governance

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Sortition for a Steady State Economy?

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Thu, 18/04/2024 - 11:37pm in
by Gary Gardner

ancient statue of a person blind-folded

Blindfolded, the more to be trusted? (Tim Green, Wikimedia)

In my frustration over humanity’s sluggish response to the urgent issues of our time, I find a bit of hope in an idea championed by the philosopher John Rawls. He had a simple and appealing suggestion for shifting people’s preferences in the direction of the common good.

Rawls proposed that anyone deliberating about public matters start from behind a “veil of ignorance.” In this position, legislators and other public actors are unaware of their place in society. They don’t know their level of wealth, their race, religion, social status, or sexual orientation. As a result, they don’t know how proposed policy choices would affect them.

Instantly, the veil drives decision-makers toward positions favoring the common good, mutual benefit, and equal opportunity. Behind the veil, what’s best for oneself is what’s good for all. Rawl’s suggestion is like parental guidance to kids salivating over a freshly baked pie: “One cuts, the other chooses.” Suddenly both kids’ interests align.

The challenge is to operationalize the veil of ignorance in policymaking. We can’t climb into the minds of legislators and erase their identity and interests. But we can use an indirect strategy: revive the ancient practice of sortition.

Donning the Veil

Sortition is the process of choosing our governing class by lottery rather than election. In a sortition system, all eligible citizens have essentially an equal chance of serving in a governing capacity because they are chosen by lot. The idea is unorthodox, to be sure, but it’s not crazy: Most U.S. jurisdictions use lotteries to choose juries. Average citizens seem to perform competently in judging their fellow citizens in criminal matters.

Moreover, sortition is arguably the most democratic form of governance. David van Reybrouck, author of Against Elections: The Case for Democracy, quotes no less an authority than Aristotle to make the case. “The appointment of magistrates by lot is democratical, and the election of them oligarchical,” Aristotle wrote. Van Reybrouck agrees. He writes that the choice of election-based democracy in the past few hundred years was a deliberately anti-democratic move engineered by elites. By designing governing structures to serve the interests of the economically powerful (like white, male property-owners in the early USA), electoral systems served as a buffer between the majority of people and the policymaking process.

picture of a gray stone block with slots in it

A kleroterion, used for random selection of officials and jurors in Athens (Museum of the Ancient Agora, Wikimedia)

The government of ancient Athens was populated nearly entirely by citizens chosen through sortition. A stone device called a kleroterian was used to choose citizens for service. Chosen citizens served in one of the four main organs of governance: the Council of 500, which prepared the governing agenda; the People’s Assembly, a 6000-person body that adopted policies; the People’s Court, another 6000 or so people who pronounced judgment at trials and assessed the legality of laws; and the Magistracies, 600 or so people chosen by lot plus 100 elected by the People’s Assembly, which administered decisions.

Given the large number of positions across Athens’ governing institutions, the odds of eventually serving in office were high. Van Reybouck estimates that 50 to 70 percent of Athenian males over the age of 30 had once sat on the Council of 500. High levels of participation (at least among non-enslaved males) created a strong civic culture among citizens that reduced dramatically the distance between policies made and people affected. Athenians knew what it meant “to govern and to be governed,” in the words of Aristotle.

Another key feature of Athens’ citizen-governors is that they rotated through governance positions, many serving in all four of the major governing institutions. Rotations could be short. An extreme example is the People’s Court, whose membership changed daily, with lots drawn each morning among those present. Frequent change of officeholders reduces the potential for a concentration of special interests.

Sortition Rising?

Today, governance by lottery is rare, and is more likely to advise policymakers than to produce legislation. But sortition is having a moment, and arguably a real impact on policy, even on major issues like the climate crisis, environmental degradation, and yes, economic growth.

Ireland offers an inspiring case. In 2012 the national government began a process of convening citizens’ assemblies to discuss national policies and amendments to Ireland’s constitution. Since then, the government has called several other assemblies. Analysts credit each assembly with driving changes in policy on matters of consequence including marriage equality and voting rights.

The 2022 citizens’ assembly, focused on biodiversity, was highly representative. It opened eligibility to any adult resident of Ireland, not just citizens. And in contrast to the first assembly in 2012 when a third of participants were selected by political parties, all participants in the 2022 biodiversity assembly were randomly selected individuals.

Here’s how the selection process worked. Organizers sent invitations to 20,000 randomly selected households asking them to consider becoming an assembly member. More than ten percent of the 20,000 households expressed a desire to participate, a rate higher than the 3–5 percent typical of citizens’ assemblies internationally. From these, organizers applied demographic criteria to a random sorting process to arrive at the 100 assembly members.

Three maps of Ireland, side-by-side, showing the the geography of invitations, applications, and membership of citizen's assemblies in Ireland.

Mapping the recruitment process for citizen’s assemblies in Ireland.

The 2022 biodiversity assembly made 73 high-level recommendations and 86 sector-specific recommendations, publishing the vote totals for each. It recommended that constitutional amendments granting citizens the right to “a clean, healthy, safe environment” and to “a stable and healthy climate” be placed before the people of Ireland as a referendum.

Perhaps most startling was this remarkable recommendation: “State should advocate for a shift in emphasis in EU and international economic policy away from GDP expansion as a goal in itself and towards the goals of societal and ecological wellbeing” (emphasis added).

There it is: the kind of visionary policy seldom seen in parliaments, congresses, or other elected bodies. This bold and far-reaching recommendation emerged organically after just nine months of deliberation among ordinary citizens. The ball is in the government’s court to follow up.

The outcomes of the Irish citizen assemblies suggest that people free to speak for themselves and deliberate with compatriots embrace ideas that otherwise don’t get a hearing in modern representative democracies. And they seem to settle on common-sense recommendations.

This is partly because assembly designers structured the groups to preclude special interests from influencing the deliberations. Organizers made public all submissions used in the assembly process (typically expert presentations), and they live-streamed sessions to the public. Moreover, assembly members would not face voters in a future election, allowing them to focus on the issues at hand.

Climate Policy by Chance

Beyond Ireland, citizen assemblies have weighed in on climate policy. A 2023 study compared recommendations of citizen assemblies to commitments found in the National Energy and Climate Plans (NECPs) of ten European countries and the European Union as a whole). The researchers focused on the prevalence of “sufficiency proposals” in the citizen assemblies and NECPs of each of the eleven jurisdictions.


Could sortition deliver a right to repair? (Kumpan Electric,Unsplash)

Sufficiency proposals are regulations and incentives that aim for absolute reductions in consumption and production through behavioral changes (rather than technological ones). Examples include policies to reduce living space per person, curb meat consumption, ban environmentally damaging goods, and reduce materials demand by increasing the repairability of goods and discouraging the use of disposable products. Because sufficiency proposals do not embrace notions of green growth, they are likely to be consistent with steady state economies.

Citizen assemblies recommended sufficiency measures at a much higher rate than NECPs did, 39 percent to 8 percent. Moreover, assembly members voted in favor of sufficiency measures by majorities of at least 90 percent. And the citizen assemblies bore policy fruit. Remember the 2023 decision to ban short flights in France? That came about after a citizens’ assembly recommended it.

Other citizen assemblies in France and the UK have focused on climate recommendations, and on the reforms to the food system. And the assembly idea recently went global, at the COP26 climate conference in 2021. Participants for the Global Assembly’s core group were chosen from randomly selected population centers, with proportional representation by region.

They spent 11 weeks in late 2021 deliberating the question, “How can humanity address the climate and ecological crisis in a fair and effective way?” The assembly produced a Global Declaration, which avowed that “Nature has intrinsic values and rights” and called for legally binding measures to protect nature from “ecocide.” The group’s vision is to make the Assembly an annual gathering, with ten million participants by 2030.

The Fine Print

No modern democracy has handed over national-level governing functions to randomly selected citizens as the Athenians did. It is fair to question whether average citizens are up to the challenge of making highly technical policy and legislative judgments. But the Irish and other European cases offer encouragement that sortition can, at a minimum, provide sound guidance on issues of national interest. And it provides elected politicians with political cover for issues they consider too sensitive to handle, like marriage equality, sufficiency measures, and even growth.

In any case, societies could adapt and test sortition at progressively greater levels of responsibility. Sortition proponents identify at least eight potential contributions that sortition can make to the political process, including providing advice, as in the European cases. Governments could also use the tool to create watchdog groups that provide ethical oversight of the legislative process. Or they might apply the watchdog function to the executive branch to ensure that bureaucratic rules are faithful to the original intent of legislation.

image of a brown lottery ticket from 1776

An early lottery ticket. What if the prize were a seat in Congress? (Ephemeral Society of America)

We might imagine other ways to deploy the power of random chance to better reflect the popular will. For example, it might help to build common ground among legislators. Suppose all conservative legislators were required to spend a three-month internship at a soup kitchen or social service agency. And imagine progressives interning in a small business. A lottery system could determine assignments. Wouldn’t legislators emerge with a more broadly shared knowledge base for discussion and debate during their terms?

