Considering Inclusive Development across Global Educational Contexts: How Critical and Progressive Movements can Inform Education 9780367354640, 9780429331558

Citation preview

Considering Inclusive Development across Global Educational Contexts

This volume charts the rise of the concept of “inclusive development” and simultaneously recognizes its problematic implications as it shifts the focus of development work from efficiency to justice. In response to increasing awareness that development projects can all too often lead to the exclusion of marginalized populations, Considering Inclusive Development across Global Educational Contexts sets out to foreground trends and experiences that can inform socially just approaches to development. Structured in three parts, the volume explores several educational themes: aid and development, the human-environment nexus, and economic redistribution. Chapters look in detail at how approaches in these areas can help or hinder inclusive educational development globally, and highlight representative, critical, and relational models of inclusive development that can more strongly inform education by/ from broader development trends. This timely volume will be of interest to academics, researchers, and postgraduate students in the fields of education development, inclusivity, and sustainable development. This book would also benefit graduate students and scholars in development education. Christopher J. Johnstone is Associate Professor of Comparative and International Development Education at the University of Minnesota, US.

Routledge Research in International and Comparative Education

This is a series that offers a global platform to engage scholars in continuous academic debate on key challenges and the latest thinking on issues in the fastgrowing field of International and Comparative Education. Titles in the series include: Parental Involvement Across European Education Systems Critical Perspectives Edited by Angelika Paseka and Delma Byrne Transculturalism and Teacher Capacity Professional Readiness in the Globalised Age Niranjan Casinader Residential Schools and Indigenous Peoples From Genocide via Education to the Possibilities for Processes of Truth, Restitution, Reconciliation, and Reclamation Edited by Stephen James Minton Transnational Perspectives on Curriculum History Edited by Gary McCulloch, Ivor Goodson, and Mariano González-Delgado Japanese Schooling and Identity Investment Overseas Exploring the Cultural Politics of Japaneseness in Singapore Glenn Toh Considering Inclusive Development across Global Educational Contexts How Critical and Progressive Movements can Inform Education Christopher J. Johnstone For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/ Routledge-Research-in-International-and-Comparative-Education/ book-series/RRICE

Considering Inclusive Development across Global Educational Contexts How Critical and Progressive Movements can Inform Education Christopher J. Johnstone

First published 2021 by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 Taylor & Francis The right of Christopher J. Johnstone to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-0-367-35464-0 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-33155-8 (ebk) Typeset in Baskerville by Apex CoVantage, LLC

To Heather, Acacia, and Evan who hunkered down with me during the COVID-19 pandemic when the final pages of this book were drafted. Scary times can bring families closer, and this time they certainly did.

Contents

Acknowledgments

ix

Introduction

1

PART I

Aid and Development 1 A Brief History of Overseas Development Aid

5 7

2 Aid’s Failures and Critics

16

3 Alternative Understandings of “Development”

24

4 The Human-Environment Nexus and Sustainable Development

33

PART II

Inclusive Development

43

5 Participation as an Approach to Inclusive Development

45

6 Social Capital as an Approach to Inclusive Development

65

7 Social Protection as an Approach to Inclusive Development

76

8 Economic Redistribution and Inclusive Development

87

viii

Contents

PART III

Progressive and Critical Movements in Inclusive Development

97

9 The Three Movements of Inclusive Development

99

10 Inclusive Development’s Movements and How They Inform Education

127

11 Conclusions

149

References Index

161 174

Acknowledgments

This book would not have been possible without the support of two University of Minnesota graduate students. Devleena Chatterji supported the initial development of the book through a careful review of literature. Bethany Schowengerdt provided thorough and supportive editing of its initial draft. Thank you both for all you do. I wish you every success in your scholarly careers. The original conceptualization was also supported by a University of Minnesota Grant-in-Aid to new faculty. Thank you to the Office of the Vice President of Research for your support. As part of the grant, I was able to interview Iluia Sevciuc (UNESCO), Sarah Hénon (Forus), and Charlotte McClain-Nhlapo (World Bank) and attend the Include Platform event “From Research to Practice: Inclusive Development for Future Prospects in Africa.”

Introduction

“We’re not going to worry about them right now. There are enough problems.” These were the words of a project officer at a development firm in Washington, DC, when I asked how children with disabilities were being included in a large-scale project. Five years later, in 2019, when this book began to take shape, words like “inclusion” and “development” were used frequently among the contracting organizations seeking to be part of a new movement, as well as among multinational organizations and scholars. It is rare not to hear the words “inclusion” or “inclusive” being used in the era of the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), but this has not always been the case. The project director’s response to the point of inclusive education I raised, and how children with disabilities fit into the larger scope of work of an education reform project, reflected a common approach less than a decade ago, but it was a gut punch to me. As a person who was turned on to the idea of inclusion in my twenties as a master’s student at Syracuse University, this dismissal was indeed very problematic. The conversation, however disheartening it was, appeared to be relevant to the thinking of the time. Development professionals were still focused on the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs). They were hedging their bets on the most expeditious ways they could find to achieve “education for all” – usually by trying for “education for most” – going for the masses without considering those on the margins. Inclusion was not a word spoken. Rather, the aim of this project and many other of its era was about efficiency and a rational understanding that some children may never be reached. Such an understanding has never been good enough for me and many of the good people with whom I have been fortunate to work over the past two decades. In my mind, there should never be a population, with or without disabilities, that the world should not “worry about.” Such worry is one of the core principles of inclusion, which shifts the focus from one of efficiency to one of justice. To this end, this is a book about justice within the framework of development, which is all too often unjust. Sen (2009) is one of the most eloquent authors who has examined theories of justice in relation to development. His work will inform the overall scope, but this book attempts to go beyond a theoretical exploration of justice by linking “movements” of inclusive development to broader political and economic justice activities.

2

Introduction

The overall intention of the book is to inform the practice of inclusive development and education through the lessons learned in recent movements related to inclusive development. This intention recognizes that the development industry has done much to cause harm around the world through its creation of dependency relationships, narrow adherence to market principles, and narrow focus on program beneficiaries. There is often a reason for this, which was exemplified earlier in this introduction. Within short-term project constraints, organizations and individuals often go for the most efficient or streamlined approach they can, failing to see that populations are excluded, assumptions are ill-informed, or inputs are insufficient. Even when there are positive outcomes from development projects, discrepancies in the experience of outcomes mean the most marginalized in any society are often the last to experience any benefit. To address these shortcomings, global organizations have turned to an approach broadly called “inclusive development” as a way of stretching the potential impact and number of beneficiaries who can benefit from global development outcomes. The term currently has a vast array of applications, as there is no specific set of rules for how the words “inclusive” or “development” are used. However, the lessons learned from how different organizations and scholars are constructing the term are instructive. Inclusive development, as it is used today, appears to be at the nexus of economics, sociology, and advocacy – a curious position. It is a subfield rife with arguments and diverse contextualization of the term. In and of itself, inclusive development is contentious because there is no standard set of rules by which development organizations or governments must play in order to call themselves or their work “inclusive.” This book attempts to present several themes present in a description of inclusive development, highlight recent “movements” in these conceptualizations, and then present how the field of education may be undertaking similar movements. I recognize that reflecting on the lessons learned in inclusive development for the sake of improving education and development may be very risky as such comparisons may be considered “apples and oranges” comparisons to readers (e.g., these are different fields and therefore not comparable). However, the movements toward more representative, critical, and relational models of inclusive development described in the following chapters are instructive for education. In the midst of the education development toolkits, technical assistance documents, and other development agenda items focused on inclusive education, there is a lack of outward vision that relates education to broader development trends. Educationists, like other professionals, rely on each other for answers to their most challenging questions. By doing this, we wander in the same metaphorical room looking for answers that are constrained by the orientations of our field. What this book seeks to do is intentionally look up and around at what other fields are doing and use those examples as instructive for education.

Introduction 3 The hope for this book is to make a small contribution by identifying recent trends and conceptualizations of inclusive development. I present these carefully as inclusive development is not the answer to an unjust world and will not resolve all of the injustices found in the field of development. Sen, referring to Parisians who stormed the Bastille (sparking the 18th-century French revolution), Gandhi (who brought down the British India empire), and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (who achieved civil rights victories in the US in the mid-20th century), noted that these historical heroes “were not trying to achieve a perfectly just world (even if there were any agreement on what that were like), but they did want to remove clear injustices to the extent that they could” (2009, p. vii). This book claims no illusions of grandeur about creating justice in an unjust world but seeks to identify trends that may inform practice in a more just way. An academic book will not clear away injustices on a global scale – even if there was full agreement on what an injustice was. However, there are clear justice shortcomings in international development education. Persistent enrollment gaps plague parts of the world (UNESCO, 2012), and some will never experience schooling because of prejudicial barriers that keep them away (UNESCO, 2012). Further, if children are fortunate enough to enter a school, they may lack a truly educative experience for a variety of reasons. Education is purported to address many of these issues and may be improved through lessons learned through inclusive development. This book is located within the framework of the SDGs that seek a quality, inclusive education experience for all children. In time, the utility of these goals will fade (as does the utility of nearly any educational innovation), but for this time in history, inclusion seems a worthy pursuit. Part I of this book will provide an overview of the various ways in which “development” is defined and applied by multinational organizations, governments, and local actors. Part II of the book explores themes related to the various ways in which “inclusive development” is conceptualized in literature and practice. Part III then explores three “movements” of inclusive development that dictate a sharper focus on the political, social, and economic aspects of the term. In Part III I also attempt to relate these movements to the field of education. As I previously mentioned, the words in these pages will likely not suddenly create a more just world, as much as I would hope they would. My desire is that this book will inform, challenge, and disrupt the way that development and education exclude, marginalize, and harm others, by examining recent movements that have explicit justice foci. One pathway to this goal is to understand what scholars and organizations mean and intend to do when they try to be “inclusive.”

Part I

Aid and Development

1

A Brief History of Overseas Development Aid

This chapter traces the history of overseas development aid (ODA) as it is commonly known in the Western world in order to ground discussions on what is commonly referred to as “development” in the literature. The word “development” now comprises much more than the initial framings of ODA, but ODA and “development” are often used synonymously in literature on the topic. This chapter traces how the physical and political reconstruction efforts following World War II touched off new ideas of aid and how the work of loans and infrastructure projects led to a new array of products that eventually created an industry of development and development organizations.

Reconstruction and Development Moyo (2009) traced the history of ODA aid to seven broad eras, each approximately one decade long, beginning with the first “push” enabled by the end of World War II. A key turning point in this era of reconstruction and realignment was the Bretton Woods Conference held in the United States in 1947. Leaders of Europe and the United States at the conference aimed to rebuild Europe after the war to have a degree of social and economic order so Europe could both play a prominent role in the world again after the war and avoid an economic repeat of the Great Depression in the 1930s. To rebuild would take cash, and no nation at the time was ready to take the full risk for this initiative. In order to spread risk and ensure responsibility among all participants, the conference laid the groundwork for three global organizations that continue to influence aid decisions today: The International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (later, the World Bank), the International Monetary Fund (IMF), and the International Trade Organization (now the World Trade Organization). At the time of their inception, the World Bank and IMF were tasked with garnering global investment in reconstruction efforts. In the case of the World Bank, efforts were specifically focused in Europe while the target of the IMF was management of global financial systems in order to avoid a global recession. The World Bank then emerged as an institution that facilitated collective investment and underwriting of loans for European reconstruction.

8

Aid and Development

Moyo (2009) then outlined how development aid began to flow to the Global South out of an initial focus on Europe. Despite the intention of the World Bank to divide risk and repayment benefits for overseas aid, the second era of ODA was led primarily by the United States. In the late 1940s, US Secretary of State George Marshall initiated an investment of $13 billion in European reconstruction which was termed the Marshall Plan. The sudden availability of funds made possible by the Marshall Plan had a ripple effect on institutions like the World Bank, which began expanding its operations to other parts of the globe. New loans and aid were subsequently aimed at the emerging economies of the world, such as those in Latin America, Africa, and Asia (Moyo, 2009). The shift in direction by the World Bank and other aid donors coincided with the emergence of the Cold War. For the countries that were escalating the Cold War (the US, other Western countries, and the Soviet Union), ODA provided a mechanism for influencing political support and alliances. Both capitalist and communist-bloc countries engaged in programs designed to induce support from potential allies or aligned countries by financing infrastructure. Moyo (2009) framed this influence-enhancing aid as a “weapon” used by Cold War combatants to swing loyalty. She highlighted the ill-effects of the aid-forloyalty swap, whereby countries like the United States propped up despots and dictators simply because they embraced the economic and political preferences of the West. Likewise, the Soviet Union supported communist leaders with infrastructure and other projects to garner political affiliation. Cold War aid activities were also influenced by colonial histories. Colonization had bound governments in Europe and North America with colonized nations for centuries. As colonialism dissipated, however, new dependency relationships began. Countries whose resources had been depleted for centuries now began to be characterized as “Third World” countries by their former colonizers. This term referenced countries that were not immediately aligned with either US or western European (the so-called First World) or Soviet bloc (the so-called Second World) countries and that often connoted a degree of economic depression (Moyo, 2009). The characterization of Third World countries that would become recipients of ODA allowed for a rationalization of the need for aid without critical reflection on colonization, extraction, or suppression that had occurred in these nations. The politics of aid for political alliance, however, began to be seen as destructive to countries in the Third World. Countries gradually began to then turn to each other, explicitly eschewing aid-for-alignment agreements. By the 1970s the nonaligned movement spread across much of Africa, Asia, and the Americas. Nonaligned countries (those not specifically part of North Atlantic or Soviet political alliances) could make choices about how they would engage with ODA offers. The nonaligned movement of nations arose after World War II as both a mechanism for newly or emerging independent countries to exercise sovereignty and national determinism but also as a deterrent to nuclear proliferation – a worldwide fear during the Cold War that emerged after World War II when capitalist and communist-bloc countries vied for global power.

A Brief History of Development Aid

9

Bandyopadhyaya (1977) described the emergence of the nonaligned movement at the time as: Originating in India, and beginning in a small way with a few inspired statesmen [sic] as its philosophers and architects, the non-aligned movement has proliferated rapidly as a counterforce to the balance of power during the last thirty years or so, until it has today become virtually a universal and futuristic movement. (p. 137) In some ways, the nonaligned movement acted as one of the first global checks on the Cold War but also acted as a mechanism for nonaligned nation leaders to find the best ODA ofer for their advantage. Some chose to accept projects from capitalist or communist-bloc countries, some accepted assistance only from multinational organizations such as the United Nations, and some refused outright. Nonalignment provided political cover for many nations to avoid direct political pressure by capitalist or Soviet-bloc countries, but ODA continued to flourish despite some nonaligned countries’ refusal to participate. Despite the growth of the nonalignment movement, the Cold War continued through the 1960s, a period that Moyo (2009) observed was marked with strong commitment to infrastructure in formerly colonized (then called “Third World”) countries. During this decade, ODA loans and grants focused on building dams, roadways, electrification, and so on based on an assumption that such projects would facilitate economic development. In the 1970s, as the nonalignment movement grew but economic disparities remained, the focus of ODA lending and grants turned primarily to poverty alleviation, which included a broad range of economic stimuli such as human capital development programs, government loans, and a focus on industrialization as a mechanism for economic development. The 1960s and 1970s, then, were two decades in which ODA and the term “development” were explicitly linked, with impacts on the structure and targets of aid. In the 1970s, the global oil crisis set off a unique set of circumstances for countries in the Global South that had oil deposits. The era was characterized by both soaring oil prices and increased capacity for international lending and borrowing. Nations with poor economies had greater access to additional loans and were often encouraged to take them to develop extractive industries. At the time, however, new loans were used to pay previous debts. During this time, the World Bank, which was not focused on poverty reduction as a main goal, was loaning to countries in hopes that “development” would occur through entrance into world markets and an increase in gross domestic product (GDP). By the end of the decade, nearly half of its loans were focused on poverty reduction (Moyo, 2009). The ever-increasing access to capital through ODA loans during this era by the World Bank were part of a larger story chronicled by Collier (2007) and others later in this book. The calamitous fall of commodity prices that

10

Aid and Development

occurred after a large number of loans were distributed were coupled with increased interest rates. This debilitated the economies of nations no longer able to repay the debt that came under the guise of “development assistance.” The World Bank’s answer to the debt crisis was to restructure loans with new conditions. The conditions, commonly called “structural adjustment programs (SAPs),” forced governments to reduce their share of ownership in national industries, cut government services, and reconfigure government agencies in order to free up capital to repay loans and to allow the market to dictate the success or failure of manufacturing, trade, mining, and so on (Moyo, 2009). In some cases, increasing efficiency created conditions that allowed for new innovation and market-based solutions to poverty. However, in many cases, countries sank deeper into debt as private enterprise, which replaced nationally owned industries, failed to produce a strong enough tax base for either loan repayment or social programming such as healthcare or education. The 1970s and 1980s, then, were marked by periods of increasing availability of aid to former colonized countries, increased debt, and increased the push for privatization to accrue more loans to pay debts on previous loans, (Collier, 2007). The linkage of ODA and overall economic development was unclear because in many cases the infusion of cash appeared to reinforce poverty for many at the margins of society. Moyo (2009) reported that by the end of the 1980s, emerging-market countries’ debt topped $1 trillion, a disparity whose legacy carried on in the intervening years to the present. Because of the escalating challenges associated with spiraling debt, a lack of internal and external accountability on governments receiving loans, and the fact that poverty had still not been eliminated as predicted, the 1990s then brought about a new focus in international lending: governance (Moyo, 2009). The ills of the Cold War and availability of easy money were beginning to show their symptoms in economically poor countries. Moyo provided examples of dictators who appeared to have benefitted from the ODA game while squandering opportunities for their countries to emerge from widespread poverty. Names like Idi Amin, Mobutu Sese Seko, and Samuel Doe were all highlighted by Moyo as dictators who ruled their countries for extended periods, personally benefitting from the diversion of internal and external government funding while their nations’ infrastructure crumbled around them. This, according to Moyo, ushered in a 1990s focus on governance reform and transparency as a condition for development aid. In the 2000s, Moyo noted that scholars, practitioners, and government leaders all began to look critically at the role that aid had played throughout the Cold War and the present-day ramifications of such agendas. Moyo’s scrutiny of the history of ODA presents a staunch critique of how lending and politicization of aid has led to a greater crisis than may have existed without such funds. ODA, however, goes well beyond lending and encompasses broader agendas than the regimes of Cold War influence and their economic incentives for cooperation.

A Brief History of Development Aid

11

Arocena et al. (2018) argued that the ODA industry was doomed from the start because it failed to historicize why ODA was needed and also failed to recognize the institutions within recipient countries that were already facilitating “development,” broadly defined. The authors argued that the ODA system itself was flawed from the beginning because ODA was built on assumptions that enlightened and economically developed nations could endogenously stimulate growth and development in postcolonial nations, ignoring both the capabilities for self-direction in development by receiving countries and the sociopolitical factors that may have resulted in poverty in the first place. Critics of ODA, then, have criticized the aid and development industry for reinforcing dependency, creating untenable debt conditions, and failing to recognize endogenous institutions that are facilitating development within recipient countries (Arocena et al., 2018; Collier, 2007; Moyo, 2009). Despite its critics, the industry of ODA remains a feature of international politics today. Large lending institutions, high- and middle-income governments, international nongovernmental organizations, multinational institutions (such as the United Nations), national governments, and local civil society organizations all engage in “development” work. The definition of such development has expanded to include a wide range of activities. Overseas lending, development assistance with no repayment expectations, and market-based initiatives are all part of contemporary ODA and its expanding role in the world. Contemporary “development” is also influenced by new donor states that were formerly recipients and increasingly China – a relatively new but powerful figure in the Global South that was not part of the initial Bretton Woods model. In sum, ODA, whether from transnational organizations, bilateral sources, or private organizations, continues to grow and influence global economics. Recent figures from the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development’s (OECD’s) Development Assistance Committee (a group of 28 memberdonor nations) estimates that $105 billion in aid was processed in 2017, more than 8,000 times the amount of the Marshall Plan. These figures relate directly to projects that are considered “aid” (in the forms of loans, technical assistance, infrastructure, and humanitarian aid) but do not consider business ventures, which are difficult to track in terms of development impact. The figures show the immense scale of ODA, though they are limited to the Development Assistance Committee’s specific criteria. For example, OECD describes how it tallies its ODA statistics: Distribution of net official development assistance (ODA) is defined as geographical aid allocations. Net ODA may be distributed by income group (least developed countries, other low-income countries, lower middle-income countries, upper middle-income countries, unallocated and more advanced developing countries and territories) or by geography (sub-Saharan Africa, South and Central Asia, other Asia and Oceania, Middle East and North Africa, Latin America and the Caribbean, Europe, and unspecified). The OECD Development Assistance Committee’s “List

12

Aid and Development of ODA Recipients” shows developing countries and territories eligible for ODA. The list is revised every three years. It is designed for statistical purposes, not as guidance for aid distribution or for other preferential treatment. In particular, geographical aid allocations are national policy decisions and responsibilities. This indicator is measured in million USD constant prices, using 2015 as the base year. (OECD, 2019)

This scale indicates that, despite the critiques outlined earlier (Arocena et al., 2018; Collier, 2007; Moyo, 2009) and from stakeholders in the field itself, the business of development is booming. At the same time, funders, theorists, and participants in programs have recently noted that the outcomes of ODA and international development could be reaching a wider diversity of stakeholders and beneficiaries. The purpose of this chapter is to introduce readers to the industry and scholarly study of international development. The “Big Push” Easterly (2006), characterized the history of ODA here as the “big push” (quoting Paul Rosentein-Rodan), when rich nations around the world exchanged their previous narratives of colonization and perceived backwardness with new (equally patronizing) terms explained here, like “Third World” and “undeveloped.” Both Ferguson (2015) and Easterly (2006) identified this critical shift in institutional and governmental thinking. Soon after World War II, colonization continued but was being openly questioned, moral explanations for and missionary engagement with “backwardness” were critiqued for lack of scientific rigor, beginning a new era which reinforced the technical aspects of poverty reduction. Easterly (2006) critically noted that the rise of ODA over seven decades also gave rise to a new profession – the development worker. “Soon was born the development expert,” said Easterly about the period after World War II, “the heir to the missionary and the colonial officer” (p. 24). The development worker, at the time, could have been anyone with the technical skills to undertake development work. Economists, followed by agricultural, educational, public health, governance, and other so-called experts from the Global North began to roam the earth in search of technical solutions to problems of poverty. Easterly’s (2006) characterizations on the microscale of development align with critiques of macroeconomic development initiatives in that both fail to acknowledge the deep historical roots that may explain persistent poverty. Ferguson (2015) tracked a similar technicization that began in Scandinavian countries in the development of the so-called “social” – which identified issues such as poverty, crime, and addiction as social problems to be solved. Ferguson noted that in some ways the emergence of the “social” decreased stigma and moralizing of people on the economic, health, and social margins of any society, but replaced such moralizing with a firm belief that the state could

A Brief History of Development Aid

13

intervene with targeted problems to technically solve the problems. In both Easterly and Ferguson’s books, the authors noted that a lack of critical historical assessment was missing in relation to how and why poverty existed. Most analyses of persons who live in economic poverty, argue Hickey et al. (2015), cast the responsibility of both poverty and poverty reduction on the poor themselves. This responsibilization of the poor undermines the case for wholesale economic or social reform from elites and ignores the historic or contemporary circumstances that created economic inequalities. According to critics, ODA emerged as an approach that identified poverty as a problem to be solved by endogenous experts that ignored both its root causes and critical questions about the metrics that scoped out who gives and receives ODA. One such critical question is which countries are considered underdeveloped and in need of technical “support” by outsiders. As noted previously, despite critiques of its underlying logic, ODA has survived well into the 21st century. This aid is bolstered by governmental and transnational organizations, founded by moralistic arguments, and supported by an army of so-called experts (admittedly, myself included) who make a comfortable living by advising, managing, and completing overseas development projects that usually live and die in three- to five-year cycles. There are, of course, alternatives to this model that will be discussed in this book, but the predominant theme of ODA at this time is that development is a technical problem that can be resolved by technical experts.

Aid and Development The examination of the technical approach designed to address poverty worldwide informs how authors suggest such practices should be reformed. In order to better understand the technical practice of ODA in relation to development, a discursive distinction between “development” and “aid” is important, even though the two terms are frequently conflated. Aid frequently comes in two categories: humanitarian and economic development (Moyo, 2009). Moyo also noted that there is a third category of aid: charity. For the purpose of this book, I spend very little time on humanitarian aid and charity. There is a degree of agreement that the countries in the world that “can” provide emergency provisions, “should” provide emergency provisions to fellow humans who are impacted by natural disasters (Moyo, 2009). Charity, on the other hand, is often driven by private actors for projects in their interest and is beyond the scope of this book. Although how humanitarian aid and charity should be organized are often characterized by contentious arguments, these arguments are not the scope of this book. Rather, this book focuses on aid, development, and inclusion. As noted earlier, the “development” side of the international aid industry has historically focused on moving the lower income world into similar economic status with middle- and higher-income countries. As Easterly noted, this is often outlined in technical fashion and historically measured by GDP or per

14

Aid and Development

capita income. Hickey et al. (2015), however, view development as more comprehensive than what can be measured with economic outcomes. The authors frame development as accumulation and growth, including through the exploitation of natural resources; the promotion and protection of social and civil rights through basic services, social protection, and the rule of law; the recognition of difference and inequality; and finally the transnational politics of development. (Hickey et al., 2015, p. 4) The idea that development can be measured in indicators beyond simple economic growth is touched upon in detail in Chapter 3. This chapter sets a tone for the book that is reflective of contemporary thinking on the concept of inclusive development. “Inclusive development,” throughout this book, is argued to be an approach that stretches beyond expanding the benefits of development to a larger number of people. Increased participation and widening the circle of beneficiaries are certainly part of inclusion’s goals, but the story does not end there. Inclusion, as framed by early education thinkers Ainscow and Miles (2008), really means changing systems to better fit people. Inclusion troubles assumptions that intended beneficiaries should mold themselves to fit existing models, which often value efficiency over diversity. It is as much an issue of political and economic justice as it is about expanded participation. Therefore, the following chapters will introduce a variety of arguments related to aid, development, and stretching the boundaries of inclusion. Chapter 2 will revisit the major critiques of overseas development in an effort to lay the groundwork for why scholars and practitioners are currently calling for change. As noted earlier, Chapter 3 will then focus on how scholars have reconceptualized the concept of “development.” Chapter 4 then makes explicit reference to Sustainable Development Goals-era linkages of environmental sustainability. Noodin (2018), however, is one of many scholars who points out that sustainability thinking is not really a phenomenon of the SDGs but has been present in Indigenous ways of knowing and earth care for millennia. Chapter 4 reviews recent literature that explicitly links humanenvironment interactions in relation to development. Chapter 5 provides an overview of the scholarly work about broadening participation in development. Arguments for participation call for both expanded voice and guidance by local communities in transnational development projects and arguments that local communities may be better at “doing development” than transnational organizations. Specifically, scholars have acknowledged that locally focused organizations and individuals may develop more innovative solutions to their everyday problems than outsiders. Chapters 6–8 revisit Ferguson’s (2015) conceptualization of “the social” in order to address how governmental policies and transnational programs that directly provide economic inputs to beneficiaries may influence development. These

A Brief History of Development Aid

15

can occur through social protection policies (Chapter 6) and economic redistribution (Chapter 7). Chapter 8 then follows a contemporary shift in development literature. Although classical development economists (see Driskill et al., 2009; Langelett, 2002; Psacharopoulos, 1987) have long established statistical linkages between human capital development and economic growth, many contemporary scholars who call for expanded understandings of development also note the importance of social capital as a key indicator of social agency. In this case, the “inclusive development” scholars highlighted in Chapter 8 provide an overview of the role of social capital in promoting development outcomes for populations marginalized within societies or within development programming itself. The book concludes by reviewing three “movements” in inclusive development (Chapter 9), which include the movement from social protection to redistribution, the movement from an uncritical to a critical study of social capital, and the movement from participation to representation. Chapter 10 draws parallels to the three movements discussed in Chapter 9 with providing examples related to the field of education. In the final chapter (Chapter 11), I summarize the three movements of inclusive development, the linkages to education, and considerations for scholarship and practice related to inclusion, inclusive development, and inclusion in education.

2

Aid’s Failures and Critics

As outlined in Chapter 1, the scope and purpose of overseas development aid (ODA) and broader conceptualizations of national and local development are frequently critiqued in scholarly and popular literature. This chapter draws upon the work of some of the strongest critics of international development practice, beginning with Dambisa Moyo’s (2009) contention that international aid is a “malignant” process that fosters dependency and corruption in recipient nations and stands to provide greater benefit to donor countries than their purported partners. The chapter continues, drawing upon various critical development authors ranging from Easterly and Easterly’s (2006) assertion that top-down planning can never resolve development issues because such planning drowns out local conversation and innovation to (Ferguson, 1994, 2006, 2015) anthropological evidence of the failures of development. The chapter concludes with a slightly more optimistic overview of what development could be, drawing upon Sen’s (1999, 2009) focus on ideals of human capability and theories of justice as critique. Sen’s work will be revisited in Chapter 3 and 4, when conceptualizations of development that move beyond macroeconomic understandings are introduced. Dambisa Moyo’s Dead Aid became a best seller in 2009 when she, in no uncertain terms, called upon wealthy nations to stop sending aid to low- and middleincome countries. Moyo made a singular exception to this rule: humanitarian aid in cases of natural and human emergencies should continue to flow. Aid in the form of loans for economic development, Moyo demonstrated, often leaves countries worse off than they were before receiving the loan. Moyo pointed to a combination of leaders who use aid for their own gain, the suppression of local innovation due to a constant flow of aid, and the crushing impact of debt repayment on national coffers. Economist Paul Collier framed the failures of development as attributable to belief in a “myth” that pumping exogenous resources into unregulated markets would create an impact in the lives of people who are economically poor. Collier specifically pointed to foreign investment and aid for extracting the natural resources found in the Global South. One myth of development was outlined by Collier in relation to how the earth’s minerals and plants are considered “resources” for development. Products like oil and precious metals could be

Aid’s Failures and Critics

17

considered a boon for countries in export trade. Further, high-value export products are often so lucrative that governments may have additional funds left over after the costs of production and export. Such surplus funding is often called “resource rent” and has been touted as a vehicle for development. Collier (2007) notes that the notion of natural “resource rents,” which are often thought to be a catalyst for economic development, do not always work toward relieving poverty. Collier describes a natural resource “trap” among the world’s most natural resource-rich countries that could lead to further poverty and is often predicted by autocratic governance. According to Collier, nearly 30% of the world’s poorest people live in resource-rich countries. Why, then, would traditional forms of development sputter when a nation had easy access to exportable products and could redistribute rents to its citizens or for social infrastructure? Collier answered this question with an example of Nigeria in the 1970s. At the time, Nigeria had an oil boom, which raised Nigeria’s currency value to the detriment of all its other exports (thus reducing its economic outputs). At the same time, Nigeria’s leaders – backed by oil revenues – were borrowing heavily with little oversight. Around this time, oil prices inevitably declined. However, this time, the price decrease bust also resulted in organizations like the International Monetary Fund questioning their loan policies. Banks asked Nigeria to pay up on loans, and a spiral of economic reforms began to make life difficult for all but the very rich. Collier then outlined how “growth” as a result of natural resource wealth does not necessarily equate with development. In the case of Nigeria in the 1970s and subsequent other national examples, resource rents – even during good times – may produce increased inequality and negative outcomes for the poorest members of society when autocratic governments control them. Collier found that there is high competition for elected office in resource-rich, poor countries but very few government controls that oversee how autocratic spending occurs. In benign cases, resource rent may be wasted on overpriced social projects. In the worst cases, resource rents are funneled into systems of patronage politics, where votes are directly bought or thought leaders are bribed for their support. Further, as the political base of autocrats shrinks, increasingly large incentives are needed to ensure support. Finally, rents may allow for reductions or eliminations of taxes, which disproportionately advantages the rich. Hickey and colleagues (2015) likewise contend that the “resource curse” is really not a curse but an issue of governance. The authors note that the politics generated by industries lobbying the government for access to resources impacts the level of inclusiveness of development. Collier blames this on overreliance on a particular commodity for export, but Hickey and colleagues point to the politics and governance decisions that are made in high-resource, economically poor countries. They note that the “politics of recognition” are often ignored, thus creating further inequalities (Hickey and colleagues, 2015, p. 197). Thus, the authors make a clear distinction between politics and social protection, service delivery, and economic decision-making.

18

Aid and Development

Hickey and colleagues’ (2015) argument was extrapolated by Bebbington (2015), who critiqued the “resource curse” hypothesis. Bebbington drew upon Terry Karl’s (2007) work to dislodge resource analysis from a purely fatalistic economic lens. Rather, Bebbington argued that scholars must more closely examine the political and institutional “distortions” that exist in resource-rich, economically poor nations (2015, p. 87).

Aid and Development An important distinction for this book is the difference between “development” and “aid,” which are frequently used as a singular term. Development is a larger umbrella that can encompass a wide range of local or global activities. How various stakeholders conceptualize development is the subject of the following chapter, while the subject of Chapters 1 and 2 focus more on aid. Aid is the direct movement of resources from economically rich to economically poor actors. Actors in the aid process may be governments, nongovernmental organizations, and institutions. As noted earlier, the vocabulary is complicated because aid itself often falls into two categories – humanitarian aid and development aid – as was mentioned in Chapter 1. Moyo (2009) also characterized “charity,” which is not addressed in this book but is covered in other sources like Lupton’s (2011) Toxic Charity and other resources. Development aid, the focus of this book, beyond governmental loans, often takes the form of technical assistance, infrastructure, or scholarships. Development aid is the type of assistance that often draws the loudest critiques. Development aid may also be packaged with humanitarian aid when crises occur that have potential long-term economic impacts. Acemoglu and Robinson (2012) contend that these critiques are of the entire philosophy of aid, built on an erroneous assumption they term the “ignorance hypothesis” (p. 446). According to the authors, international development aid is a process that assumes that the beneficiaries of aid (whether they be governments or other institutions) simply do not understand the process of development and with appropriate “help” can learn to prosper. The ignorance hypothesis is flawed in two ways. First, the hypothesis is offensive, reifies stereotypes, and is completely ignorant (my emphasis) of structural conditions such as the legacy of colonization, unequal trade practices, and Indigenous ways of knowing. The second reason why the ignorance hypothesis is flawed was described by Acemoglu and Robinson as a failure to see the role of institutions in development. According to the authors, societies that experienced extractive colonization may, unfortunately, still be experiencing a form of extractive policy and institutional culture. Such culture serves to maintain the power of the local elite, who may have no interest in deliberative democracy or redistribution of resources to those who need them most. In a case example of aid at its worst, Acemoglu and Robinson (2012) provided an overview of an aid failure in Afghanistan that blended humanitarian (postwar) and economic development aims but did little to create actual development in the country.

