intentions
may evaporate. Conversely routine, regular meetings without a very
clear purpose will dull the advocacy and serve to draw rhe NGO into
the official camp. The NGO team needs to steer meetings around to
clear decisions and to follow them up, suchas by asking for progress
reports on promised action. It needs to be constantly gathering new
information on its case and watching for new developments which
present opportunities for follow-up meetings.
The decision makers are more likely to allow a negotiating
relationship to develop when:
(a) They respect the NGO team. This can mean including eminent
experts or influential allies on the team. It can also mean
maintaining a cordial style of dialogue.
They
sense that the NGO listens as well as preaches, that the
(b)
dialogue established is a two-way one.
(c) They know that the outcome of the meeting will be noticed.
This can be the case when the NGO has good access to the
media, to politicians and to others of influence.
(d) They know that the campaign is persistent; that the NGOs
expect specific action promises and will be sure to follow up
on these.
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DEMOCRATIZING DEVELOPMENT
Bring the issue to life
The engine driving the NGO cause is moral compulsion. This is
revealed not by economic statistics but by the impact of the issue
on poor people. It is this human picture which will win the case. It is
this that the campaign supporters are motivated by, that the media
want to cover, that the politicians can include in their speeches and
that rhe decision makers feel obliged to respond to.
Arguments of mutual self-interest (as were developed particularly
by the Brandt reports) are important but are unlikely by them
selves to change practices radically in the current political
climate. Governments which reject Keynesian economics at
home are hardly likely to be persuaded to fund a massive pro
gramme of public works abroad. The NGO also has to recognize
that it is not likely to be regarded as a source of credible expertise
on macro-economic analysis, whereas it may well be regarded
as an expert when it comes to the grassroots ramifications of the
issue.
The NGO can bring this out in two ways. Firstly by careful
gathering of human interest stories which illustrate the issue
through the experience of poor people that the NGO comes
into contact with in its field work. Secondly by use of Southern
witnesses. Funding eloquent and experienced Third World NGO
spokespeople to come over for key meetings, speaker tours or media
activities usually proves an excellent investment.
The human interest slant should not be reserved for media work
and public audiences. It should also be an essential flavour of the
direct negotiation with decision makers. They too will be concerned
about the human impact of policies they are responsible for and
are most likely to be influenced by graphic (though not distorted)
illustrations of it.
INTERNATIONAL LOBBYING
any negotiating relationship and may find that it is no longer
given privileged access to information. However, if, having forged
a negotiating relationship, action on the issue fails to develop, the
NGO should consider a tougher approach (for example seeding
hard-hitting media coverage or tough parliamentary questioning).
Maintaining a cosy relationship with decision makers which does
not result in action is not doing the poor any good.
Anticipate the backlash
The NGO should consider what might happen as the campaign
builds up momentum. What steps might the vested interest groups
take to discredit the NGO or to frustrate the campaign? How can
these eventualities be guarded against by advance planning?
For example, there may be a systematic counter-campaign waged
to impugn the political motives of the NGO, to challenge its
charitable or “not-for-profit” status, or to press for the withdrawal
of foreign funding. To guard against this threat the lobbyists need
to ensure that they have influential allies who will testify to the
organization’s motives, and they need to ensure that everyone
within their own organization is aware of and supportive of the
campaign.
Build strong netiuorks
The effective campaign must be authoritative, persistent, morally
charged and professional but within these parameters the NGO
has to decide what style to adopt. In particular it should decide
how aggressive or conciliatory to be.
This will depend to some extent on the stage and history of
the campaign and the culture of the NGO. A campaign which
jumps too quickly to an aggressive style may be excluded from
The advantages of collaboration within networks have been de
scribed in earlier chapters. These advantages apply equally to
international lobbying endeavours. In addition to mutual fortifi
cation and mutual protection, networking on lobbying provides
the possibility for NGOs to specialize in areas in which they have
individual advantage.
For example a network may arise because a group of NGOs
shares concerns about World Bank funding for a particular dam.
Some might know most about the environmental consequences of
the submergence. Some might be most concerned with the displace
ment and resettlement issue. Others might have worries about the
social consequences of the changing pattern of agriculture which
the irrigation scheme will bring about. Yet other NGOs might
have different concerns. Within a network, each can concentrate
on its own area of expertise. Similarly, different NGOs might
have different constituencies. Their membership may be concerned,
Vi
i?3
Choose an appropriate style
DEMOCRATIZING DEVELOPMENT
variously, with environmental, development, or minority cultural
issues. Some might have wide, public constituencies, others might
be respected by a small but influential academic audience, and
others might be particularly strong at media relations. Different
NGOs might also have access to different decision makers or people
of influence. Most obviously, in the case of international agencies
such as the World Bank, NGOs can lobby their own government on
its voting intentions.
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