Or suppose positions of power were rotated among leaders. This could be similar to the rotation of the presidency of the Council of the European Union, but with a twist of randomness. Imagine the UN Security Council being enlarged to 15 members from the current five, with members chosen by lot every few years.  Would broader representation yield more decisive resolutions on the mega-crises of our day?

Seeking the Greater Good

The notion that chance could be a constructive addition to governance architecture may seem far-fetched. But a former state senator from California, Loni Hancock, once captured sortition’s inherent appeal. “The idea of a lottery is at first thought absurd, and at second thought obvious.” Sortition seems to tickle the same ethical muscle as Mom’s “one cuts, the other chooses” ruling. It also evokes the “Do unto others” guidance broadly embraced by the world’s major faiths. Something in humans recognizes and longs for basic fairness.

To be sure, creating the veil of ignorance through sortition requires extensive thought and testing. But the experience with sortition in Europe to date is enticing. Sortition can deliver sound advice to elected officials. It might also go further and yield a truly representative set of legislators, an end to the influence of special interests in lawmaker selection, and an expanded space for expression of the common good. All of which could jumpstart action on the megacrises of our time.

How about it: Shall we leave the establishment of a steady state economy to the pro-growth “representative” democracies?  Or should we sort it out ourselves?

Gary Gardner is CASSE’s Managing Editor.

The post Sortition for a Steady State Economy? appeared first on Center for the Advancement of the Steady State Economy.

The Coalitions Presidents Make: Presidential Power and its Limits in Democratic Indonesia – review

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Tue, 02/04/2024 - 8:00pm in

Marcus Mietzner‘s The Coalitions Presidents Make examines Indonesia’s political transition, focusing on power-sharing arrangements and their impact on democratic reforms post-2004. Drawing on extensive qualitative data, Mietzner both sheds light on Indonesia’s particular case and reflects more broadly on coalition politics in emerging democracies, writes Yen Nie YongThis post was originally published on the LSE Southeast Asia Blog.

The Coalitions Presidents Make: Presidential Power and Its Limits in Democratic Indonesia. Marcus Mietzner. Cornell University Press. 2023. 

The Coalitions Presidents Make is a welcome contribution to the analysis of the processes of political change in the emerging economies of East Asia and Southeast Asia, especially in light of Indonesia’s recent parliamentary and presidential elections.

Post-Suharto Indonesia is often portrayed as an era that ushered in the birth of a new presidential democracy in the country. However, the transition from a decades-old strongman regime – specifically one that bookmarks the turbulent period of postcolonial social and economic development and Suharto’s fall – was messy and remains incomplete. It is from this incompleteness that Mietzner began his comprehensive study on the coalition presidentialism of Indonesia from the year 2004 to its current state.

Mietzner utilis[es] data from over 100 qualitative interviews with not only the former and current presidents of Indonesia, but also various actors who are directly and indirectly involved in the process of coalition-building.

This monograph is aimed at readers familiar with the literature of coalition presidentialism within the field of Political Science and Indonesian Studies. However, as a researcher who primarily focuses on Malaysian companies in the postcolonial era, I found this book to be a page-turner, largely due to Mietzner’s adept narrative-building skills throughout the book. This is hardly surprising, as Mietzner offers details gleaned from more than two decades of observing the country’s democratic transition from a close-up view. Mietzner’s approach is also ethnographic, by utilising data from over 100 qualitative interviews with not only the former and current presidents of Indonesia, but also various actors who are directly and indirectly involved in the process of coalition-building. The amount of qualitative data accumulated is commendable, as access to the presidents’ inner circle generally requires years of effort in relationship-building, as well as the researcher’s discernment in knowing the difference between the true internal workings and smokescreens of Indonesia’s politics.

How have Indonesia’s presidents post-2004 managed to survive the perils of presidentialism, and what is the price for it?

Mietzner’s key research questions are fascinating – how have Indonesia’s presidents post-2004 managed to survive the perils of presidentialism, and what is the price for it? Indonesia, he argues, achieved more success in transitioning from an unstable presidential regime in the early post-Suharto period into a democracy that is among the world’s most resilient. This is mainly because of the informal coalitions with non-party actors who enjoy or covet political privileges such as the military, the police, oligarchs and religious groups. These actors require as much courting and co-opting as political parties and legislators, a key finding which current studies have ignored or downplayed. In each chapter, Mietzner explains the collective power of a political actor, and utilises a case study to link the phenomenon with his analysis, which I found to be compelling and clear. The locked-in stability created by the broad coalitions under Yudhoyono’s and Widodo’s presidency, nevertheless, had dire consequences in terms of stagnating reforms and democratic decline. Mietzner argues that Indonesia is a prime example of this phenomenon and ought to be a valuable lesson to be studied by those interested in presidential democracies globally.

Through reading this book, my impression is that the power-sharing arrangements between the president and his diverse coalition partners are akin to a prisoner’s dilemma. Mietzner argues that the incumbent president and his predecessor opted for this particular kind of accommodation because of perceived and imagined fears of what might happen to them if they were to choose the path of taking down these coalition partners. The coalition partners also appear to have taken a similarly defensive stance, thus perpetuating existing political arrangements among the actors at the expense of democratic reforms. This, Mietzner explains, is grounded in history, as both sides remain committed to upholding the image of the Indonesian presidency as the key provider of political stability. Many of the politicians and coalition partners lived through the Suharto years and learned how to “do politics” during that era, thus internalizing the appeal of working with presidents in power rather than working to overthrow them.

One element which Mietzner could have expanded upon in the book is how […] historical pathways have impacted on the current accommodation style between the president and non-party actors.

One element which Mietzner could have expanded upon in the book is how these historical pathways have impacted on the current accommodation style between the president and non-party actors. The relationship between the president and the oligarchs is particularly instructive in this regard, as Mietzner shows that in post-2004 coalitions, the oligarchs’ participation in coalition politics became “more direct, formal and institutionalized” (194). What happened during the transition years post-1998 that had enabled the oligarchs such access which was not available to them before? This context can help clarify if the pre-1998 accommodation between the president and capitalists were thoroughly dismantled, and if so, led to expansion of coalitions to other non-party actors after 2004. As history has shown, past strongman leaders in Asia (especially those who fought against colonialism) do not fade easily. The nostalgia for Suharto’s rule was also highlighted by the media during the 2014 presidential elections, elucidating how historical baggage constrains presidents from embarking on meaningful political reforms in this country.

The Indonesian case is an ideal one to expand conceptual boundaries in comparative studies of coalition presidentialism.

Does the specific context of Indonesia’s coalition presidentialism make this case an outlier and thus inapplicable to other democracies? Mietzner emphasises that the Indonesian case is an ideal one to expand conceptual boundaries in comparative studies of coalition presidentialism. As the bulwark of democracy in Southeast Asia, perhaps Indonesia may offer valuable insights beyond coalition presidentialism. As a novice reader on the conceptual theories of coalition presidentialism, I am also curious about whether this can also be relevant to other democracies in Southeast Asia, especially in the context of their shared postcoloniality. After all, the multiplicity of non-party actors in Indonesia’s context should also be situated in the diverse cultural identities of these actors and the postcolonial unsettledness of the nation’s identity. In his proclamation of Independence in 1945, Sukarno had famously used the acronym “d.l.l., or etc. in the Bahasa, which author and former journalist Elizabeth Pisani highlighted in her book Indonesia Etc: Exploring the Improbable Nation.

In Mietzner’s concluding chapter, he writes, “the more pressing challenge is to explore how coalitional presidentialism can work without sucking the oxygen out of democratic societies (245).” This is a conspicuous issue confronting not only Indonesia, but also its neighbouring democracies in the region. The revolving door of party and non-party actors in Indonesia highlights the precarious nature of the development of civil society in Southeast Asia. One can also see the parallels drawn in Malaysia’s coalition party politics, its longstanding stability, and the inclusion and exclusion of civic groups that have undermined the nation’s political progress for decades.

In this sense, Mietzner’s analysis of Indonesia’s coalition presidentialism is highly relevant for future research, as it presses upon researchers the important message to continue to investigate the undercurrents of other young, evolving and often fragile democracies in recent years.

Note: This book review is published by the LSE Southeast Asia blog and LSE Review of Books blog as part of a collaborative series focusing on timely and important social science books from and about Southeast Asia.

The review gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics and Political Science.

Image: Joko Widodo, the President of Indonesia

Image credit: Ardikta on Shutterstock.

The Gilded Cage: Technology, Development, and State Capitalism in China – review

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Tue, 26/03/2024 - 9:00pm in

In The Gilded Cage: Technology, Development, and State Capitalism in China, Ya-Wen Lei explores how China has reshaped its economy and society in recent decades, from the era of Chen Yun to the leadership of Xi Jinping. Lei’s meticulous analysis illuminates how China’s blend of marketisation and authoritarianism has engendered a unique techno-developmental capitalism, writes George Hong Jiang.