Aid’s Failures and Critics

19

Scores of aid workers and their entourages arrived in town with their own private jets, NGOs of all sorts poured in to pursue their own agendas, and high-level talks began between governments and delegations from the international community. Billions of dollars were now coming to Afghanistan. But little of it was used to build infrastructure, schools, or other public services essential for the development of inclusive institutions or even for restoring law and order. While much of the infrastructure remained in tatters, the first tranche of funds was used to shuttle around the UN and other international officials. The next thing they needed were drivers and interpreters. So they hired the few English speaking bureaucrats and the remaining teachers in Afghan schools to chauffer and chaperone them around, paying them multiples of current Afghan salaries. As the few skilled bureaucrats were shunned into jobs servicing the foreign aid community, the aid flows, rather than building infrastructure in Afghanistan, started by undermining the Afghan state they were supposed to build upon and strengthen . . . . Villagers in a remote district of Afghanistan heard a radio announcement about a new multi-million dollar program to restore shelter to their area. After a long while, a few wooden beams, carried by the trucking cartel of Ismail Khan, famous former warlord and member of the Afghan government, were delivered. But they were too big to be used for anything in the district, and the villagers put them to the only possible use: firewood. (2012, p. 451) Economist William Easterly (2006) also attributes the failure of aid to the people who are making the aid decisions. Easterly refers to the bureaucrats in wealthy countries who design aid programs (World Bank, United Nations, and so on) as “planners.” According to the author, planners are development professionals who neatly envision poverty as a technical problem that can be solved with the correct inputs. Easterly noted that planners are particularly susceptible to political pressures in wealthy countries. Easterly also pointed to an example that appeared to be both humanitarian (responding to a health crisis) and economic (focused on the economic impact of the health crisis). Easterly critiqued the global response to the HIV/AIDS epidemic. He noted that it was 1) too late – much could have been done about the spread of the virus before it became an epidemic; and 2) inefficient – Easterly wondered why more was not being done to prevent the virus rather than focusing on a cure alone. Easterly’s arguments are pragmatic but at times contradictory to his earlier arguments. For example, Easterly’s call to focus on the cost-effective approach to the prevention of HIV/AIDS sounded very close to a prescriptive “planner” approach that had a similar top-down function as other planner activities. For the record, I think HIV/AIDS prevention is of critical importance and agree that quite a bit of prevention work can be done for much less than the cost of a cure. However, I take issue with the rationalization of cost-effective formulas in Easterly’s broader critique against rationalized aid formulas. If

20

Aid and Development

humanitarian responses and development are best defined locally (as argued by Easterly), I would think that an aid official would ask individuals and families impacted by HIV what would be most useful to them. Though not a public health expert, I lived in Lesotho in the height of the HIV epidemic. It seemed at times that I attended a funeral every Saturday for a colleague, neighbor, or friend between the ages of 20–40 who succumbed to the disease. It was a horrible time for the country, and many welcomed the PEPFAR1 and other HIV/ AIDS programming when it finally arrived in the mid-2000s. Prevention is likely the most rational choice for addressing an epidemic, but I can clearly state that if my colleagues, neighbors, and friends were asked, they would surely advocate for medication to control the disease as well, even if such a focus was not a rational choice for “planners.” Besides the seeming contradiction of terminology and approach in Easterly’s case example about HIV/AIDS and humanitarian and development inputs, his broader point is well-taken and was well-established with multiple case examples. In contrast to “planners,” Easterly identifies a group of people called “searchers” as the counter-example of planners. Searchers, according to Easterly, recognize that “poverty is a complicated tangle of political, social, historical, institutional and technical factors” (2006, p. 6). Planners, on the other hand, are those who believe that poverty can be solved with a centrally-driven initiative dreamt up in an office in one of the capitals of the Global North. The planner/seeker dichotomy is clearly drawn throughout Easterly’s The White Man’s Burden – a reference to Rudyard Kipling’s poem of the same name  – that urges the United States to assume imperial control over the Philippines in an effort to “civilize” the country. Easterly compares modernday military interventions and “democracy-building” exercises conducted in the Middle East by the United States as an age-old form of imperialism with intent to change centuries-old societies into US-friendly republican democracies. Easterly outlines the folly that such a plan could ever really work and questions how contemporary imperialism is enacted by global powers. He is equally critical, but also respectful, of the goodwill of aid planners. Chief among Easterly’s targets is Jeffery Sachs. Sachs has boldly proclaimed that poverty can be put to an end with thoughtful planning and increases in aid spending. Sachs’s (2005) book The End of Poverty: Economic Possibilities for Our Time outlines a plan for ending extreme poverty (what was at the time defined as living on less than one US dollar per day) through increases in foreign aid and strategic programming. Easterly, however, is not buying what Sachs is selling. Easterly critiques the grand narratives of development economists like Sachs, claiming that “planners” like Sachs do not have enough information to really know what does and does not work in various contexts in relation to aid and development. Further, Easterly questions the patronizing nature of central planners who construct a simplified game plan for very complex scenarios. His alternative, which will be discussed in more detail in the following chapters, is not to eliminate aid entirely but to use funding from wealthy nations differently to support development workers (international and local) who understand individual contexts.

Aid’s Failures and Critics

21

The Politics of Aid and Development Hickey and colleagues’ (2015) central thesis is that aid and development are politically driven. This proclamation is now widely accepted but was artfully exposed in James Ferguson’s (1990) book The Anti-Politics Machine: Development, Depoliticization, and Bureaucratic Power in Lesotho. Through an ethnographic field study of a failed development program, Ferguson found that expatriate experts often had the misguided assumption that poverty could be solved through technical programming. Ferguson found two major problems with this assumption. First, the technical solutions proposed were borrowed from other contexts based on the logic that if such activities worked in one location (e.g., India) they would surely work in another (e.g., Lesotho). They did not. The second assumption related to the motivations and complexity of local implementers. Ferguson noted that transnational organizations failed to recognize the agricultural history of Lesotho, the pragmatic approaches that had been developed through years of trial and error, the political wrangling that occurs when new flows of capital are introduced in a contentious government environment, and the implications of such programming on neighbor states. Ferguson concluded that there is a misguided assumption by technocrats that all aid activity enters a machine that cleanly keeps politics away from the work of development. Ferguson instead found the opposite. At every step in the process, politics are involved. Such politics range from all-or-nothing battles over resources for particular groups to political settlements that are made among powerful actors, often to the ignorance of those who are making grand development plans. The previous two sections outlined major critiques related to development aid. The first was the failure of development aid workers to adequately understand local conditions. By viewing poverty as a technical problem that can be solved through adequate inputs, Easterly (2006) argues that the development industry buys into the idea that mathematical models can resolve complex human issues. Easterly points out that this has yet to occur in the world, largely because development problems are local and complicated. Further, Hickey et al. (2015) and Ferguson (1990) argued that development aid is highly politicized and that such politics influence the direction that money flows, how programs are taken up (or sabotaged), and who benefits from inputs.

Aid, Development, Human Capital, and Trickle-Down Economics The two critiques presented thus far in this chapter relate to the politics and processes of aid. The third critique relates to economic theory that has guided liberal and neoliberal politics for centuries. This assumption has led to some of the strongest critiques of the aid process by contemporary inclusive development scholars. The argument goes that education and other opportunities will develop human capital in economically poor nations. Increased human capital

22

Aid and Development

will lead to economic growth. Growth, then, will allow for the benefits of a robust economy to trickle down to others. The Asian Development Bank was one of the first major lenders to question the human capital–growth–trickle-down hypothesis. Using a variety of data sources from its own projects, Bank economists reiterated the role of growth but argued that growth-only models were doomed to reinforce poverty unless there was an even political playing field for persons at the margins of society and unless there were strong safety nets to ensure social provisions were not dependent on those at the top and the hope for trickling resources (Ali, 2007a, 2007b; Ali & Son, 2007; Ali & Yao, 2004).

China’s Engagement in the Global South The fourth critique present in contemporary literature relates to the “aid” and development agenda in the Global South by China. China’s official dealings with African nations, specifically, have drawn critique for “support for, and dealings with, kleptocratic, untransparent and undemocratic governments and the impact of its trade specialization in promoting capital intensive extractive industries and forcing African economies back into resource dependence” (Kaplinsky, 2013, p.  296). Critiques of China’s engagement, however, only loosely fit with critiques of aid. Indeed, China never set out to provide aid in the sense that western and transnational donors have typically gone about their business. Rather, the Chinese government has developed a series of bilateral deals across the continent that are intended to provide infrastructure in Africa and easier access to raw materials for China (often by way of the infrastructure), which is beginning to show some of the signals of “resource trap” economics that were described in the previous pages. State bilateral agreements, however, are only one piece of the development puzzle in relation to China. Kaplinsky (2013) argues that the large state-owned extractive industries in China have reproduced the cycle of poverty and dependency that western scholars have critiqued for a number of years. Because the Chinese model of development through bilateral agreements and business dealings which focused on extractive industries is relatively new compared to development models that emerged after World War II, much remains to be seen about long-term impact. Early indications, however, are that resource traps may again emerge as governments of the Global South begin to make deals to provide materials for China’s growing population (Kaplinsky, 2013).

Conclusions In summary, the predominant form of economic development aid has been through wealthy nations and multinational organizations to attempt to stimulate the economic development of poorer nations through a variety of inputs. The approach, however, has been mired by controversy. Critics of this type of aid argue that the industry has failed to acknowledge the political nature

Aid’s Failures and Critics

23

of donor and recipient relations, the inability of technical experts sitting in faraway offices to truly grasp the complexity of local contexts, a false belief that natural resources will lead to economic development, and an unrealistic expectation that economic growth on an aggregate level will spur development for the economically poorest people in any given society. Given these shortcomings, scholars have begun to rethink and reconceptualize “development.” Historically, the term development has been conflated with overseas assistance or economic growth. The following chapter provides an overview of how the term “development” has been reconceptualized in recent literature and how the embrace of growth models as mechanisms for reducing poverty has loosened. Many of the reconceptualizations discussed in the next chapter lay the groundwork for defining inclusive development, a model that demands scholars and practitioners to rethink the assumptions about how aid and growth have not necessarily led to holistic development and are marked by continued inequalities even in times of economic growth.

Note 1. Referring to the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, a US foreign aid program that provided both prevention activities and low-cost medication to people who were HIV-positive.

3

Alternative Understandings of “Development”

Critical scholars of development have a wide range of agendas, from dismantling and tearing down conceptualizations of development that are largely aid-focused and western-dominated to reconceptualizing the term as an identifier of new constructs previously ignored by the aid community. The latter group of scholars will be highlighted in this chapter. Some of the reconceptualization of development and inclusive development is coming from scholars based in the Netherlands, a nation that has identified inclusive development as part of its foreign affairs and development strategy (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 2017), but this chapter also includes scholars from fields such as development studies and economics, including the aforementioned Amartya Sen’s work. This chapter will describe three ways in which development is reconceptualized to move away from the conflation of aid, economic growth, and the hope for trickle-down economics. The first reconceptualization, “development as equality,” comes from a group of scholars who draw upon arguments of the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) to argue for greater economic equality as a function of development. The second reconceptualization of development is “development as politics,” described by a group of scholars who were also mentioned in Chapter 2. This group of scholars acknowledge the power and resource dimensions of development and reflect on the settlement that inevitably occurs between donors, governments, citizens, communities, and private industry. Political theories of development acknowledge the complexity of the process of development, avoiding all or nothing tropes in favor of a critical analysis of the process. The final group of scholars who reconceptualize development are informed by Sen’s capabilities approach. A variety of capabilities scholars have emerged in the three decades since Sen first published his hypotheses on development. Capabilities scholars have leveraged Sen’s ideas as a mechanism for promoting inclusive development and have provided both critical and conceptual applications of the framework. Each of the ways that the concept of development is reconceptualized is described in the section that follows.

Development as Equality Isa Baud (2016) examines equality through the lens of poverty. Although poverty reduction is the main goal of aid and development activities, Baud argues

Alternative Understandings of “Development”

25

that if these activities are not equality-focused, they may do little to reach their goals. Baud lays out her arguments using the terminology of the classical economic terms of absolute and relative poverty. Drawing upon the work of Sumner (2016), Baud states that [a]lthough the number of absolute poor has gone down in the world, it has not gone down as much in these lower- and middle-income countries as could have been expected given the amount of growth, especially when China is excluded. The result is that the world’s absolute poor are now concentrated in a set of about 10 populous middle-income countries that have experienced growth which, however, has not translated into reductions of numbers of absolute poor at a concomitant level. (2016, pp. 120–121) Orthodox theories have argued that absolute poverty in the developing world can be explained by the lack of resources at the societal level. However, where countries are experiencing economic growth, but large groups in society remain partially or largely excluded from the benefits of growth and higher incomes, alternative theories about the distribution of resources become more urgent. These alternative approaches include those that focus on the politics of development and issues of wealth redistribution. An equality definition of development raises “issues of political economy and governance of growth and public finances” (Sumner, 2016) that are necessary to understand who is and is not benefitting from initiatives. Fraser (2010) describes how development indicators can focus on inequality as a way of identifying gaps in how development efforts are distributed. One example Fraser raises is the Inequalities-Adjusted Human Development Index (IHDI), a response to concerns about inequalities and their impact on human development. Fraser reviewed the main targets of the United Nations Development Programme’s (UNDP’s) Human Development Index (HDI), including having a long and healthy life, being knowledgeable, and having a decent standard of living. These targets in and of themselves are alternatives to economic growth conceptualizations of development. However, the IHDI addresses the limitations associated with aggregate data from nations on human development. The Inequalities-Adjusted Human Development Index also examines gains in health, education, and income but considers inequality in calculations by reducing the degree of development achieved if inequalities are present. “Under perfect equality” remark Abbott et al. (2017), “the HDI and IHDI would be equal but the IHDI falls below the HDI as equality rises” (p. 819). An equality-based conceptualization of development acknowledges that, despite decades of effort in ODA, development trajectories in some places have not improved while others have worsened. Scholars focused on inequality also acknowledge that development efforts may also increase inequality. Baud’s and Sumner’s works provide evidence that poverty is not “ending” as was hoped by Sachs and others because of economic development efforts but is reemerging

26

Aid and Development

in pockets of low- and middle-income countries as a result of economic policies that ignore inequalities. Inequality has long been a thorn in the side of economic growth and human capital development advocates. Sumner’s (2016) data indicates that exacerbated poverty is emerging as a symptom of people within countries being left behind on growth, aid, or development initiatives. Equality-focused scholars have begun to demonstrate that there may be some overlap in absolute and relative poverty in countries with high levels of income inequality. Sarma and Pais (2011), for example, use Gini coefficients as one variable of examining economic equality as a function of development. The coefficient is a measure of income distribution among residents of a particular nation developed by Italian sociologist Corrado Gini in the early 1900s (Gini, 1921). Sarma and Pais (2011), for example, found that income inequality correlates with poor rates of adult literacy and low rates of technology connectivity. For the group of scholars identified in this section, the definition or understanding of development necessarily moves beyond conceptualizations of income growth and expanded growth domestic product (GDP). From a technical sense, both growth and GDP are often measured as aggregate figures, ignoring the fact that there may be great economic dispersion within any nation. Baud cautions scholars against trusting “orthodox” theories of development and growth that assume that poverty is concentrated in low-income countries and that such poverty can be resolved through technical support and stimulating economic growth. Rather, Baud and others suggest that development interventions must also be focused on inequalities within countries. The focus on inequalities and the presumption that societies that are more equal are more developed is contrary to neoliberal development narratives; yet, a wide variety of studies cited by Sarma and Pais (2011) demonstrate that other indicators of development, such as literacy, urbanization, and physical infrastructure, all correlate with income equality on an aggregate level. Despite these findings, Baud and others advocate for examining development through using disaggregated data on indicators to understand how inequalities may inhibit human potential for populations whom traditional approaches do not work. Development as equality presents a more politicized scenario than narratives of development as charitable, technical, or growth-oriented. To address inequalities, those at the bottom of the economic pyramid must engage in activism to raise awareness and claim financial and human rights within their societies (Baud, 2016; Sumner, 2016). At the same time, elites must engage in conversations about how inequalities emerged and what policy solutions might address such inequalities. Thus, the following section focuses on a related understanding of development: development as politics. In the following section, a review of the political dimensions of development and inclusive development are outlined. This section highlights the often gritty, contentious work involved with reaching a political settlement on issues related to the dispersion of resources. Moreover, this section highlights the financial

Alternative Understandings of “Development”

27

and cultural stakes held by actors in the political process and the role of political activism by actors who may need to rely on political organization and disruption to gain the political power necessary to adequately negotiate development initiatives. The political aspects of development are outlined next through two important books in the field, Acemoglu and Robinson’s (2012) Why Nations Fail and Hickey and colleagues’ (2015) Politics of Inclusive Development.

Development as a Political Process Hickey and colleagues (2015) and Acemoglu and Robinson (2012) characterize development as a political act. The authors note that aid agencies are part of the equation, but a larger predictor of the potential and effectiveness of development are the internal politics of a country. According to Hickey and colleagues (2015) and Acemoglu and Robinson (2012), a relatively strong degree of bureaucratic strength is needed in order to ensure that development programs can both get off the ground and meet their intended projects. Much of this is informed by political settlement theory (Breton, 1997), which allows for moderation and agreement by elites rather than a winner take all or autocratic approach to governance. Hickey and colleagues posit that leaders must both engage horizontally in order to ensure that political settlements occur among elites, and vertically to ensure representation from the marginalized polity that may rise up against decisions if conditions are not addressed. The authors advise development scholars to take a close look at the informal politicking and coalitional dynamics – including horizontal and vertical engagement – that are involved in development agendas. Their findings demonstrate that assumptions that aid in and of itself may not be driving development. Bebbington’s (2015) study of extractive industries highlights the political settlement thesis. External of all aid, political actors – including multinational companies, government, local actors, civil society organizations, and transnational actors (i.e., environmental advocacy groups) – have been engaged politically since multinational companies began extracting forest, energy products, and minerals. According to Hickey and colleagues as well as Bebbington, political settlements are enacted by coalitions of actors, and “development” occurs through the negotiation of exogenous and endogenous actors, all with a political interest in the process. Thus, the role of power (addressed in Chapter 5 of this book) becomes an important unit of analysis in understanding inclusive development. The authors conclude that “[a]lthough critical in several respects, aid agencies are increasingly finding themselves displaced in such (development) contexts” (p. 27). Bebbington’s thesis around political settlement and extractive industries lies in the presumption that neither transnational corporations nor governments are likely to stop extractive industries, even if such a stoppage may be the best option for overall environmental health and sustainability. Instead, Bebbington notes that extractive industry arrangements often result from three factors: 1) prior political settlements made by organizations and individuals; 2) the extent

28

Aid and Development

to which mobilization by various actors has resulted in institutional learning; and 3) the various roles played by transnational bodies (which include companies, multilateral bodies such as mining oversight organizations, and civil society organizations). Bebbington draws upon the critiques of Campbell (2008), who claims that mining operations in Africa, in particular, have been ineffective in reducing poverty because efforts have been placed on regulating mining processes not on the governance of overall human-environment-economic interactions. Regarding such governance, Bebbington suggests eight areas of governance, civil society engagement, or political settlement that could be addressed in order to enhance the inclusiveness of extractive economic development to possibly reverse the resource curse for local populations who may be most vulnerable to such industries. These include: • • •

• • •

•

•

Employment – often touted as the key development attraction by corporations, employment can be governed to ensure equal opportunities. Supply chain management – allows for indirect involvement of local populations through inclusion at various points of the supply chain. Corporate social responsibility and transparency – commitment to local wellbeing through redistribution of profits in social programs along with financial transparency regarding finances and who does or does not benefit from corporate activities. Ownership – extension of ownership possibilities to local populations or the industry’s workforce. Public ownership – government or public ownership may extend benefits. Planning and consultation – authentic political dialogue with stakeholder groups that allows for consideration of diverse needs. Thoughtful governance in this area is needed to ensure that consultation processes are not used to simply legitimate decisions already made by powerful actors (Li, 2009). Taxation and social expenditure – this is a two-part political process. The first looks at how extractive industries are taxed, and the second considers the extent to which tax revenues are extended to those most impacted by industries. Transnational advocacy may be effective in these situations to force transparency of both tax schemes and social goods that do or do not result from them. Environment – a critical area where political contestation may be needed as impacts will be felt by both current and future generations.

Bebbington’s and Hickey and colleagues’ theses are being put to the test in an example of development politicization at the time of the writing of this book. The example of Brazil’s rainforests has garnered popular press and highlighted the political struggles that ensue when extractive industries are used for the purpose of economic development. In the case of Brazil, the debate does not have to do with deforestation for the purpose of logging. Rather, the

Alternative Understandings of “Development”

29

extraction, so to speak, is the usage of rainforest land for cattle pasture. In a 2019 article by reporter Anna Gross, the Financial Times reported that the cattle industry, particularly industry giant JBS, has been plagued with corruption and meat inspection scandals. While these scandals temporarily slowed exportation of beef to the United States, it has recently resumed, and Brazilian beef giants are now looking to expand their exports to Canada and Japan. New concerns have been raised, however, about the impact of deforestation for the purpose of creating pasture land for cows. Gross notes that Indigenous groups as well as transnational civil society organizations such as Amazon Watch have chronicled human rights attacks on those attempting to protect the forests. Further, the foundation-funded research firm Chain Reaction Research has found that up to 80% of deforestation in the Amazon forest is due to cattle farming. Cattle companies JBS and Mafrig have since responded stating that they are committed to purchasing beef from farmers who do not deforest. Trase, another transnational research organization, has claimed that such promises are difficult to make due to the lack of reliable data on supply chains in Brazil (Gross, 2019). The Brazilian rainforest example demonstrates the political complexity of so-called development. At this point, it is unclear what political settlements will be drawn from cattle farming contestations in Brazil. These will largely depend on the governance of Brazil. At the time of this writing, the country is led by a right-leaning, pro-cattle industry president named Jair Bolsonaro. The degree to which land rights policies are upheld will likely be influenced by the elimination of the Special Secretary for Indigenous Health (SESAI) at the federal level by the Bolsonaro administration. At the same time, Indigenous political protests are now becoming more commonplace in Brasilia (Alberti, 2019), and the aforementioned transnational human rights and environmental organizations are weighing in on the issue. The Brazil example is just one of likely hundreds that are occurring at the time of this writing. As readers follow global events, it is clear that Hickey and colleagues’ assertion that development is political is an important contribution to the understanding of inclusive development. If scholars and the popular press only looked at the economic considerations on an aggregate level for Brazil, they may have a very different perspective on what “development” means for environmental sustainability and Indigenous interests in that country. However, a political lens allows for an understanding of the varying voices and concerns around any initiative. These voices may or may not reach a political settlement, but it is clear from contemporary press clippings that there is a political battle at stake (Alberti, 2019; Gross, 2019). Hickey and colleagues and others have demonstrated that for development to be inclusive, political settlements must be achieved. The language of politics as it relates to inclusive development is instructive, as narratives about development that can reach all populations through economic growth is likely to fall short. Authors who examine the political nature of development acknowledge that there are inherent power differences in development, and these differences must be addressed through, at times, contentious political battles. Such political

30

Aid and Development

contentiousness extends understanding of development beyond a simple goal of growth, as such growth may limit the importance of aspects of development that are important to some stakeholders. Thus, the aims of development may become more inclusive when they are politically contested and goals are settled upon by multiple stakeholders.

Capabilities Observations of the political nature of development demonstrate that development goals may differ by stakeholder and that aggregate economic growth in and of itself is not necessarily the aim of every stakeholder in the development process. Though politics often involves groups of stakeholders advocating for shared stakes in development, Sen (2009) and other authors also contend that development may be an individually experienced phenomenon. Thus, Sen’s “capabilities” framework outlines that development should be understood as a mechanism to convert individual abilities into functionings that are most relevant and of interest to individuals, thus achieving freedom. Sen argues that growth itself does not consider the individual choices that people make, which may or may not be economic in nature. Sen (2009) said that the idea of capability – is oriented toward freedom opportunities, that is the actual capability of people to choose to live different lives within their reach, rather than confining attention only to what may be described the culmination – or aftermath – of choice. (p. 237) Sen, an economist, argued that economic outcomes may not be the only measure of people’s freedom and ability to choose the lives they desire. Burchardt (2004), in explaining Sen’s (1980) early work, explained the capabilities framework further stating that [a]ny normative exercise, for example, the evaluation of well-being, equality or social justice, requires the identification of what is considered valuable: what are the “objects of value”? Welfare economics – which is used to make judgements about policy issues like tax rates and benefit levels, the location of airports and education expenditure – is based on the idea that the sole object of value is utility. Utility has a number of different interpretations – happiness, satisfaction, or the fulfilment of preferences – but is always a subjective mental state, unobservable to anyone except the individual concerned. Under the interpretation of the fulfilment of preferences, an individual has greater scope to satisfy his or her preferences if he or she has a higher income, hence income is a proxy for utility – or so the argument goes. Thus inequality in society is to be judged by the distribution of income, and the development of countries is to be measured by

Alternative Understandings of “Development”

31

growth in national income. But Sen argues that income is a poor proxy for utility, and moreover that utility is the wrong “object of value” with which to be concerned. There are two reasons why income is a poor proxy for utility. Firstly, some individuals need more income to achieve the same utility than others; not everyone converts income into utility at the same rate. For example, a pregnant woman needs more calories to achieve an adequate level of nutrition than a woman who is not pregnant; someone living in a cold climate needs more resources to keep warm than someone living in Britain. (p. 737) In this case, development can more or less be seen as a tool for helping people live the type of life they would like to lead, but that life may or may not be predicted automatically through economic gain. Mitra (2006) reflected on Sen’s framework as a mechanism for inclusive development of persons with disabilities, suggesting that three factors must be considered for transforming functionings (the beings and doings of peoples’ lives) to capabilities (the ways that functionings are leveraged for the types of life people would like to have). Mitra’s and Sen’s considerations are not grounded in a focus on increasing resources for individuals. Rather, the capabilities approach requires a broader look at the ethics of personal choice and the role of resources in supporting those choices. Mitra’s work links with an inclusive development model that considers particular groups (in her case, persons with disabilities) that will be discussed in a later chapter on “participation.” Related to capabilities, however, Mitra (2006) explains that ability and disability (both social constructions) may occur as a result of three factors: 1) the individual’s personal characteristics (impairment, age, race, gender); 2) the individual’s financial and social resources; and 3) the person’s individual environment (physical, social, economic, and political). Mitra extends Sen’s theories in a way that critiques inequalities by both examining the importance of self-defined capabilities within the scope of a person’s wants, needs, and “practical opportunity” (p. 238) while at the same time acknowledging that impairments may limit the earning capacity that may help convert functionings into capabilities. At the same time, Mitra critiques scientific or medicalized understandings of the term “disability” by saying that “an individual is disabled if he or she cannot do or be the things he or she values doing or being” (p.  243). This assertion explicitly links capabilities and disabilities in ways that had previously not been connected. Mitra then defines “development” as persons being able to exercise their own wishes through human capability. She acknowledges the role of resources in this process but also notes that politics, societal attitudes, physical characteristics, and personal choices within one’s own societal milieu are important considerations for development and capabilities. Such a complex understanding goes well beyond measures such as gross domestic product or personal income as indicators of development.

32

Aid and Development

Outside of Sen himself, one of the most well-known and active scholars of the capabilities framework is philosopher Martha Nussbaum. Nussbaum is best known for adding parameters and examples of capabilities, something that Sen has been hesitant to do in the course of his career. Nussbaum (2000), for example, outlines ten central human capabilities: life; bodily health; bodily integrity; senses, imagination, and thought; emotions; practical reason; affiliation; relating to other species; play; and control over one’s political and material environment. Nussbaum acknowledges that a list of central capabilities may be infinite and ever-changing, but her preliminary list of ten is rooted in historical aspirations of humans and provides a sound starting point for future discussion. Nussbaum’s understanding of capabilities then further complicates understanding of development. To Nussbaum (2000) and others, development is both a basic human right (life, bodily integrity, senses) as well as a personal endeavor (imagination, affiliation, reason). Nussbaum also introduces the natural world into her understanding of capabilities. “Relating to other species” – one of Nussbaum’s ten central human capabilities – introduces a new undertaking that goes well beyond economic growth and anthropocentric choice-making. Nussbaum’s understanding of inter-species relations, however, is not unique. Several scholars in the Sustainable Development Goals era have begun to call for greater interconnectedness between humans and the world they inhabit as a function of development. Such thinking has been part of Indigenous thought for millennia but has recently been explored explicitly in relation to the Sustainable Development Goals. This chapter identified three alternative conceptualizations of development: development as equality, development as political process, and development as capabilities. In the following chapter, an earthcentered approach to development is outlined as a further alternative understanding of development and a proposed approach to “inclusive development.”

4

The Human-Environment Nexus and Sustainable Development

“Development,” when defined as economic equality, a political process, or capabilities, has a unifying element – each relates heavily to human activity. In general, development is seen as a marker of human progress in the world – whether as a marker of increased economic wealth and material accumulation or in the absence of illnesses, unemployment, or crime. As noted in a previous chapter, the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) each year releases data on a wide range of development outcomes through its Human Development Index (HDI) (UNDP, 2018). The Index examines indicators such as human life expectancy, years of schooling, and gross national income. The Index also, however, reports on indicators at the human-environment nexus. The report’s website (2019) provides a dashboard on a variety of “environmental sustainability” indicators by country. These include fossil fuel consumption, renewable energy consumption, carbon dioxide emissions, forest areas, fresh water withdrawals, household ambient air pollution, and unsafe water and hygiene services. Not surprisingly, some countries that have high levels of human development (according to the HDI) are also among the worst in terms of percentage of energy consumed through fossil fuels. More frequently, however, countries that have the lowest levels of HDI also have the fewest forest areas, safe water, and clean air in their homes. Over the past several years, the HDI has incorporated information on the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) as part of its reporting on human development, highlighting the connections between humans and the environment in which they live. The SDGs, a 2015 initiative launched by the United Nations, are the global goals and targets for the United Nations’ 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development. According to some scholars, these were the first set of United Nations’ goals that simultaneously defined “development” from perspectives of “economic development, environmental sustainability, and social inclusion” (Sachs, 2012, p. 2206).

Sustainable Development Goals The SDGs represented the first time a major UN proclamation included social, economic, and ecological dimensions within a singular framework (Griggs

34

Aid and Development

et  al., 2013). However, this was not the first time that global sustainability was the focus of a UN treaty or proclamation agreements. For example, in 1992, representatives from 178 countries attended the Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and agreed upon Agenda 21, a partnership aimed at improving human development outcomes while protecting the environment. Predating the SDGs were the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs), for which Goal #7 called for states’ parties to “Ensure Environmental Sustainability.” Following the adoption of the MDGs, the UN hosted the World Summit on Sustainable Development in Johannesburg and adopted the “Johannesburg Declaration on Sustainable Development and Plan of Action,” which was shortly followed by the “Rio+20” United Nations Conference on Sustainable Development in 2012, which launched the outcome document The Future we Want. The initial (1992) and followup (Rio+20, in 2012) conferences in Rio de Janeiro trace a two-decade commitment to environmental sustainability as an element of development by the United Nations. The second Rio conference facilitated a General Assembly that appointed an open working group made up of 30 members. This working group drafted the initial proposal for the post-2015 development agenda. The entire process culminated in the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development, which included the 17 SDGs (United Nations, n.d.). Several authors have begun to define development beyond human terms and critique models that rely on environmentally damaging practices to stimulate economic growth. Baud (2016), for example, critiques development that is reliant on carbon-heavy industries and calls upon wealthy nations of the world to take the lead in reducing their carbon footprint. She calls for development that is “inclusive” at the intersection of environment, economic development, and justice – particularly related to gender. Her arguments about economic equality (see previous chapter) align with advocacy for greater environmental justice for the earth itself and for those who do not benefit from consumptionfocused approaches to development. In an introductory article to a special issue on inclusive development in the European Journal of Development Research, Baud stated that we need to urgently look for ways to not only reduce greenhouse gas emissions of current methods of production and consumption, but also to promote innovations that allow the poor to obtain a satisfactory level of well-being, as well as reducing the excessive ecological footprint of wealthy residents across the world. (2016, p. 121) Asongu and Nwachukwu (2017) and Obeng-Odoom (2015) frame inclusive development as that which considers the ethics of environmental impact into economic decisions. The authors’ work specifically focuses on Africa, where there has been a strong focus from development agencies on growthoriented development at times to the detriment of equality and environmental

The Human-Environment Nexus

35

sustainability. Asongu and Nwachukwu specifically identify a comparative human development frame in understanding inclusive development in Africa as it relates to globalization. Building upon Obeng-Odoom’s concerns, the authors argue that human development, which includes a healthy natural environment, may be at risk from “policies of neoliberalism . . . that are more focused on increasing the relevance of capital accumulation and the neoliberal ideology, with less concern to more fundamental ethnical issues like environmental degradation and inequality” (Asongu & Nwachukwu, 2017, p. 1028). Obeng-Odooms’s arguments are especially timely in relation to recent trends in sub-Saharan Africa. World Bank (2018) data indicates that extreme poverty in the world has been reduced dramatically worldwide over the past decade. A closer look at the data, however, demonstrates that rapid reductions in extreme poverty in Asia (especially China) has had an impact on worldwide trends but that poverty rates in Africa have been largely unaffected. The Bank reports that by 2030, nine out of ten people living in extreme poverty will be located in Africa. Given the challenging development scenarios present, growth-oriented policies are often an attractive option, with the hope of stimulating economic development that may create employment, increase tax bases, and facilitate entrepreneurial activity. Obeng-Odoom (2015), however, warns that “[t]he discourse of growth externalizes environmental costs in the West to Africa and elsewhere in poorer countries and sends more damaging speculative investment behavior to the continent” (p. 13).