The Gilded Cage: Technology, Development, and State Capitalism in China. Ya-Wen Lei. Princeton University Press. 2023.

Twenty years ago, people inside and outside China were wondering whether the country would eventually capitulate to dominant capitalist and democratic models. American politicians such as Bill Clinton were enthusiastically looking forward to the future integration of China into globalisation. When this happened, millions of ordinary people would get rich and become the middle class through fast-growing international trade and domestic labour-intensive industries. However, this judgment quickly proved ill-made. China has simultaneously emulated the US in high-tech industries but also become an unparalleled authoritarian state which polices its citizens through intellectual technology and high-tech instruments. How has it achieved this, and what are the effects of this? Lei tries to untangle these questions in her book, The Gilded Cage: Technology, Development, and State Capitalism in China.

The author was inspired by the “birdcage economy” of Chen Yun when choosing the title of the book.[…] Statist control is the cage, and private economies, like captive birds, are only allowed to fly within the cage.

The author was inspired by the “birdcage economy” of Chen Yun when choosing the title of the book (5). Building the planned economy in the early 1950s and supporting economic reforms in the 1980s, Chen Yun was one of the most important architects of economic systems in communist China. While he was a proponent of giving more space to private economies, Chen Yun staunchly believed in the efficacy of governmental regulations. Statist control is the cage, and private economies, like captive birds, are only allowed to fly within the cage. Chen Yun was particularly cautious about liberalist reforms, such as deregulation of finance and fiscal decentralisation, and distinctly opposed to privatisation. After he died in 1995, Deng Xiaoping and his disciples, including Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao, carried out deregulation bravely until the late 2000s. But the ideal of Chen Yun’s “birdcage economy” is never abandoned by communists who fear losing control over the society.

The 2008 financial crisis started China’s big turn of macroeconomic policies. In order to stimulate the deflated economy, the government reacted fast and invested enormous capital into a few key strategic industries, including bio-manufacturing industry and aircraft and electronic manufacturing. Ling & Naughton (2016) believe that this action signalled the watershed of China’s economic orientation. The government’s budget poured into these industries, and bureaucratic units responsible for supervision and regulation turned to interventionist policies. The trend was further strengthened after Xi Jinping, who believes that the combination of the free market economy and Leninist political principles is the best blueprint for China, ascended to the presidency in 2012.

New leadership since the 2010s wants to emulate western high-end development rather than provide low-end, cheap and labour-intensive products for the West.

The ambition to develop high-tech industries runs in tandem with the unique political system of China. Economic growth has helped sustain political legitimacy of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) since the 1980s. Since socialism was smeared by the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976) and its disastrous economic consequences, economic growth has been identified as the most important source of political legitimacy. Economic performance has become the indicator of bureaucratic promotion, which has fused China’s politics and economies together. This political organisational mechanism makes it easier for leaders to push through any desired change and it is on this that China’s turn to techno-development (Chapter Three) is precisely based. New leadership since the 2010s wants to emulate western high-end development rather than provide low-end, cheap and labour-intensive products for the West.

Still, a key question must be answered: why are Chinese bureaucrats who care primarily about social stability and political monopoly willing to replace human labour with robots, which tends to reduce employment in the short run? In Chapter Five, the author traces the process of robotisation in firms which previously rely on cheap labour, including Foxconn. While the benefits of robotisation might be obvious to entrepreneurs aspiring to reduce costs by any means, potential instability could cause trouble for communist bureaucrats. The answer lies in the possibility that technological upgrades will lead to an enlarging economy capable of digesting more workers than it kicks out. However, it results in a dilemma: if the growth rate slows down, the appetite for mechanisation and robotisation could stir social tensions.

Seeing the chance to surpass the West in the development of high-tech industries, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is more than willing to strengthen control over public spheres and civil society and increase investment in the sector to achieve this.

Seeing the chance to surpass the West in the development of high-tech industries, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is more than willing to strengthen control over public spheres and civil society and increase investment in the sector to achieve this. As the author puts it, “the Chinese state is an unwavering believer in intellectual technology and instrumental power and employs both to enhance governance and the economy” (9). It is highly possible that with the help of an authoritarian regime and its will to develop technological capability, the dismal future that Max Weber once predicted – ie, the “iron cage of bureaucracy” in which depersonalised and ossified instrumental rationality will dominate every sphere in the society – will come sooner in China than in the West.

Economic growth is mainly driven by high-tech industries that private and state-owned capital foster, both of which must be under the control of the government, with the unified aim of rejuvenating the Chinese nation.

Karl Marx argued that productive power, including technological conditions, determines relations of production. This idea is being justified in China. A mix between marketised economies and authoritarian rule, which is penetrated by high-tech instruments, facilitate the rise of techno-developmental capitalism, as the author proposes in Chapter Nine. On the one hand, large tech companies in China have hatched one of the biggest markets in the world. On the other hand, tech professionals’ increasing demand for institutional (if not political) reforms (Chapter Eight) renders bureaucrats gradually more concerned about their social influence. For instance, Jack Ma, the boss of Alibaba, attacked the state-owned financial system and instantly got punished by the authority. China is developing a new variant of capitalism: economic growth is mainly driven by high-tech industries that private and state-owned capital foster, both of which must be under the control of the government, with the unified aim of rejuvenating the Chinese nation.

Techno-developmental capitalism is not the result of contingency, but path-dependent outcome, the direct result of China’s polities.

The author includes an excellent range of relevant materials into the book, spanning academic literature and personal interviews with private entrepreneurs and IT practitioners. Lei also bravely applies the term “instrumental rationality” in relation to China’s socioeconomic reality. In so doing she identifies the Janus-faced nature of China’s technological development, whereby the society enjoys higher productivity but becomes more rigid and occluded due to the omnipotent techno-bureaucracy. Nonetheless, the book could have been improved if Lei could take China’s political-economic structure into account when explaining the motivation to develop high-tech industries. While Lei focuses on the era after the 2000s, the rise of techno-developmental capitalism is deeply rooted in the persistent logic of the CCP since the late 1970s. In other words, techno-developmental capitalism is not the result of contingency, but a path-dependent outcome, the direct result of China’s polity. In spite of this lack of fully examined historical dimensions, Lei presents a good guidebook for China’s holistic development, not just within the last two decades but also in the decades to come.

Note: This post gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics and Political Science.

Image credit: B.Zhou on Shutterstock.

Reclaiming Participatory Governance: Social Movements and the Reinvention of Democratic Innovation – review

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Fri, 22/03/2024 - 9:45pm in

In Reclaiming Participatory Governance, Adrian Bua and Sonia Bussu bring together analyses of social movements around the world that engage with democracy-driven or participatory governance. Although the essays in this volume reveal the challenge of bringing grassroots organising into our political systems, they advocate compellingly for nurturing these practices to create fairer and stronger democracies, writes Andrea Felicetti.

Reclaiming Participatory Governance: Social Movements and the Reinvention of Democratic Innovation. Adrian Bua, Sonia Bussu. Routledge. 2023.

 Reclaiming Participatory Governance Social Movements and the Reinvention of Democratic InnovationReclaiming Participatory Governance is a compelling investigation of the potential for bottom-up forms of democratic innovations to vitalise our democracies. Anchored on Adrian Bua and Sonia Bussu’s concept of “democracy-driven governance” (DDG), this edited volume critically investigates the “potential, limits and opportunities” of social movements’ engagement with participatory and deliberative institutional designs. This is no small feat since social movements and democratic innovations are often seen as crucial in strengthening our democracies.

[Democracy-driven governance] is considered in its capacity for effectively ‘[o]pening up spaces for a deeper critique of minimalist liberal democratic institutions and the neoliberal economy that underpins them’.

From the introduction, expectations are high. Pitted against forms of “governance-driven democratisation” (GDD) that tend to be seen as top-down and markedly bureaucratic, DDG is considered in its capacity for effectively “[o]pening up spaces for a deeper critique of minimalist liberal democratic institutions and the neoliberal economy that underpins them”. Of course, this needs to occur at a time when “space for meaningful citizen input is increasingly constrained by technocratic decision-making and global economic pressure”.

The book presents a highly coherent and impressive collection of in-depth analyses that span theory and empirical research, with a great variety of cases. Spain takes centre stage, and there are no case studies from English-speaking countries, going markedly against the tide. Theory is at the heart of the first section. Drawing from fascinating cases in Germany and Iceland, Dannica Fleuss shows the urgency of thinking about democracy beyond liberal institutions. Nick Vlahos introduces the idea of “participatory decommodification of social need” as an interesting way to think about how participatory governance can combat the worst effects of capitalism, with examples from Toronto, Canada. Based on his extensive fieldwork in Rosario, Argentina, Markus Holdo discusses the concept of “democratic care” to unearth the work performed by activists that needs to be recognised in participatory governance. Finally, Hendrik Wagenaar offers a compelling analysis of strengths and weaknesses of the GDD/DGG pair from a political economy standpoint, building on a well-established threefold distinction between the dominant economic, financial system, the political, administrative sector and civil society.