Sustainable Agriculture Although the world is increasingly urbanizing (World Bank, 2018), a strong focus of economic development planning relates to agriculture. In 2016, for example, the MasterCard Foundation, a Canadian nonprofit foundation that is an arm of the credit card giant, hosted a forum that asked the question if agriculture was “the answer” to Africa’s youth unemployment challenge. The question emanated from the work that the Foundation sponsors in East Africa, where several countries are experiencing a “youth bubble” (i.e., a large proportion of the overall national population is made up of individuals aged 15–30). Strong basic education systems in countries combined with access barriers to higher education along with varying quality in technical education has left many of these youth looking for work in a marginal formal sector economy or through informal opportunities where available. Public Radio International called Tanzania’s youth unemployment rate (approximately 12% at the time of writing) a “crisis” (Kushner, 2013). Agriculture, then, has become a trendy approach in development circles in relation to economic growth, potential for employment, and engagement of youth. The irony is that agriculture is a practice that is by some estimates over 10,000 years old (Saisho & Purugganan, 2007). The “discovery” of agriculture as a development solution is in many ways as revolutionary of the “discoveries”

36

Aid and Development

of new worlds by colonists five centuries ago. In both cases, the discoveries celebrated by westerners had really always been there. Development scholars who work in agricultural domains, however, have knowledge of the long history of the practice and can be somewhat wary of discourses that link agriculture with economic growth without considering other human or environmental factors. This is especially true for scholars of sustainable agriculture, who, like Baud, Asongu, and Obeng-Odoom, explicitly understand development as a process that must be practiced sustainably. For agriculturalists, development questions typically focus on “bridging the yield gap” (Himmelstein et al., 2016, p. 4837) so that farmers and their customers have enough to eat while decreasing the negative environmental effects of agriculture. Pretty (1997) calls the latter practice “building natural capital.” Himmelstein et al. (2016) and Pretty (1997) frame the nexus of agricultural yields, their economic benefits, and the development of natural capital as a process of sustainable intensification (SI). SI creates an alternative to focusing on ever larger yields without consideration for natural consequences by taking a whole-systems and agroecological approach to the development and economics of food and other agricultural products. This approach considers multiple elements of agricultural practice beyond production alone. Loos et al. (2014) propose that minimizing environmental impact in production, limiting the land footprint beyond current usage, food redistribution, and procedural justice for growers themselves are all part of an SI approach. The intended result of SI activities is agricultural practice that promotes development that is economically viable, sustainable, and just for individuals. Building on Loos et al.’s (2014) conceptualization of SI, Himmelstein and colleagues (2016) argue that development in the sphere of agriculture must be widely defined, and start with a livelihoods orientation for the individuals who are often the target of yield intensification schemes. The authors first argue that agriculture alone is often not enough to sustain small-scale growers and that diversified livelihoods may enhance individual economic opportunity. The authors go on to argue that in their work they have found that individuals with diverse livelihoods are often more likely to adopt sustainable agricultural management practices, which in turn supports sustainability. According to the authors, unsustainable practices have a false allure because they often produce an immediate boost in production. However, such practices will also result in land degradation, water pollution, or other long-term problems that will impact future yields and increase costs to the input costs to the grower, create environmental damage, and potentially impact the health of nearby communities. Instead, improving environmental performance through healthy soil development and biological diversity as a means for pest control is a proposed development alternative. The word “alternative” is used lightly here, as the practices advocated for by SI scholars were documented as sustainable practices long before agriculture was influenced by the politics of high yields and economic growth models.

The Human-Environment Nexus

37

Sustainable practices are better for soil health and local ecosystems than agriculture that is focused on high-yield, yet unsustainable, practice. However, Himmelstein et al. (2016) acknowledge that yield shortages may still arise. The authors suggest a global approach to food security as a way of filling gaps. For example, globally, approximately one-third of all food that is harvested is thrown away. The United Nations Food and Agricultural Organization (FAO) reports that such food wastage adds up to approximately $680 billion in wealthy countries and $310 billion in lower-income countries in the Global South. Further, in the Global South, nearly 40% of crop losses occur after harvest or during food processing. Himmelstein and colleagues then argue that pouring more and more resources into short-term opportunities to increase yield for the purpose of economic growth is not the answer to agricultural development challenges. Rather, the SI framework focuses on holistic understandings of development, from empowering growers to have diverse livelihood opportunities to focusing on soil and ecosystem health. Food shortages, argue the author, may also be resolved through examining wastage in production processes and post-production waste – especially in wealthy nations.

Sustainability: Scientific “Discovery” or Generations-Old Wisdom? As noted earlier, the concept of sustainability by no means new, even in the sense of the United Nations (which explicitly added the word “sustainable” to its 2030 development agenda and goals). Contemporary understandings of sustainability, however, are also clouded by ontologies of modernity and progress. Sustainability is often framed as a consideration for a “way” of developing rather than as a goal in and of itself. Anishinaabe linguist Margaret Noodin (2018) highlighted the limitations of sustainability as a concept, offering Anishinaabe conceptualizations of earth connectedness that go beyond simply thinking about the earth while rapidly modernizing: The English word “sustainability” connotes a passive object that needs attention and is subject to an outside agency for its maintenance. In contrast, the Anishinaabe term ganawendamaw is a verb that connotes a spectrum of animacy for all life, allowing rocks, water, and humans to be described as coequal partners in the creation, maintenance, and evolution of a place. This basic concept conveys the idea of observation, protection, and preservation. . . . Marlene Stately, from the Leech Lake Band of Ojibwe in Minnesota, suggests jiniganawejigandaagwak as an active phrase explaining the way one might care for another. Alphonse Pitawanakwat, from Wikwemikong Unceded First Nation on Manitoulin Island in Ontario, uses ganawendjigewin and naagadawendjigewin, which he translates as “keeping track of sustenance.” (p. 247)

38

Aid and Development

The conceptualizations found in the Anishinaabe language connote a deeper connection and wisdom related to sustainability than may be ofered by transnational organizations and their technical approach to environmental sustainability within the realm of development. Fricas (2019) further highlights the shortcomings of technical approaches to sustainability and how they are at odds with various Indigenous understandings: Sustainable development launched from a perception of the world originating from Western power centers and made its case, in part, by shifting visibility and blame for environmental degradation associated with development away from large polluters and onto postcolonial nations. It also appropriated the idea of nature as an asset to be managed and a force to be controlled, rather than employing an indigenous view of nature as having its own agency and rights. (p. 44) In her 2019 dissertation investigating sumak kawsay (“good living” in Kichwa and Quechua), buen vivir (“good life” in Spanish), and cosmovisión Andina (Andean cosmovision), Fricas found that her coresearchers carefully connected family, land, and their own history simultaneously. The inclusion of the work of Noodin (2018) and Fricas (2019) in this chapter is not intended in any way to attempt to generalize or essentialize Indigenous worldviews about earth centeredness. Rather, the two examples provided demonstrate that the so-called innovation of sustainability has been experienced for generations. The understandings also highlight an important distinction between transnational development agendas and how the connectedness of life and land is described in languages such as Anishinaabe and Kichwa. Conceptualizations of sustainability have been around for millennia and can be found in many of the disappearing languages of the world. Conceptualizations found in languages like Anishinaabe or Kichwa, however, may provide a better grounding for sustaining the earth than technical approaches to sustainability. Both Noodin (2018) and Fricas (2019) argue that contemporary conceptualizations of sustainability are inadequate because they are dependent on specific organizations to maintain the earth (rather than through personal connections and responsibility). Some sustainable perspectives view land, sea, and air as assets to be managed rather than integral life-sustaining forces and often place the blame for environmental degradation on small-scale communities rather than on large polluters. The human-environment nexus described in this chapter represents a new understanding of development by large transnational players. The integration of environmental awareness with development goals became a global policy focus with the SDGs. These goals attempted to balance economic development with the long-term future of the earth through programs like sustainable cities, sustainable industries, and sustainable agriculture. The focus on sustainability

The Human-Environment Nexus

39

represents a new focus on an ancient concept but one that stretches the imaginary of “development” beyond economic outcomes.

Troubling Aid and Development as Growth: A Summary The first four chapters of this book have provided an overview of how international aid and its presumed result, development, are understood. International aid is often framed as a responsibility that richer nations have to poorer ones, and a project of broader global commitments that began to emerge through the United Nations and post-World War II agreements. The formula for aid is presumably simple for bilateral aid: a rich country provides economic aid or technical assistance to a poor country; systems and human capital develop in the poor country; economic growth occurs; and there is no more poverty or suffering. The problem with this simplified formula, however, is that it often does not work. Various scholars have posited why economic development and aid conceptualizations are flawed. One fatal flaw in the development dream is the “ignorance” assumption (Acemoglu & Robinson, 2012), which assumes that aid recipients are passive and unknowing, and can only benefit from the good graces and plans of others. This assumption has been debunked time after time by scholars who demonstrate that aid and development are far more complex than a simplified theory of change can predict. Whether the problem lies in the efficiency and capacity of outsiders to understand the true needs of communities (Easterly, 2006) or failures in process because of local corruption or poorly designed partnerships (Collier, 2007; Moyo, 2009), aid often does not live up to its promise. When it does succeed in its intended goals, and economic growth is stimulated, further problems may also arise. Because of the limitations of growth-focused aid models, scholars have begun to focus on alternative definitions of the word “development.” Since its original conceptualizations, the process of aid, development, and economic growth have been inextricably tied. Baud (2016), however, questions the embrace of “growth,” which focuses on indicators such as aggregate gains in gross national product but ignores how inequality may emerge while people at the bottom of economic pyramids are waiting for resources to trickle down to them. Sumner (2016), for example, has identified that clusters of absolute poverty have begun to emerge in middle-income countries. By economic growth standards, these countries should be seeing a reduction in absolute poverty. However, because aggregate economic growth often favors those who already have resources, new poverties are emerging as a result of unequal access to public services, tax distribution, and other social supports. For this reason, an emerging group of scholars is focusing on “equality” as a definition of development. Further, Hickey and colleagues (2015) note that development is not a clean, straight line that runs from donor to recipient to economic development. Rather, the authors claim that there are often multiple agendas at work, and

40

Aid and Development

these agendas are often in conflict with one another. The interests of transnational organizations, governments, corporations, activist organizations, and individuals all come into play when aid and capitalist economic development schemes are employed. To this end, a second emerging understanding of “development” is that it is a political process as much (or more) than it is an economic process. Still further authors like Sen (2009) question purely economic understandings of development. In his work on capabilities, Sen provides an individual-level assessment of “development,” noting that material wellbeing is not necessarily a measure of development. Rather, an adequate measure of development, according to Sen and others, is how people can leverage economic, natural, and community resources to achieve the type of life they desire. Sen argues that such a life may or may not correlate with high levels of material belongings but is often related to personal aspiration and the ability to transform everyday functionings into personally defined capabilities. Development, in this case, is not a measure of growth but a measure of how one can enact the freedom to choose the life he or she desires. The final definition of development that presents an alternative to economic growth models is sustainable development. Sustainable development scholars highlight that a focus on economic growth alone may do irreversible harm to the natural environment. Such harm is problematic both from an ethical point of view and a practical standpoint (i.e., environmental degradation will eventually harm the persons who are meant to benefit from extractive or pollutive “development”). The United Nations SDGs have mainstreamed the idea of sustainability as an indicator of development in cities, industry, the air and the oceans. Further scholarship on sustainable agriculture has highlighted emerging practices for rural, poor farmers who are often encouraged to use incorporate damaging practices for the promise of one or two good yields. According to scholars and agencies focused on sustainable development goals, quick economic growth should not be a priority if it carries the risk of longterm ecological harm. “Development,” then, is conceptualized in many different ways. There are likely additional conceptualizations that go beyond the scope of this work. In the following chapters, I will present an overview of how authors are using the term “inclusive development.” Similar to development itself, inclusive development is a term that is conceptualized in diverse ways. The general tenor of inclusive development is that economic growth, economic equality, political representation, capabilities, and a healthy environment are all laudable goals of development but are often not achieved by those who are on the margins of development practice. To this end, authors and organizations have begun to use the term “inclusive development” to describe processes that stretch the boundaries of development. The following chapters highlight what is meant by the term “inclusive development” when it is used in development literature. Readers should note that authors who investigate inclusive development may question the integrity of

The Human-Environment Nexus

41

development processes in general but do not often advocate for a complete abandonment of the process. Often inclusive development scholars align with the definitions of development presented in Chapters 3 and 4 – equality, political representation, capabilities, and sustainability – and look to “inclusive development” as a process to achieve such goals. Chapters 5–8, Part II of this book, present four approaches to inclusive development frequently found in the literature: participation, social protection, social capital, and economic redistribution.

Part II

Inclusive Development

5

Participation as an Approach to Inclusive Development

The first four chapters of this book outlined the history of overseas development assistance (ODA), some of the economic rationales that have guided ODA, ongoing critiques about the practice, and alternative conceptualizations of development beyond economic growth. Despite alternative framings, more often than not, development is framed in economic terms, focused on reducing poverty or increasing the economic climate of a particular nation-state or individual. Development, from a purely economic standpoint, often refers to an assumption that more (more money, financial security, financial independence, and so on) is better. Economists and social scientists alike, however, have begun to question whether or not the benefits of such approaches ever fully reach their intended recipients. The alternative definitions presented in Chapters 3 and 4 are now as mainstreamed in development programs as economic models and present what proponents claim is a more humanist and environmentalist viewpoint on development than economic indicators alone. The logic behind these alternative arguments is that development is a complex process that involves multiple stakeholders, ideas, and desired outcomes. Within the scope of economic, equality-focused, political, capabilities, and sustainability-focused understandings of development, a literature and practice around “inclusiveness” has emerged over the past several decades. Chapters 5–8 (Part II) of this book will present an overview of how the term “inclusive development” is currently used in development studies, economic, and social science literature. The term “inclusive development,” like “development” itself, is disputed and interpreted differently by scholars and organizations. Despite the variations in interpretation of the term, “inclusive development” approaches seem to focus on four main strategies in contemporary literature: participation, social protection, social capital, and redistribution. Many of these trends in development focus on the social (participation) and economic dimensions of development, but all have a political orientation.

Participation The first strategy is broadly defined as “participation.” In this strategy, scholars and practitioners highlight the importance of engaging relevant stakeholders

46

Inclusive Development

in decision-making and implementation of development efforts. Scholars like Gupta and Vegelin (2016), who envision development as a global commitment to sustainability and poverty reduction, provide a rationale for why participation must be at the center of development. Calling such an approach “inclusive development,” the authors claim that the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals do very well to outline social development but do less well in relation to ecological sustainability and establishing relational processes that guide the “meaningful participation in United Nations (UN) processes, adopting equity principles, capacity building, technology transfer, and financial support” (Gupta & Vegelin, 2016, p.  436). The authors note that participation in development processes initiated by organizations like the United Nations “implies taking into account marginalized sectors, places, and communities” (p. 436). This chapter outlines the debates around participation as a strategy for inclusive development. There are two core arguments for participation. The first argument is that marginalized populations historically have been left out of meaningful conversation in relation to planning, implementation, and desired outcomes of development in their own communities. In this chapter, particular examples of women, Indigenous groups, persons with disabilities, and rural populations highlight how development can be exclusionary and how participation aims at reducing process barriers. A second section relates to increasing the utility of development programming through participation and local innovation. Following Easterly’s “planners” and “searchers” hypothesis is a development argument that local and often marginalized actors may provide the necessary local knowledge, contextual awareness, and expertise to support broader projects. In this second argument, local innovation is more effective than far-off bureaucratic planning. The following pages will provide an overview of groups that have been identified as excluded from development participation and how authors have suggested improvements to the participatory nature of development. In this section, “participation” and “voice” will be introduced as elements of inclusive development, primarily in an effort to expand notions of whose perspectives matter in decision-making and development planning. The second argument for participation draws upon discourses of innovation and local knowledge and hypothesizes that local organizations can facilitate development better than transnational organizations because they are nimbler, more locally aware, and more attuned to historical legacies than outsider organizations. The final section of this chapter will draw upon literature that critiques contemporary configurations of participation. In this section, secondary case evidence will be introduced that highlights the political nature of participation and the inherent limitations of current models. In these cases, participation is used as a philosophical shortcut by transnational organizations hoping to make their programs more palatable to donors and critics. By doing so, such organizations may draw upon local organizations and consultants but fail to recognize the diversity of opinion that these organizations represent, and the

Participation

47

possible isomorphism that may emerge when local organizations essentially become subcontractors to transnational organizations, removing opportunity for critical debate and direction-setting for development projects. Similar to arguments related to political understandings of development in Chapter 3, participation is a way of promoting inclusion in development but may be limited if participants do not have political power.

Whose Participation? The concept of participation in development emerged shortly after the initial “big push” described in Chapters 1 and 2. Chambers (1983) first outlined dimensions of participatory development in his book Rural Development: Putting the Last First. Originally published in 1959, the book continues to inform development practitioners today. While Chambers’s focus was primarily focused on rural populations, numerous recent studies identify where specific populations are marginalized in development initiatives. Few et al. (2007) and Shortall (2004, 2008) have called for development scholars to critically analyze representation, social exclusion, and nonparticipation in decision-making processes as a way of identifying where participation gaps occur. For example, Dolan and Rajak (2016) describe the need for economic inclusion people at the “bottom” of economic pyramids, including persons in remote areas facing extreme economic hardships and people with very little buying power or access to capital (Kaplinsky, 2013). According to Dolan and Rajak, “bottom of the pyramid” development should focus on low-cost access to materials and services for those with little opportunity to pay for such services and materials in typical development circumstances as a way of enhancing inclusiveness in development. Such efforts would “lead to innovation focused on problems they (marginalized persons) identify and their realities, resulting in better development outcomes” (Petersen et al., 2018). Kaplinsky (2013), for example, argues that the flood of low-cost implements such as farm materials and motorbikes is an example of inclusive development because it allows individuals at the lowest income levels to access opportunities to raise their own capital. Other groups of people specifically named as “excluded” by development organizations are persons with disabilities (Bonlan, 2016; Mitra, 2013; Nussbaum, 2009), people living in extreme poverty (Few et al., 2007), religious entities outside of mainstream development work (McDuie-Ra & Rees, 2010), those residing in small villages and towns who are often considered the target audience of development projects (Green, 2010), immigrants (Lindström, 2016), women (Himmelstein et al., 2016; Manji, 2010; Shortall, 2004, 2008), conflict-affected people (Donais & McCandless, 2017), Indigenous populations (Berdegué et al., 2015) and, specific to India, Adivsai and Dalit populations (Chakrabarti & Dhar, 2012). Exclusion of any particular groups has, at least at the policy level, drawn concern from large, multinational organizations such as the United Nations.

48

Inclusive Development

Sustainable Development Goal 4, for example, focuses on educational quality as a lever for development for all children, youth, and adults but specifically mentions populations that historically have been excluded from educational development, such as: girls, rural children, children from the bottom fifth wealth quintile in their countries, persons with disabilities, Indigenous populations, conflict-affected children, students from developing countries, leastdeveloped countries, small island developing states, and African states (United Nations, 2015). The naming of excluded populations is important because it recognizes what Mégret (2008) calls “plural rights” for those who are excluded from current policy or development agendas. Plural rights extend beyond conceptualizations of universal rights (and, by extension, access to development opportunities) in recognition that different or supplemental actions may need to be taken in order to ensure development outcomes for previously excluded groups. These concepts will be revisited later in this book as well, but highlight how the examination of specific groups and their participation in development is currently being framed as “inclusive.”

Participation in Action: Case Examples This section provides an overview of recent studies focused on the outcomes of participatory development schemes for populations mentioned in the previous section. Such participation is often framed as a way to promote inclusive development. Results are mixed, indicating that participation is both an opportunity for engaged discourse but is also a term used to justify tokenistic consultations by end users and so-called beneficiaries of development programming. Donais and McCandless (2017), for example, highlight the discord between donors and implementers in relation to peace plans in post-conflict areas. The authors acknowledge that “[i]nclusivity has, in recent years, become the concept of choice for those seeking to reshape, both normatively and procedurally, what peace building is and how it should be practiced” (Donais & McCandless, 2017, p. 291). However, use of the terms “inclusivity” or “inclusive” has not promoted substantive change in the process between donors and local implementers. Donais and McCandless argue that donor influence is often overly technocratic with impossible deadlines for local implementers. They instead called for processes that are “country-led” and “country-owned,” articulating the divide that often occurs between transnational donors and local partners. Donais and McCandless approach inclusive development and inclusive peacebuilding from an aspirational standpoint, calling for a “New Deal” in inclusive peacebuilding that reconsiders power relationships among actors, a policy standpoint (demonstrating how inclusive peace and development align with Sustainable Development Goal 16). Donais and McCandless’s findings on the exclusion of local organizations (and benefits of their inclusion) were not limited to peacebuilding work. Few et al. (2007) highlighted the “illusion” of inclusion and participation in the

Participation

49

consultation of local participants related to climate change adaptation programs. Few and colleagues argued that participation, as it is often constructed, may be prey to managerialism. Specifically, if policymakers have specific aims in mind before beginning the participatory process, such predetermination will likely influence agendas, participant selection, and response to feedback. In a case study on participatory processes related to climate change response programs, Few and colleagues (2007) observed that “[m]uch of what was presented as participatory was closer to educating and informing people and securing their support rather than ceding them a genuine voice in shaping those plans” (p. 49). Few and colleagues also draw upon research that indicates that participation often has limited scope and is apolitical, not allowing for robust debate and conflict resolution around development directions. “Many authors have shown,” Few and colleagues (2007) argued, “how these limited forms of inclusion are embedded within and further enforce persistent, pre-existing relations of social power between agencies and the public, and in the final outcome may do little to weaken top-down styles of decision-making” (p. 49). Green (2010) also critiqued contemporary conceptualizations of participation, which focus on technical conversation strategies and data collection methods over the messiness of authentic conversation among stakeholders. Her critique focuses heavily on ideals about creating a singular voice between development professionals and local representatives when a more pluralistic and possibly contentious approach may provide innovation in development. As they stand now, “the outputs of participatory approaches do not justify their continued popularity for development” (Green, 2010, p. 1240). The reason why participation as a process has been unable to create inclusive development outcomes, claims Green, is that the process of seeking and documenting participation has become overly routinized and regulated, leaving little space for innovation or nontechnical knowledge to influence development programming. Green particularly critiques the methodology of Participatory Learning and Action (PLA), a popular methodology for soliciting information in locales where development initiatives take place. “Participatory forms in international development,” argued Green (2003), have become domains of specialist expertise associated with specific templates of techniques for participatory working (Green, 2003; Cornwall, 2006). These approaches are largely modelled on a set of accepted tools associated with Participatory Learning and Action and a means of organisation which entails a division between facilitators and facilitated, locals and outsiders, working through a fairly set sequence of activities intended to generate a representation of consensus. (p. 1246) The results from a study on participation and development, according to Green, were far from inclusive. “Rigid adherence to the methods template,” reported

50

Inclusive Development

Green (2003), “ensured that there was little scope for the emergence of new issues or understanding. Reports produced through the process frequently reiterated issues which were already part of pre-existing village plans” (p. 1249). In sum, “participation,” if approached as a task undertaken by development agencies in order to gain acquiescence from stakeholders, does not constitute inclusive development. Further, rigid adherence to the technical aspects of participation (such as PLA methods) may limit the types of information that development organizations seek if they are indeed interested in in local opinion. Green (2003) concluded that the non-standard village and its potentialities for positive differences cannot be visualised through this particular process. Finally, in constituting a unitary community in place of a political social they usurp the place and political potential of considered, and potentially unruly, social analysis. (p. 1259) Green, Donais, and McCandless chronicle microlevel challenges with the idea of “participation.” In all cases, the participatory nature of development is threatened by dynamics in which donors and transnational implementers still hold power in relationships. In an effort to address power dynamics, Green argues that organizations often implement participatory methods first introduced by Chambers (1994). Chambers characterized methods such as Participatory Rural Appraisal (PRA) and rapid rural appraisal (RRA) as more “elicited than extracted by outsiders.” In groundbreaking research that launched participation in development practice, Chambers argued that “[d] ominant behavior by outsiders may explain why it has taken until the 1990s for the analytical capabilities of local people to be better recognized and for PRA to emerge, grow and spread” (1994, p. 953). Green, however, found that like many practices of development, PRA is at risk of becoming just another technical practice employed by development organizations that “checks a box” related to local input. In 2017, Chambers published a new book that reflects on some of the critiques of PRA (Chambers, 2017) The intent of PRA, for example, was not to provide ethical cover for organizations to simply implement the plans they would like while asking a few questions of local stakeholders. Rather, the original intention was designed to move from “outsiders” owning, analyzing, and using information to “insiders” in the development process (Chambers, 1994). According to Green, Chambers, and others, when participants outside of development orthodoxy are driving activity, there may be new ways of thinking and practice that emerge. These ways of thinking may challenge the efficiency of externally driven projects with specific timelines and deliverables but may also enhance the relevance of activities. Moreover, new ways of thinking may increase efficiency because locally constructed solutions to local problems can often be accomplished without the layers of bureaucracy that are often present in contemporary development activities.

Participation

51

A term most frequently used for locally driven development is “innovation.” The term itself often refers to newness or novelty of products or approaches to solve challenging global problems. Within development circles, there is a small irony to the use of the term innovation because the solutions that are often proposed by stakeholders have often been attempted and perfected over long periods of time but appear to be innovative because they may be new or unfamiliar to transnational actors. The following section introduces “innovation” as an approach to inclusive development.

Innovation Development that is both intended for and initiated by local actors is often characterized as “innovative” because it circumvents the bureaucracy and agendas of transnational development agencies. Gupta (2013) argues that innovation can promote inclusive development and can occur in spaces that transnational development has ignored, such as regions of the world (which may be ignored by transnational development projects), people (who are unaware or ineligible to experience benefits from larger projects), sectors, environmental conditions (adverse environmental conditions such as flooding, droughts, and so on may produce innovators who develop localized solutions), and skills (which can develop for localized needs). Gupta argues that small-scale, everyday solutions to development problems occur all the time but are often ignored by large corporations, governments, and development organizations. Kumar (2013) colloquially calls the intelligence used to create local innovations “local wisdom” (p. 108). Kumar and Gupta’s framing of innovation implies that small-scale innovators may not need larger agencies in order to facilitate development. Such an assertion turns top-down ideas of “inclusion” upside down by ignoring the need for larger agencies to integrate smaller organizations or so-called beneficiaries in their projects. Rather, the authors argue that development and innovation is occurring with or without transnational influence. However, Kumar and Gupta also argue that if large, well-resourced organizations are truly interested in development, they must be aware of the millions of micro-innovations that are occurring around the world. Easterly (2006) provides a specific example of this. He claims that local actors, who are more knowledgeable of particular development contexts, are more likely to be successful. He lauds the work of the aforementioned “seekers” who chip away at development problems in ways that make sense to local beneficiaries and other stakeholders. In Chapter 3 I first identified how Easterly (2006) derides global “planners” who patronizingly believe they can solve the problems of poverty through broad brush strokes like global proclamations and development plans with narrow indicators. An example of this is related to development planning and response to the HIV epidemic in Southern Africa. In White Man’s Burden, Easterly gives numerous examples of innovative organizations working in multiple ways that are practical and meaningful. One

52

Inclusive Development

example he shares is of HIVSA, an organization dedicated to addressing the HIV crisis in South Africa. Easterly reports that HIVSA does the little things that make a difference. It provides the drug nevirapine to block transmission of the HIV virus from mothers to newborns. Doctors give just one dose during labor, an intervention that is highly cost effective compared with other AIDS treatments. . . .1 Less tangibly, HIVSA provides support groups meeting in health clinics throughout Soweto to help HIV-positive mothers confront the stigma of HIV and their many other problems. (One hint of such problems: the signs all over the clinics announcing that no guns are allowed inside the clinics.)2 When mothers visit the clinics, they get a free meal and nutritional supplements. Mothers and HIVSA staff work in community gardens attached to each clinic to provide food. HIVSA are almost all from the Soweto community and are HIV-positive. (Easterly, 2006, pp. 262–263) Easterly’s story lacks any evaluative data to demonstrate whether mothers and other stakeholders believe such a program is helpful to them, but his example highlights how innovation matters in development and that holistic, relevant, and innovative programming is more likely to occur when programs are designed by persons who understand hyper-local conditions. In a review of literature on state-NGO interactions, Mcloughlin (2011) further expands on ideas of local innovation as an approach to making development more inclusive. She found that social reciprocity and participation among local actors may be a greater predictor of development outcomes than accountability and technical frames introduced by NGOs. At the same time, Mcloughlin contends that a degree of political and state-level accountability is needed to ensure an adequate policy environment for developmental success (however it is defined). Mcloughlin provides eight empirically examined case studies in her chapter “The Politics of What Works in Service Delivery” (2015) and suggests that localism, participation, and innovation are critical for inclusive development, and development solutions may not be dichotomously defined as either local or external. Mcloughlin’s system-level overview indicates that a variety of top-down and local-level innovative factors may be at work to predict the success or failure of any particular development agenda. Localized innovations and inclusive development activities may or may not be chronicled in mainstream development journals and reports, but Gupta, Kumar, and Mcloughlin highlight that innovative, inclusive development has great potential. Like all inclusive approaches, however, there is risk that the managerialism and institutionalism of large organizations can inhibit local innovation. For example, Zapp and Dahmen (2017) reviewed trends in practice related to education and development among the “big 5” development organizations in the field (the United Nations Education, Scientific, and Cultural Organization [UNESCO], the Organization for Economic Co-operation

Participation

53

and Development [OECD], the World Bank, the European Union [EU], the International Labor Organization [ILO]), and hundreds of smaller organizations working in the same sector. The institutionalization of norms, standards, and “best practices” became clear as the authors tracked goal statements over time. Ideas being diffused by the “core” organizations, with considerable scientific and public relations support, are being quickly diffused and taken up by smaller organizations, many in the Global South, as accepted practices. Zapp and Dahmen posit that such less well-resourced organizations are changing their course because of the scientific heft and influential power of the core organizations, thus diminishing innovation and inclusiveness in the development process. The authors conclude that [b]y distilling the state of the art, doing their own research, elaborating it in a condensed format and providing easy access, larger organizations dominate the field through their cognitive authority, i.e. their capacity and legitimacy to produce, diffuse and implement educational models. (Zapp & Dahmen, 2017, p. 512) The upside of such distillation is that the practices embraced by large organizations are often evidence-based and rely on carefully constructed studies of practice. The downside is that available evidence may not be applicable in every environment and may tamp down local innovation by smaller, less wellfunded organizations in favor of broader global agendas. In the previous section, “innovation” was reviewed as a potential opportunity for inclusive development. Authors framing it as such have pointed out the opportunities for greater inclusive development through bottom-up solution seeking. However, Zapp and Dahmen (2017) also warn that large organizations may hold great sway on the goals of smaller organizations. Participatory and innovation are two mechanisms that have been identified by scholars as ways of producing inclusive development. The third means of enhancing inclusion in development that has been embraced by large, economic growth-oriented organizations is “financial inclusion.” As a third form of participation in development, financial inclusion is reviewed in the following section.

Financial Inclusion Among the more popular uses of the word “inclusion” by adherents to capitalist economics is the term “financial inclusion.” Kaplinsky (2013) uses the term to describe the securing of capital by very poor individuals through the use of inexpensive products that can help to secure larger agricultural yields or offer services (such as motorbike taxi services). For other scholars and organizations, financial inclusion mainly focuses on access to formal financial systems (i.e., banks and microlending agencies). The approach has been embraced by the private sector and by large foundations tied to financial institutions and credit card companies. A main indicator of success in financial inclusion is

54

Inclusive Development

the increase in access to services to the previously “unbanked.” Success stories include Kenya’s M-Pesa (an electronic money transfer and lending platform that now has over 33 million users worldwide) (MEDICI, 2019) and Muhammad Yunus’s microlending to small-scale entrepreneurs in Bangladesh; these are two examples of ways that small amounts of capital have been made available to people who previously had no access. The spread of financial inclusion appeared so promising as a development indicator that the World Bank began publishing and measuring financial inclusion beginning in 2012. The 2017 version of the Bank’s Financial Inclusion Index (FINDEX) was partially financed by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and included results from surveys of 150,000 persons from around the world. Case study results reported promising changes. The FINDEX authors reported the ways in which digitization payments saved hours of transit and transaction time, how small-scale savings account creation led to increased levels of savings and financial security, and how 515 million more people opened savings accounts between the years 2014 to 2017. The results were promising, but the FINDEX also noted that gaps remained. For example, 1.7 billion people in the world were “unbanked” at the time of the report, and a gender gap remained, with 72% of men holding bank accounts worldwide but only 65% of women. The FINDEX report concluded that innovative programs to reach the world’s poorest populations along with digitization of banking services has provided greater access to financial services than ever before. According to these models, financial inclusion has promoted inclusive economic development. At the same time, inequalities remain. Asongu and Asongu (2018), for example, warned that banking penetration alone does not promote inclusive development. Rather, penetration combined with a strong regulatory environment may produce more confidence and use of financial services. In the rush to create more and wider-reaching services, private sector advocates of financial inclusion have often called for fewer regulations and more government funding for private financial services (Mader, 2018). Mader argues that this approach may be misguided as reduced regulations may create more exploitative terms and conditions for users. Moreover, using government funding for private sector infrastructure may reduce needed capital for other social protection programs. Mader’s critiques represent some of the tensions discussed in upcoming chapters of this book related to growth and redistribution. In an article of the journal Development and Change, Mader argues that financial inclusion has been embraced by lending agencies and private sector actors with large budgets to lobby and publicly communicate but lacks robust evidence to indicate that it is really doing anything to reduce poverty. Some of Mader’s critiques echo other development critics, who argue that private actors can go only so far in reaching the world’s most economically fragile populations because, at the end of the day, profit motives will outweigh all other aims. Mader’s arguments trace the celebration and eventual critique of microfinance in the field. In the 1990s, Muhammad Yunus started the Grameen Bank, which lent small amounts of money to poor women in Bangladesh on different

Participation

55

terms than standard banks in the country. The economics professor found that if he could lend small amounts of money with a short repayment schedule, that borrowers were far less likely to default and could use the micro-capital they were provided to start enterprises that would sustain their livelihoods. Yunus’s work won him a Nobel Prize and recognition for his bestselling book (1999), but he also began to face criticism when the terms of the loans (which often had interest rates of 30% or higher) were questioned. Mader noted that at this time major donors moved away from “microfinance” as a development initiative. As global public appetite for microlending began to wane, the term “financial inclusion” began to be used by large lenders, corporate foundations, and some governments. Although financial inclusion initiatives have been wildly successful in providing access to banking services to the previously unbanked, Mader asserts that financial inclusion is “not an alternative to microfinance, but its continuation and expansion” (2018, p. 466). As such, he warns that lobbies to governments to provide greater banking infrastructure may be missing the point. Mader acknowledged that such infrastructure may indeed support access to banking for more people, but without solid evidence that demonstrates that access to services alone is enough to make a dent in poverty, Mader suggests that government funding should be left to support government programs. He contends that private industries that seek to expand their service footprint – for their own profit – should be responsible for doing so without governmental underwriting. The debate between financial inclusion enthusiasts and their critics are foundational to conceptualizations of inclusive development. On the one side are mostly private sector actors and those with strong private sector connections who envision technology and widespread service delivery through private sector channels as the most efficient way to introduce formal financial services to some of the world’s most economically marginalized people. By such indicators, financial inclusion advocates have succeeded. Valid evidence suggests that more people in the world now have access to some means of banking (either through technological innovations or other microfinance schemes) than ever before. Critics, however, worry that amidst the enthusiasm of wider reach, there is little impact assessment being done on either the outcomes of increased banking services or the costs of financial inclusion to governments – which could be using funds for other development initiatives. Without such outcomes data and regulations to prevent high interest rates, increased debt-to-income ratios, and other ills that are present in areas that have long had full banking penetration, Mader (2018), Asongu and Asongu (2018), and others argue that financial inclusion and inclusive development are terms that should not be equated. The term financial inclusion, however, is also being used to describe activities that occur outside of any formal banking or money transfer programs. In a somewhat unexpected take on financial inclusion first described in previous chapters, Kaplinsky (2013) argued that it is China’s smaller market-share entrepreneurs who may be enhancing financial inclusion in Africa. Kaplinsky,

56

Inclusive Development

similar to Hickey and colleagues, argued that China’s large-scale extractive programs in Africa will likely have the same deleterious impact on the environment and economically fragile individuals as western projects. Kaplinsky argued, however, that a little-acknowledged group of entrepreneurs, primarily from China, are now providing low-cost yet low-quality consumer goods in Africa, from farm implements to motorbikes. The complexity of this inflow was examined by Kaplinsky in a straightforward manner. The products likely leave a heavy environmental toll at their site of manufacture and have a shorter lifespan than higher-quality products made in the west. However, products made under strict environmental and labor laws, argues Kaplinsky, are also expensive. Citing evidence of marginal farmers and entrepreneurs who have used Chinese products to gain a foothold in their own economies, Kaplinsky highlighted how low-cost products may be a source of development for persons with few economic resources. In this case, financial inclusion has little to do with banking or financial services but with products themselves that allow individuals to earn from their use. It us unknown how much governmental underwriting has supported the flow of inexpensive, poor-quality implements in Africa, but Kaplinsky argues that these have had an impact on financial inclusion, or the ability of larger numbers of individuals to participate in capitalist economic activity. Financial inclusion, in this section, was outlined as access to capital (financial or physical) for individuals who previously had no access. As a term that is associated with inclusive development, financial inclusion is most often associated with the extension of formal economic financial services. The term evolved from approaches to end poverty such as micro-finance and microlending that gained popularity from the late 1980s through the 2000s. The general principle behind financial inclusion is that if people have access to capital (whether it is an interest-bearing savings account, a loan, or even an implement that can be used to enhance earning), economic development is likely to occur. In this case, financial inclusion is a form of “participation” in global capitalism that is built on the hypothesis that greater access to services will create greater opportunities for individual economic gain.

Summary: Participation, Innovation, and Financial Inclusion “Participation,” in one sense, reflects a project-based and policy orientation toward development. Specifically, development policies have been largely constructed by major transnational development organizations and carried out by the organizations themselves, their contractors, or their grantees. In an effort to ensure that local voices are not lost in this process, these organizations have drawn upon processes developed by Chambers and others. PRA and RRA, for example, are well-tested methods for rapidly gathering feedback and perspectives from stakeholders in development programming. Green (2010) and others contend, however, that after 25 years these processes have become mechanized,

Participation

57

efficiency-driven, and may no longer facilitate the type of contentious dialogue that is needed to ensure that development projects are indeed inclusive. Mcloughlin (2015) suggests that a focus on reciprocity may be a more inclusive approach than prescribed participation routines. Participation may also take the form of local innovation. Scholars like Gupta (2013), Kumar (2013), and Easterly (2006) have all characterized innovation as a way of disrupting the technical and powerful narratives of the transnational organizations that drive development. An additional form of “participation” that is focused on everyday financial activity is “financial inclusion.” Financial inclusion is not a focus of development programming initiated by transnational or local organizations per se but a macro level approach to ensuring that all people have access to financial services. Ferguson (2015) observes that this approach is in complete alignment with neoliberal thinking. It is based on an economic philosophy that access to credit and banking will provide support to lift economically poor individuals out of poverty. At times, authors conflate the terms “financial inclusion” with “inclusive development,” implying that development is best measured in economic terms. The conflation of terms development and economic growth has been critiqued by authors highlighted in Chapter 3. Meanwhile Asongu and Asongu (2018) and Mader (2018) critique the conflation of terms like financial inclusion and inclusive development. In each of the examples presented earlier, I have outlined how scholars are beginning to conceptualize participation as a form of, or approach to, inclusive development. I alluded to some of the critiques of participation in each of the previous sections but will expand on them next in hopes of further elucidating how inclusive development, and in this case its relationship to participation, is a contested term.

Community Participation Whether through engagement in development programming or participation in broader economic services, critical development scholars have posited that participation may be a flawed process because of erroneous conceptualizations of who the stakeholders who are meant to participate really are. In many cases, Ferguson (2015) argues, development professionals and governments seek to gain participation from both individuals and communities. The earlier sections primarily focused on individual participation, but participation is also an inclusive development strategy at the community level. The discourse of participation and inclusive development outlined earlier focuses on an approach that values the contribution or engagement of both individuals and communities. According to Ferguson (2015), however, the concept of community is romanticized by western scholars and organizational representatives who envision a group of people within a geographic space who share a common vision of how life should be lived and how resources should be distributed. Ferguson critiques this fallacy by pointing out that human groupings are often replete

58

Inclusive Development

with disagreement and political tension, making the collection of “inputs” or advice from communities more challenging than imagined. Ferguson acknowledges that in many parts of the world, for example, extended families who share geographic space are still a social structure that can be depended upon to provide social stability and cohesion. However, he cautions against believing that members of communities always have similar interests to others or even care about others as much as previously assumed, thus making participation a potentially messy process. Dill (2009) highlights the paradoxes of community and the role of community-based organizations in development. Drawing upon data from a three-year study, Dill argued that formalized community organizations, frequently called community-based organizations (CBOs), have become a popular partner for participation efforts by transnational development organizations. By partnering with CBOs, Dill contends, transnational organizations often can satisfy critics who claim they do not consider local voices in development schemes. However, as noted earlier, communities are neither homogeneous nor rarely reach consensus. Rather, CBOs often come into existence and speak “for” persons within specific geographies if they are able to complete government registration forms, secure a post office box, develop a constitution, and pay government dues (Dill, 2009). Relying exclusively on CBOs as a vehicle for inclusive development, argues Dill, may have a contrary effect. Quoting Guijit and Shah (1998), Dill (2009) argues that [t]his much is clear: participation, a loose term to describe a wide variety of practices that aim for more inclusive development, does not automatically include those who were previously left out of such processes. It is only as inclusive as those who are driving the process choose it to be. (p. 717) Dill further argues that participation does not really have an agreed upon meeting, which allows transnational organizations to take shortcuts or become overly reliant on a small number of organizations. In the case of governments and large lenders, participation is often used as shorthand for unpaid community labor that allows for budgets on development projects to be stretched without contributing paying wages to participants. In many ways, argues Dill, participation is simply a mechanism for increasing the efficiency of development projects by funneling such participation through a small number of organizations, such as CBOs. Such funneling places efficiency over democratic tension, as a small number of representatives speak for broader communities. In some ways, CBOs set up a participation trap for transnational organizations. Multinational or national organizations and governments, for example, often desire to have local inputs and participation on projects but lack deep knowledge of local context and trusted local advisors. In the absence of these, CBOs fill the void if they are able to replicate the structures that organizations typically have in international development

Participation

59

spheres – leadership, a constitution, and some form of leverage for community contributions. The trap, according to Lange (2008), extends to CBOs themselves, who often operate as parallel structures to development, engaging on specific development issues, leveraging community contributions to projects, and accepting occasional yet unpredictable funding from transnational organizations when agendas align rather than leading local innovation. Mhamba and Titus (2001) also claim that participation models as they currently exist do not allow for CBOs, communities, or individuals to hold government or multinational officials accountable for development outcomes. Rarely in these relationships, argues Dill (2009), do either transnational organizations or CBOs engage in activities to hold governments accountable for the development outcomes that may be the responsibility of the state. Further, as CBOs seek to remain financially viable, they may take on development projects that do not align with their own wants and needs. Dill (2009) calls for a new approach to community engagement that looks beyond CBOs as de facto subcontractors and efficiency-building partners for projects. If citizens are to fulfill their envisaged roles in development, their participation will have to be organized through institutions that are locally legitimate and inclusive. Rather than perpetuate the notion that participatory development is only compatible with local entities that are both voluntary and nongovernmental, local government reforms, which are underway in Tanzania and have tremendous potential, should be encouraged and supported. (p. 739) The limitations of participation may also extend to population-based organizations. Mehrotra (2011), for example, examined “self-help” disabled person’s organizations (DPOs) and found that organizations often performed smallscale development activities but held little political power and were often not paid for their eforts. These self-help organizations, according to Chaudhry (2011), participate in a form of Foucauldian governmentality. The relative absence of the state allows groups to “participate” in development by either supporting the efciency of transnational development projects or by taking on tasks themselves which are often unpaid and may require local contributions of labor or funding. In these cases, the capacity for participation to induce inclusive development comes into question. Kendall et al. (2000) further found within-group discrimination among organizations aiming to speak for persons with disabilities. Beyond this discrimination, Kendall and colleagues observed a tendency by transnational organizations to more frequently include persons with milder disabilities than those with more complicated disability issues in projects because of time pressures and resource limitations. Inclusive development scholars and practitioners in transnational organizations would likely never wish to eliminate participation as part of the

60

Inclusive Development

development process, yet critical scholars indicate that the act of participation, as it is currently constructed, may be limited in two important ways. First, participation in the formal sense is often funneled into representative groups like CBOs. Dill and others contend, however, that CBOs may not fully represent the heterogeneity of communities and may omit perspectives for the purposes of efficiency or self-interest. Even if CBOs or other “self-help” organizations could claim fair representation of their constituencies, they are often relegated to a marginalized role in the development process. Such organizations are often positioned by transnational organizations as subcontractors. The precarious financial situations of CBOs and other groups may require them to engage, even if projects are not addressing the primary development issues that CBOs have identified for themselves. The previous section outlines how the concept of inclusive development is often associated with participation. The term participation outlined earlier typically refers to consultative activities, locally innovative activities, or access to services as ways of expanding the reach of development activities. Participation has long been considered a vehicle for improving the inclusiveness of education, but critics argue that it is also rife with problems that relate to the managerialism of participation methodologies, the power of large organizations to limit local innovation, and the limitations of greater access to financial services alone to address poverty and economic outcomes. As highlighted by Dill (2009), Ferguson (2015), and others, the limitations of participation may be examined through an individual or community lens.

Representation As a prelude to Chapter 9 of this book, I will now introduce an alternative viewpoint to participation as it is currently framed in the previous section. As noted in Chapter 3, Hickey and colleagues characterize development as a political process. In line with this framing, the authors (2015) note that inclusive development and participation are political exercises. Hickey et al. (2015) draw upon Leftwich’s work to describe inclusive development in political terms, in relation to the ownership, production, use, and distribution of resources for and by populations. The authors consider both physical and economic resources as well as ideas as a significant element of politics that requires examination for the degree to which such ideas emerge from diverse constituents (even within populations). The authors argue that how diverse ideas are utilized in development processes is an indicator of inclusiveness. In this regard, they present a cautionary tale about confusing incorporation with inclusion. Hickey and colleagues (2015) share examples of how purported participation under the terms of the class in power is said to be “inclusion” but actually just reinforces inequalities. It is now acknowledged that being included in dominant political, economic, and social orders can be disempowering for . . . groups . . . who become

Participation

61

incorporated on subordinate terms and may be denied the agency that can come from operating beyond the confines of hegemonic formations. (p. 6, emphasis mine) The authors go on to define inclusion as an act that has a sharper edge and is critical of societal attempts to provide tokenized and limited forms of “voice” to populations that historically have been marginalized. The authors note that simply creating a process for opinions is a social process but that inclusion (drawing here upon Gupta & Vegelin’s, 2016 terminology) is a relational process that requires critical assessment on power relations. The focus on equity and empowerment within the definition we adopt represents a relational understanding of how development unfolds (Mosse, 2010), one that avoids simplistic readings of inclusion and insists that sustainable and inclusive forms of development involve progressive changes to the power relations that underpin poverty and exclusion. (Hickey et al., 2015, p. 6) Thus, Hickey and colleagues (2015) and Gupta and Vegelin (2016) acknowledge that there is a need for examination of relationships through a lens of power. Gupta and Vegelin (2016) distinguish the difference between “social” inclusion and “relational” inclusion. Social inclusion focuses on ensuring that the broad-based goods of any society or development initiative can be experienced by all – what Mégret might call a universal approach. The latter takes a more critical approach that focuses on barriers to participation. Relational inclusion, according to the authors, relies on power mapping and aspects of resource redistribution similar to those discussed in Chapter 8. Hickey and colleagues (2015) frame “participation” as a weaker term than “representation” and suggest that the latter better represents the authors’ vision of inclusive development. Representation, in this critical sense, is a political project and not a gesture of kindness, charity, or welcoming into existing structures. Poverty, contend Hickey and colleagues, is as much about economics as it is about deprivation of status and powerlessness in any given society (see also Sen, 2010, for linkages to poverty, freedom, and development). In such a framing, inclusion focuses on addressing power differentials and social status marginalization. Representation is a gritty, contested terrain as it exposes inequalities across multiple domains. Hickey and colleagues note that representation can take diverse political forms, from quota systems for political representation to specific ministries dedicated to particular groups (e.g., Ministries of Gender). Hickey and colleagues (2015) note that when representation occurs at key moments of governmental formation, it is more likely to be successful than in a retrofitted approach that tries to seek representation after plans have already been drawn. For example, when new governmental structures include

62

Inclusive Development

ministerial structures or high-level representation by women, Indigenous populations, persons with disabilities, or ethnically minoritized individuals, issues of inclusion are more likely to be at the forefront of policy activity rather than as an afterthought. Inclusive and participatory governance also relates to international aid flows. Similar to Easterly’s critiques of planners, Hickey and colleagues challenge the centrality of aid as a function for development and traditional actors (such as the World Bank and others) that have focused more on disbursement than inclusive governance of programs or the governance of states themselves. The authors warn that similar processes have begun with the influx of Chinese funding in Africa. The Chinese overseas agenda to develop high-profile infrastructure projects reinforces patrimonialism and ignores any internal relations among powerful and marginalized actors in a country. In both traditional aid provided by bilateral or multilateral donors or more contemporary projectbased aid provided by the Chinese government, aid and subsequent development may miss their intended audiences if participation and representation are not core features of programming. The work of inclusion, then, gets done through a process of both buy-in from elites who continue to hold power and through bargaining and coalitionbuilding by those who represent particular, often less powerful constituencies. Such political messiness does not align well with either Chinese models of project-based development that is highly managerial in nature or post-World War II donor-driven aid that is susceptible to corruption through large influxes of funding finding its way through a limited number of gatekeepers in governments or transnational organizations. Participation, as defined in the first half of this chapter, may not create greater inclusion in these scenarios that are inherently unequal approaches to development (see Baud, 2016). Hickey and colleagues’ (2015) work acknowledges the deficits of participation and calls on scholars and practitioners to look beyond the scope of projects to broader political dimensions of political representation for the purpose of inclusive development. These themes, and the tensions between participation and representation, will be revisited in Chapter 9 of this book as one of three “movements” in inclusive development that may inform policy and practice.

Summary This chapter set out to provide an in initial conceptualization of inclusive development: participation. Scholars and practitioners have associated inclusive development with activities like rural appraisals, consultation sessions, community input meetings, acknowledgment of local innovation, and financial inclusion. Each of these participation approaches, however, has its critics and limitations. Critics of participation are not necessarily critiquing the idea of plural voices informing development process nor are they likely averse to the idea of people having access to services that they previously could not access. Participation as an indicator of inclusive development, however, is nuanced.

Participation

63

For example, in relation to community participation and consultation, simply entering “communities” and applying technical processes to gather opinions will likely have a limited impact. For example, Few et al. (2007) point out that some procedures collect such a narrow range of information that nothing from an original plan is likely to change as a result of consultations. Further, there is never a singular community voice anywhere in the world, and transnational organizations may create new biases by selecting a narrow range of representatives for “participation” activities. Slightly different critiques have been directed at financial inclusion. Access to banking services alone, argue critics, may not lift people out of poverty. Persistent gender inequalities exist, as does the same potential for exploitative terms that marked the microfinance movement. Critics argue that access is important but access alone may not constitute inclusive development. This chapter highlighted the first of several ways in which authors and organizations conceptualize “inclusive development.” In this sense, increasing the number of voices involved in development programming and financial services access was deemed as one way to enhance inclusion in the process through the broad-based conceptualization of participation. Like any approach to inclusion, however, experience highlights limitations. Several authors in this chapter highlighted the limitations of contemporary inclusive development models and highlighted that in order to become truly inclusive (and not just assimilative or incorporative to current agendas), participation needs to be thought of differently. Gupta and Vegelin (2016) call this type of engagement “relational inclusion,” while Mégret uses the word “plural” to describe the process, and Hickey and colleagues call for “representation” over “participation.” Finally, in reference to financial inclusion, Asongu and Asongu call for a political analysis of financial participation that goes beyond “counts” of people participation to careful analysis of how people may or may not benefit from services and opportunities available to them. The debate on participation highlights an important tension in relation to use of the words “inclusive development.” These words can easily be captured by any transnational organization, profit-seeking organizations, or government seeking public approval for their programs. Words like “inclusive development” and “participation” sound nice and allow for organizations to communicate a sense of care and commitment to communities. Critical scholars who use the word “inclusion,” however, characterize the process as political, with strategies and development professionals who are cognizant of diverse agendas and a process that transparently acknowledges and challenges power differences among stakeholders. In this way, inclusive development butts up against carefully packaged development agendas and requires them to reconsider both how the work is being done and how “participation” is understood. Participation, the first characteristic of “inclusive development” that appears in this book, provides a good example of how a relatively benign term can insight debate, which exposes limitations. As noted throughout this chapter, participation seems on the surface to be a helpful way to promote inclusion in

64

Inclusive Development

development. Critics argue, however, that the term has been used as a way to garner social acceptability while reproducing questionable aid and financial practices. Thus, participation itself is contested terrain in relation to how inclusive it really is. The next three chapters outline three additional, and equally contested, understandings of inclusive development. Chapter 6 provides a review of “social capital” as it is envisioned in relation to inclusive development. The pattern of the chapter follows a similar one to this chapter. Chapter 6 highlights how scholars and organizations have framed how social capital can be used to describe the process of inclusive development. Social capital, or the forming of networks for collective gain, is an inclusive development concept that has both been celebrated as an “answer” to exclusion and critiqued for its capacity to reproduce inequalities. A review of recent literature in the chapter, however, indicates that the theoretical typology of social capital may be more complex than currently acknowledged by development organizations. Social capital is then revisited in Chapter 9 (along with participation) as one of three “movements” that are characterized in contemporary inclusive development research.

Notes 1. The ellipses represent a sentence from Easterly that praised HIVSA for providing formula for HIV positive mothers for breastfeeding. This practice is disputed by organizations such as the World Health Organization and US Centers for Disease Control. My own level of expertise on the topic is not well enough developed to make a claim one way or another; therefore, the main points representing “localism” were left in while avoiding an implicit endorsement of a practice around which there is scientific disagreement. See www.cdc.gov/breastfeeding/breastfeeding-specialcircumstances/maternal-or-infant-illnesses/hiv.html and www.who.int/bulletin/ volumes/88/1/10-030110/en/. 2. Signs such as these can also be found at clinics throughout my hometown in the US and likely any country with lenient gun policies.

6

Social Capital as an Approach to Inclusive Development

The journey through conceptualizations of development in this book has thus far highlighted its history and alternative definitions to economic and growthfocused models. In Chapter 5 I began to present an additional term that is being used with increased frequency in the field – inclusive development. Inclusive development itself has varying definitions but is often used in association with improving the delivery of development no matter what the definition. Such was the example in Chapter 5. Numerous authors cited earlier described inclusiveness as that which improved participation of larger numbers of stakeholders in development. Participation, however, has its critics. At the end of the last chapter I highlighted how some scholars have begun to critique the process of inclusion as managerial, lacking any true commitment to power sharing, and often superficial. The last chapter closed with a more recent understanding of inclusive development and participation: a shift to representation. This shift will be revisited in Chapter 9 as part of a bourgeoning rethinking of how inclusive development is conceptualized. This chapter follows a similar pattern that is intended to set up the arguments I make in Chapters 9 and 10. In this chapter I chronicle how social capital has been explained as a way to promote inclusive development, then highlight critiques of how social capital is studied and promoted as a tool for inclusive development. First, however, I introduce the concept of social capital as it relates to development.

Human Capital and Social Capital Economic understandings of “development” have typically placed high emphasis on the concept of human capital. Langelett (2002) provides numerous examples of the way in which increases in education and skill predict increases in individual income and national gross domestic production. In capitalist societies, labor is exchanged for payment, and supply and demand factors often dictate the value of such labor. Labor that is scarcer and more specialized is generally more in demand, so it draws a higher premium. The skills and abilities that individuals accumulate through formal and informal education is often

66

Inclusive Development

called human capital. Statistically, the higher the level of education that one completes (as measured by primary, secondary, and tertiary), the more income one can expect over the course of a lifetime (Driskill et al., 2009). The concept of human capital is fairly straightforward but ignores social issues such as access to education, equality of opportunities, geographic disparities, and the role of social networks in creating social mobility and development. Although strong correlations exist between level of education and the capacity to command higher wages worldwide, social theorists have also acknowledged that education alone does not always ensure a level of development. Moreover, human relationships also play a role in the ability of people to achieve social status and power within their communities. Bourdieu and Passeron (1977), for example, studied French elites and how they ascend to positions of greater power and influence through the leveraging of networks. Bourdieu theorized that education could overcome deficiencies of social capital but that the social structure of relationships often predicted economic development for individuals and is unevenly distributed in society. Coleman (1988) similarly used the term “social capital” to describe benefits from social networks but through a more instrumental economic lens. Whereas Bourdieu examined the individual impact of social capital and its capacity to reproduce inequalities in society, Coleman viewed social capital as a public good that could be accessed to promote economic development but often was not. Coleman’s work characterized an association between humans that had some degree of mutual benefit at all levels of economic spectra but still recognized disparities in this type of capital. Putnam (1994), a theorist frequently cited in development literature, posited that social capital was a civic enterprise that enhanced societies. He defined social capital as “features of social organization, such as networks, norms, and trust, that facilitate coordination and cooperation for mutual benefit. Social capital enhances the benefits of investment in physical and human capital” (pp. 6–7). The distinction between how Bourdieu, Coleman, and Putnam characterize social capital is important and noteworthy for development studies as well as studies of inclusive development. Whether a tool for social class reproduction (Bourdieu), a public good to be accessed by individuals (Coleman), or an enhancement of civic forms of capital for the public good (Putnam), social capital has become a theoretical and practical focus of development scholars and practitioners. Levien (2015) explained this movement. During the 1990s, powerful development institutions like the World Bank came to see the social networks and norms of the rural poor in developing countries as “assets” to be tapped for poverty alleviation. Defined by Putnam (1995) as “features of social organization such as networks, norms and social trust that facilitate coordination and cooperation for mutual benefit” (p. 67), social capital was proclaimed the “missing link” in development (Grootaert, 2001). (p. 77)

Social Capital

67

Dinda (2011), following this trend, examined global economic databases to explore whether economic development is predicted by policy reforms that promote social capital among economically marginalized individuals. Dinda (2011) defined social capital as a broad term containing the social norms and networks that generate shared understandings, trust and reciprocity, which underpin co-operation and collective action for mutual benefits, and creates the base for economic prosperity. Social capital refers to the norms and networks that enable collective action which creates the base for inclusive growth and sustainable development. (p. 3) Dinda’s proposition was based on social and economic conditions in India’s poorest states, where economically poor families often had little social contact or opportunities beyond their own families. He suggested that food distribution programs may improve human capital through enhanced nutrition but may also provide an opportunity for socialization, sharing of experiences, and trustbuilding between families who participate. Dinda further theorized that inclusive schooling and curriculum reform would also stimulate social connections in relation to economic opportunity for the poorest households in India and beyond. His hypothesis about education was based on evidence that trust of others improves with every year of schooling but such trust decreases as the gap between rich and poor increases in societies. Because trust of others is an important element of social capital, Dinda focused his work on the trust of others and social systems. According to the author, both trust of others and social networks increase as aggregate human capital increases, but decrease is inequalities grow. The human capital–social capital connection identified by Dinda has implications for the study of social capital and its determinants as a mechanism for inclusive development. In a book chapter about volunteer work and health outcomes, for example, Bonham (2018) outlines ways in which she perceived social capital could facilitate inclusive development. Bonham argues that scholars frequently either cite the instrumental (Bourdieu, Coleman) or civic aspects (Putnam) of social capital building as the objective of their work. Instead, Bonham contends that both instrumental and civic outcomes should be the objective of social capitalfocused development agendas. In her overview of social programs for seniors and persons with intellectual disabilities, Bonham found that the social capital developed through the interactions of seniors, persons with disabilities, and volunteers had an impact on educational aspirations of program participants, reductions and anti-social behaviors, and a sense of wellbeing (related to reduced isolation). In this case, the “bridging” aspect of three distinct population groups cohering socially around shared activities was believed to be the catalyst for impact. “Bridging” is a term used by Putnam (1994) to describe when groups with greater

68

Inclusive Development

power cohere to groups with lesser power for mutual gain. In this case, persons with intellectual disabilities and seniors, as well as community volunteers, were said to experience psychological and social benefits from the networks created through organizational programming. Bonham (2018) argued that the social connections between marginalized individuals (seniors and persons with intellectual disabilities) and volunteers created opportunities for social capital development. It was unclear, however, if the connections between seniors and persons with disabilities with volunteers led to any development outcomes such as improved health, choice-making, or economic change for these individuals. In the case of Bonham’s study, the development outcomes of social capital appeared to be experienced most by the volunteers themselves, who were able to make linkages with one another. As Dinda (2011) pointed out, social trust and connections between people of different socioeconomic statuses breaks down as inequalities grow, which is the foundation for the critiques of social capital that I will highlight in the following section. Indeed, as development scholars and organizations began to see the value of social capital in producing inclusive development, the concept was quickly embraced. As the section that follows describes, however, an uncritical approach to the study of social capital may produce scenarios where inclusiveness in development is inhibited as inequalities and distance grow between beneficiaries.

Critiques of Social Capital Social capital as a concept seems like an intuitive way to increase inclusion in development. Conceptually, one can imagine that if development initiatives are leaving people out, creating networks may be a way of improving participation or developing networks to enhance outcomes. Recent evidence shows, however, that social networks often benefit some more than others and can reproduce inequalities and exclusion. Development scholars Hickey and colleagues (2015) and Levien (2015), for example, warn that social capital itself is not inherently neutral, primarily because social networking typically benefits those who already hold power within societies (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977). Within development initiatives facilitated by international, governmental, or nongovernmental organizations, elites who participate or facilitate programs often hold a great deal of social capital that allows them to both access and influence the flow of resources in their direction. Hickey and colleagues (2015) argued that for this reason networks cannot be relied upon to be inclusive without strict regulation, as elites will often work within networks toward their own gain. The authors stated that: elites will only agree to the establishment and functioning of institutions, including and perhaps particularly around the role of law if such institutions ensure the distribution of resources and status in their direction. To the extent that rule of law can act as a constraint to elite behavior, then

Social Capital

69

elites may have good reasons to redistribute the establishment of the rule of law and particularly its progressive role out beyond the limits of the initial elite bargain (cf. North et al., 2009). (p. 6) The “elite bargain” described by Hickey and colleagues describes a process whereby elite members of a society or those with the greatest access to the resources of development initiatives may only allow activities that will help them maintain their status. The risk of socially connected elites reproducing exclusion and inequalities within the development industry is acknowledged by scholars and practitioners alike. Initiatives of disability-inclusive development, for example, may be susceptible to “elite capture” (McClain-Nhlapo, personal communication, 2019). In this context, people with disabilities are a diverse and economically stratified group. Development initiatives aimed at this population, similar to initiatives aimed at being “participatory” for other groups, may be dictated by a small group of socially elite individuals who at once experience marginalization in their own society because of discrimination but at the same time may hold the power to move resources of development initiatives in exclusionary directions. Hickey and colleagues (2015) acknowledge that initiatives, regulations, and limitations on elites are often negotiated and politically driven by those who have the most social capital in society rather than those who have the least. For this reason, development organizations theorize that individuals who are economically poor and marginalized will benefit from broad-based development if they develop social capital. However, recent examples in development literature demonstrate that a more critical approach to the study of social capital may be warranted. Levien (2015), for example, explains this by decoupling theorizations of social capital from one another. He argues that the components of social capital – networks, norms, and trust – should not be conflated and should be treated as separate variables in the study of development, especially in times when economic development is rapidly occurring. Levien theoretically explains why networks, norms, and trust should be decoupled by comparing Putnam’s (1995) social adhering for a broader public good with Bourdieu’s concept of social capital and networks, which unevenly bestow advantages upon those who already hold power. Networks, Levien argues, can be used to further stratify society and during periods of economic growth may act as an inhibitor to inclusive development. Levien’s (2015) ethnographic study of an economic empowerment zone in India revealed that, as Bourdieu theorized, social capital may reinforce an unequal distribution of social power. Levien (2015) went on to define individual social capital (as opposed to Putnam’s collective social capital) as: Individuals within any social unit are endowed with social networks of unequal quality and quantity, which are rooted in class inequalities

70

Inclusive Development (economic and cultural capital). These networks are not necessarily coterminous with any social unit, and have no necessary relationship with the norms or levels of trust within it. In fact, individuals more often than not use their networks for individual gain (converting it into other forms of capital) rather than collective good. This use and conversion of social capital can often conflict with norms and undermine trust, creating conflict and symbolic struggle rather than collective action. This is particularly likely to occur in rapidly changing economic contexts. (p. 80)

Levien’s thesis drew heavily from previous work by Krishna (2002), who found that social connections predicted development outcomes only when there were individuals who could “activate” networks and trust “to produce a flow of benefits” (Krishna, 2002, in Levien, 2015). Levien concluded that “if development is taken to mean a broad-based and inclusive improvement in economic and social well-being, particularly for the poor (Sen, 2000), then social capital may be one of the most significant obstacles to its realization” (p. 80). Ethnographic evidence from rural India suggests that it is the process of economic development itself that may erode trust and norms that may have collectively held communities together, because fresh opportunity for economic development triggered a leveraging of “practical groups” (see Bourdieu, 1990) for the purpose of self-serving economic gain. As might be expected in this study, it was the Dalits and Scheduled Caste members of Levien’s research site who fared the worst from these relationships. Sociological evidence suggests that Bourdieusian network leveraging for private gain may be present across multiple sites and may be an unintended outcome of development programs aimed at enhancing social connections. Sally Shortall’s research (2004, 2008), for example, mainly focuses on European Union-initiated rural development schemes in Northern Ireland (prior to the United Kingdom’s departure from the European Union).1 Shortall characterizes the development of social capital for rural individuals as a hope for inclusive development but one that often falls short of its promise. Among Shortall’s key arguments is one presented in various ways in previous chapters. Assumptions about the social cohesion of persons within geographies and how that cohesion can be used to support development are often inaccurate. Shortall argues that “the social capital debate gives renewed impetus to a romantic naïve view of rural communities, where civic harmony and inclusion triumphs and there is little room for power struggles, exclusionary tactics by privileged groups, or ideological conflicts” (2004, p. 110). Shortall (2008) also argues that social capital may be an ineffective mechanism for creating inclusive development because the term is misunderstood and often conflated with other forms of social inclusion. Shortall specifically critiques Putnam’s work on social capital by troubling Putnam’s conceptualization that civic engagement leads to trust, cooperation, and reciprocity. Shortall argues that civic engagement may neither lead to social capital nor

Social Capital

71

civic engagement be conflated with social capital. Her critique of the concept of social capital is critical, drawing upon Anderson and Bell’s (2003) concerns that “everything in social life of significance can be reduced to the rational and economic” (p. 240). These critiques preceded Levien’s (2015) findings, demonstrating a repeating theme across a decade of work. Shortall (2008) later draws upon the work of Anderson and Bell (2003) to claim that social exclusion may be the result of social capital. Shortall explains that the challenge with focusing on social capital as a means for inclusive development is that “development” (as described in previous chapters) may mean different things to different people. For example, Shortall’s research indicates that “groups who undertake economic development may be different from those that undertake social and civic development” (2004, p. 211). In her ethnographic studies of rural development work, government development programming did not address such distinctions. The structure most government initiatives and most EU initiatives have worked at the local level is through a community development model, where, if you resource the local community development group it makes a presumption that reaches all of the people in that locality. But if you do an analysis of who belongs to local community development groups, its typically big farmers, teachers, fairly well-educated articulate people who work unpaid in the home. And it’s not the people who have no running water in their houses or who left school at sixteen or had literacy and numeracy problems. (Shortall, research participant, 2004, p. 117) Shortall (2004) continued her critique by stating that development programs aimed at enhancing social capital of participants were “not representing women requires an analysis of how rural development policies are constructed, who is in control, and what type of gender ideology they adopt” (2004, p. 119).