Vlahos introduces the idea of ‘participatory decommodification of social need’ as an interesting way to think about how participatory governance can combat the worst effects of capitalism

The second part is markedly empirical. Paola Pierri analyses the Orleans Metropole Assise for the Ecological Transition, in France, showing a case of “collaborative countervailing power” that reminds us that the seminal work of Empowered Participatory Governance by Archon Fung and Erik Olin Wright remains highly relevant to understand participatory governance. Lucy Cathcart Frodén investigates the parallels between prefigurative social movements and participatory arts projects as well as their potential to contribute to democratic renewal. A rather effective collaboration between “right to the city” activists and local administration is documented in Roberto Falanga’s in-depth analysis of the participatory process for the regeneration of one of the main squares in Lisbon, Portugal. Giovanni Allegretti shows clearly how anticolonial protests irrupt into and benefit participatory experiments in Kalaallit Nunaat, Greenland. Mendonça and colleagues, instead, systematically explore strengths and weaknesses of Gambiarra, an unconventional means social movements in Brazil use to break into elites-dominated elections at local and parliamentary level. Bua, Bussu and Davies offer the ultimate comparison about the GDD and DGG models as embodied in the historical trajectories of participatory governance of the cities of Nantes and Barcelona respectively.

The third section highlights problems and limitations. Joan Balcells and colleagues unveil the tension that lay at the basis of the famous participatory platform Decidim. Always focusing on Barcelona, Marina Pera and colleagues look at the Citizen Assets Program showing how lack of trust prevented this very advanced form of democratisation from being embedded into its context. Fabiola Mota Consejero considers another case from Spain where Madrid’s progressive local government broke with a longstanding tradition of conservative patronage but failed to turn its main innovation, Decide Madrid, into an effective means for participatory governance. Patricia Garcia-Espin, instead, shows the fatigue and disappointment of activists involved in another innovation of Madrid’s new municipalist government, the local forums. Finally, Sixtine Van Outryve looks at a fascinating case of a local Yellow Vest organization in Commercy, France, trying to set up an open citizens assembly to have a communalist project represented in the local government that ultimately failed.

Virtually every chapter of this book details a host of challenges participatory governance faces in the context of minimalist democracies dominated by neoliberal economics.

The findings in this book are rather sobering. Employing a rigorous approach devoid of self-celebration or ideological dismissal, virtually every chapter of this book details a host of challenges participatory governance faces in the context of minimalist democracies dominated by neoliberal economics. In many case studies, elements of both GDD and DGG coexist, and sometimes one morphs into the other. Second, empirical investigations highlight weaknesses with DGG. This reduces our expectations about this model of democratisation, yet it also lends it a more realistic and useful outlook. Third, while the theoretical section highlights the political economy of participatory governance as a crucial issue, that remains in the background in the empirical analysis, as it tends to happen in the field. This kind of investigation remains essential.

Further, after reading this book, one has the feeling that contemporary participatory governance grapples with two important limitations. First, the promotion of participatory governance remains primarily within the purview of a select group of political actors: progressive parties, particularly those with a robust radical left presence. As we move to the centre of the political spectrum, the idea of reinvigorating democracy, let alone doing so by means of radical participatory governance, seems to lose attractiveness. Indeed, the book consistently shows that, in those uncommon cases in which progressive parties that champion participatory governance take power, they downscale their democratisation ambitions as they face the challenges implied in participatory governance. These can vary from administrative hurdles in implementing innovation to more endogenous problems relating, for example, to internal conflicts arising from differing conceptions of democracy that exacerbate fatigue and disillusionment. Second, the book gives the sense that contemporary participatory governance still has a mass democracy problem. It is still missing any substantial connection with the public at large. Except for occasional influence during electoral campaigns, none of the studied experiments have garnered sustained support or substantial interest from the public at large.

This volume stands as proof of the ongoing efforts to use participatory governance in critical and democratising ways around the world

This might seem disheartening, especially because there is no practical solution in sight. The electoral defeat of Spanish municipalism, central to this book, heightens this sensation. Yet, there is not much use in despairing, and a temporal prospective might offer some hope. As Gianpaolo Baiocchi reminds in his refreshing concluding remarks, it is not so long ago that the idea of participatory democracy made its irruption in our democracies. Initially championed by social movements and to a lesser extent Left political projects in the 1960s, this idea was later taken up by mainstream policymakers and international agencies. Unsurprisingly, participatory governance has not been able to singlehandedly compete with the broader political trend towards neoliberal governance; indeed, it has had to adapted to it to some extent. The resistance it meets today shows major limitations. Yet, this volume stands as proof of the ongoing efforts to use participatory governance in critical and democratising ways around the world. It also speaks to the fact that there is great social scientific scholarship trying to understand and strengthen this phenomenon.

The book often refers to the value of learning from and with activists. Indeed, one of its the most significant contributions is its ability to forge an expanded understanding of participatory governance.

The book often refers to the value of learning from and with activists. Indeed, one of its the most significant contributions is its ability to forge an expanded understanding of participatory governance. This volume goes beyond the perpetual dispute between different conceptions of democracy. It shows how participatory governance todays draws from a rich tapestry of diverse ideas and practices – both old and new. The fact that concepts such as “care”, the “right to the city”, “communalism”, “new municipalism”, “gambiarra” and “decolonisation” are brought together in this volume speaks to the eclectic nature and vitality of contemporary participatory governance. Despite its challenges, participatory governance continues to attract the ingenuity of people and their eagerness for democracy. Persistence is crucial, as these are fundamental ingredients in the struggle to build a more equal and just world.

Note: This post gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics and Political Science.

Image credit: Dedraw Studio on Flickr.

Reforesting the Earth: The Human Drivers of Forest Conservation, Restoration, and Expansion – review

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Thu, 22/02/2024 - 9:41pm in

In Reforesting the EarthThomas K Rudel draws on historical research and case studies to examine the drivers of deforestation and proposes reforestation as an urgent natural solution to the climate crisis. The book advocates for socio-political corporatist processes and local participation to enable successful forest conservation and expansion, offering useful insights for environmentalists, policymakers and activists, writes Mohd Amin Khan.

Reforesting the Earth: The Human Drivers of Forest Conservation, Restoration, and Expansion. Thomas K Rudel.‎ Columbia University Press. 2023.

The global climate crisis poses a serious threat to the earth’s ecosystem – its biodiversity, forests, soil fertility, water quality, and atmospheric carbon concentration. The impact on nature in turn has adverse effects on the socio-economic, cultural wellbeing and health of people across the globe, with a markedly unequal distribution of these negative effects on nations and communities. In his latest book, Thomas K Rudel emphasises the need for reforestation as a natural solution to the problems of climate change.

Reforesting the Earth aims to investigate the drivers of forest destruction and the factors influencing reforestation and the expansion of forests. It seeks to comprehend the role of human activity, including socio-political corporatist processes – policies based on the inclusive decision-making and governance of an organisation relating to other stakeholders like politicians, activists, donors, farmers, foresters, indigenous groups, and landowners – in reforestation by applying an integrated, case studies-based global data analysis. The ambition is to contribute to global climate crisis alleviation through natural solutions. The book unfolds over nine chapters, four of which discuss the historical background, concepts, theories, and analysis and the other five of which cover 19 cases studies of forest gain or loss worldwide.

The author begins with historical perspectives on the current political system: the actions and events that have precipitated the climate crisis. He then considers what would be the best approach to mitigate the adverse impacts of the crisis. He grounds his argument by elucidating the ways of living of traditional societies that evinced a respectful rather than an extractive relationship with nature. After the age of scientific discovery and innovation in Europe and the industrial revolution (roughly from the late 16th century to the 18th century), the exploitation of nature became an essential aspect of modernity, paving the way to commercialism and a capitalistic society. This shift involved major transformation in terms of socio-economic and political orders and commercial activity, resulting in rapid urbanisation, agricultural expansion, industrialisation, mass migration, population growth and mass deforestation.

This shift [to modernity] involved major transformation in terms of socio-economic and political orders and commercial activity, resulting in rapid urbanisation, agricultural expansion, industrialisation, mass migration, population growth and mass deforestation.

The great economic movement in the 20th century had corresponding environmental consequences: mass deforestation, land degradation, water and air pollution, carbon emissions, biodiversity loss, and depletion of natural resources. By the 1980s, this mass destruction of forest and other natural resources began to mobilise different stakeholders in support of forest conservation.