Social Capital and Inclusive Development Inclusive development presents, in a way, a ray of hope. The hope often articulated by scholars and practitioners is that inclusive development will change or improve the way that development has always been done – whether through reexamining what is the goal of development itself or extending the material and social benefits that development can provide to a wider range of people. Social capital has been thought of as a way of improving the inclusiveness of development. However, when development organizations and governments have attempted to include network-building as part of a broad inclusive approach, results have not always been inclusive. Annen’s (2001) review of social capital among business communities in India and Pakistan, for example, sheds some light on why social capital may act as either a lever for greater inclusion or promote further exclusion. Annen

72

Inclusive Development

frames social capital as either “inclusive” or “exclusive” in his 2001 contribution to the Journal of Institutional and Theoretical Economics but describes exclusive social capital as that which creates barriers for outsiders to entering networks. Whether the cost is time in getting to know members, fee payment, gifts, or bribes, Annan notes that networks with high barriers may not produce economic benefits to the wider population as insiders derive “rents” from outsiders attempting to enter without producing any real new economic activity. According to the author, extreme examples of such networks are mafia ties in southern Italy and caste-segregated industries in India. On the other hand, Annen draws upon the work of Navdi (1999) and cooperative social capital conceptualizations of Putnam (1993a) to highlight an inclusive social capital-enhanced industrial network in Pakistan. According to Navdi (1999) and Annen (2001), a surgical instrument production cluster in Sialkot, Pakistan, has been so successful because the social network of producers, service providers, and vendors all rely on three central governance principles: kinship (biraderi), family, and localness. Biraderi specifically is subject to governance by a panchayat (i.e., council of elders). Kinship, in this case, is not predetermined by family ties but by collective decision-making, dispute resolution, and distribution of common resources. Family and local ties but with regulations, in this case, reinforce social belongingness. Annen’s work does not provide a gendered analysis of inclusion and exclusion the way Shortall’s does, and the contexts of research are radically different. However, the concept of governance in relation to exclusionary or inclusionary social capital is noteworthy. In Shortall’s case, local government officials facilitated social capital among those whom they deemed as members of a “community,” excluding those who were not part of formal business communities (and, in this case, not male). In Annen’s work, the social network was the business community itself. It is unknown how those on the social margins of Sialkot, Pakistan, benefitted from this network, but the network itself appeared more egalitarian and carefully governed than other examples Annen described. (The most striking alternative was a caste-ruled vertical social network of footwear producers in India.) The work of Annen and Shortall shows that social capital is not a neutral concept and is not an automatic lever for improving inclusivity. Levien (2015) explained the need to move away from uncritical to critical assessment of social capital as a potential mechanism for improving inclusiveness of development by stating: [d]uring the 1990s, powerful development institutions like the World Bank came to see the social networks and norms of the rural poor in developing countries as “assets” to be tapped for poverty alleviation. Defined by Putnam (1995) as features of “social organization such as networks, norms and social trust that facilitate coordination and cooperation for mutual benefit” (p. 67), social capital was proclaimed the “missing link” in development (Grootaert, 2001). (p. 77)

Social Capital

73

Dinda’s research supported such claims and such hope by linking social connections, education, and mobility. Critical sociological, anthropological, and economic studies, however, reveal that social capital may not be as rosy as Putnam had characterized in relation to development contexts. Rather, social capital, as originally characterized by Bourdieu, may be a more accurate theoretical explanation of how social capital, when understood as politically neutral, may further inequalities in society or reinforce privilege among those who already hold power. De Souza Briggs (1998) characterized this type of social capital as “social leverage,” or the use of social connections to get ahead. Levien’s (2015) World Development article further urged development scholars to be accurate and precise when describing social capital. He cautioned against the conflation of conceptualizations of social capital by separating the aforementioned social capital arrangements for personal (Bourdieu) and collective (Putnam) purposes. Such a separation has significant implications for scholars and practitioners interested in inclusive development. Similar to arguments made by Hickey and colleagues (2015) about the difference between “participation” and “representation,” similar distinctions will be necessary when social capital is claimed as an element of inclusive development. Shortall (2004, 2008), Levien (2015), and Annen (2001) all demonstrated empirical gaps related to the theory that social capital can promote inclusive development. Instead of a conflated version of social capital that can provide a “missing link” (Levien, 2015) to inclusive development, a more productive approach may be to precisely identify the type of social capital that is intended to produce inclusion. Bourdieusian social capital, for example, might promote inclusive development if individuals on the so-called margins of society collectively act for the upliftment of one another in the midst of a population that holds broader privilege. An example of this is Yosso’s (2005 conceptualization of “community and cultural capital” that is leveraged by low-income higher education students in the United States However, if social capital is leveraged by privileged stakeholders and supported by development agencies that are unaware of social inequalities in a particular environment, Bourdieusian social capital will serve only to replicate inequality. Similarly, Colemanian social capital can be used as a theoretical strategy to promote greater inclusion, quality of educators to produce human capital, and community connections, for example, for individuals with low levels of human capital. If, however, social and educational connections are only accessible to those who already hold privilege, social capital will not reduce income and educational gaps. Finally, if social capital in the sense that Putnam elucidated (focused on social contracts and interdependence) can be used to “bridge” individuals who were previously disconnected and may hold different horizontal positions in society, it can then promote inclusive development. However, social connections and contracts that “bond” already connected individuals may allow them to replicate injustices and inequalities.

74

Inclusive Development

Summary In the previous two chapters, two social dimensions of inclusive development were reviewed: participation and social capital. Both dimensions have been subjects to claims that they can enhance inclusiveness in development, yet both have equally been subjects to critiques and evidence that demonstrate the opposite. In the case of participation, authors cautioned their readers to look critically at the processes of participation to ensure that they did not reproduce inequalities and exclusion. Similarly, social capital is an element that should not be treated as an automatic enhancement for inclusion. However, the dimensions of social capital (linkages, contacts, networks, and so on) are often examined uncritically. Development implementers may determine that any contact and network-building among participants is useful, but as Shortall, Levien, and others have demonstrated, such activities may actually exacerbate inequalities among participants, further marginalizing some in the process. An important distinction for organizations, scholars, and practitioners interested in inclusive development appears to relate to whether or not social capital is approached in a theoretically and practically similar way to the way in which Bourdieu outlined the concept decades ago. In such cases, social networks were cultivated for personal gain by those who already held power. Networks served as maintenance and opportunities for further ascendancy into already vertical societies for those who could cultivate them. Annen (2001) and Shortall (2004, 2008) both identified the shortcomings of what was supposed to be networks that “bridged” (see Putnam, 1995) groups who previously have been excluded to those who held power or “bonded” (Putnam, 1995) individuals together to create collective or shared benefits. In both cases, and in Levien’s (2015) ethnographic work, this did not occur. Such conclusions are contrary to the conclusions drawn by Dinda (2001) and Bonham (2018). Dinda did not separate collective or individual network development at all, while Bonham (2018) theorized that both “instrumental” and “civic” outcomes should be simultaneously considered as vehicles for promoting inclusion. In relation to inclusive development, evidence is mixed. To this end, facilitation and regulation may be needed if social capital is considered as part of an inclusive development initiative. At the very least, policymakers and practitioners should be wary of the possible negative side effects of social capital as an inclusive development initiative and would need to develop a critical orientation toward their own work. Social capital development may improve inclusiveness of development initiatives but may just as likely reproduce existing inequalities. In order to promote economic and social inclusion of individuals who face daily marginalization or discrimination, additional structures, limitations, and social mapping may be needed in order to ensure intended benefits are derived by intended stakeholders. Governments and organizations that believe that social capital can enhance inclusion must be aware of whom they invite to networking opportunities, how new networks may reinforce inequalities, and the reality that trusting and

Social Capital

75

supportive relationships (even strategic ones) take time to develop and are likely best developed organically. It is clear from the literature that isolation can have a reproductive effect on exclusion. Social capital can be an antidote to isolation and promote inclusion. However, a productive way to consider social capital as an element of inclusive development is for external agencies or development leaders to examine the barriers to meaningful relationship-building experienced by those who are economically and socially isolated. Such barrier removal may mean more carefully considering who is invited to networking opportunities or providing social structures to allow people to bond around self-defined development objectives; careful scrutiny of previous claims about social capital are warranted. This “movement” from an uncritical to a critical examination of social capital as an element of inclusive development is explored in further detail in Chapter 9. In conclusion, the relationship between social networks, participation, and economic outcomes in development is not always “inclusive.” Literature in both participation and social capital reveals that, when uncritically examined, participatory initiatives and social network development may reinforce exclusion. Movements toward representation and a more critical assessment of social capital are recent trends in inclusive development that are noteworthy and will be reviewed again in upcoming chapters. Chapter 7 explores a third development phenomenon that is frequently claimed to be “inclusive.” Social protection has long been claimed to be a way to ensure that even society’s most economically marginalized individuals receive some form of assistance. Development organizations and governments around the world are increasingly turning to social protection as a mechanism for ensuring a base level of engagement or economic stability for people living on the far edges of market-based economies. Social protections are designed to set a floor for poverty. Often delivered government programs, but sometimes supported by nongovernmental organizations or multinational organizations, social protections are intended to provide minimal financial security to a society’s most vulnerable populations. Social protections, however, can also come in the form of policy and human rights protections that are equally designed to ensure a minimal level of legal or social protection for vulnerable populations. The following chapter outlines how social protections are framed as “inclusive development.”

Note 1. At the time this book was written, the “Northern Ireland” question in relation to Brexit was still unresolved.

7

Social Protection as an Approach to Inclusive Development

In the last two chapters, two strategies that have been used synonymously with the term inclusive development have been reviewed. The first was participation and the second social capital. A third trend that has been persistent in the literature and in practice in relation to the term inclusive development is social protection. Social protection can be understood as all public and private initiatives that provide income or consumption transfers to the poor, protect the vulnerable against livelihood risks and enhance the social status and rights of the marginalised; with the overall objective of reducing the economic and social vulnerability of poor, vulnerable and marginalised groups. (Devereux & Sabates-Wheeler, 2004, p. i) Over the past decade, an increasing focus on protective policies for societies’ most marginalized populations have emerged in development organizations and governments, and frequently these interventions are considered inclusive development. Even traditionally market-driven organizations have recognized the need for protection of societies’ most vulnerable people. The Commission on Growth (2008) – a market-friendly World Bank entity – for example, has called for minimal social protections in free-market economies. The commission did so by outlining the economic benefit of protections of peoples’ education, employment, and access to healthcare. Gupta and Vegelin (2016) examined the political dimensions of social protections, calling for policies that would protect individuals who are poor from resource grabs by government and corporate entities. Gumede (2018), on the other hand, examines how inclusiveness is conceptualized in the form of policy frameworks that guarantee a minimum level of wellbeing through social insurance, unemployment insurance, pensions, and health provision for all, three hallmarks of South Africa’s contemporary social protection schemes, and will be described in detail in the next chapter (Ferguson, 2015). Throughout the remainder of this chapter, examples of social protections are provided to demonstrate the centrality of such protections to the concept of inclusive development.

Social Protection

77

Social protection strategies are used by both international development organizations and domestic governments to target specific populations for development outcomes. Ferguson (2015) historicized where the term “social” as a construct began, in social welfare states of the Global North. At the same time, Ferguson acknowledged that informal means of social protection have been part of societies for millennia, although perhaps not called as such. As in many cases, phenomena exist long before they are named (Kendi, 2019). “Social” in relation to social development, however, has a specific history. Citing Foucault (2003) and Rose (1999) and others, Ferguson traces the history of nonconforming individuals in societies of the Global North. Pauper schools, prisons, and asylums were all, prior to the 19th century, moralistic endeavors. Nonsecular states approached human diversity, in many ways, as a project of moral cleansing. Mental illness, poverty, and petty crime were all believed to be caused by moral lapses that could be addressed through segregation and religious training. As rationality and secularism emerged in Europe, economic poverty, disadvantage, and human difference began to be reframed as “social” problems. Statistical formulas were able to predict the propensity of such problems and provide provisions for them. A new model emerged that provided economic resources aimed at addressing social issues. Ferguson (2015) pointed out that this model focused on “compensation, not justice” (p. 67). Such compensation fit tidily into a broader economic ethos that allowed for free market economics to carry forward while addressing particular components that may slow growth, which eventually evolved into social protection programs and its framing as inclusive development. Ferguson pointed to examples of providing schooling for poor children – not because it was good for them but because these children would need to find their way in society at some point. Similarly, he shared examples of unemployment insurance that was designed to keep macroeconomic wheels turning and to combat the diminished buying power of unemployed workers. Welfare states, through social support programs, reoriented history from focusing on gifts or spiritual reform (in the form of religious charity) to technical interventions designed to create social solidarity through technical solutions. These original ideas have been taken up in development contexts. Today social protection is a way of providing policy for, or small grants to, people who are deemed most in need. Social protections, often hailed as an approach to inclusive development, may take either a technicist approach, like those outlined in the early chapters of this book, a moralistic approach (as outlined previously), or some combination of these. For example, social protection programs introduced by international organizations or governments may use sophisticated ways of identifying societies’ most vulnerable people in order to provide targeted grants (a technical approach) but may also require certain conditions in order to receive funds (a moral approach to only provide funds to “deserving” recipients who follow guidelines set out by funders).

78

Inclusive Development

Social protection, often described as a form of inclusive development, will be described in the following section. How social protection is understood by scholars follows similar patterns to the understandings of inclusive development described in the previous two chapters. Social protections have become very popular in the past two decades and are rationalized by scholars and organizations for a variety of reasons. For example, some organizations and scholars advocate for social protections because they increase the capacity of markets to function as well as those who advocate for populations who have been marginalized by these same markets, and, with some inputs, can contribute to macroeconomic development. Other scholars consider social protections as an element of human rights, and still others frame social protection as an approach to sustainability and environmental protection. In the following section, social protection as a mechanism of inclusive development is reviewed. A final section on the tensions between conditional and unconditional delivery of social protection grants is also included, which provides a starting point for the discussions in Chapter 8.

Social Protection and Markets As outlined in the previous sections, social protection as a means of inclusive development is often initiated by governments or international aid organizations because economic markets inevitably marginalize certain groups. Himmelstein and colleagues (2016), for example, examined how small-scale farmers are able to access the infrastructure of rural markets to provide their livelihood. The authors found that farmers who seek to grow or raise animals sustainably often fall prey to unstable or unfriendly market environments. As a remedy for uncertain market conditions, the authors call for greater access to loans, incentives, and subsidized transportation networks as a way of supporting smallscale farmers. In the case of these farmers, Himmelstein and colleagues call for greater protections in the form of rural infrastructure to support smaller, rural landholders and non-landholders whose lives depend on the sale of crops or livestock as a form of social protection. The World Bank’s Commission on Growth (2008) also argues for social protection for those who are marginalized within economic systems. The commission, however, outlines a different approach than the one recommended by Himmelstein et al. (2016). The commission argues that the individual must be the unit of analysis for social protections. Protecting farmers because they are farmers, according to how social protections are framed, does not support full and robust functioning of markets. Rather, the commission argues that governments should be guided by two principles. First, they should try, as far as possible, to protect people, not jobs. Unemployment insurance, retraining, and uninterrupted access to health care are all ways to cushion the blows of the market, without shutting it down. (World Bank’s Commission on Growth, 2008, p. 44)

Social Protection

79

It is not clear if the jobs to which the Commission on Growth is referring are manufacturing and service positions in urban communities or another vision of paid work in a formal economy. It is unclear how rural farmers might benefit from the particular types of social protections outlined earlier. In general, the social protection orientation of the Commission on Growth is to support the transition of a person to work. Acknowledging that some work environments are exploitative, the commission also calls for “[s]ome rules and institutions [to] exist to safeguard the rights of labor, defending workers against exploitation, abuse, underage employment, and unsafe working conditions. In some countries, these rights are protected by unions or government regulations” (p.  46). Social protection policies and grants, according to this perspective, can help keep markets flowing freely. In a final statement about social protection for workers, the Commission on Growth summed up its arguments for social protection policies by reviewing the economic rationale for its recommendations: [t]he Commission feels strongly that these rights should not be sacrificed to achieve other economic objectives, including growth. Besides, labor violations can have a commercial cost, thanks to growing international scrutiny of employment conditions and the threat of consumer boycotts. (p. 46) Social protection as a form of inclusive development has been framed, at least by some, as a way of providing small inputs (policy or cash) that allow for the continued flow of money throughout society. In this way, social protection is a way of making market-focused development available to a wider range of participants without addressing inequalities on a large scale. Abbott et al. (2017) sum up this perspective by calling for “social inclusion” in markets, which uses social protection to keep markets moving. “Socially inclusive societies are safer and more stable, and they meet the essential conditions for economic transformation and growth, high levels of productive employment and social cohesion” (p. 815). In this case, inclusion is a social process to get more people access to market-driven development. It is similar to the participatory strategies outlined in Chapter 5 in that there is little change in underlying structures through market-driven social protection schemes, just a degree to which more people can participate. Social protection has become a popular market-based inclusive development strategy because it has been empirically demonstrated to stimulate market development. The studies referred to earlier are reinforced by recent work from sub-Saharan Africa that demonstrates how government spending on basic education and health services correlates with enhanced human capital development (Raheem et al., 2018) or how providing basic infrastructure in areas with marginal economic development increases market viability (Escobal et al., 2015). All in all, empirical and anecdotal evidence suggests that there is a relationship between social protection and positive economic outcomes.

80

Inclusive Development

Not all advocates of social protection, however, are focused on market outcomes alone. Several scholars frame inclusive development and social protection as basic human rights that should be available no matter how they influence markets. In this case, populations that historically have been marginalized are considered rights bearers to social protection policies and economic benefits. The framing of social protection as a human rights issue is reviewed in the following section.

Social Protection as a Means of Protecting Human Rights In addition to scholarship and national examples that demonstrate the importance of social protection for the functioning of markets, several scholars have identified social protection as a strategy for protecting human rights. For Vusi Gumede, a South African scholar, inclusive development is linked to social protection policies. These policies provide opportunities for oppressed communities to exercise self-determination in their own communities. For example, Gumede defines “inclusive development” as local actors driving actions that counter hegemonic development agendas (2018). Gumede touches upon the arguments of local innovation (Easterly, 2006) and critiques of neocoloniality (Moyo, 2009) described in the previous chapters to outline his vision of inclusive development and social protection. Drawing on the work of Cheru (2009), Gumede equates the contemporary transnational development regime as resembling the colonial development model, which “stifled . . . autonomy and production” (2018, p. 124). According to Gumede (2018), who further cites Adésinà (2009), this can be achieved only through social policies that guarantee “a minimum level of social well-being through social insurance, unemployment insurance, old-age pension, or pro-natalist social provisioning” (p. 135). It is unclear what the minimum level is for which Gumede advocates, but his general tone implies that social protection should be considered a basic human right in all societies in order for locally driven development to be inclusive. Abbott and colleagues (2017) similarly frame social protection as an ethical imperative in order to be recognized as a member of society; be present in policy; ensure political and community development participation; and claim rights (adapted from Therborn, 2007). Abbott and colleagues further quote Atkinson and Mallier (2010) to conceptualize the end goal social protection policies and adherence to human rights. These policies allow societies to rise above differences of race, gender, class, generation and geography to ensure equality of opportunity regardless of origin, and one that subordinates military and economic power to civil authority. In an inclusive society, social interaction is governed by an agreed set of social institutions. (p. 2) For Gumede as well as Abbott and colleagues, social protection goes well beyond priming markets for greater participation. Rather, social protections are

Social Protection

81

an ethical imperative to ensure a broader human rights agenda that includes the participation and influence of individuals who historically have been on the margins of nations’ political processes. In many ways, they highlight the aforementioned work of Hickey and colleagues (2015) and focus on social protection as a mechanism for representation. For Gumede as well as Abbott and colleagues, economic stimulants are a base-level element of inclusive development that also includes broader elements of participation, recognition, and the ability to assert rights at any time. Fraser elaborates on how these occur in policy and law. Fraser (2010) uses the terms “inclusive development” and “social cohesion” as ways of describing how social protections can provide a space for full participation and representation. These spaces, according to the author, need to be mediated by governmental and nongovernmental bodies. Some of the socially protective activities of mediation that Fraser states need to be evaluated in order for inclusive development to occur are as follows: (a) how disputes and clashes of interest are mediated, (b) how and to what extent “destructive” behaviours are controlled and (c) how the minority is protected from the majority and both are protected from the power of the state. In other words, a shared expectation (preferably taken for granted) is the foundation on which the acceptance of mutual obligations and reciprocity are built, enabling self-interest to be replaced by a commitment to promoting collective interest, in both the political and the commercial spheres. (p. 824)

Social Protection and Sustainability Social protection as a form of inclusive development has also grown in popularity among scholars concerned with sustainability. Similar to the orientations about development and sustainability highlighted in Chapter 4, some scholars link social protection, inclusive development, and sustainability together in their arguments. Gupta and Vegelin (2016), for example, argue that humans who are economically vulnerable are frequently dependent on local ecosystems for their livelihoods. These individuals or communities may also be vulnerable to local vagaries in weather patterns that result from global climate change. Finally, the authors argue that increasing demand for basic resources such as land and water for manufacturing have accelerated the transfer of resources from small-scale landholding communities to large corporations. Gupta and Vegelin argue that these trends impact both humans and the environment, as extractive private industries may not interact with local ecosystems as carefully as those who depend on the ecosystem for survival. Gupta and Vegelin call for specific social protection policies that limit the capacity of large, offshore firms to impinge on the ecosystems on which the

82

Inclusive Development

world’s poorest people depend. The authors also call for legally binding protections to ensure that the allure of economic growth does not allow for the destruction of land and water, and in the process economically fragile people who depend on their local ecosystems. Gupta and Vegelin warn that the Sustainable Development Goals, though focused on human-environment interactions, do not reflect inclusive development for the environment. They explain that many of the SDGs and sub-goals focus on technology transfer and scientific solutions to the world’s most troubling ecological issues. Gupta and Vegelin argue that reexamining economic growth orientations and focusing on social protection policies within limited “ecospaces” may be a better driver of sustainability than market-driven or technical solutions.

Conditional and Unconditional Social Protection The previous section described the different orientations to social protection. Market, human rights, and sustainability orientations have all been used as rationales for social protection and have all been characterized as ways of initiating inclusive development. In this case, the same development tool (social protection) is drawn upon to introduce inclusiveness in three different development orientations (market-focused, rights-focused, and sustainability-focused). The review of literature here, however, did not include any of the current debate around the conditionalities that are often placed on marginalized people to receive social protection. From a human rights perspective, such conditionalities would not exist, yet, they are common in practice today. An important ethical and inclusive consideration for protection programs is the degree to which the funding agency (government, multinational organization, nongovernmental organization, and so on) places conditions on the transfer of funds for social protection. Conditional cash transfers (CCTs) as a form of social protection provide social protection funding to families if they abide by a series of behavioral expectations. These expectations generally relate to human capital investments on the part of families, such as sending children to school or taking them to regular clinic visits (Rawlings & Rubio, 2005). CCT programs are quite popular, especially in Latin American nations at the time of this writing, and have enjoyed a degree of statistical validation from quasiexperimental evaluations that have investigated the programs (Rawlings & Rubio, 2005). What is still relatively unknown about CCTs are their causal effects. It is unclear from the literature, however, whether CCTs act as an incentive to particular household behaviors (such as school attendance) or if transfers themselves act as mechanism for removing barriers to households that otherwise would have been very interested in sending children to school and clinics anyway but perhaps could not afford to do so without the small amounts of capital afforded by CCTs. A now decade-old but important study in the Lancet journal explained this:

Social Protection

83

no published studies to date have looked at the impact of CCTs on child cognitive, language or motor development. Additionally, no analyses of CCTs thus far have been able to disaggregate the mechanisms by which CCTs could affect outcomes. In other words, investigators have only been able to compare program participation with non- participation and have not been able to separate the effect of the cash transfer on the desired outcome from the effect of other program components. (Fernald et al., 2008, p. 829) Fernald and colleagues then took on the role of cash itself, designing an experiment in which some families received more cash than others. Results indicated that families who received more cash had more beneficial health outcomes. The authors could not pinpoint the pathways to improved outcomes but stated that improved financial wellbeing provided participants with greater opportunities for access to healthcare and medicines, allowed for a wider variety of foods to be purchased on a daily basis by parents, and potentially improved the psychological wellbeing (by reducing the stressors of poverty) on families. In this study, it was the cash that made the difference on families, not the conditions. Critics of CCTs have also likened the behavioral elements of CCTs to household-level rather than national-level, modern-day structural adjustment policies, the set of loan criteria established in the 1970s and 1980s by the World Bank that had disastrous effects on social programming in loan recipient countries. Bradshaw (2008), for example, critiqued the programs for placing development outcomes on the backs of women because the developmental behaviors of men were too difficult to change. In response to the uncertainty about the causality of behavior change as well as concerns about the neocolonial aspects of conditions, some governments have moved to unconditional social protection policies that act as simple cash transfers rather than requiring any sort of behavioral requirement (Ferguson, 2015). International aid organizations have been slower to adopt unconditional cash transfers, but there is growing acceptance of the merit of such approaches. These will be outlined in greater detail in Chapter 9. In general, social protection is seen as a mechanism for inclusive development. Governments are increasingly moving to unconditional transfers, although aid agencies are lagging behind in such practices. The following section provides an anecdotal example of a national social protection program. Social protection programs appear to be a strategy for inclusive development that are gaining acceptance – when they work. The case reported later is an example of some of the implementation challenges that may be present in social protection programs.

National Anecdote: Markets, Social Protection Policies, and Government Functioning I was recently involved with a disability consultancy in Lesotho, a small mountainous nation in Southern Africa (see Johnstone et al., 2020). Like many of its

84

Inclusive Development

Southern African Development Community (SADC) counterparts, Lesotho’s government provides a monthly stipend to vulnerable populations without behavioral expectations. Vulnerability, in this case, is determined by the Ministry of Social Development through a series of home-based interviews with social workers or through an application process. Generally, senior citizens, people facing economic hardships, and rural people without strong incomegenerating opportunities are recipients of the grants, which come on a quarterly basis. At the time of the consultancy, payments were behind by seven months due to what one person described as “turmoil” in parliament. The story discussed next is an excerpt from my field notes, but all potentially identifying information has been changed. The “he” referred to is a gentleman in a small mountainous community who provided context on how social protection functions can easily fall apart. I asked about a “typical day” to get the conversation rolling. He stated he was worried for tomorrow, as school starts and his kids do not have shoes. He raises two kids alone, ages 10 and 14. He currently sells consumer products in his surrounding area. People buy his products, but several people owe him money and he needs to collect. An NGO gave him a small loan to start a small business. In 2018 he started selling products after he took a small business training. Prior to that he only plowed his own garden and attempted to sell vegetables. He was unsuccessful at this because everyone already had their own vegetables. The product business started out really well, but recently became challenging due to the economic circumstances in Lesotho. Lesotho has a social protection scheme that provides funding to senior citizens [his description]. Often these seniors will share part of the payment with their families who care for them. From there, he got his customers in the form of the children of the grant recipients. However, Lesotho is now seven months behind on its payments, and he is now owed money by several people who expected to pay upon the arrival of the grant. The social protection grant is 750 Maluti every three months (about US $45). The late payments leave him concerned about his kids. They start school and don’t have new clothes or shoes, and only get a small amount of food at school. He is following up with customers, who can pay him with MPesa when they have funds, but many currently do not. He often calls them, but does not like to collect in person because dogs are around the house and he cannot see them very well. The biggest problem he has right now is the late payments. The terms of the loan were clear. He received 2700 Maluti with a requirement to pay back half. He has already paid back the 50% of the loan he owes. . . . As noted above, his biggest recommendation for government is to continue providing social assistance with regularity. The vignette presented here has carefully omitted pieces to protect the anonymity of the individual who shared his story. The pronouns “he/his” replaced

Social Protection

85

the name of the individual in my notes, and personal details about his life irrelevant to the point at hand were removed. This being said, the example provides an interesting example of how social protection schemes can impact micro-markets in communities. In this case, the grants in Lesotho had a “trickle down” effect on the gentleman who sold perfume. This man had a disability, but at the time Lesotho did not have a separate grant for persons with disabilities. Rather, the man independently ran his own business, but the business depended on others who received social protection grants. The grants provided vulnerable populations with a small amount of buying power. This buying power then allowed a marginalized individual to sell products to them, which in turn allowed him to buy the products he needed to send his children to school outfitted in new shoes and uniforms. This circular flow of money demonstrates how markets did benefit from social protection payments. When the payments were delayed, however, the whole fragile system fell apart. A second case example that I reviewed for the aforementioned study was a “child disability fund” in Nepal. The Government of Nepal faced tremendous challenges after the 2015 earthquakes that caused mass trauma in the country. After the earthquakes, the government established several social protection funds to support the day-to-day needs of households. Among the beneficiaries of this program are children with disabilities. Holmes et al. (2018) report that the fund was designed to support present and future opportunities for children with disabilities in Nepal. The monthly household grant is provided to households. Holmes and colleagues (2018) reported that some families used the fund to save for future bursaries or other needs for their child with disabilities. Most commonly, however, families used funds to offset immediate needs such as food, clothing, health, and school fees. The program has been critiqued for the challenges it has faced in creating universal access to the fund, but not for the philosophical commitment to social protection of children with disabilities. In both cases, grants were provided without conditions, and in both cases, they were used for a variety of day-to-day needs by recipient families.

Summary The examples from Lesotho and Nepal indicate that within governments there is a general acceptance to minimally support households that have faced discrimination or barriers to livelihood opportunities. The broader development literature indicates that social protection is being framed as a way to introduce inclusive development. Social protection is an approach to providing welfare, or a basic standard of living to humans who may have little other resources or power. Often, social protection comes in the form of direct cash payments to support peoples’ daily needs. Policies that govern community and political participation, however, may also be elements of social protection. For example, Gupta and Vegelin outline ways in which social protection interacts with

86

Inclusive Development

protection of land and water in relation to the people whose lives depend on local ecosystems. In sum, development appears to become more “inclusive” when social protection is enacted. There are various rationales for providing social protection (market stimulation, human rights, sustainability), but in all cases there appears to be growing consensus in the field of development that supporting vulnerable populations through some form of social support may yield improved livelihoods for those who receive benefits, as well as the broader society. At the same time, social protection has its critics. Social protection grants often target specific individuals (or households) and do not typically impact macro level inequalities. Further, social protection can be challenging because of the targeting process for who receives grants and who does not. Finally, social protection sums are often limited by the ability of governments to pay or that international organizations deem are appropriate for recipients. For this reason, some governments have turned to broader redistributional agendas as a mechanism of inclusive development. Global redistribution, by and large, has not occurred from development organizations. Although redistribution of resources is largely centered at the national level (and does not include international organizations), its presence in inclusive development discourse is emerging and therefore important to review. The following chapter describes distributionism as an approach to inclusive development that may be considered either an extension of, or alternative to, social protection.

8

Economic Redistribution and Inclusive Development

The previous chapter outlined social protection as a mechanism for inclusive development. Social protection is, at its core, a redistributive activity whereby some form of central funding is specifically redistributed to vulnerable populations. However, inclusive development more recently also has been associated with more comprehensive redistributional activities, typically by national governments. In reviewing literature on redistribution, I struggled to find any global redistributional activities that intentionally moved funds from one nation to another in the form of direct payments to individuals. Therefore, redistribution is not at present an inclusive development strategy carried out by international development organizations or as a form of ODA but is a strategy embraced by some national governments to promote inclusive development. Monetary and resource redistribution is a progressive inclusive development strategy that is controversial but is also gaining mainstream support in development literature and practice. In the previous chapter, I quoted the World Bank’s Commission on Growth (2008). I revisit that quote here in the context of redistribution. Generally, this means two things. One is making sure that income and essential services are extended to the poorer part of the population. The second, more controversial, is addressing the upper end of the income distribution, which in many cases exhibits vast accumulating wealth and appears to be living in a different, much richer country. Sharing this wealth through the tax system, and appropriate spending programs, including the funding of service provision and public sector investment, is an important part of social and political cohesion, and hence of the sustainability of the growth process. (p. 62) The “two things” to which the commission broadly refers are social protection and redistribution. Social protection, as discussed in the previous chapter, enjoys a relatively high level of popularity within governments and within international development organizations. This widespread support by governments is largely due to the marginal sum of total “protection” (e.g., targeted

88

Inclusive Development

grants) and is really designed to provide only a basic level of support for vulnerable populations to meet their lowest level needs and is often accomplished with small governmental or organizational investments. These microlevel programs can have a significant impact on livelihoods and provide sustenance for individuals. But in scenarios where wage labor in a capitalist economy is difficult to attain for large numbers of people due to their geographic location or historic legacies of discrimination, the degree of targeted programs may be limited (Ferguson, 2015). The redistribution of national wealth highlighted in this chapter can be considered a bolder initiative than social protection, even though social protection is indeed a form of redistribution. For this chapter, redistribution is any central act of claiming and distributing resources to all members of a given society. On the surface, the process sounds Marxist, which immediately ratchets up its level of political controversy. Ferguson (2015), however, explains redistribution differently. Marxism, according to Ferguson, was focused on the rights of workers and the centrality of workers in economic reforms. Distribution, in Marxist terms, focused on centralized economic planning and the labor, which was paid, needed to carry out such plans. Ferguson argues that contemporary redistribution, especially that which is either being implemented or proposed in Southern African nations, is free from any conditions. In such cases, there are no behavioral norms that are expected in order to access cash transfers (Rawlings & Rubio, 2005) nor are there requirements for labor in service of the state. Rather, Ferguson argues that the political economy of redistribution in Southern Africa is moving toward a model where people can make redistributional claims simply because they are citizens or reside in an area where capital growth has occurred because these resources are presumably shared by all. For countries attempting to implement such models, inclusive development is achieved through moving resources to large numbers of people and framed as distribution in the “shares” of wealth of these nations (Ferguson, 2015). Such models, according to Ferguson, date back to a little-known theory of redistribution by economist G.K. Chesterton called “distributionism.” Such distributionism was free of any requirements (whether demographic or labor-related). Ferguson notes that such distributionism raises concerns about dependence on the state, welfare expectations, and social costs of wealth redistribution. He quickly points out, however, that in many areas where distributional schemes are present, there is no real opportunity for either wage labor or entrepreneurial activity. Thus, the creation of “dependence” as a moral concern is outweighed by the practical consideration that distributional claims may be the only source of income for individuals. Similar to the scenarios described in Lesotho in previous chapters, Ferguson concludes that in areas void of any real opportunity for wage labor or selling goods or services, redistribution of national wealth provides opportunities for households to use funds to develop human capital in the same ways that they would in the CCT model. The major difference between social protection and redistribution is that social protection is targeted for particular populations and

Economic Redistribution

89

often has specific inclusion criteria or conditions. Redistribution is a human rights formula that assumes all in a society have distributional rights based on their presence within a land that is either extracted for resources or is the hub of other economic activity. South Africa’s distributive inclusive development model did not come easily, and it is still in an early enough stage that it is difficult to evaluate its impact. The current program, however, has reached its current state through a series of trials and errors that have gradually improved processes for South Africa’s most vulnerable populations. Early strategies like South Africa’s Growth, Employment and Redistribution (GEAR) and New Growth Path (NGP) both faced political challenges. When South Africa’s government transitioned out of apartheid to majority rule, it wrestled with the balance between private sector development (to create a tax base for redistribution) and redistribution itself. Ncube (2013) historicized the post-apartheid approach of “growth through redistribution,” which focused on meeting people’s basic needs in such areas as employment and access to clean water, electricity, housing, land, health and education services. However, as it became clear that the objectives of redistribution would not be feasible without a growing economy and a vibrant private sector. (pp. 15–16) Chesterson’s and later Ferguson’s conceptualization of “distributionism” is helpful because it focuses on the process of national wealth redistribution within broader economies and allows for a third space that avoids age-old philosophical debates between capitalistic and socialistic advocates. Distributionism, for example, is present in a variety of neoliberal development contexts which have explicit policy foci on economic growth. For example, the World Bank (2008) framed redistribution as: Sharing wealth through the tax system, and appropriate spending programs, including the funding of service provision and public sector investment, is an important part of social and political cohesion, and hence of the sustainability of the growth process. The commission warned, however, that Judgment is required here. Carried to excess, redistribution can damage incentives and deter investment and risk taking. Inequality of opportunity, on the other hand, does not involve trade-offs and can be toxic. This is especially so if opportunities are systematically denied to a group due to its ethnicity, religion, caste, or gender. Such injustices undermine social peace and spark political unrest. They will ultimately jeopardize buy-in and derail the economy’s growth strategy. (p. 62)

90

Inclusive Development

Further examples exist link wealth redistribution and economic growth in Malaysia and Taiwan. For example, Wong (2016) described how a major restructuring of rural property rights in Taiwan in the 1950s facilitated rural capital. In this case, Taiwan’s government paid a sum in bond to wealthy land owners, and land was redistributed to poor, small-scale farmers. These farmers could then buy land with low-interest loans. The government further then provided subsidies for farmers to encourage them to diversify their crops. The strategy of direct support of poor farmers through land redistribution and subsidized purchase of crops stimulated Taiwan’s economy while enhancing economic equality. In Malaysia, a government scheme to transfer partial ownership of industries to previously marginalized economic groups also resulted in a degree of economic growth. Wong (2016) observed in our cases that efforts to transfer human capital to subsistence enterprises and well-coordinated wealth distribution (e.g., land distribution of Taiwan and settlement schemes of Malaysia) play an essential role in the transition towards the pre-emergence phase. (p. 311) In previous chapters, I argued that new conceptualizations of “development” are emerging beyond simple models of capitalistic economic growth. Growth models, however, continue to be present in economic development literature. A shift in the “inclusiveness” of this literature, however, is the extent to which economists are recognizing the role of redistribution in economic growth models. The assumption of trickle-down economics appears to have been debunked in recent literature and has been replaced by empirical data and philosophical arguments that a degree of resource redistribution is needed for both societal inclusion and support of economic growth. Examples in Latin America also support these arguments. Iniguez-Montiel (2014) examined inequality in Mexico but drew theoretically upon a variety of studies that demonstrated the importance of redistribution for inclusive development: By focusing on the specific impact of inequality and growth upon poverty, several studies have shown that the distribution of income indeed matters for the poor (Bourguignon, 2004; Datt & Ravallion, 1992; Deininger  & Squire, 1998; Lopez, 2006; Ravallion, 1997, 2001, 2005; Ravallion & Chen, 2003 among others) and that higher initial inequality tends to reduce the positive, decreasing impact of growth upon absolute poverty (Lopez, 2006; Lopez & Serven, 2006; Ravallion, 1997, 2005). In addition, it is widely agreed that economic growth alone is not a sufficient condition for successfully achieving the goal of poverty reduction (Addison & Cornia, 2001; Oxfam, 2000; Ravallion & Datt, 2002). (p. 314)

Economic Redistribution

91

Escobal et al. (2015) regarded infrastructure, public goods, and services as resources that could be redistributed to farmers who had small tracks of land in the Andes. By redistributing resources, governmental and nongovernmental agencies “can play a major role in making economies of agglomerations viable” (p. 45). Escobal and colleagues (2015) cite an earlier study from Escobal and Torero (2003) that argued for holistic redistribution of land, goods, and services, stating that “not only is it the provision of specific assets, such as education or land, that matters but also the extent to which these assets are complemented by the provision of public goods and services” (p. 46). In each of these cases, a pragmatic approach to distributionism appeared to promote inclusive economic outcomes. Ferguson (2015) further argues that this distributionism presents a new focus for development discourse and policy that may or may not work in the long run but is worth trying. The author, who has long been cited by critical development scholars, in his book Give a Man a Fish, presented redistribution as a policy alternative to scholarship that is critical of neoliberal development agendas but does not propose alternatives. Levien’s (2015) work in India drew a similar conclusion, noting that the social capital approach to inclusive development (described in Chapter 6) may not be as effective as redistribution. He concluded that in the Global South today, development would best be served by removing these inequalities of which individual social capital is an expression, rather than trying to harness elusive forms of trust and solidarity: redistributive land reforms, for example, rather than self-help groups. If social capital is an aspect of social inequality and a means of steering resources toward those who already have them, it is an obstacle not an asset for development. (p. 89) Like social capital, however, redistribution also has its detractors. A series of studies have found that distributional policies, if not carefully monitored or guided by elite self-interest, can serve to reproduce inequalities and exclusion. Speaking generally about sub-Saharan Africa, for example, Raheem and colleagues (2018) found that the resource rents secured by governments, which could theoretically be redistributed in inclusive ways, were not. The authors concluded that There are ample evidences that have proved that a selected proportion of the population, mostly the political elite and urban dwellers, enjoy these proceeds. Also, a large chuck [sic] of this revenue is spent on recurrent and administrative expenditures, which are biased against the poor and unemployed. Thus, this being the case is an indication that these categories of citizenry (i.e. the poor and unemployed) are potentially being deprived from reaping the benefits of the endowment. (p. 30)

92

Inclusive Development

Escobal and colleagues (2015), who found that land, goods, and services redistribution had been efective in poverty alleviation among small, landholding farmers in the Andes, also presented a counter-hypothesis to demonstrate how such redistribution could have deleterious impacts on the same farmers. We take as an example a territory in which a change is implemented in the formal norms regulating the rights of access to and use of irrigation water, making more water available to some producers through the construction of canals. This regulatory change could affect the balance of power among actors in the territory, favoring those who have more financial capital to invest in the construction of canals, and thus prompting changes in governance structures and in hierarchies among the actors operating in the markets. If changes in the structure of property rights do not create conflicts or raise questions about the legitimacy of unequal rights to water use, the conceptions of control would remain stable. (p. 47) The cases suggested by Raheem et al. (2018) and Escobal et al. (2015) demonstrate the fragility of distributionism to elite capture and elite bargaining. In both cases, narratives of self-sufciency that are often used as critiques for distributional programming were muted as groups who already held power could utilize distributional policies to further accumulate wealth and power. Alkon (2018) reached a similar conclusion in relation to special economic zones (SEZs) in India. According to Alkon, SEZs are often framed as “catalysts of local employment growth and inclusive development” because of the ways in which inexpensive land and tax breaks are provided as incentives for businesses. Alkon, however, drew a less flattering conclusion that the zones were “land grabs” by India’s elite (p. 402). In this case, Alkon argued, land was redistributed by the Indian government but to corporations that were already wealthy. Alkon’s research demonstrated that distributionism is already present as a mechanism for development in many countries but does not always create economic opportunity for societies’ most marginal populations and may reproduce inequalities. Finally, Berdegué et al. (2015) described another scenario of redistribution gone awry for landless or small-scale landholders in the Andes. In Santo Tomas, government and international cooperation investments in rural roads, equipment for cold storage and processing of milk, and formation and strengthening of cooperatives, also changed the economic landscape, that in this case came together with increased concentration of property in land and the expulsion of poor peasants (the perverse statistical artifact of which was a “reduction” in the rate of poverty in the territory). (p. 133)

Economic Redistribution

93

Philosophical Dimensions of Redistribution Support in the literature for redistribution as a stimulant for inclusive development generally centers in two areas. The first is that redistribution provides a pragmatic solution to the shortcomings of market economies. Ferguson (2015), for example, provides multiple examples from Southern Africa to justify this argument. In particular geographic spaces in South Africa, for example, wage labor opportunities are nonexistent. The remnants of apartheid-era segregation set up under-resourced rural and outlying urban areas that are devoid of economic opportunity. Ferguson critiques the idea of “micro-enterprises” as a solution to absences of formal work opportunities. He provided the example of small-scale fruit vendors in rural markets. Using observational and interview methods, Ferguson identified that small-scale fruit vendors (as an example of a micro-enterprise) in the particular market he observed were selling similar fruits – those that were easily available at a low price to sellers – to customers who equally had little access to wage labor. Would-be customers bought small amounts when they could or relied on their own home gardens for sustenance. A second example could be drawn from the field notes from my work in Lesotho shared in Chapter 6. Although technically a social protection program (focused on only the most economically poor individuals in the country), the Lesotho social protection scheme provided a small amount of income for the individuals in the community who were in the worst economic conditions. The example of the man I wrote highlights both the pragmatic arguments of Ferguson and the economic stimulus arguments of the World Bank and others. For the sake of this chapter, I will give him the pseudonym Phakiso. From a practical perspective, the village where Phakiso lived had relatively little in terms of economic possibilities. The village was not near a main road, there were no industries to speak of, and services were generally performed within the community on a barter or familial basis. The delay in social protection payments illuminated Ferguson’s argument that the small transfers made to community members were something when nothing else – besides sustenance farming – was available. The small payments were not comparable to what a wage laborer would earn on the open market, but no such labor was available, so social protection was the most viable option. At the same time, the delay in payments also demonstrated that redistribution of funding could stimulate the economy. As noted in the scenario described in Chapter 6, Phakiso attended a business development workshop and used a loan to buy products that he could sell in his community. When the social protection payments were on time, community members could save a small portion to buy products (in this case, perfume) from Phakiso. The insertion of capital into “capital-less” environments, then, created economic stimulus. Phakiso used his money he made from the perfume to buy shoes for his sons, and the flow of cash kept moving. This flow, however, completely stopped when the influx of redistributive payments stopped to the community.

94

Inclusive Development

Ferguson’s and others’ pragmatism about distributional activities stand in contradiction to what he describes as the moralistic aspects of capitalism and labor. Ferguson (2015) notes that there are strong moral tendencies that link the labor of wage earners to valued characteristics in humans such as independence, grit, and determination to succeed in challenging environments. Redistribution, he claims, takes moralism out of the question when wage labor is hard to come by. It is not, he argues, a case that people are avoiding work or cheating society. Rather, those who receive redistributed resources are claiming their portion of society’s wealth that, under free market conditions, is not reaching them. An influx of resources can undoubtedly create entrepreneurial development in spaces where there were previously none, but Ferguson argues that the pragmatism also has a philosophical element that challenges the linkage between moral living and working for wage labor. Other scholars valorize redistribution because of its impact on inequalities. In this case, redistribution and understandings of “development as equality” (see Chapter 3) align. Shortall, for example, (2004) notes that redistribution of resources are fundamental to civic inclusion. As noted in the previous chapters, Shortall’s work highlighted that so-called inclusive development schemes that targeted social capital development at times served to recreate inequalities. She argued that until the goods of society are shared by all, Putnam’s vision of civic interdependence is impossible. Gupta and Vegelin (2016) further highlight the injustices of economic inequality. Drawing upon arguments highlighted in Chapter 3 of this book, the authors report that the richest 1% will soon own 99% of the wealth in the world. Through an inclusive development lens, they identify the global health, environmental, and food security issues that arise when a few individuals control so much of what is available in the world. They then argue for redistributive economics to break the ever-increasing accumulation of wealth, health, and resources by a select few in the world. Baud (2016) extends these arguments, noting that inequalities in terms of access to education, labor markets, and wealth can only be addressed through political decision-making around redistribution of income and wealth. Redistribution, as an element of inclusive development, represents a stronger equity tone for development than has been found in past decades. As I will argue in detail in the upcoming chapter, it goes beyond social protection to examine how power and wealth accumulation might be targeted and systematically dismantled through taxation, resource rents, land redistribution, and broadening of social services. Like all of the elements of inclusive development discussed until this point in the book, however, there are also unintended and intended consequences that go with redistribution. Ferguson (2015) notes that wealthy populations in rich societies benefit greatly from distributional policies. Hickey and colleagues (2015) note that this is not accidental, as the social acceptability of redistribution to those who already have resources is often part of an elite bargain

Economic Redistribution

95

when new resources are introduced. Case examples from Africa (Raheem et al., 2018), South America (Escobal et al., 2015), and Asia (Alkon, 2018) all demonstrate that redistribution alone, without critical analysis, may serve to reproduce inequalities. A common theme throughout this book is that exciting claims about inclusive development are often shallow, meaningless to some, or exclusionary when critically analyzed. The process of including, then, may be less about magnanimous narratives attempting to welcome all into broken systems and more about taking hard looks at who is not benefitting from systems and taking steps to redress why inclusion can be so exclusive. Hickey and colleagues (2015), as first discussed in Chapter 3, noted that inclusive development is absolutely a political process that will likely encounter contention among various parties. In an introduction to their book The Politics of Inclusive Development, Hickey and colleagues define inclusive development as a process that occurs when social and material benefits are equitably distributed across divides within societies, across income groups, genders, ethnicities, religious groups, and others. These benefits necessarily comprise not only economic and material gains but enhanced well-being and capabilities as well as social and political empowerment being widely experienced. This definition involves at least two important moves. The first, and most familiar, is to go beyond a narrow understanding of development as a primary economic process to one with an integral focus on the achievement of equity and the rights and status of citizenship. This is important here not just in ethical terms but also because comparative historical evidence suggests that the forms of politics that have underpinned inclusive forms of development (e.g., Evans, 2010; Sandbrook et al., 2007; Walton, 2010), differ in significant respects from those associated with economic growth (e.g., World Bank, 2008). (p. 5) Redistribution, in summary, is one element of inclusive development and is heavily informed by understandings of development as equality (Baud, 2016) and as a political process (Hickey et al., 2015). Redistribution, like other elements of inclusive development described in previous chapters (participation, representation, social capital, and social protection) must be approached with care, concern, and critique because all might reinforce the exclusion, inequalities, or injustices that they are attempting to address. Keeping these cautions in mind, recent literature has produced interesting directions in what is considered inclusive development. The elements described in the previous chapters require careful consideration but help to identify a working lens through which scholars and practitioners interested in inclusive development can begin to examine their work. In the following chapter, I draw

96

Inclusive Development

upon Chapters 5–8 to describe three “movements” in the understanding of inclusive development for contemporary times. These movements are presented based on the pragmatic and theoretical arguments made by scholars in the previous chapters. These movements are not meant to be a guide for all time about what is meant by inclusive, but communication about my understanding of how other scholars are portraying the concept of inclusive development in the political and social landscape of development in the 2020s.

Part III

Progressive and Critical Movements in Inclusive Development

9

The Three Movements of Inclusive Development

In the first four chapters of this book, I demonstrated how “development” is conceptualized in a variety of ways, including: as an economic concept, as a mechanism for creating global equality, as a political concept, as a process to develop freedoms and capabilities, and a process to develop sustainability. Within the group of scholars investigating development and organizations enacting it, there is a subset of scholars and organizations focused on inclusive development. In the previous four chapters (Chapters 5–8), I highlighted four processes or epistemological approaches to inclusive development. These included participation, social capital, social protection, and redistribution. Within those chapters (and between Chapters 7–8) I highlighted the contested terrain of inclusive development. In this chapter, I highlight those contestations more directly, framing them as three “movements” in inclusive development. Evidently, inclusivity is both a contested concept and a terrain that practitioners and scholars of development are attempting to use to locate their and others’ work. The starting point for contextualizing the movements of inclusive development begins with power. The conceptualization and act of “developing” others is defined by a degree of arrogance on the part of the developer. Whether through ODA activities or other externally driven activities, there are assumptions made at every step of a development initiative that there are people that need to be developed. Framed like this, it is reasonable for readers to give up on the process of development, to abandon it all together. After all, decades of initiatives designed to spur economic development, for example, have still not eliminated absolute poverty and, in many cases, have exacerbated relative poverty. Why, then, does development matter and does it make any difference if development is more inclusive? Moyo, Easterly, and other critics have long contended that ODA is causing more harm than good. Global scholars have then begun to question the “D” in ODA, rethinking what development is or could be. For this reason, Isa Baud and her colleagues in the Netherlands, for example, are equating development with equality (or, more specifically, the reduction of inequalities). This example is quite interesting as it outwardly challenges the hypothesis that national economic growth will solve all problems in the world.

100

Progressive and Critical Movements

Baud and others have pointed out that inequality is a threat to social cohesion and basic human rights. Such human rights are those that nations with large degrees of inequality (including my own) agreed upon beginning with the Declaration of Human Rights and countless other global proclamations since then. Sen and a long list of other scholars have also reframed conversations of development as the enhancement of human capability. Central to Sen’s argument is human choice-making and freedoms within all economic circumstances. Development, then, is less about aggregate measures of economic growth and more about understanding what is needed to convert everyday functionings into capabilities. Sen’s model is still informed by broader economic theory but places greater emphasis on the role of justice, freedom, and individual agency than growth-focused definitions of development. Gupta, Vegelin, and others further add to understandings of “development” by decentering humans. Rather than focus entirely on human outcomes as indicators of development, scholars who examine the human-environment nexus contend that development, as it is currently practiced, conceptualizes the natural environment as a resource rather than an entity with which humans are interdependent. Scholars who examine the human-environment nexus also regularly contend that humans who are in economically vulnerable positions (often small-scale farmers or others who depend on land or water for daily sustenance) are most at risk from development-created global phenomenon like climate change or local actions such as deforestation. In this case, definitions of development depart from unbridled economic growth as a solution to the world’s problems to holistic focus on sustainability and an understanding of how humans are part of broader global ecosystems. The final group of scholars who have reconsidered how development is framed are those who are informed by political science. Hickey and colleagues, for example, have reconsidered development as a political process. Rather than place faith in market systems to resolve issues such as poverty, environmental degradation, lack of access to basic services, and so on, Hickey and colleagues point out that the process of development is a contentious one, one that is guided through representational politics. What matters in development, according to scholars informed by political theory, is that which is deliberated upon and concluded according to political process. For Hickey et al. (2015), this distinction helps conceptualize development, and further, inclusive development as a process that occurs when social and material benefits are equitably distributed across divides within societies, across income groups, genders, ethnicities, religious groups, and others. These benefits necessarily comprise not only economic and material gains but enhanced well-being and capabilities as well as social and political empowerment being widely experienced. This definition involves at least two important moves. The first, and most familiar, is to go beyond a narrow understanding of development as a primary economic process to one with an integral focus on

The Three Movements 101 the achievement of equity and the rights and status of citizenship. This is important here not just in ethical terms but also because comparative historical evidence suggests that the forms of politics that have underpinned inclusive forms of development (e.g., Evans, 2010; Sandbrook et al., 2007; Walton, 2010), differ in significant respects from those associated with economic growth (e.g., World Bank, 2008, p. 5) Hickey et al.’s (2015) political framing of development calls for a broadening of inclusive development that focuses on not only the politics of accumulation and growth, but also on both redistribution and recognition. Whilst the former allows us to deal with material aspects of development, the focus on recognition reflects the extent to which cultural and political forms of exclusion and inclusion also matter for development. (p. 6) The authors’ model envisions inclusive development as a process rather than an endpoint. The process begins with initial conditions as they are, or the status quo. Within this status quo is a contemporary political economy that is inhabited by a variety of actors (elites who control resources, international and local civil society actors, disenfranchised individuals, and so on). According to Hickey et al., various institutions interact with the political economy. These institutions may influence or be influenced by contemporary conditions. The intersection of institutions and political economy naturally leads to politicking. Within such politicking, there are discourses and ideologies that influence the development of coalitions and pacts that may eventually agree to political settlements that are in the interest (to some degree) of all parties. Hickey et al.’s model could be read as common for all political decision-making, but the authors conclude by positing that the political pacts and settlements drawn between varying actors then lead to development strategy (which may or may not involve aid) and provisions of particular services for individuals or communities. How the development strategy and service delivery play out can be evaluated for their degree of inclusiveness on social, economic, and political dimensions. Such evaluations inevitably lead to feedback loops, which again influence the politics of institutions and how they relate to the political economy. The different conceptualizations of development intersect with, and inform, inclusive development. Further, particular strategies (e.g., participation, social protection) are so frequently associated with inclusive development that they were worthy of investigation in the previous chapters. The following section highlights how these definitions, conceptualizations, and strategies have formed a preliminary understanding of inclusive development. Beyond this understanding, there have been recent movements that have equated the word “inclusion” with political organization (e.g., representation), critical scholarship (e.g., social capital), and progressive economics (e.g., redistribution).

102

Progressive and Critical Movements

In the following section, I use the term “movement” in its Oxford Dictionary sense, as a “change or development” in the discourse and strategy of inclusive development. To be sure, these might also represent social “movement” in which “people with a shared purpose . . . create change together” (Global Fund for Women, 2020). The evidence of the movements of inclusive development escalating to a global social movement is at this time premature, but discursive and policy movements are sure to be occurring and are described next.

Movement #1: From Participation to Representation Movement #1 begins with a discussion on participation, which works on the assumption that development is beneficial and that there are beneficiaries in this process. This assumption is frequently challenged. Yet, if resources are being directed toward the process of development, an act of inclusive development is to ensure that all persons in target communities or stakeholder groups can benefit rather than assuming that they do in some way. The concept likely seems like a simple one, but evidence provided in previous chapters illustrates that “communities” are actually contested spaces. Well-meaning or efficiencydriven development agencies seeking to support community development must take heed from Dill (2010), Ferguson (2015), Green (2010), and Shortall (2004, 2008) and a host of other scholars who have identified vertical power structures within communities and the tendency of development initiatives who work with those who already have a degree of power. To this end, participatory development (that which seeks to broaden the circle of beneficiaries or consider the perspectives of diverse stakeholders, is intuitive but flawed based on assumptions of who participates and how they participate. Examples of the limitations of participation are present in a wide range of development literature. Sarma (2008), for example, focused on financial inclusion as a form of participation and examined barriers to formal economic institutions. In this case, “unbanked” individuals were the target beneficiaries of development activities that sought to overcome barriers caused by remoteness, exclusionary policies from institutions when they did exist, and individual fears about interacting with financial institutions. The example demonstrates that growth-focused development agendas, even when intended to be inclusive and participatory, may not reach those on the margins of economic systems. Gupta and Vegelin’s (2016) work broadly describes “marginalization” and how it occurs at global, national, and local levels. At the global level, anyone who is left out of global development initiatives is considered marginalized by the authors, but they specifically name low-income countries as vulnerable to inequitable sharing of transboundary resources (i.e., when two countries border one another, the more powerful may take the lion’s share of resources). Gupta and Vegelin (2016) also argue that particular “sectors, communities, and places” may be marginalized, and argue further that at the individual level, participation requires “accounting for specific individuals and groups” (p. 436), especially those who are highly dependent on the earth for their daily

The Three Movements 103 subsistence. Although inclusive development schemes have intended to fill participation gaps, the results have been mixed at best. In the following section, I provide details on research related to participation for various populations examined in development literature, including women, persons with disabilities, and others. Women, Girls, and Participation The broad concepts of marginalization and participation have been explored by Shortall (2004) in relation to women’s participation in local development programs. In such programs Shortall argued that attention and favoritism by program leaders often swings in the favor of businesspeople who are thought to be the catalysts for development or those who have the time in their schedules to participate. In this case, Shortall’s work demonstrates that particular populations of people (i.e., women) may be marginalized from participation in programming. Women may be excluded from development opportunities because the work they do is often not monetized. Estimates vary, but the OECD estimated that women do twice as much unpaid labor as men in OECD countries. In India, this figure was sevenfold (i.e., men spend 51 minutes per day in unpaid labor while women, on average, spend 351 minutes) (OECD, n.d.). Women’s exclusion – and the need to ensure that they equitably participate in development opportunities – may also identify subtle discrimination that paid/unpaid labor statistics cannot identify. For example, Himmelstein et al.’s (2016) work demonstrated that women produced fewer crops in agricultural plots than men. The authors found that one of the reasons for this discrepancy was that they used substandard implements compared to men, and those implements that were distributed by development agencies often reached the hands of men first. Ownership of tools and land itself was further predicted by gender in Tanzania, where Manji (2010) examined a population-targeted development initiative (land titling and reform) that was designed to support women to become landowners. According to the author, this participatory initiative met with resistance from banking professionals who worried about the complicated nature of changing mortgage practices to be more inclusive. In time, the initiative failed due to pressure from financial organizations. Women-focused participatory development has had mixed results primarily because development organizations may define the type of participation available without consideration for what women want or need. In this case, development organizations may identify a disparity in participation but expect to address it through top-down participation guidelines. One example of this is related to ibu culture in Indonesia that has a nuanced understanding of female empowerment. Jackimow critiqued development models that “instrumentalise women, turning them into active agents of neoliberal development, thereby deepening gender inequality in ways that sustain capitalist development” (2017, p. 1146) instead of approaching development in the ways that women saw as most relevant to their lives.

104

Progressive and Critical Movements

Jackimow called upon development programs to be attentive to broader understandings of womanhood and development. In order to become more inclusive and to promote authentic participation in development initiatives, Jackimow stated that programs must devote “[a]ttention to the kinds of people that women want to become, but are unable to experience being, can suggest opportunities for development programmes to facilitate” (2017, p. 1162). This may, according to the author, leave organizations that are dedicated to a western conceptualization of feminism to expand their understandings of relevant participation in development programming. Such expansion, according to Jackimow, “is part of a commitment to allow local expressions of its [empowerment’s] content, rather than impose Western imaginings” (p. 1162). Finally, Buntaine et al. (2018) argued that participation may not provide enough opportunity to change anything for women. In a study of participatory development practices in communities next to national parks in Uganda, the authors argued that community members were very conversant with the methods and practices of participatory development. However, the authors argued that “just knowing how to participate does not necessarily translate into a strong sense of efficacy about participating” (p. 419). In this case, although women were invited to participate, gender norms dictated that men took the larger role in conversations that involved both men and women, and women’s responses were stifled by the roles they felt they must play in providing feedback. Buntaine and colleagues concluded that when gender discrimination is present in everyday life, simply providing women guidance on how to participate is not enough to ensure inclusive development. The authors suggested that as a possible alternative to the top-down, pseudo-participatory models described in their study, collective action may be an outlet for women who are dissatisfied with practices as they currently exist. The examples presented earlier demonstrate that the goal of increasing participation as a mechanism for facilitating inclusive development for women has had mixed results. Similarly, participation as it relates to persons with disabilities is complicated and nuanced. The following section describes some of these nuances and the challenges with relying on participation for inclusive development. People With Disabilities and Participation A second population for whom targeted participation has been a focus for inclusive development advocates is persons with disabilities. For the term “disability,” which in and of itself is not always agreed upon (see a 2019 discussion by Daniel King in Mother Jones magazine), development scholars have frequently drawn upon capabilities theory to offset assumptions that disability equals inability. Legal scholar and philosopher Martha Nussbaum (2009), development scholar Sophie Mitra (2006), and others (most notably Burchardt, 2004; Bonlan, 2016; Kendall et al., 2000) have all studied the intersection of disability and development in one way or another and critique the limitations of development initiatives that exclude persons with disabilities.

The Three Movements 105 One reason why naming people with disabilities as important stakeholders in the processes of development is that they have been notably absent in much of the discourse of development until the last two decades. Bonlan (2016) and Mitra (2013) noted that the SDGs and Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (United Nations, 2006) both represented major steps forward in both naming people with disabilities as rights-bearing development participants and also setting expectations that disaggregated data about people with disabilities be included in national health, employment, and education databases. As with other populations, however, participation has its limitations. For example, Kendall et al. (2000) pointed out that at times organizations initiating development programming will seek out persons with milder disabilities because of constraints on time and resources and the need to demonstrate quick results in community-based rehabilitation (CBR) programming. CBR itself, however, is currently under fire from inclusive development advocates. Disability advocates in Lesotho, for example, have pushed to steer government programming toward community inclusive development in order to shift the focus of programming from rehabilitating individuals to removing barriers to livelihoods development ( Johnstone et al., 2020). Other Populations Targeted by Participatory Development Activities The shortcomings of participation as an approach to inclusive development are not limited to women or persons with disabilities alone. Similar phenomena exist among populations who experience marginalization within specific countries or regions. India, the second most populous country in the world, has also maintained a caste system for over 2,000 years. In this sense, it is not surprising that inclusive development scholars focus on caste as an issue in relation to access and participation in programming. For example, Chakrabarti and Dhar (2012) found that neither low-caste individuals or individuals who identify as Adivasi (Indigenous) are frequent participants in development programming. Although programs and initiatives exist throughout India, the authors highlight that these populations are often frequently excluded from development initiatives. Participation, for some, however, may not be the end goal. For example, to some Indigenous education scholars, the word inclusion itself is problematic because the word patronizingly welcomes individuals into a system that emerged after Indigenous systems were colonized and stolen (Sumida Huaman & Brayboy, 2017). For such scholars, reclamation of Indigenous ways of knowing and life are preferable to invitations into colonial and neocolonial activities that, to many, have amounted to theft and persecution. Such critiques are noteworthy and stand as an epistemological check for this entire book. In general, participation as a development goal appears to be a double-edged sword. On the one side, participation is needed to expand the benefits beyond a

106

Progressive and Critical Movements

narrow range of stakeholders and counteract the idea that development works equally well for everyone. On the other hand, participation by population can also be limiting if critical assessment of who may and may not be benefitting within the population is present. Numerous examples of this tenuous balance are found in development literature and for populations that are not frequently reported as important stakeholders. McDuie-Ra and Rees (2010), for example, presented this tension in relation to faith-based organizations. The World Bank, in attempting to broaden participation of faith-based organizations, created a scenario whereby particular organizations were asked to participate in planning and programming over others. The authors reflected that: World Bank agendas may be reified through funding of organizations that are based in the global north, appear professionalized, and can align their goals with Bank and other initiatives. This process excludes organizations that may be crucial to challenging development orthodoxies and engage in development in different ways. (p. 21) The tendency for participatory conversations to morph into a small group of stakeholders represents the challenge with participation. At the end of the day, some participation is always better than none, but when an organization with power and resources sends the invitations for participation without a broad sense of community stakeholders, it may create further divisions and new dimensions of exclusion. Brian Dill’s (2010) work, highlighted in previous chapters of this book and in this section, depicts the challenges of participation. Dill found that transnational organizations are often ill-prepared to work in communities far from their home offices, yet have resources to spend, deadlines to meet, and often a philosophical demand from within to create development outcomes that are locally relevant and useful. In such cases, transnational organizations often come to depend on community-based organizations (CBOs). Dill noted that this dependence is often built on intentions of localization and enhancing inclusion, but the complications of participation models often produce different results. In the case of CBOs in Tanzania, several crucial errors in judgment were made by transnational organizations. These errors in judgement were discussed in Chapter 5 but are reviewed here to highlight the limitations of participation paradigms for inclusive development. Dill found that transnational organizations had little sense of who comprised a “community” for community-based programming. Therefore, when community-based organizations (CBOs) were enlisted to support development initiatives, exclusionary development may be reproduced. Dill surmised that this is because in order to become a CBO in the first place, the organizations’ leaders require a degree of human and social capital as well as an understanding of the functions and institutional culture of

The Three Movements 107 transnational organization-led development. In this case, transnational organizations, which often require a degree of administrative infrastructure in the first place in order to be able to engage on financial terms, may represent an elite class that does not have the interests of marginalized individuals as a priority. Dill acknowledged, however, that community-based organizations that hold a relatively high amount of capital compared to other institutions or individuals in the vicinity are not always guided by self-interest. Rather, he argued that these organizations may be very effective at promoting inclusive development but may encounter another risk due to their relative lack of power and resources in comparison to transnational organizations. In such cases, transnational organizations may utilize community-based organizations (CBOs) as subcontractors on projects for which the transnational organization needs a local implementer. The allure of these contracts is great because small CBOs are often lacking financial stability and benefit greatly from the types of contracts provided to them. At the same time, these organizations may not have real expertise on particular initiatives but are the best available option for transnational organizations within the target community. Such “stretching” may harm both the community and CBO itself because the CBO may engender a poor reputation among stakeholders and beneficiaries of programs. The other problem with CBO contracting, according to Dill (2010), is that small CBOs, once they start subcontracting, lose their capacity to create and maintain their own agenda. Subcontracting arrangements can be mutually beneficial but may also set up a scenario whereby CBOs lose their focus on the work they wish to do. Participants and Participation The last section presented the various actors who are intended to be stakeholders, beneficiaries, and in the case of much of the literature in inclusive development over the past several years – the “participants.” In the next section I further explore the limitations of participation in inclusive development. Participation at one time represented a novel approach to development. Development initiatives, which have been critiqued for ignoring particular populations, sought remedy by extending invitations and developing a participatory process (see, for example, Chambers, 1983, whose work is still used today). The previous section could in no way capture the long list of people who have been excluded from development initiatives, let alone the long list of people who have been colonized and oppressed and for whom “development” was thought to be a solution. Rather, this chapter identified select groups whose participation has mattered to development professionals and whose experiences have been chronicled in development literature. The fact that organizations acknowledge gaps in participation is noteworthy, but the results of participation have been mixed. The following section summarizes the limitations of participation and introduces the movement toward “representation” as a contemporary mechanism for inclusive development.