Rudell states that when collective action has occurred, it has most frequently taken a corporatist form, at both state and societal levels. Corporatist processes involve multiple parties from different strata of society (international investors to local politicians and farmers, indigenous people, environmental activists) coming together to discuss increasing forest cover in different locations. In these discussions, the involved parties agree to compacts where some transfer funds in exchange for others’ commitment to conserving and restoring forests. The parties collaborate on these activities, holding repeated meetings throughout the process. They work together to develop and implement successive plans for forest conservation, restoration, and expansion. Through these collaborative efforts, a corporatist polity emerges. When successful, this integration of diverse groups within the forest-agriculture sector leads to an increase in forest cover and carbon sequestration. Initiatives like the Bonn Challenge and the New York Declaration are the result of collective corporatist actions in which have achieved substantial increments in forest cover and carbon sequestration over time: “REDD+ agreements promote natural climate solutions by exerting direct control over land uses in defined territories. Eco-certification schemes promote natural climate solutions by indirect means” (31).

As local participation, active monitoring, and good governance have a positive association with forest resurgence, weakening these factors can lead to forest loss.

Rudell extends his discussion on the role of societal corporatist processes by analysing 19 diverse case studies worldwide. This involves considering the major five themes within forest conservation and reforestation: avoided deforestation (Ecuadorian Andes Amazon), secondary forest expansions (New England and New Deal South in the USA, Northwest Portugal, and Northern Costa Rica), forest plantation (Congo, China, Laos, Vietnam, Indonesia, Chile, and the USA), agroforestry-based farming (rubber, cocoa, coffee, and domestic forests), and silvopastoral practices (Upper-Lower Amazon and Nigerian Sahel). Among these 19 case studies, 12 witnessed forest gain.

The spatial distribution of the case studies reflects concerns about rapid deforestation in the Global South (due to the shifting of production firms in the Global South by Northern nations, as explained in Laurie Parsons’s Carbon Colonialism). Across the case studies, all major changes in forest cover occurred during the 20th and 21st centuries, which suggests that this change is the output of recent economic expansion.

Seven of the case studies Rudel examines recorded explicit forest loss. These losses occurred in forest plantations in Congo, Indonesia, Southeast USA, silvopastoral practices in the Lower Amazon region, and the agroforestry-based farming of rubber and cocoa in all seven. These seven case studies recorded forest loss, which can be explained by a lack of local participation in conservation programs, monitoring, and reporting, combined with weak governance resulting in corruption. As local participation, active monitoring, and good governance have a positive association with forest resurgence, weakening these factors can lead to forest loss: “Forest cover has increased in places with societal and state corporatism. It has not increased in places where states and governance have been weak or where crucial actors such as state officials or local landholders have not become participants in sectoral agreements to preserve or restore forests” (185).

Rudel advocates for the improved surveillance of forests through remote sensing, providing land rights to indigenous and local communities, eco-certification, encouraging a polycentric approach in governance, and institutionalising landscape changes and social movements of conservation to ensure reforestation projects succeed.

In conclusion, Rudel suggests that the climate crisis can be mitigated through reforestation and forest expansion with the effective engagement of socio-political corporatist arrangements. This is only possible through strong participation in forest conservation programmes and initiatives led by local and indigenous communities, environmental activities, local political parties, and both national and international non-governmental organisations. Furthermore, Rudel encourages normative changes such as reducing the demand and consumption of forest products and consequently forest losses. Similarly, declining beef consumption, seen notably in the US from 84 to 58 pounds per capita (1970-2020), holds promise for reforesting old cattle pastures. If this trend spreads globally, driven by increasing vegetarian identification in countries like India, China and the US, cattle ranchers may convert some pastures to forests. This reflects the successful reforestation observed in Costa Rica during the 1990s).

He advocates for the improved surveillance of forests through remote sensing, providing land rights to indigenous and local communities, eco-certification, encouraging a polycentric approach in governance, and institutionalising landscape changes and social movements of conservation to ensure reforestation projects succeed. The book is a valuable resource for a broad spectrum of readers, including environmentalists, climate activists, conservationists, sociologists, geographers, economists, and policymakers, as well as anyone interested in understanding and contributing to natural climate solutions to address the ongoing global climate crisis.

Acknowledgement: I am thankful to Monika and Anna D’Alton for reviewing the final draft of the book review and providing valuable suggestions and feedback which notably increases the readability of the book review.

This post gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics and Political Science.

Image Credit: SOMRERK WITTHAYANANT on Shutterstock.

Foreign Aid and Its Unintended Consequences – review

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Wed, 07/02/2024 - 10:14pm in

In Foreign Aid and Its Unintended ConsequencesDirk-Jan Koch examines the unintended effects of development efforts, covering issues such as conflicts, migration, inequality and environmental degradation. Ruerd Ruben finds the book an original and detailed analysis that can help development policymakers and practitioners to better anticipate these consequences and build adaptive programmes.

Foreign Aid and Its Unintended Consequences. Dirk-Jan Koch. Routledge. 2023.

Find this book: amazon-logo

Foreign Aid and its Unintended Consequences_coverDirk-Jan Koch’s Foreign Aid and its Unintended Consequences offers a rich discussion on the unintended consequences of development efforts, including effects on conflicts, migration and inequality and changes in commodity prices, human behaviour, institutions and environmental degradation. The book explains how different perceptions of donors and recipients lead to quite opposite strategies (eg, for managing the Haiti earthquake), whereas in other settings aid programmes can even intensify local conflicts or spur deforestation.

Koch devotes due attention to the aggregate impact of development activities through so-called backlash effects, negative spillovers and positive ripple effects.

Koch devotes due attention to the aggregate impact of development activities through so-called backlash effects, negative spillovers and positive ripple effects. Many of these effects also occur in Western countries, where they are commonly labelled as crowding-in and -out, linkages and leakages, and substitution effects. Each chapter includes real-life examples (mostly cases from sub-Saharan Africa), ranging from due diligence legislation on conflict minerals in DR Congo to the experiences of the author’s parents with the Fairtrade shop in the tiny Dutch village of Achterveld.

Koch consistently argues that the analysis of unintended effects is helpful to unravel the complexities of development cooperation and enables better identification of incentives that allow for more adaptive planning. This is a welcome contribution, since it provides a common language for better communication between development agents.

Everyone involved in development programmes is invited by this book to reflect on their own experiences with unintended consequences. I still remember the shock when an external review of a large integrated rural development programme in Southern Nicaragua revealed that most funds were spent at the local gasoline station and car repair workshop for maintenance of the project vehicles. My original enthusiasm for Fairtrade certification of coffee and cocoa cooperatives was substantially reduced when I became aware that price support enabled farmers to maintain their income with less production and therefore increased inequality within rural communities.

Koch consistently shows that it is important and possible to disentangle each of these possible or likely side effects and to act to combat them.

The systematic overview of unintended consequences of foreign aid gives an initial impression that development cooperation is a system beyond repair. This is, however, far from the truth. Koch consistently shows that it is important and possible to disentangle each of these possible or likely side effects and to act to combat them. That requires an open mind and thorough knowledge of responses by different types of agents and institutions.

The analysis falls short, however, in showing that several types of unintended consequences are likely to interact (such as price and marginalisation effects, or conflict and migration effects). Other consequences may partially overlap or perhaps compensate for each other. Moreover, there is likely to be a certain ”hierarchy” in the underlying mechanisms, where behavioural effects, governance effects and price effects crowd out several other consequences. In addition, a further analysis of the development context and the influence of norms and values might be helpful to better understand why certain effects occur, or not.

There is likely to be a certain ‘hierarchy’ in the underlying mechanisms, where behavioural effects, governance effects and price effects crowd out several other consequences

Koch argues that unintended consequences are frequently overlooked due to “linear thinking” in international development. He probably refers to the dominance of logical frameworks in traditional development planning and the recent requirement for presenting a Theory of Change with different impact pathways for development programmes. Since links and feedback loops between activities are already widely acknowledged, Koch seems to merge “linearity” with “causality”. For responsible development policies and programmes, we need better insight into the cause-effect relationship, recognising that differentiated outcomes may occur and that side effects are likely to be registered.

The absence of linear response mechanisms has been part of development thinking since its foundation by development economist and Nobel-prize winner Jan Tinbergen. His work (and my PhD thesis) heavily relied on linear programming, which is still considered as an extremely useful approach for showing that an intervention can generate multiple outcomes and that policymakers need some insights into alternative scenarios before they start to act. Impact analysis through different (quantitative and qualitative) methods digs deeper into the adaptive behaviour of development agents in response to a wide variety of incentives (ranging from financial support and legal rules to knowledge diffusion and information exchange). Our attention should be focused on understanding how non-linearity as occasioned by the involvement of multiple agents with different interests (and power) in development programmes leads to multiple – and sometimes opposing – outcomes from interventions.

Our attention should be focused on understanding how non-linearity […] in development programmes leads to multiple – and sometimes opposing – outcomes from interventions.