108

Progressive and Critical Movements

When “Participation” Fails Large transnational organizations often set the discourse and calls to action around development initiatives. These contributions are logical – transnational organizations are often well-funded, hire talented people, and are frequently dedicated to important issues of justice as it relates to development. The power of large organizations, however, also has the power to disrupt local innovation. “Participation,” in such cases, may amount to buying into whatever messages are proffered by transnational organizations. In the field of education, for example, Zapp and Dahmen (2017) found that just five major transnational organizations – the United Nations Education, Science, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), the Organization of Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), the World Bank, the European Union, and the International Labor Organization (ILO) – have influenced development discourses; in time, small organizations follow these discourses in strategy. The smaller organizations may be “participating” in global agendas but are not innovating in any way when following global trends. A more likely scenario is what Dill (2010) observed – organizations need to chase trends because that is where the resources lie. Zapp and Dahmen observed that “ideas being taken up by ‘core’ organizations, with considerable scientific support, are being quickly diffused and taken up by smaller organizations, many in the South, as accepted practices” (2017, p. 497). In these cases, participation, if endeavored upon by local organizations, became an issue of managerial alignment with goals from the most powerful development agendas. Few et al. (2007) described how managerialism can occur in local meetings as well. Chronicling a series of community meetings about the impacts of climate change on a local community, Few et al. demonstrated how the process of inclusion participation is very fragile: Participation can become getting local views to fit with premeditated strategies . . . inclusion and exclusion is a highly political issue that is strongly dependent on the administrators’ perceptions of legitimacy, leaving inclusion open to bias toward supportive stakeholders. . . . The political process of containment of participation has a “logic” in situations where it can act to facilitate intervention that has perceived disbenefits at the local scale. When public participation threatens to undermine agency objectives, a managerialist approach to control over decision-making is likely to be reasserted. (p. 54) Managerialism on the part of dominant organizations further allows for “participation within a restricted set of practices (that) affects the opportunities participatory institutions could potentially present for innovative approaches to problem solving or for debate” (Green, 2010, p. 143). The issues related to participation may be broader than participation itself can resolve. Advocates of

The Three Movements 109 local, innovative development solutions (Easterly, 2006, for example), claim that development problems can never be solved by transnational organizations with large budgets and external or skewed interpretations of the communities they are aiming to “develop.” These limitations are noteworthy but represent a new kind of development entirely that may remove the role of large organizations like national governments, the United Nations, and transnational nongovernmental organizations in the process of development. Such a future may exist. At the same time, scholars like LeFanu suggest that innovation and collaboration between larger international development organizations and community actors can coexist, but paltry exercises in participation do not constitute a change in behavior or power dynamics. LeFanu (2012) calls for bottom-up innovation to interact directly with the large (often scripted and sharply defined) development approaches of what he calls international development assistance organizations (IDAs). LeFanu, recognizing the influence of large IDAs as a result of the resources they bring to development initiatives, called for scrutiny by the organizations themselves about how they align with local and already ongoing development approaches. LeFanu (2012) argued that in order to do this, “IDAs would need to promote subtle, complex, and sustained interventions which recognised these norms and values often reflect social and cultural mores, and hence are remarkably resilient” (p. 146). The capacity of global organizations interested in becoming “inclusive” to self-monitor and truly work in partnership with individuals within the communities in which they work, however, is debatable. Undoubtedly, large development organizations bring technical expertise, resources, and in some cases reputational capital. Participation has failed when particular populations are left out of initiatives or when the process and procedures designed to gain inputs are managerial, stifled, or never really intended as a mechanism to guide program direction. When participation “ticks a box” for so-called best practices of inclusion but relies heavily on the perspectives of a few selected organizations, or is gendered, ablest, or ignores/exploits other populations in the process, it can’t fully be considered inclusive. Petersen et al. (2018) cite Lundvall (1985) to push for “a balance between understanding user needs and how technical opportunities can address those needs, which depends on participatory interactive learning; specialised expertise to produce the innovation; and competence and learning capabilities to adopt the innovation” (p. 875). Such a balance, however, may not be able to be achieved through mechanical forms of input gathering by larger, powerful organizations. Rather, scholars in the previous section have argued that participation as it is currently framed may be little more than a pro forma input-gathering process that was never intended to change anything but appears collaborative and inclusive on the surface. The limitations of such activities leave a space for a different kind of inclusive development approach. Drawing heavily upon the work of scholars who highlight the political nature of inclusive development, the next section highlights a movement that is afoot in the framing of inclusive development. This movement “from participation to representation”

110

Progressive and Critical Movements

demonstrates how inclusive development is becoming a sharper term than in the way it historically has been framed. “Representation” is a different kind of engagement than “participation” because it involves political struggle and negotiation of the agenda setting of development policy and practice. There are far fewer examples of representation in contemporary inclusive development literature, but this movement is noteworthy and outlined in the next section.

Movement #1: From Participation to Representation Representation, in the sense of inclusive development, is a political act. Where participation involves an invitation of groups on the margins of development policies to provide some form of input, generally through structured procedures, representation requires that stakeholders have a degree of say in the direction and desired outcomes of development. Hickey et al. (2015) describe how such representation has begun to occur within national contexts. According to the authors, representation occurs through quotas for representatives of marginal groups in legislatures at local and national levels, constitutional changes and anti-discrimination legislation, the creation of new states or provinces for marginal regions, or the creation of specific government agencies to act on behalf of marginal groups (e.g., ministries of gender). These forms of “descriptive” representation are seen both as rights in themselves and as important means through which the status and resources associated with citizenship can be re-allocated and redistributed, thus achieving “substantive” representation (Waylen, 2007). (p. 15) Political forms of inclusive development, as described by Hickey et al. (2015), require representation from groups who have a stake in the resources that may emerge from development opportunities. The authors argue that the time in which the formation of states occurs is often a pivotal point for representation. For example, drawing upon the work of Nazneen and Mahmud (2015), Hickey and colleagues trace the formation of women’s representation in new states to the political histories of countries, when women often played pivotal roles in anticolonial or independence movements. In such cases, and in numerous others, political discourse and ideology in countries inform both the political wrangling (and settlement) that occur within representative bodies and the policy conditions that may facilitate inclusive development (2015). Sen (2015) further draws upon the work of Acemoglu and Robinson (2012) to demonstrate such political relationships, highlighting that the relative political power of any group in either national politics or development initiatives is dependent on two factors: 1) the degree to which representative groups can resolve collective-action problems (rather than being

The Three Movements 111 splintered into factions); and 2) the resources available to groups in order to emerge within any economy. The latter has much to do with the degree to which represented groups can steer the politics of development. For example, in the earlier section, groups who are traditionally marginalized are often “invited” to share their perspectives on the direction of development activities. In a representative interaction, representatives of those same groups argue for the distribution of resources and direction of development activities to suit their particular needs (or the needs of other groups with which representatives have formed coalitions). I argue here that the latter form of engagement is an emerging trend in how the term “inclusive development” is used and represents an inclusive development that is more equitably distributed and driven by local concerns than that which claims inclusion through participation alone. Desai and Woolock (2015) warn, however, that representation and political power are never given by those in power but often must be strategically taken by groups who seek to benefit from development initiatives. According to the authors, one way this occurs is through the forming of coalitions. Desai and Woolock found that such coalitions often involve nongovernmental organizations and particular populations (for example, small-scale coffee growers, people who are living with HIV, and so on) working together as cohesive groups to challenge resource distribution related to development initiatives, or using court systems and the rule of law to ensure basic human rights are upheld. In such cases, inclusive development is secured, not invited by coalitions that represent particular populations. In an earlier section, I outlined how women are often invited as participants in development efforts. Nazneen and Mahmud (2015), however, use a framework of “gendered politics” to examine the ways in which women represent themselves in development initiatives. The authors argue that women first became a distinct constituency within development processes. It was at this same time that development scholars began identifying that the “fruits of development were not trickling down to women” (p. 199), that traditional roles of women related to domestic labor were first being considered as part of the larger economic structure of nations, and that women were not simply dependents to men. During this time women began to be framed as managers of households, typically in low-income environments. Scholars began to rail against such characterizations because the household manager framework “failed to define women’s problems in terms of unequal access to resources” (p. 199). Rather, feminist and other scholars “emphasized that relation between men and women are social and therefore not immutable” (pp. 199–200). Shifting perspectives on gender and development, led by feminist activists and scholars, began to examine the structures of power at global and local levels and disrupt assumptions that poverty was the sole cause of women’s subordination (see Kabeer, 1994; Jackson, 1999 in Nazneen & Mahmud, 2015). Nazneen and Mahmud (2015) then explain the movement from participationbased approaches to “involving” women in development to representational approaches characterized by women’s voices guiding the process.

112

Progressive and Critical Movements Feminist literature extensively discusses how women have been excluded from formal politics and decision-making processes in liberal theory, based on assumptions that women lack the rationality required for democratic deliberation (Pateman, 1988; Okin, 1979). Consequently, women’s exclusion had been linked to an absence of public deliberation on and from political agendas issues such as, child welfare, reproductive health, and domestic violence, and so on. Analysis of women’s exclusion in liberal theory led to an intuitive conclusion that the inclusion of women in electoral or decision-making bodies would make a significant difference in drawing attention to these neglected issues (Dovi, 2006). Increased women’s presence in public office was identified as a major pathway for promotion of gender equity concerns in policymaking. This led to the emphasis on gender quotas, the creation of national gender machineries in gender and development discourse (Tadros, 2011). However, this linear connection made in development discourse between women’s access (consultation in various citizen’s/policy forums and spaces) and presence (representation) in electoral/decision-making bodies leading to influence has been critiqued by many feminists (see Goetz & Nyamu-Musembi, 2008 for details). While women’s representation and participation in political parties and policy places are necessary conditions for gender equitable outcomes, they alone are not sufficient. (Nazneen & Mahmud, 2015, p. 204)

Nazneen and Mahmud’s (2015) final statement that “equitable outcomes” discussions are not sufcient was revisited when they recommended that “[i]n order to move forward we need to focus on addressing the dilemmas that arise from what the political-settlement framework excludes (ideology, discourse, bottom-up strategies) and expand the parameters” (p. 230). The authors cited several specific strategies that ensure representation of women, including quotas for representation in governing bodies, insistence on gender parity representative bodies, and representation in advocacy bodies. However, they also warned that research on “critical mass” theory is still inconclusive. Because women, in most places in the world, make up more than half of the total population, there is a theoretical rationale that representation should extend beyond small quotas or advocacy-related activities into a critical mass of women who are guiding development. Rather, Nazneen and Mahmud (2015) have suggested that inclusive development has occurred through close connections between women’s political representatives and women’s social movements in order to secure political change. These movements often require alliances with political elites who are making resource decisions. Activists alone, even when represented by quotas, may not have the political power to sway resourcing without elite connections. Finally, another mechanism for representation suggested by Nazneen and Mahmud was the representation of women in the bureaucracy of development. Although political decisions often dictate the flow and designation of benefits

The Three Movements 113 of development initiatives, there is often great bureaucracy within government or transnational programming that may also be influenced by women. Representation within bureaucracy is a quiet but effective way of wielding influence. Additional Examples Additional forms of representation have also been highlighted in development literature in response to the limitations of participation models. The example of small- or conflict-affected states in peace negotiations requires, according to Donais and McCandless (2017), representation and not tokenistic participation. The authors highlighted that contemporary practice allows for the invitation of a variety of actors but that decisions are typically made by the most powerful actors in the room. “A more inclusive development process of peace accords,” argue the authors, “are politically argued and agreed upon through top-down and bottom-up dialogue” (p. 295). Donais and McCandless’s conceptualization of “top-down” and “bottom-up” reflect Hickey et al.’s (2015) and Nazneen and Mahmud’s (2015) political settlement theorization of politics in development, an approach that acknowledges the tensions that exist among actors and yet there is a willingness among these actors to settle on compromised solutions rather than gamble on an all-or-nothing attempt to win resources. Political settlement in the case of development, however, may not occur without regulations or practices that limit the influence of elite actors and authorities. Donais and McCandless (2017) frame such limitation of powerful influences, coupled with representation by typically less powerful groups, as a tool developing new norms, those of practice, politics, and resourcing that consider the interests of multiple actors. Such norms must then reflect plural interests. Donais and McCandless conclude that “whether a new norm is embraced or resisted, in other words, depends very much on the extent to which relevant actors consider the new norm to be not only socially and culturally appropriate but also in their interests” (p. 295). Pluralism and representationalism as mechanisms for inclusive development, as stated earlier, disrupt notions that traditionally marginalized populations should “participate” in development and reinforce a mandate that such populations are represented at various stages of decision-making about resource allocations and programming. A concrete example of this is the “nothing about us without us” mantra of disability advocates who have, for years, pushed back against decisions being made on their behalf. The slogan dates back to the 15th century (Kornat & Micgiel, 2007), but was first used in disability movements in the 1970s. Charlton (1998) outlined how social models of disability (which focused on societal barriers rather than personal deficits) and rightsbased models (many of which drew upon civil rights movements in the United States and anti-apartheid movements in South Africa) have become a basis for political representation of persons with disabilities in various societal forums. These forums extend to development. Organizations like the International Disability Alliance have taken up Charlton’s ideas and advocated for persons

114

Progressive and Critical Movements

with disabilities in representational decision-making and governance of political and development initiatives (Bartha & Smith, 2017). At a foundational level, a movement from narratives of participation to representation may ensure a greater degree of inclusive development. In particular, the move to representation ensures that the word “inclusive” is not being used by powerful organizations and actors as a way of silencing marginalized actors through managerial input sessions that may or may not have any influence on program design and resource allocations (see Petersen et al., 2018). In the case of disability, powerful representational movements have forced development practitioners to rethink the ethics of development programs “on behalf of ” persons with disabilities (Clarke et al., 2016). Indeed, as McDuie-Ra and Rees (2010) concluded, smaller, informal, localized, or otherwise marginalized organizations “are often overlooked in negotiating, setting, and contesting the development agenda” (p. 21). Representation as a form of inclusive development, and as an alternative to participation, is a process-oriented approach. Representation provides an aspirational approach that has no guarantee of changed outcomes because each process, negotiation, and political settlement will look different. Despite this, Berdegué et al. (2015) found that identifiable development outcomes can occur when programs or projects are characterized by representational activity. For example, in the Andes region, Berdegué and colleagues found that development outcomes emerged when local leaders, who understood and could negotiate with transnational organizations, were able to reach a settlement that adjusted transnational narratives to achieve Indigenous-driven ideals. This occurred because local leaders who emerged from rural indigenous communities, had educational and work experience in nearby Cusco, and were armed with a development discourse that combined a developmentalist tradition derived from the NGOs in which many of them had worked and a strong vindication of indigenous culture. (p. 132) Clarke et al. (2016), who engage in development practice and theory from a Canadian perspective, argue for similar approaches suggested by Berdegué et al. In this case, Clarke et al. call for a partnership approach to development that is informed by local cultural conditions and experts. In this case, development organizations collaborate with representatives of target communities to co-create programming that is relevant and useful to all parties. South African development scholar Vusi Gumede, however, takes a stronger stand on representation than Berdegué et al. and Clarke et al., who chronicle the political and developmental successes of leaders who both understand transnational development narratives and local objectives. Gumede, rather, critiques contemporary representational development approaches for still being on the terms of transnational development organizations and not on

The Three Movements 115 the political, cultural, and linguistic terms of the local population. Specifically speaking about his home country of South Africa but extending his ideas across sub-Saharan Africa, Gumede (2018) argues that [p]olitically, the Western idea of democracy has become the main standard for political participation. The socio-cultural dimension of development is where the hegemony of external influence and power is more prominent as it appears that Africans have lost their sense of worth and being through subordination of their culture, language and identity to foreign influence and domination. (pp. 124–125) In Gumede’s vision of representation, discussions and negotiations occur on the terms of the stakeholders who will be impacted by proposed activities. This may mean that transnational actors need to discuss, plan, and act within the linguistic and cultural frames of local communities. Gumede’s theory represents a shift in focus for inclusive development to one in which transnational actors must adjust linguistic and cultural barriers in order to not subordinate local actors. Arocena et al. (2015) argue that the shifting of terms of representation can be partially facilitated by higher education institutions in nations where development activity is taking place. Arocena et al. outline that knowledge creation, innovation, and locally driven development are all already occurring in universities around the world, largely without the influence of transnational organizations. Further clarification on the role of universities and internal stratification is needed in relation to Arocena et al.’s arguments (for example, universities may act as elite levers or with institutional bias in relation to local communities with less educational capital). However, universities and centers of thought may provide representational authority in technical, resource, and policy negotiations related to development. A final form of representation is collective action. In such action stakeholders agree on collective tactics or action in order to ensure rights or development demands are met. In such action, stakeholders do not wait for an invitation to participate but use strength in numbers to ensure representation. As noted in previous chapters, Buntaine et al. (2018) critiqued development initiatives near national parks in Uganda for the futility of simply providing information, especially to women, about initiatives. The authors’ conclusion was that information is not nearly enough to improve development outcomes for populations generally on the margins of initiatives. Instead, Buntaine and colleagues (2018) suggest that communication by development organizations must be specifically tailored toward addressing the structural barriers that (in this case) women face. This information might focus on identifying opportunities for collective action. The overall argument made by Buntaine and colleagues is that community-based development is not always effective for certain members of communities. Rather than ask these members

116

Progressive and Critical Movements

to simply participate in something that is not necessarily working for them, representation and collective action may address structural barriers or addressing gaps in programming. Finally, Buntaine et al. suggested that communication via technology can assist populations at the margins of development initiatives to help build coalitions with outside agencies or advocates in order to collectively address programming gaps and politically engage other actors in the process of inclusive development. In summary, this section provided an overview of a contemporary “movement” in inclusive development. The movement is neither an organized political movement nor a wholesale shift in discourse or practice. Rather, the movement from participation to representation presents an acknowledgment of the political nature of inclusion as it relates to development. The movement highlights that inclusion and inclusive development are political actions, can be tenuous, and require both negotiation and political settlement. This movement and its requisite discourse shift conceptualization of inclusive development away from mere participation. Although participation was once an important consideration in the development process, recent research on the actual degree of engagement that can be achieved through participation reveals that “inclusiveness” may not actually be achieved through systematic or managerial gathering of information from stakeholders. Participation may not initiate any change in programming, distribution of resources, or benefit to those who are supposed to be included. Rather, new developments that highlight processes of systematic representation (through coalition building, collective action, and political representation) highlight and acknowledge the political nature of inclusive development and appropriate responses and tactics within that political landscape. In the next section, I introduce the next “movement” in inclusive development – from uncritical to critical assessment of social capital as a lever for inclusive development. The movement is largely found within academic texts and relies heavily on how social capital is theorized. The following section will review recent arguments of Levien (2015) and other scholars who explored the limitations of embracing social capital as it relates to inclusive development.

Movement #2: From Uncritical to Critical Assessment of Social Capital In 2015, Levien critiqued a development trend that began in the 1990s that focused on social networks of people who live in rural areas and economic poverty. These networks, according to Levien, were framed as “assets” (p. 77) that could be drawn upon to stimulate economic development. Social networks, sometimes framed as social capital, have also been framed as a missing element in discussions about development. Grootaert (2001), for example, stated that the World Bank has historically considered “natural capital, physical or produced capital, and human capital” (p. 9) as the types of capital that trigger economic development. Grooetart then argued that social capital was ignored as a means for development but could have an impact on development outcomes.

The Three Movements 117 Grooetart argued that three predominant definitions of social capital – Putnam’s, Coleman’s, and North’s – could help explain the potential of social capital as it relates to development. Putnam (1993a, 1993b) described social capital as horizontal and vertical associations between people that create networks for the betterment of society (and presumably all involved in networks). Coleman (1988) framed social capital as a set of structures that facilitate certain actions within the structure. Finally, Olson (1982) and later North (1990) defined social capital as institutions that can impact the rate and pattern of economic development. In all cases, Grooetart argued that the coordination of activities, information sharing, and collective decision-making among networks could facilitate economic growth for actors on an aggregate level. Grooetart also warned, however, that social capital can be a somewhat leaky social intervention, stating, A word of caution is necessary. . . . Social capital is no panacea for all market failures or impediments to development due to information, coordination, or collection decision making problems. There are many examples of local associations that have made a positive difference. However, by themselves these associations may not always matter. If a village lacks economic opportunities, credit associations may not be able to raise incomes. This is simply to say that social capital – like natural, physical, and human capital – has limited value if not combined with other forms of capital. (2001, p. 15) Grootaert’s (2001) “caveat” explains the economic limitations of social capital. Despite its limitations, however, social capital has been a useful theory for explaining why development and inclusive development occurs at the macro level. The relatively intuitive argument that when people work together and trust one another has held relatively constant over the years, but critical social scientists have identified limitations in the degree to which some networks are really “inclusive.” Levien (2015) is among the scholars who have identified some of the limitations of social capital, and he has called for scholars to investigate social capital at the microlevel rather than the macroeconomic level when making claims about inclusiveness. Levien’s work also introduces Bourdieu’s (1979, 1990) and Bourdieu and Wacquant’s (1992) framing of social capital as an individualistic activity that is driven by elites. As outlined in Chapter 6, the fact that individuals within any group or network will vary in the amount of economic and cultural capital requires further and more critical study in relation to the degree of inclusiveness in the group. Levien’s introduction of Bourdieu’s theory, a well-established social theory about social capital, represents a movement worth noting in recent understanding of inclusive development. In this case, Levien frames social capital as an explanation for individualistic activity that can be exclusionary within or between groups. Levien’s study (explained in more detail in Chapter 6) refers to

118

Progressive and Critical Movements

other studies that have examined the promise of social capital critically. Beall (2001), for example, found that social networks designed for local governance are “semi-public” at best because they benefit some citizens more than others. Beall concluded that “[m]ost vital, therefore, is the provision of an enabling environment, which can ensure the ability of the disadvantaged, as well as the advantaged, to lobby for resources” (p. 372). The focus on structural barriers has long been a narrative of inclusion advocates and tells an interesting story. In this case, social capital has been lauded as a way to “bring in” those previously excluded from the processes of development. The idea of social networks within areas of economic growth has been especially interesting to scholars, who saw network-building as a way to promote economic outcomes for lowincome individuals (Levien, 2015). Further and microlevel study of these networks reveals, however, that power is an important consideration in relation to inclusive development. Simply increasing participation, according to recent studies, does not bring about equal power among actors, an equal voice in decision-making, or equal economic impact. Equality may not be the goal of every development agenda, but Levien (2015) points out that a seemingly inclusive focus on social capital, when viewed at the micro level, can be explained as individualistic and reproducing power and privilege for those who already hold power and privilege within a network. Cleaver (2005) described the impetus for the shift from uncritical to critical assessment of social capital, providing an excellent synopsis of all three movements highlighted in this chapter (the movement from participation to representation; the movement from uncritical to critical assessment of social capital; and the movement from social protection to redistribution). Attempts to overcome poverty through promoting participation, institutional engagement, and the formation of social capital cannot work without a deeper consideration of the structural disadvantages of the poor and the constraints on their agency. Indeed, a scrutiny of the lives of poor people throws doubt on the utility of the concept of building social capital as a policy prescription. Social capital is not automatically created from association, trust does not magically emerge from repeated interaction, and representation of the poorest is difficult to secure even through decentralized institutional structures. This paper confirms the views of those commentators who suggest that without specific attention to linking the social with the political, to the need to transform institutional arrangements, and to challenging systemic sources of power, social capital remains weak as a policy tool (Fine, 2001; Portilla, 1997; Schuurman, 2003). Furthermore, it implies that poverty alleviation measures which focus on social welfare and income redistribution are likely to be a precondition for advancing the associational and representational capacities of the poorest. Rather than spending more effort reiterating oversimplified mantras about the beneficial effects of participation and association on the generation of

The Three Movements 119 social capital, we need to pay far more attention to the effects of the lack of material and physical assets of the poor, and to the socio-structural constraints that impede their exercise of agency. (p. 904) As noted in the first part of this chapter, a recent movement in the consideration of inclusive development is the shift from focus on participation to representation. The second movement, as laid out in this section, is the critical assessment of social capital in order for it to be considered truly inclusive. In the first two movements described here and in the following sections, inclusive development has shifted from a “fuzzy buzzword” (Palmer et al., 1997) to a term with a distinct political orientation. I would argue that this orientation is important for placing parameters around the term and holding it accountable. Any reform that seeks to do a bit more for humans today than it did yesterday can claim progress. Any development initiative that seeks to include more people today than it did yesterday can also claim progress, but I would argue that claiming the term “inclusive development” requires a stronger clarification of processes. Such operationalization might occur through demonstrating the three contemporary movements outlined in this chapter: movement from participation to representation; movement from uncritical to critical assessment of social capital; and movement from social protection to redistribution. The final movement is described in the following section.

Movement #3: From Social Protection to Redistribution Social protection has long been part of the inclusive development landscape. Many societies provide some form of governmental support for their most marginal members, whether defined by economic poverty, age (often the very young or very old), disability, or parental status (e.g., grants for mothers). Baud (2016) argued that “governmental policies can provide social protection, insurance and preferential access to public goods and services. Ultimately, such decisions rest on issues of power and governance within the broader society” (p. 124). The idea of protection is to provide for the most basic needs to avoid calamitous social, health, or economic conditions for particular populations. There is often an implicit or explicit assumption that certain people cannot benefit from a market economy and therefore need protection to maintain their livelihood. Adésinà (2009) describes social protection interventions as those that guarantee “a minimum level of social wellbeing through social insurance, unemployment, old-age pension, or pro-natalist provisioning” (p.  38). Adésinà’s definition exhibits some of the major tenants of social protection – these are provisions for certain people, often at certain times of their lives. I recently asked a consultant who works in the field of social protection about how much of the actual needs social protection payments cover. The consultant estimated

120

Progressive and Critical Movements

20% (personal communication, November 29, 2019). Such a minimal level of coverage then provides cover for policymakers – small payments allow individuals to offset their most basic daily needs but are not enough so that they might be attractive to people who might otherwise support their livelihoods through employment or entrepreneurial opportunities. Social protection, then, might be said to be at the very least a humane approach to supporting vulnerable populations but is not necessarily a pathway to social transformation. Indeed, it is clear that social protection represents a new modality for ensuring that vulnerable populations are not left completely out of society. Policies, programs, and direct payments are intended to mediate the risk of the physical, psychological, social, and educational consequences brought on by extreme poverty. It is unclear, however, if social protection can stimulate development (as defined in any of the ways outlined in the early chapters of this book). Social protection, for example, may do little to reduce inequalities, create political power for those who have little, or help to convert functionings into capabilities. In order to do so, some authors have argued that in order for development to be truly inclusive – or to be development at all – more attention needs to be paid to those who are benefitting from unjust policies, accumulating resources from spaces that are presumed shared by all (e.g., natural resources or nation space), or benefitting unduly from favorable tax policies without contributing to the overall development of the populace. In these cases, the term redistribution is gaining cautious theoretical support by scholars and nation-states.

From Social Protection to Redistribution The cautious political and discursive support of redistribution, according to Ferguson (2015), is the result of the stigma associated with the term as it relates to constraints on market forces and historic likenesses to Marxist economic thought. Contemporary distributionism, however, is not focused on labor, which was a core feature of Marxist ideology and economic thought (Ferguson, 2015). In Marxist economics, the spoils of the state were presumed to belong to those who worked for them. Through labor, one accessed one’s rightful share of the state through access to its services and a fixed and regular income. In distributionism, other indicators and identities are used as rationale for the redistribution of resources in targeted areas that extend beyond the limited groups impacted by social protection. For example, citizenship alone is rationale enough for the Republic of South Africa’s government to levy taxes on its wealthiest corporations and individuals in an effort to redistribute the funds to a wider group of citizens. Ncube et al. (2013) reported that the Republic tracks indicators in its national databases such as unemployment and education level of its populace and develops taxation schemes aimed at “balanced, accelerated, and shared growth” (p. 16). Critics of the African National Congress have long stated that the party is not doing enough in terms of redistribution, but the nation does claim a degree of distributionism through its use of various cash payments to individuals who are now considered vulnerable.

The Three Movements 121 In economic terms, the shift from social protection to redistribution is often framed in a debate between “universalism” and “targeting” of funds. In a recent blog post highlighting the debates between the two economic approaches, Desai (2017) observed that the “pendulum appears to be swinging back toward universalism” (¶ 1). Desai sites similar evidence as Ferguson as to why redistribution may be a viable development option. In India, for example, the Government of India in 2017 was considering a basic income for all because of tensions that have arisen between those receiving social benefits and those not, the administrative challenges that come with targeting of particular groups for social protection (Desai, 2017), and that universal distribution may actually be less expensive for governments (Kidd, 2016). The possibility that a larger, universal system of distribution to people who are economically poor (to ensure a basic level of income) appears counterintuitive to a system that is seemingly streamlined and focused on particular populations. Recent evidence from Europe, however, demonstrates that the larger a “social” fund is, the more efficiently it runs. Antonelli and De Bonis (2017) found that large public interventions appear to positively intervene across multiple social targets, whereas targeted (smaller) funding may have inconsistent results. The authors concluded that As a policy implication, the paper suggests that expenditure policy should follow a multitarget approach, not devoting resources only to contrast some particular social risks, given that some sectorial policies can have indirect positive effects on other areas, thus guaranteeing a more efficient use of resources. (p. 1306) Readers may now be asking if universal redistribution is such a powerful lever for development, then why is it not more common across societies? One answer is the stigma associated with distribution. As noted previously, Ferguson points out that the fear of providing to the masses sounds very communistic, which does not appeal to larger development organizations committed to ideals of economic growth and capitalistic prosperity. The arguments for basic income for all, however, do not necessarily rule out market-based economics. For example, Ravallion (2009) noted that in Brazil, evidence pointed to redistributive policies playing a key role in poverty reduction and complementing market-driven policies in the early 2000s in Brazil. At present in the United States, entrepreneur and onetime 2020 US presidential candidate Andrew Yang proposed a universal basic income (UBI) in the United States, one of the most capitalistic countries in the world. More concretely, the city of Stockton, California, is piloting a universal income program and a Chicago city task force recommended the same for the city ( Jagannathan, 2019). At the time of submission of this book, the COVID-19 crisis settled into the United States, and some policymakers were considering a universal income distribution to combat the collapse of the country’s capitalist economic system (Collins, 2020).

122

Progressive and Critical Movements

Targeted social protection has been central to development discourse since the 1980s. The approach itself was designed as a remedy for “protecting” vulnerable populations in the face of market-oriented reforms that would never “trickle down” to particular populations (Gentilini & Omamo, 2011). Gentilini and Omamo chronicled the early stages of social protection as mechanisms for addressing economic distress of particular populations in targeted ways. The 2000s brought an additional wave of social protection plans that attached conditions to the receipt of small amounts of funding. The aforementioned conditional cash transfers created requirements for socially desirable activities (school attendance, clinic visits, and so on) in exchange for monthly inputs. The outputs of these programs are well documented (e.g., school enrollments, literacy, and clinic visits have been demonstrated to rise as a result of cash inputs) (Holzmann, 2009). Targeted social protection, however, still faces challenges and has unfilled gaps in terms of “inclusiveness.” Gentilini and Omamo (2011) suggest that the conceptualization of social protection is approaching a phase “2.0” and that a systems-level, global approach needs to be examined beyond individual programs. One of the tensions that Gentilini and Omamo point out is between targeted social protection programs and limitations of their reach. The authors explain the debate as follows: Another passionate area of discussion is targeting. Indeed, the topic is often closely linked to rights-related approaches . . . especially as they propose universal minimum incomes, or the right to basic social protection packages. From other standpoints, targeting is deemed instrumental for maximizing programme effectiveness-efficiency ratios, and minimizing leakages. A number of targeting methods have been developed – e.g. means-testing, categorical, geographical, community-based, self-targeting – with comparative advantages and limitations in various contexts and programs. Yet, social protection platforms are increasingly based on administrative-based targeting (e.g. means testing). If deployed alone, such methods may become less appropriate (or even undermine social cohesion) in contexts where the distinction between vulnerability profiles, or between chronic and transitory poverty, becomes blurred – e.g. in urban slums, or in rural areas where deprivation could be similarly spread across and within communities. This is particularly compelling for initiatives that envision predetermined rigid thresholds for program eligibility and enrolment – such as the “poorest 10%” – like the cash transfer programs in Malawi and Zambia (Schubert & Huijbregts, 2006; Schubert, 2005). (pp. 334–335) Gentilini and Omamo (2011) acknowledge that universal protections are creeping into the discussion on targeted social protection, but similar questions remain for more so-called universalistic approaches. For example, the aforementioned cash transfer programs in Malawi and Zambia may provide a stigma- and condition-free opportunity for the poorest 10% of the country

The Three Movements 123 to experience a lift out of poverty, but the person who sits in the lowest 11% bracket may feel the program is unjust. For this reason, basic minimum packages may be a more relevant approach to bridging divides between heterogeneous populations facing similar development barriers. The “movement” from social protection to redistribution in contemporary thinking about inclusive development is not without its challenges. One significant challenge is how governments or agencies will guarantee distribution through taxation or other forms of revenue collection. A delicate balance exists between finding the needed revenue to provide universal distribution and allowing for enough funding to circulate to maintain market viability (for the majority of nations in the world that do not have an exclusively centrally planned economy). In a study of Ethiopia’s Productive Safety Net Programme (PNSP), Hirvonen et al. (2016) found that PNSP was effective in reducing poverty but that it had no impact on inequality. Further, the authors found that progressive income taxes neither decreased poverty nor increased equality because taxation increases aligned with inflation at the time of the study, causing an overall economic slowdown. The authors concluded that if PNSP kept its same budget (without new inputs) it could be expanded to benefit more people if a simple point of entry was individuals who fall below the poverty line. The authors also recommended that tax rate changes must keep pace with inflation. Taxes are essential to any redistributive policy. In a sharp critique of social protection programs, Kidd (2016) argues that social protection and its limitations in general are driven by neoliberalists who want to keep taxes low, so therefore they want to keep social protections limited to very small numbers of recipients. Kidd cited references to high exclusion rates in well-known social protection programs as well as evidence of the economic impact of universal programs as evidence as to why universal programs are more effective. Gentilini and Omamo (2011) also cautioned that governments must undertake both social protection and redistribution with caution because once a program begins it is politically infeasible to put it to an end. The authors cited evidence from Europe during the economic downturns in the 2000s and the political upheaval that came with reduced or terminated social programming. However, the authors also quote Pal et al. (2005), stating, “the conclusions therefore are quite clear. A basic social protection benefit package can be affordable if it is made a priority area of national policy” (p. xii). Further, there is danger that redistributive programs, if not universal, can promote further exclusivity. Yakter (2019), for example, studied 22 countries and found that countries that were more diverse (heterogeneous) are more likely to distribute resources in favor of the groups that currently hold power. Yakter’s (2019) findings are instructive for inclusive development consideration for two reasons. First, he found that redistribution was, on average, more robust in homogeneous than heterogeneous societies. Second, the author found that in heterogeneous groups “politically dominant and richer identity groups selectively cut benefits and access for poorer, minority-heavy groups while keeping their own redistribute interests protected” (p.  837). Wood found across 20+

124

Progressive and Critical Movements

countries in Asia that economic redistribution through schemes like pension plans are largely excluding informal economy workers and entrepreneurs because these populations are not contributing to national systems. In the case of informal economy workers, Wood posited that such contributions would be very challenging for laborers who work long hours for little pay (2018). The dangers of redistribution, as outlined by Yakter (2019) and Wood (2018), highlight how any social system can go awry but also highlight a fundamental or philosophical misalignment with “distributionism” as it is framed and characterized by Ferguson (2015) and others. Redistribution, without condition and with a wide recipient population, is intended to not just provide a basic minimum for the “social ‘casualties,’ the ‘losers,’ and ‘also rans’ in the economic race” (Pichaud, 2013, p. 36). Its aim is to reach a wide swath of people who experience generational inequality as a result of market-based systems that are driven by those with the most resources. Distribution is also aimed at stimulating economic development on a grander scale than targeted social protection can. Finally, economic redistribution through universal programs are intended to reach those who may need social protection but are not being reached by programs. Pichaud (2013) calls for more research that examines the impacts of redistribution and economic growth, acknowledging that in southern Africa, “universal categorical benefits appear to be the most promising basis for progress, with a focus on children probably being the most effective way of tackling poverty” (p. 37). In Latin America, the focus of scholars has been on the inability of targeted social protection programs to reach all who may qualify. Therefore, in a recent United Nations publication (CEPAL Review),1 Ocampo and Gómez-Arteaga (2017) firmly stated that There should be a move towards universal benefits and expanded noncontributory social protection mechanisms in parallel with labour formalization efforts and flexible mechanisms to increase social insurance contributions and benefits. The rising middle class has new social protection demands, and more of the same will not be enough: fresh resources (from higher contributions but also taxes) and universal coverage (with a mix of contributory and non-contributory schemes) are essential. Targeted social assistance programmes, a strong focus in recent decades, are simply not enough. (p. 27) It is well beyond the scope of this book to make recommendations on the level of taxation, minimum universal benefits, or the degree to which extractive corporations should redistribute the wealth gained from resources to the people of the land without requirement for labor. However, a review of recent literature indicates that social protection, once thought to be a tool used for the promotion of “inclusive development,” is now being questioned by scholars and practitioners (and potentially has always been questioned by those unreached by social protection). An alternative in the 2020s, and a “movement”

The Three Movements 125 in inclusive development, is the trend toward redistribution. Social protection itself is an act of redistribution, but contemporary scholarship has introduced the concepts of universal income, non-contributory inclusion, broad categorical benefits (e.g., all children), unconditional cash transfers, and ownership of “shares” of a nation’s wealth (Ferguson, 2015) as distributive practices that go beyond the narrow targeting of provisions of social protection. These practices are defining how inclusive development is defined in new ways that, in a recent article, I refer to as both critical and progressive in the sections that follow.