Koch’s analysis is based on a wide variety of case studies and testimonies, enriched with secondary research on the gender effects of microfinance, the occurrence of exchange rate disturbances (Dutch Disease), and the effectiveness of incentives to encourage natural resource conservation (Payments for Ecosystem Services). In a few cases, it makes use of more systematic impact reviews made by the International Initiative for Impact Evaluation (3ie) and Campbell Collaboration. Information about the size and relative importance of the unintended consequences is notably absent.

The reliance on illustrative case studies and dense description challenges the academic rigor of the book. It may hinder our understanding about the underlying causes and mechanisms behind these effects: are they generated by the development intervention themselves, or are they due to the context in which the programme is implemented, or the types of stakeholders involved in its implementation? A more comparative approach could be helpful to better understand, for instance, why microfinance was accompanied by an increase in domestic violence in certain parts of India, but not in others. Comparing different ways of designing and organising microfinance would provide clearer insights into the causes of variation in outcomes.

Opening up for such an interactive engagement with development activities asks for an institutional re-design of international development cooperation, permitting projects with a substantially longer duration (eight to ten years), closing the gap between policy and practice and accepting a political commitment for learning from mistakes. Moreover, dealing with unintended consequences requires that far more aid is channelled through embassies and local organisations that have direct insights into local possibilities and needs.

Social and community service programmes for basic education and primary healthcare tend to deliver the most tangible positive effects on incomes, nutrition, behaviour, women’s participation and income distribution.

Furthermore, focusing on adaptive planning and learning trajectories may also imply that policy priorities for foreign aid need to change. Social and community service programmes for basic education and primary healthcare tend to deliver the most tangible positive effects on incomes, nutrition, behaviour, women’s participation and income distribution. The development record of programmes for trade promotion is far more doubtful and still heavily relies on (unproven) trickle-down reasoning. Particular attention should be given to budget support and cash transfers as aid modalities with the least strings attached that show a high impact on critical poverty indicators. Contrary to these findings, several years ago the Dutch parliament stopped budget support and eliminated primary education as a key policy priority.

While the author concludes by focusing on the need to act on side effects and further professionalisation of international development programmes, more concrete leverage points could be identified. First, many of the registered effects tend to be related to cross-cutting structural differences in resources and voice, and therefore programmes that start with improving asset ownership and women’s empowerment are likely to yield simultaneous changes in different areas. Second, a stronger focus on systems analysis (beyond complexity theory) can be helpful to identify inherent conflicts and tensions in development programmes that could be the subject of political negotiation. Unravelling potential trade-offs then becomes a key component of development planning. Third, more space could have been devoted to the role of experiments in the practice of development cooperation. Policymakers expect a high level of certainty and face difficulties to become engaged in more adaptive programming. Accepting deliberate risk-taking may be helpful to improve aid effectiveness.

Policymakers expect a high level of certainty and face difficulties to become engaged in more adaptive programming. Accepting deliberate risk-taking may be helpful to improve aid effectiveness.

These reservations aside, Foreign Aid and its Unintended Consequences is a welcome and original contribution to the debate on development effectiveness. Koch offers a systematic conceptual and empirical analysis of ten types of unintended effects from international development activities, and its recommendations on how these effects can be tackled in practice will be useful for policymakers, practitioners and evaluators.

This post gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics and Political Science. The LSE RB blog may receive a small commission if you choose to make a purchase through the above Amazon affiliate link. This is entirely independent of the coverage of the book on LSE Review of Books.

Image Credit: Jen Watson on Shutterstock.

Introducing the Luxury Cap Act

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Fri, 02/02/2024 - 3:47am in
by Daniel Wortel-London

private jet, parked, with orange sky behind it

Private planes are one example of carbon-intensive luxury goods. (Hush Hush, Flickr)

Even as nearly a billion people go hungry every day, the wealthiest one percent of the world’s population is purchasing ever-more expensive toys. Yacht sales grew by an average of 22 percent per year between 2014 and 2022. Private jet sales have boomed since the start of the COVID pandemic. The global luxury jewelry market, already huge at $56.5 billion, is expected to grow 8.2 percent between 2023 and 2028. And the luxury car market is projected to double from $1.17 trillion to $2.55 trillion over the same period.

This kind of luxury consumption can be criticized not only on ethical grounds, but also on scientific ones. Luxury transportation contributes disproportionately  to humanity’s carbon emissions. Jewels and furs produced for the wealthy lead to biodiversity loss and air and water pollution. Add the economic injustice and health damages faced by the millions of men, women, and children who work to produce these luxury “goods” and it’s clear that luxury consumption is a powerful driver of social and ecological “bads” across the world.

To help curb the excessive consumption of the uber-wealthy, CASSE proposes adoption of a Luxury Cap Act (LCA) by the U.S. Congress. It benefits from successful precedents. Canada, for example, passed a Luxury Tax applying to new cars, boats, and airplanes in 2023. Connecticut and other states levy sales taxes on luxury clothes and vehicles. Even the federal government passed an excise tax on boats, aircraft, jewelry, and furs in 1990, although these provisions were repealed during the Clinton administration.

As environmental damage and inequality mounts, conspicuous and wasteful consumption by the wealthy is a logical and defensible target for action.

The Full Cost of Luxury

What is the cost of luxury? Transportation offers instructive examples. For starters, aviation is responsible for around 3.5 percent of global warming, but more than half of that damage is caused by only one percent of the world’s population.

The wealthy’s outsize impact from flying results from several factors. First, they fly most frequently, with 70 percent of flights taken by just 15 percent of people. In addition, wealthy people often travel first class, leaving a carbon trail as much as seven times larger than the economy-class passenger’s. And of course many wealthy fliers have their own jets. These produce 5–14 times more pollution per passenger than commercial planes. In 2020, private flights in the USA pumped as many tons of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere as all bus travel nationally.

Jewel-encrusted bracelets on display.

Jewels arrive to market at great social and environmental cost. (International Gem and Jewelry Show, Flickr)

Meanwhile, luxury yachts emit up to 1,500 times as much carbon dioxide as a family car. In the words of the environmental news outlet EcoWatch, they are “by far the worst asset to own from an environmental standpoint.

Luxury automobiles are similarly wasteful: Compared to standard vehicles, they emit more carbon and use uncommon materials like rare woods. One study found that luxury vehicles produce, on average, 50 percent more carbon emissions than their conventional counterparts.

Carbon pollution isn’t the only harm caused by luxury consumption. Take jewelry, for example. Silver and gold mines cause enormous damage to ecosystems. Nine percent of the Amazon forest was lost between 2005 and 2015 as land was cleared for mining operations. Mining of precious minerals also contributes to air pollution via emissions of atmospheric mercury. These mines also use toxic chemicals like cyanide and sulphuric acid to separate metals from ores. The social and ecological costs of these operations can be horrific. In Nigeria, 400 children were killed in 2011 due to polluted drinking water from mining operations.

Then there’s luxury fashion. A recent study of nine luxury brands—like shoe and bag vendor Prada and general luxury retailer LVMH—found that the companies emitted 13.5 million metric tons of C02 to create products in 2021—as much as the economy of Lithuania. Luxury brands are often worse than their mass-market competitors at addressing labor exploitation in their supply chains. And the chemicals used to process luxury furs such as mink and sable contribute to water and soil contamination. In fact, fur clothing has the highest environmental impact of any textile.

These are just a few of the ways that luxury consumption damages the environment. The list could easily extend to a broad range of luxury goods and services from elite resorts and spas to private helicopter and airline tours. None of these indulgences is necessary, and all are harmful. Of course, curbing luxury consumption won’t solve all our environmental problems. But reining in these excesses would be a good start toward creating a more sustainable and equitable world.

The Luxury Cap Act

The Luxury Cap Act (LCA) is meant to curtail the production and consumption of socially and ecologically harmful luxury goods and services. It will empower the Treasury Department to impose taxes on these goods and services, a tried and true method of lowering demand. The LCA is designed to be both a stand-alone bill and a component of the larger Steady State Economy Act.

Following a short title, findings of Congress, and definitions, Section 4 of the LCA targets frequent flyers. It imposes an escalating tax beginning with the passenger’s second flight and increasing with each flight thereafter in a calendar year. The Federal Aviation Administration will be responsible for creating the database to track flight frequency for implementing this section. Exceptions are made for flight crews, passengers and crew on emergency and public service flights, and similar persons who need to fly regularly. Section 4 serves as a complement to CASSE’s broader Forgoing Flights for America the Beautiful Act, which proposes a broader curb on flying and airport expansion more generally.

A superyacht in a harbor.

Yachts like these are symbols and drivers of our ecological overshoot. (Frans Berkelaar, Flickr)

Sections 5, 6, and 7 impose taxes on luxury aircraft, boats, and passenger vehicles. The tax will equal ten percent of the price of any vehicle listed at more than $557,000 (in the case of aircraft), $223,000 (boats), and $70,000 (passenger vehicles). Aircraft used for seeding, fertilizing, and training, and boats used for commercial activities, will not be subject to this tax.

Sections 8 and 9 address furs, clothing, jewelry, and accessories like handbags and watches. Both sections impose taxes equal to ten percent of retail price greater than $10,000. Section 10 provides for adjusting these taxes for inflation, and Section 11 clarifies the provisions governing taxation in cases when luxury goods are leased rather than sold. This section reflects congressional precedent: in 1990 Congress passed the Budget Reconciliation Act of 1990, which levied taxes on furs and luxury clothing, as well as on luxury yachts, cars, and planes. Most of those taxes were gradually eliminated by Congress, but the LCA re-instates them.

The Luxury Cap Act may be revised pursuant to reader responses and the input of CASSE allies.

 

The excesses of the one percent cannot be allowed to degrade our planet any further. Such excesses constitute a problem serious enough to warrant federal legislation. Thus the Luxury Cap Act. Those who are not limited in lobbying (like a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization) might consider bringing it to their representatives in Congress.

 

Daniel Wortel-London is a Policy Specialist at CASSE.

The post Introducing the Luxury Cap Act appeared first on Center for the Advancement of the Steady State Economy.

Afghanistan: Long War, Forgotten Peace – review

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Fri, 26/01/2024 - 10:13pm in

In Afghanistan: Long War, Forgotten Peace, Michael Cox brings together scholars to analyse the failure of Afghan state-building, the Taliban’s resurgence and the country’s future. Anil Kaan Yildirim finds the book a valuable resource for understanding challenges the country faces, including women’s rights, the drugs economies and human trafficking and exploitation. However, he objects to the inclusion of a chapter which makes a geographically deterministic appraisal of Afghanistan’s governance.

Afghanistan: Long War, Forgotten Peace. Michael Cox (ed.). LSE Press. 2022.

This book is available Open Access here.

Afghanistan, long war forgotten peace coverIn Afghanistan: Long War, Forgotten Peace, Michael Cox gathers scholars, policymakers, and public intellectuals to shed light on the factors contributing to the failure of Afghan state-building, the successful takeover by the Taliban, and to share some insights on the country’s future. The chapters in the collection impart valuable insights on international law, human trafficking, women’s rights, NATO, and the international drug trade, with the exception of one essay that uses a problematic framework in its analysis of Afghan statehood and seems out of place within the book.

One of the main tasks of any state-building process is to create a political sphere that includes all parties to decide on policies and strategies shaping the future of the country.

One of the main tasks of any state-building process is to create a political sphere that includes all parties to decide on policies and strategies shaping the future of the country. However, in the case of Afghanistan, as argued by Michael Callen and Shahim Kabuli in Chapter Three, the de facto power structure did not align with the de jure systems of institutions. Excluding the Taliban from political discussions, adopting a fundamentally flawed and exclusionary electoral system, and employing a centralised presidential system which did not correspond to Afghan “diversity and reality” have been the “three sins” of the Afghanistan project. Along with these mistakes, the authors also identify the issues that created a “dysfunctional” state-building, including the lack of complete Afghan sovereignty within regional power dynamics, the diversion of the US’s focus to Iraq, and other foreign influences such as Russia and China that tried to attract the power-holders of the country. This powerful essay points out the three sins in the creation of the structure and other dynamics that destabilised the country. Thus,  the state-building project collapsed not because Afghanistan was unsuited to democracy, but because of a combination of many different mistakes.

The authors also identify the issues that created a “dysfunctional” state-building, including the lack of complete Afghan sovereignty within regional power dynamics, the diversion of the US’s focus to Iraq, and other foreign influences such as Russia and China

The role of women in the Afghan state-building effort is highly contested among different power holders, the international community, and the Taliban. Writing in this context in Chapter Six, Nargis Nehan explores the issue of women’s rights in Afghanistan before and after 9/11, positioning the matter within the spectrum of extremists, fundamentalists, and modernists. The highly masculinised country following many years of different wars created a challenging political and social area for women. Therefore, all changes in the political sphere resulted in a change in the lives of women.

Nargis Nehan explores the issue of women’s rights in Afghanistan before and after 9/11, positioning the matter within the spectrum of extremists, fundamentalists, and modernists.

As an internationalised state-building project, Afghanistan has challenged international institutions and norms. Devika Hovell and Michelle Hughes examine the US and its allies’ interpretation and application of international law in military intervention in Afghanistan. With discussion of several steps and actors of the intervention, they demonstrate how this operation stretched the definitions of self-defence, credibility, legal justification, and authority within international realm.

The book explores several other key problems in the country. These include Thi Hoang’s chapter on human trafficking problems such as forced labour, organ trafficking and sexual exploitation; John Collins, Shehryar Fazli and Ian Tennant’s chapter on the past and future of the international drug trade in Afghanistan; Leslie Vinjamuri on the future of the US’s global politics after its withdrawal from the state; and Feng Zhang on the Chinese government’s policy on Afghanistan.

The essays mentioned above demonstrate what happened, what could have been evaded and what the future holds for Afghanistan. However, the essay, “Afghanistan: Learning from History?” by Rodric Braithwaite is a questionable inclusion in the volume. By emphasising geographical determinism, this piece a problematic perspective on Afghanistan. The essay argues that the failure of the West’s state-building project was down to the “wild” character of Afghan governance historically, which he deems “… a combination of bribery, ruthlessness towards the weak, compromise with the powerful, keeping the key factions in balance and leaving well alone … (17)” or “… nepotism, compromise, bribery, and occasional threat” (26-27). This perspective paints a false image of how Afghan history is characterised by unethical, even brutal methods of governance. Also in this essay are many problematic cultural claims such as “… Afghans are good at dying for their country … (18).”

The limitation of the entire Afghan agency, history and political culture to a ruthless character and geography that always produces “terrible results” for state-building is a false narrative

The limitation of the entire Afghan agency, history and political culture to a ruthless character and geography that always produces “terrible results” for state-building is a false narrative, which is reflected in and supported by the postcolonial term for Afghanistan: the “graveyard of empires”. While many different tribes, states, and empires have successfully existed in the country, Western colonial armies’ defeats and recent state-building failures should not misrepresent the country as a savage place in need of taming. Rather, as the other essays in the book argue, research on these failures should examine the West’s role in precipitating them.

Not only does this piece disrespect the scholarship (including other authors of the book) by asserting the ontological ungovernability of the country, but its deterministic stance also disregards the thousands of lives lost in the struggle to contribute to Afghan life those who believed that the future is not destined by the past but can be built today. Additionally, using only three references (with one being the author’s own book), referring to the US as “America”, random usage of different terms and not providing the source of a quotation are all quite problematic for a lessons-learned-from-history essay.

Beyond the limitations of the essay in terms of how it frames the past, what is more damaging is the creation of a false image of Afghanistan for future researchers and policymakers. For the points mentioned above, including the false narrative of ‘graveyard of empires’, Nivi Manchanda’s Imagining Afghanistan: The History and Politics of Imperial Knowledge (2020) is worth consulting for in-depth insight into the colonial knowledge production system and its problematic portrayal of Afghanistan.

Braithwaite’s essay excepted, this book, exploring different political and historical issues from various perspectives, provides significant insights into what happened in Afghanistan and what the future holds for the nation

Braithwaite’s essay excepted, this book, exploring different political and historical issues from various perspectives, provides significant insights into what happened in Afghanistan and what the future holds for the nation. For practitioners, policymakers, and scholars seeking a broad perspective on state-building problems, policy limitations and relevant research areas in Afghanistan, this collection is a useful resource.

This post gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics and Political Science. The LSE RB blog may receive a small commission if you choose to make a purchase through the above Amazon affiliate link. This is entirely independent of the coverage of the book on LSE Review of Books.

Image Credit: Trent Inness on Shutterstock.

Spiritual Contestations: The Violence of Peace in South Sudan – review

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Wed, 17/01/2024 - 11:41pm in

In Spiritual Contestations: The Violence of Peace in South Sudan, Naomi Pendle dissects the interactions between Nuer- and Dinka-speaking communities amid national and international peacebuilding efforts, exploring the role of spiritual culture and belief in these processes. Based on extensive ethnographic and historical research, the book offers valuable insights for scholars and policymakers in conflict management and peace-building, writes Nadir A. Nasidi.

Spiritual Contestations: The Violence of Peace in South Sudan. Religion in Transforming Africa Series, Vol. Number: 12. Naomi Ruth Pendle. James Currey. 2023.

Find this book: amazon-logo

Spiritual Contestations Naomi Pendle book coverThe history of South Sudan includes a series of protracted conflicts and wars, which have attracted the attention of many researchers covering their socio-economic and political dimensions. Following in this vein, Pendle’s Spiritual Contestations explores the interactions between Nuer- and Dinka-speaking communities within the context of national and international peace-making processes. This also includes the role of the clergy and traditional rulers in such processes, which is complicated by politics, sentiments, and the urge to profit from the South Sudan’s protracted conflicts. Pendle also assesses the experiences of ordinary South Sudanese people in peace-making, including their everyday peace-making meetings. The book is divided into three sections and 14 engaging chapters based on the author’s ethnographic and historical research conducted between 2012 and 2022 among the Nuer- and Dinka-speaking peoples.

Pendle’s Spiritual Contestations explores the interactions between Nuer- and Dinka-speaking communities within the context of national and international peace-making processes

Chapter one describes the historical evolution of the hakuma (an Arabic-derived, South Sudanese term for government) in the 19th century and the physical violence which South Sudan has experienced through its mercantile and colonial history, as well as many years of war that influenced contemporary peace-making. It also shows how the hakuma claimed “divine” powers (as a result of god-like rights the government arrogated to itself). Chapters two, three, four and five discuss the contemporary making of war and peace, oppositions to the Sudan government’s development agenda, the 1960s and 1972 Addis Ababa Peace Agreement and South Sudan’s 2005 Comprehensive Peace Agreement. These chapters also examine the Wunlit Peace Meeting, which was a classic example of what the author calls “the ‘local turn’ in peace-making whereby international actors championed ‘local’ forms of peace-making” (35-119).

Chapter seven largely focuses on the escalation of violence in Warrap State as a result of having an indigenous hakuma alongside ever-evolving ideas of land, property, resources, and cattle ownership. Chapters seven to fourteen then focus on the proliferation of peace meetings in Gogrial and the cosmological crisis brought by the years of war (which involves the disruptions or perceived threats to cosmic order and by overarching beliefs about the universe held by the Nuer- and Dinka-speaking communities), a crisis which was met with a proliferation of prophets. This section also covers wars in South Sudan since 2013, the prevalence of revenge in giving meaning to armed conflicts, the post-2013 power of the Nuer prophets, the post-2013 era in Warrap State, and the role of the church in South Sudan’s peacekeeping through the activities of Dinka priests who are popularly known as the baany e biith.

Although the title of the book appears oxymoronic, the author argues that peace remains violent when understood in a context wherein the methods employed to establish or foster peace involve force, suppression, and coercion

Although the title of the book appears oxymoronic, the author argues that peace remains violent when understood in a context wherein the methods employed to establish or foster peace involve force, suppression, and coercion. This is especially true in the context of South Sudan’s “unsettled cosmic polity”; a polity characterised by periods of questioning, restructuring or conflict in response to perceived disruptions of cosmic order and balance, which further push the boundaries of contemporary discourse on the meaning and conceptualisation of peace and peace-making (179-189).

The author further explains how [] religious connotations are used to contest the moral logic of government, particularly in the rural areas of South Sudan

Pendle bases her arguments on the “eclectic divine” and religious influences among communities located around the Bilnyang River system. The author further explains how these religious connotations are used to contest the moral logic of government, particularly in the rural areas of South Sudan. Through this means, the author clarifies how religion and religious assertions shape the peoples’ social and political life. This includes issues such as spiritual and moral contestations, as well as the making and unmaking of norms within the “cultural archive” (including traditional, economic and historical recollections) that reshape the violence of peace, feuds, and its associated political economies. She advances this argument in her study of conflicts over natural resources and cultural rights that are understood as cosmological occurrences by the people of South Sudan, the meanings of war and peace, and the assertion of power within these events.

Pendle states that to understand the real politics and violence of peace-making, one must also understand ‘how peace-making interacts with and reshapes power not only in everyday politics’, but also ‘in cosmic polities’

Pendle states that to understand the real politics and violence of peace-making, one must also understand “how peace-making interacts with and reshapes power not only in everyday politics”, but also “in cosmic polities” (75-99). Looking at the nature of human societies, she concludes that they are largely hierarchical, mostly located within the purview of a cosmic polity that is populated by “beings of human attributes and metahuman powers who govern the people’s fate” (7).

Basing her arguments on Graeber and Shalins’ research, Pendle observes that South Sudanese society’s secular governments and self-arrogating divine powers can pass for a cosmic polity. It is within this context that the South Sudanese Arabic term for government, ‘hakuma’ operates; the term refers not only to government, but to a broad socio-political sphere including foreign traders and slavers.

Pendle also documents the various ways in which South Sudanese people use cultural symbols, rituals, norms, and values, as well as theology, to contest ‘predatory power and to make peace’

Pendle also documents the various ways in which South Sudanese people use cultural symbols, rituals, norms, and values, as well as theology, to contest “predatory power and to make peace” (75). Examples include the Dinka use of leopard skin (which is used for conflict resolution between two warring factions), cultural diplomacy through festivals, as well as the ceremonial blessings of cattle as a symbol of wealth.

The book is not without flaws. The author often oscillates between the use of ordinal and cardinal numbers when a chapter is mentioned Even if this is done for convenience, it is at the expense of chronology and consistency. Although written in plain and straight-to-the-point language, the author’s use of compound-complex sentences throughout the book makes it difficult for readers to comprehend easily.

Considering the ongoing conflicts and wars in and around the South Sudan region, Pendle’s Spiritual Contestations is a timely work. Using a close analysis, the author provides incisive insights into the changing nature of wars and conflicts, as well as the violence of peace among the Nuer- and Dinka-speaking communities. The book is a significant resource for scholars in the field of conflict management and peace-building, international organisations, policymakers and anyone interested in considering the interplay of religion, governance, tradition, peace-making, and conflict management.

This post gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics and Political Science. The LSE RB blog may receive a small commission if you choose to make a purchase through the above Amazon affiliate link. This is entirely independent of the coverage of the book on LSE Review of Books.

Image Credit: Richard Juilliart on Shutterstock.

A New Zealand Minister’s ‘war’ with the media

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Wed, 10/01/2024 - 3:23pm in

He described state-funded journalism as ‘bribery’

Originally published on Global Voices

Minister Winston Peters being interviewed by the media.

Minister Winston Peters being interviewed by the media. Screenshot from the YouTube video of Newshub

New Zealand’s Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of Foreign Affairs Winston Peters said he is at “war” with the media and has accused public broadcasters of lacking independence.

Peters, currently serving as Deputy PM under Prime Minister Christopher Luxon, is the founder and leader of the populist and nationalist New Zealand First party. He began his tenure by publicly chided the media just days after the country’s new government was formed on November 27, 2023. He questioned, in particular, the USD 55 million public interest journalism fund set up by the previous government during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, which he claimed was used to “bribe” the media.

He asked journalists to stop being “mathematical morons,” and, at one point during a Cabinet meeting, he dared journalists to be “transparent”:

Before you go, can you possibly tell the public what you had to sign up to to get the money? Before you ask one more question, tell the public what you signed up to to get the money.

Peters is a veteran politician whose party lost in the 2020 election. During the October 2023 campaign period, he lambasted some journalists for being “corrupt” and “dirt merchants.” He repeated his charge about the media being biased during a parliamentary session during the first week of December.

Three conservative parties, including Peters’ New Zealand First party, formed a coalition to form a government. The new government has pledged to lower taxes, reduce bureaucracy, train more police, and ease inflation. They dislodged the former ruling Labour Party, which was globally praised for its handling of the COVID-19 pandemic but faced local criticism for the rising cost of living.

In his rebuke of the public interest journalism fund, Peters didn't mention that it aimed to support local media companies that lost advertising revenue during the pandemic. The fund was managed by New Zealand on Air, an independent body. Andrew Shaw, a board member of the body, described Peters’ statement as “malicious” and “not truthful.” He subsequently resigned from his position since his statement undermined the impartiality of the body.

Sir Ian Taylor, founder and managing director of Animation Research and also a former board member of New Zealand on Air, wrote that Peters should apologize for his remarks. He also defended the credibility and independence of the body.

The only way journalists could access those funds was to have their applications approved by the New Zealand on Air board, a completely independent organisation. By making the claim that “you can’t defend USD 55 million of bribery” our Deputy Prime Minister just accused the full board of being complicit in his bribery claim and they, quite justifiably, should expect an apology for such an unwarranted, and potentially defamatory, claim. He certainly deserved much more than the slap over the wrist he got.

Tracy Watkins, editor of the Sunday Star-Times, wrote that Peters is engaging in “misdirection and misinformation” and that he is using his office “to further erode trust and respect in the media.” She also criticized the motives of authorities who echo the baseless claims of Peters about the media:

Why have so many powerful people bought into this argument? Because it muddies the boundary between truth and lies. Because a weakened media is good for them. What politician wouldn’t want that? They don’t particularly like being answerable to the media and they like even less the scrutiny that comes with public office.

Cédric Alviani, the Asia-Pacific bureau director of Reporters Without Borders, urged New Zealand’s Prime Minister Christopher Luxon to affirm the government’s support for a free press. He also condemned the statements of Peters:

By making irresponsible comments about journalists in a context of growing mistrust of the New Zealand public towards the media, Deputy Prime Minister Peters is sending out a worrying signal about the newly-appointed government’s attitude towards the press.

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