Three Movements: Rethinking Inclusive Development Overseas development aid (ODA) and national economic development initiatives, capabilities-based local development, and other initiatives are referred to collectively in this book as “development.” The predominant approach to economic development approaches have been that if the “right” economic, human capital, or policy inputs are in place, the free market economy will eventually grow large enough that benefits will trickle down to every member in a society. Historic loan packages, followed by technical assistance, have been the game plan for ODA. In free-market economies, governments often loosen regulation to allow for market activity, which, in theory, will benefit everyone within that society in some way. Concerns of the capacity of market-based reform to truly have universal impact, however, triggered new thinking about “inclusiveness” in development. Over the past four decades, new innovations such as financial inclusion, social protection, a focus on social networks, and increased participation of stakeholders have been mechanisms for promoting greater inclusion of people who might benefit from development. The term “inclusive development” has thus established itself as a desirable descriptor of programs, and ODA organizations and governments alike have embraced the terminology. The attractiveness of the term has led to a relative popularity of the term and has led to new indices, research centers, and research articles dedicated to the cause. Van Gent (2017), however, worried that Although “inclusive development” is gradually finding its way in the development discourse, its ascendancy has not been accompanied with great conceptual clarity. A clear-cut definition of inclusive development is nonexistent, and as a result the concept is often interchangeably used with related concepts such as inclusive growth. As a result, the concept has led to significant ambiguity in both the literature as well as policy frameworks from a number of institutions, organizations and country-governments. (¶ 2) This book, and specifically this chapter, has sought to characterize some of the recent movements in inclusive development, even if a full conceptualization of the term is ever-changing. The early chapters of this book identified

126

Progressive and Critical Movements

the variety of ways in which inclusive development has been characterized by scholars and organizations (through participation, social capital, and social protection). Recently, however, discursive shifts have occurred in the conceptualization of inclusive development. There has been a recent movement in the conceptualization of inclusive development from participation to representation. Both participation and representation recognize that development stakeholders are plural in nature, but representation identifies the power differences between core and marginalized groups in societies and deems them as political equals in the construction of policy and development initiatives. Similarly, the move from uncritical to critical assessment of social capital represents a contemporary understanding of inclusive development. Critical assessment of social capital builds on Bourdieu’s theory of social capital that is individualistic and reproductive in nature. Critical development scholars described in the previous sections acknowledge that, while social networks may be good for everyone, they inevitably serve and reproduce privilege for those already in elite circles. In this way, the movement from uncritical to critical evaluation of social capital also represents a movement to help understand inclusive development, as the specific inequalities faced by lower-status individuals are identified and the power relationships between low- and high-status individuals within and between networks are identified. Finally, a variety of authors named in this chapter have outlined the shortcomings of social protection programs, from the programs’ limited scope to the requirements for particular conditions to be met in order to receive payments. Recent trends point to distributionism, or redistribution of wealth, as a movement in inclusive development. Redistribution of wealth presents a political framing of inclusive development because inequalities are assumed to exist because of exploitative relationships and are redressed through taxation, resource rents, and wealth distribution. The conceptualizations and movements of inclusive development outlined in this chapter have, to date, only minimally coincided with the scope of education research. In the next chapter, however, I outline how these movements might inform inclusive education research in the next decade. The chapter is prospective (i.e., the arguments that will be proposed are based on findings in the broad-based inclusive development literature and have yet to be tested in education). However, I argue that educators and development education specialists have much to learn from inclusive development movements, and these movements can be a way for education scholars and practitioners to better understand their field.

Note 1. “CEPAL Review is a United Nations publication prepared under the editorial responsibility of the Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean (ECLAC).” See www.cepal.org/en/publications/type/cepal-review.

10 Inclusive Development’s Movements and How They Inform Education

This chapter presents an exploratory analysis of how the field of education, and specifically international development education, is informed by the three movements of inclusive development. Education and development have been linked since the early days of ODA, and educational development has been a core feature of governmental intervention and “empowerment” in the Global South since formal colonization ended. Similar to many of the development theories that have permeated the field, education is also explicitly linked to economic development. The fundamental theory guiding education and development has historically been human capital theory. Langelett explained human capital as: The “know how” of the work force that increases the productivity of each worker. The theory of human capital is that investments can be made in human beings, as well as in physical capital, which yield a future stream of returns or dividends to the initial investment. Investment in human capital has been one of the major sources of growth in modern economies during the past century. (2002, p. 1) Peercy and Svenson (2006) argued that human capital has been central in the discourse of education and development since the 1950s, citing a 1954 study by W. Arthur Lewis that linked education and productivity of workers with higher levels of education. A series of studies beginning in the 1970s by the World Bank further found that investments in primary education provided the greatest return on investment in terms of societal human capital (Psacharopoulos & Patrinos, 2004), thus the movement toward education for all has been persistent in educational discourse since the 1990s, when the United Nations facilitated the World Declaration on Education for All. The World Declaration could represent a “tipping point” (Gladwell, 2000) or a convergence of policy streams (Kingdon, 1984) that led to a worldwide focus on basic education. The World Declaration for All was rationalized by a series of statistics that urged state parties (governments) and development organizations to act on behalf of children and their education. At the time of the conference, the Declaration’s preamble established the problem.

128 • •

•

•

Progressive and Critical Movements More than 100 million children, including at least 60 million girls, have no access to primary schooling; More than 960 million adults, two-thirds of whom are women, are illiterate, and functional illiteracy is a significant problem in all countries, industrialized and developing [sic]; More than one-third of the world’s adults have no access to the printed knowledge, new skills and technologies that could improve the quality of their lives and help them shape, and adapt to, social and cultural change; and More than 100 million children and countless adults fail to complete basic education programmes; millions more satisfy the attendance requirements but do not acquire essential knowledge and skills. (World Declaration for on Education for All, Preamble)

The convergence of political will to invest in early and primary education and the evidence of its return on investment led many countries in the Global South to voluntarily implement free primary education schemes that removed the barriers of school fees for children to attend primary schools. The groundswell around “education for all” even created a reversal in the World Bank recommendation to remove individual inputs for primary education as a mechanism of private “costsharing” with governments, even though many governments took on free policies long before the recommendation was lifted (Vavrus & Kwauk, 2013). Universal education has continued as a global goal since the 1990s. Twentyfive years after the Jomtien declaration, UNESCO took stock of the universal gains in education from 1999–2015. During this time, • •

•

• •

•

The primary school net enrolment ratio was 84% in 1999 and is estimated to reach 93% in 2015. Net enrolment ratios improved significantly, rising at least 20 percentage points from 1999 to 2012 in 17 countries, 11 of which were in sub-Saharan Africa. While some increases in enrolment ratios are evident, nearly 58 million children were out of school in 2012, and progress in reducing this number has stalled. Two thirds more children were enrolled in primary school in 2012 than in 1999. Despite progress in access, dropout remains an issue: in 32 countries, mostly in sub-Saharan Africa, at least 20% of children enrolled are not expected to reach the last grade. By the 2015 deadline, one in six children in low and middle income countries – or almost 100 million – will not have completed primary school. (UNESCO, 2015, pp. 5–6)

That same year, in Dakar, 164 countries renewed commitments to “education for all.” Clearly progress had been made in the overall enrollment of

Inclusive Development’s Movements

129

children and their access to education worldwide. At the same time, lingering questions remained about the quality of education within schools themselves, the demographic makeup of those children who still remained out of school, and why “education for all” still had not been achieved. Not surprisingly, UNESCO found that the world’s most economically marginalized populations were also those who were marginalized from education (UNESCO, 2015). Peters (2011) reasoned that these exclusions have been deemed allowable for many years because of a lack of firm commitments to human rights. Concerned about how wide-reaching the terminology of “all” was in international documents, Peters, a disability studies and education scholar, found that the United Nations’ Convention on the Rights of the Child allowed for states’ parties and international organizations to limit educational opportunities if these states perceived that a child could not benefit from such education. It was not until the EFA framework began to outline a right-to-education approach and the Salamanca Framework for Action began to spell out the need for inclusive education did discursive expectations rise regarding commitments to comprehensive “education for all” begin. Peters remarked: As long as the discourse in international policy documents continues to insist on providing an education that is “appropriate to the child’s condition” and one that is “subject to available resources” (UNICEF, 1990, p. 7) rather than on preparing schools to reach out to all children (EFA Framework for Action) and on building an inclusive society (Salamanca Statement’s Framework for Action), inclusive education may not become a reality for the majority of people with disabilities now excluded from education. (2011, p. 106) Peters’s example of the failures of attempts to educate “all” focused on children with disabilities but is not limited to this population alone. A 2010 UNESCO Global Monitoring Report highlighted that children in sub-Saharan Africa, females, children in emergency situations, linguistic and ethnic minorities within countries, and children in low income circumstances (either by household or nation) face disproportionately larger barriers to access schooling and to experiencing quality education within schools. The failure of the international educational community (including governments, international donors, international organizations, and schools) to reach its aspirational goal of “all” led to a call for education that is more inclusive in nature and designed to be responsive to the needs of those for whom previous educational initiatives had failed.

Inclusive Education The failure of “education for all” to truly reach all children in schools, whether because of physical access barriers or discrimination against

130

Progressive and Critical Movements

particular populations of children, was the impetus for inclusive education initiatives. Inclusive education, in both the Global North and South, has taken both a universal (all) and plural (specific population-focused) approach to ensuring access and quality for all students. In this way, inclusiveness has been defined as an approach for “all” children but has been leveraged as a way to address historic exclusions of populations like children with disabilities. For example, Kisanji (1999) cited early research around inclusive education that focused on universalist ideals of improving schools overall. Citing the work of early pioneers in the field such as Ainscow (1991) and Hopkins et al. (1994), Kisanji reported seven core principles to inclusion in schools: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Strong administrative leadership and attention to quality of instruction Emphasis on student acquisition of basic skills High expectations for students and confidence among teachers that they can deal with children’s individual needs Commitment to provide a broad and balanced range of curriculum experiences for all children Orderly, safe climate conducive to teaching and learning Arrangements for supporting individual members of staff through staff development, using both the workshop and the workplace Frequent monitoring of student progress

Booth and Ainscow (2000) later spelled out the dimensions of inclusive education in the Index for Inclusion. On an international level, few inclusive education guides have achieved the level of notoriety that the Index has. At present, the Index has 35 different localized context versions (e.g., in Chinese for Hong Kong and French for Quebec) in 32 different languages. The core argument that supports the Index is that inclusion is a structural initiative and is the responsibility of systems to make education work for every child (rather than stating that certain children may not benefit from education because of demographic categorization or personal attributes). Booth and Ainscow’s 2014 version of the Index lays out a series of assumptions about what inclusion is: • • • •

•

Valuing all students and staff equally. Increasing the participation of students in, and reducing their exclusion from, the cultures, curricula and communities of local schools. Restructuring the cultures, policies and practices in schools so that they respond to the diversity of students in the locality. Reducing barriers to learning and participation for all students, not only those with impairments or those who are categorised as “having special educational needs.” Learning from attempts to overcome barriers to the access and participation of particular students to make changes for the benefit of students more widely.

Inclusive Development’s Movements • • • • • •

131

Viewing the difference between students as resources to support learning, rather than as problems to be overcome. Acknowledging the right of students to an education in their locality. Improving schools for staff as well as for students. Emphasising the role of schools in building community and developing values, as well as in increasing achievement. Fostering mutually sustaining relationships between schools and communities. Recognising that inclusion in education is one aspect of inclusion in society. (Booth & Ainscow, 2014)

Booth and Ainscow’s (2014) Index has served as an enduring professional development tool for examining systems-change and universal inclusion. At the same time, inclusive education historically also has been framed as a populationspecific intervention and approach to increasing access in education. One of the main population groups who has been a source of historic and contemporary focus is children with disabilities. My colleagues and I recently edited the Sage Handbook of Diversity and Inclusion in Education. Among the 41 chapters of the book, approximately 75% focused on children with disabilities and only a few chapters on higher education. However, the Sustainable Development Goals also named additional groups who should benefit from “inclusive and equitable quality education.” Among the populations named in SDG 4 targets are girls, boys, young children (eligible for early childhood development programming), women, men, persons with disabilities, Indigenous peoples, children in vulnerable situations, people from small island developing states, and people from African countries. In this way, the SDGs and their targets (specifically Goal 4) have taken an approach to “education for all” that links inclusion to quality and at the same time naming specific groups who need to be counted, targeted, and will potentially benefit from inclusive education in states. Although each has different political and disciplinary histories, inclusive education is likely to be the closest educational strategy to inclusive development, and several of the themes that were discussed in the previous chapters can be found in debates within the field of inclusive education itself. This book does not enter into the debate about whether inclusive education should or should not occur. Rather, this chapter seeks to explore the linkages between the three movements in inclusive development and how they might influence the delivery and process of education worldwide. This book will have been submitted just before the release of UNESCO’s Global Monitoring Report on inclusive education, so readers should look at that report for in-depth investigation of inclusive education worldwide. This chapter will focus on the movements of inclusive development described in Chapter 9 and applies to three contemporary issues in education: the role of representation by marginalized children in inclusive education, the role of social capital and how it reproduces social privilege in higher education, and how redistribution may impact or influence inclusive education funding in the 21st century.

132

Progressive and Critical Movements

Representation and Inclusive Education Like inclusive development, inclusive education advocates have often applauded interventions that increased access to schools for marginalized populations. A recent evaluation of UNICEF’s inclusive education initiatives related to students with disabilities ( Johnstone et al., in press) found that UNICEF’s activities, for example, were heavily focused on improving access to schooling for children with disabilities. The evaluation drew upon Subrahmanian’s (2005) framing of rights to, in, and through education for girls, acknowledging that many inclusive education initiatives, especially emanating from development agencies, fall short of rights in and through education but are mainly focused on rights to education. The corollary between access and outcomes in inclusive education can be compared to participation and representation in inclusive development. Specifically, access to education is often celebrated as a success of inclusive education in the same way that participation of groups of people is celebrated in inclusive development. Is participation and access enough, however, to reach global aims such as the SDGs? The answer is probably no. In the following section, I will outline an example of one population (students with disabilities) who has received some access to schooling through inclusive education but for whom little is known about the outcomes of schooling. The degree to which the needs, perspectives, and contributions of these populations is represented in policy development and planning for inclusive education is described next. Children With Disabilities Children with disabilities represent one of the largest populations in the world but are often uncounted and remain out of school. Approximately one billion people worldwide have a disability. Among these, 150 million of them are children (World Health Organization, 2011). According to data that Johnstone et al. (in press) reviewed for the aforementioned UNICEF evaluation, the lack of participation of children with disabilities in education is staggering. In our report we stated that: •

•

• •

Approximately 80% of students who are deaf worldwide do not have access to formal education (World Federation of the Deaf, 2018), and only 1–2% of students who are deaf in low- and middle-income countries have access to education in local sign language (World Federation of the Deaf, 2017). Fewer than 10% of children who are blind have access to formal education (International Council for Education of People with Visual Impairment, 2006). Only 5–15% of students who require assistive devices and technologies to improve learning have access to them (World Health Organization, 2017). Many children with disabilities spend most of their time in institutions, group homes, or residential facilities with limited or no access to education (UNICEF, 2013).

Inclusive Development’s Movements •

•

133

In many low- and middle-income countries, learning disabilities are not a recognized category of disability that receives services. As a result, these students seldom receive appropriate classroom support (Hayes et al., 2018). Students with intellectual disability are often denied an education based on misperceptions concerning their ability to learn; when they are educated, they tend to be educated in segregated classrooms and are not provided equitable learning opportunities ( Johnstone et al., in press, p. 12).

The structural exclusion of children with disabilities from schooling at all is representative of the failures of inclusive development over the past several decades. As outlined in the introduction to this book, sometimes practitioners think inclusion for this particular population is simply too difcult to try. Other scholars point to the placement of children with disabilities in mainstream classrooms as inappropriate because special education practices are ignored (see Kaufman & Badar, 2016). As noted earlier, however, global movements are shifting toward inclusive education, and the orientation of such a shift reflects recent movements in inclusive development. The first evidence of a global orientation of inclusive education for children with disabilities is outlined in the Sustainable Development Goals. As noted earlier, two of the SDG 4 targets specifically name children with disabilities: •

•

By 2030, eliminate gender disparities in education and ensure equal access to all levels of education and vocational training for the vulnerable, including persons with disabilities, indigenous peoples and children in vulnerable situations Build and upgrade education facilities that are child, disability and gender sensitive and provide safe, nonviolent, inclusive and effective learning environments for all. (United Nations Development Programme, n.d.)

The targets presented next, however, mainly focus on access to education for children with disabilities. Within the framework of the “participation to representation” movement outlined in the previous chapter, these targets might be considered little more than a call for full participation. While disability advocates around the world might celebrate access to education as a major victory, a United Nations document that preceded the SDGs by nearly a decade provides a stronger example of the inclusive development movement from participation to representation than the SDGs themselves. The Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD) is an international treaty that has been ratified by 181 states parties worldwide as of early 2020. The Convention outlines the specific, plural rights of persons with disabilities (see Mégret, 2008). CRPD provides specific guidance on how people with disabilities can be represented in education planning in two of its extensions: Article 24 (part of CRPD itself) and General Comment 4 (provided by the Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities – see United Nations Human Rights, n.d.). Article 24 extends discourse of participation or

134

Progressive and Critical Movements

access to schooling by outlining the end goal of education – representation in society. Specifically, Article 24 begins by requiring: 1.

States Parties [to] recognize the right of persons with disabilities to education. With a view to realizing this right without discrimination and on the basis of equal opportunity, States Parties shall ensure an inclusive education system at all levels and lifelong learning directed to: a.

b.

c.

The full development of human potential and sense of dignity and self-worth, and the strengthening of respect for human rights, fundamental freedoms and human diversity; The development by persons with disabilities of their personality, talents and creativity, as well as their mental and physical abilities, to their fullest potential; Enabling persons with disabilities to participate effectively in a free society. (United Nations Human Rights, n.d.)

The pathway to “development” is spelled out in Section I of General Comment 4, which clearly demonstrates a shift toward “representation” that aligns with broader global movements in inclusive development. General Comment 4 (Section 1.7) states that: Consistent with article 4 (3), States parties must consult with and actively involve persons with disabilities, including children with disabilities, through their representative organizations, in all aspects of planning, implementation, monitoring and evaluation of inclusive education policies. Persons with disabilities and, when appropriate, their families, must be recognized as partners and not merely recipients of education. (United Nations, 2016) General Comment 4 exemplifies that inclusive education is a process that requires input, negotiation, and followup by representatives of the included population. In this case, General Comment 4 debunks the myth that children with disabilities should feel fortunate that they are provided access to education at all and should be content with whatever participatory activities are provided. According to the Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, such a pathway would not bring about development. Rather, the tone of General Comment 4 states that inclusive education (and, by extension, inclusive development) is a representational process in which stakeholders who are exercising their human right to education must be part of all planning, implementation, monitoring, and evaluation. General Comment 4 further links the representation of persons with disabilities, parents of children with disabilities, and caregivers as essential participants in the “partnership” of education that can deliver on inclusive societies. In Section II, subsection 12h,

Inclusive Development’s Movements

135

General Comment 4 demonstrates how organizations of persons with disabilities and community members with links to disability are a necessary part of the milieu of governance associations related to education. Teacher associations, student associations and federations, organizations of persons with disabilities, school boards, parent-teacher associations and other functioning school support groups, both formal and informal, are all encouraged to increase understanding and knowledge of disability. The involvement of parents or caregivers and the community is viewed as an asset that contributes resources and strengths. The relationship between the learning environment and the wider community must be recognized as a route towards inclusive societies. (United Nations, 2016) The case of children with disabilities highlights recent movements from participation-based inclusive development to representation-based inclusive development. The SDGs for the first time explicitly called for inclusion and, in SDG 4, inclusive education. These goals expanded beyond access to schooling by requiring outcomes data to be present for children entering school. At the same time, the targets set by the SDGs mainly focused on the participation of children in schooling. General Comment 4 of the CRPD, on the other hand, exemplifies the movement from participation to representation. For persons with disabilities, political organization often happens through organizations of persons with disabilities (OPDs – also sometimes referred to as disabled persons organizations [DPOs]) and parent groups (i.e., parents of children with disabilities who organize themselves to demand better educational opportunities for their children). General Comment 4 acknowledges that both of these groups need to be represented in the planning, governance, and monitoring of inclusive education to ensure that the needs of children with disabilities are met in schools. The movement from participation to representation acknowledges that the education of children with disabilities may require professionals with pedagogical training to support children’s access but also requires political representation to ensure there is political will, oversight, and perspective to ensure that children’s rights are met in educational settings.

From Uncritical to Critical Assessment of Social Capital The second major movement that is reflected in contemporary educational literature is the movement from uncritical to critical reflection on social capital. This movement is exemplified best in the study of higher education. As noted in the previous chapters, social capital is often a predictor of upward mobility in any society. One setting in which human capital develops in societies is through educational institutions (Coleman, 1988). Higher education,

136

Progressive and Critical Movements

in particular, is a site for development of social capital (Tough, 2019). Yosso (2005) critically outlined how social capital is used in systems of higher education to accelerate the lifetime development potential of some and extinguish that in others. When speaking of the US higher education system and the place of whites and people of color in it, Yosso argued: In addressing the debate over knowledge within the context of social inequality, Pierre Bourdieu (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977) argued that the knowledges of the upper and middle classes are considered capital valuable to a hierarchical society. If one is not born into a family whose knowledge is already deemed valuable, one could then access the knowledges of the middle and upper class and the potential for social mobility through formal schooling. Bourdieu’s theoretical insight about how a hierarchical society reproduces itself has often been interpreted as a way to explain why the academic and social outcomes of People of Color are significantly lower than the outcomes of Whites. The assumption follows that People of Color “lack” the social and cultural capital required for social mobility. As a result, schools most often work from this assumption in structuring ways to help “disadvantaged” students whose race and class background has left them lacking necessary knowledge, social skills, abilities and cultural capital (see Valenzuela, 1999). (p. 70) Yosso’s argument is that social capital itself is an exclusive phenomenon that needs to be critically assessed because higher education systems themselves may reproduce inequalities. However, Yosso argued that students who presumably “lack” Bourdieusian social capital have a variety of other forms of capital that are often overlooked by scholars. Yosso’s arguments highlight how social capital is being critically analyzed in the United States, with a near universal higher education system, but such analysis has only recently begun in relation to global higher education and development. The reason for this is similar to the rationales for access to education for children with disabilities as stated earlier. In higher education, a predominant understanding of “inclusion” is access to higher education. Martin Trow (1973) traced systems of higher education worldwide to examine how they moved from elite (only for a privileged few) to mass (typically through state interventions to increase the number of institutions to meet demand), to universal higher education (achieved when a majority of the age of cohort entry, i.e., secondary school graduates, enroll in higher education systems). Success stories from around the world demonstrate how systems can move from elite to mass systems. Systems in Europe and the United States reached mass enrollment in the mid-20th century, followed by systems in Asia (South Korea, Japan, China). Mass and universal higher education are meant to increase inclusion and to provide participants with increased access to contacts

Inclusive Development’s Movements

137

and networks for future development. In many ways, the move toward mass and universal higher education provides a target for inclusive development for nations that are now experiencing high levels of students who successfully complete secondary school. SDG Target 4.3, for example, aims to, by 2030, “ensure equal access for all women and men to affordable and quality technical, vocational and tertiary education, including university” (UNESCO, 2015). Access for all to quality technical, vocational, and tertiary education, including university, would presumably introduce inclusive development worldwide. However, Goolom Mohamedbhai, the former secretary of the Association of African Universities, stated in 2014 that merely providing access was not enough. Enrollment in higher education has not yet reached mass scale in many places on the continent, but demand is growing. In these “massifying” systems, the frequent government response is to provide any mechanism to meet demand, which includes over-enrolling in state institutions and allowing for privatization (Mohamedbhai, 2014). Such strategies are not unique to Africa. Japan, for example, achieved universal higher education through a proliferation of private junior and technical colleges (and government grants to support fee-paying students) (Huang, 2012). Mohamedbhai (2014) questioned, however, whether simply increasing enrollment created a scenario for inclusive development, and put forth proposals for how higher education sectors could develop and increase student access: There is every indication that the output from the secondary school sector will continue to increase, at least over the next decade or so. As a result, higher education institutions will be expected to provide access to a greater number of secondary school leavers. To cope with this situation, institutions must be guided by some fundamental principles: 1. 2.

3. 4.

While making provision for greater access, they must ensure equity, in particular gender parity, which is a matter of concern for Africa. They must take all necessary measures for the adequate success of all the enrolled students, especially those who experience difficulties in adapting to the higher education environment. They must never compromise on quality. They must ensure that their teaching and research are relevant to their respective country’s needs. (p. 81)

Mohamedbhai’s call to action mirrors many of the considerations outlined by Booth and Ainscow (2014) in relation to inclusive schools. What is missing from the literature on massification and universal education, until relatively recently, however, is a critical assessment of how social capital develops within particular types of institutions from a global perspective. Yosso (2005) succinctly noted how social capital develops within institutions and how institutions themselves misinterpret the experiences of minoritized students as “lacking”

138

Progressive and Critical Movements

capital. Yosso argues that all students have capital and coined the term “community cultural wealth” to describe the capital that institutions often ignore. On a global systems level, however, the linkage between expanding access and critical assessment of social capital is often ignored. Although this linkage was identified by Bourdieu and Passerson in the 1970s, increased access is frequently framed as a mechanism of inclusion that is thought to improve social capital to all. Marginson (2016) argues that this is not the case. As systems move to mass higher education, access to elite institutions is often unequal, and the quality of mass higher education may be suspect. Thirty years after “education for all” became a worldwide phenomenon, worldwide participation in tertiary education captures approximately one-third of the population that leaves secondary school (for any reason) and is growing by 1% worldwide each year. Such growth sometimes creates tensions, as states and employers often do not have the capacity to absorb the number of students entering and eventually exiting tertiary education. Marginson explains the realities of capitalist systems, and by doing so critically analyzes the limitations of higher education and the perceived social networks that can arise from universal and inclusive participation. [U]niversal desires for social betterment are articulated through higher education systems that are themselves becoming universal. But the opportunities that education is meant to bring are not universal, not in capitalist societies that, regardless of whether they are low-, middle- or high-income, are stratified by unequal earnings and hierarchical power, in which at any given time, by definition, there is an absolute limit to the number of socially advantaged positions on offer. (2016, p. 415) Marginson concludes that the evolution from elite to mass to universal education (as outlined by Trow’s original conceptualization of this evolution in 1973) will always reinforce inequalities. According to the author, these “stratifications” will occur even if universal higher education occurs; these stratifications include family background, institutions within national systems, program areas within institutions, private/public institutions within particular systems, and tuition. The scenarios that Marginson describes highlight possible trends in inclusive development over the next century. It is entirely possible that a global goal of universal tertiary education is on the horizon (as outlined in the SDGs, access would be universal by 2030). Most of the world has moved to mass tertiary education, and select countries around the world have already achieved universal higher education (Marginson, 2016). There are few education scholars who would argue with a proposal to increase higher education participation worldwide. The rationale for such a proposal would be to increase individuals’ human and social capital, thus stimulating development. The greater the participation rate, the greater more inclusive universal higher education would appear to be.

Inclusive Development’s Movements

139

A recent movement among inclusive development (Levien, 2015) and higher education (Marginson, 2016) scholars, however, is to critically examine the concept of social capital and not take it as an automatic development outcome that is experienced equally. Both Levien and Marginson draw upon Bourdieu’s work to highlight how social capital can be reproductive and that development initiatives or higher enrollment rates in tertiary education do not necessarily reduce such stratification. Bourdieu and Passeron (1990) observed that there are: extremely sophisticated mechanisms by which the school system contributes to reproducing the structure of the distribution of cultural capital and, through it, the social structure (and this, only to the extent to which this relational structure itself, as a system of positional differences and distances, depends upon this distribution) to the ahistorical view that society reproduces itself mechanically, identical to itself, without transformation or deformation, and by excluding all individual mobility. (pp. vii-viii) As noted earlier, education has long been associated with the development of human and social capital. At the same time, the movement from uncritical to critical assessment of social capital (within both inclusive development literature and education literature) represents an opportunity for education planners to target both increased access and increased equality through education. Marginson’s (2016) critical assessment of universal tertiary education led the author to recommend five ways to increase equality in high participation systems (e.g., mass and universal higher education systems). These interventions are: 1) publicly fund higher education (reducing financial barriers for prospective students); 2) private sector provision of higher education is either reduced or highly regulated; 3) reduce institutional stratification within national systems; 4) admissions are free from corruption or influence (including legacy admissions); and 5) equitable labor market selection (which may be beyond the scope of educationalists but represents an important input for inclusive “pipelines” to the workforce). Marginson (2016) and Levien (2015) and others have demonstrated that social capital, sometimes believed to be the “missing link” in development, cannot be taken for granted or assumed to be equally distributed. Similar to the movement from participation to representation described in Chapter 9, the movement from uncritical to critical assessment of social capital represents a sharper and potentially more controversial understanding of inclusive development, whether applied to community development programs or educational spaces. This sharpness, however, provides a conceptual point of reference for organizations and governments claiming they are practicing inclusive development. Within the context of these movements, there is increasing pressure for those who wish to be “inclusive” to engage in representative decision-making and question assumptions about social capital as a development lever.

140

Progressive and Critical Movements

From Social Protection to Redistribution The next section covers the final “movement” in inclusive development – from social protection to redistribution. In inclusive development, social protection has long been considered an important way to ensure that the basic needs of societies’ most vulnerable populations are met. Social protection often comes in the forms of grants. These grants sometimes have conditions attached to them. A recent “movement” in inclusive development, however, is universal grants. Because social protection programs are often difficult to scale up, some governments (particularly in the Southern African Development Community [SADC]) have moved toward a more mass distributional approach. This approach often has a philosophical underpinning that all persons are deserving of “shares” of a nations’ wealth and that there should be a minimum level of income for all individuals. Mass redistribution (in the form of universal basic income) has not yet reached the SADC nations but is under consideration. At present, mass redistribution represents a movement away from social protection for individuals and a movement toward broad demographic categories (i.e., all children).

Education, Social Protection, and Redistribution The provision of education services has always depended on distribution of resources from central governments. How funding flows from government sources to communities and schools represents a development question that has been debated for years among education finance experts. Further, in some countries the majority of students attend private schools, which further complicates the demographics of students who remain in public systems. For example, Macao, Bangladesh, Sint Maarten, Aruba, Zimbabwe, the United Kingdom, Belize, Curacao, Tonga, Grenada, United Arab Emirates, Guatemala, Chile, Lebanon, Belgium, Liberia, Mauritius, Comoros, Cote d’Ivoire, and India are all countries in which more than 50% of the secondary school enrollment is in private schools (World Bank Group, 2019). The list of countries is provided as a way of demonstrating that privatization is a global phenomenon and not necessarily predicted by high-, middle-, or low-income status. Despite what seems to be a growing trend toward privatization, the provision of education around the world is still largely dependent on government inputs and formulae that reflect strategic, equity, and demographic considerations in countries. In this section, I will outline three of the major ways in which governments fund education and tie this to the current movement in inclusive development: from social protection to redistribution. In a 2019 article in Prospects, my colleagues and I drew heavily upon the work of Sip Jan Pijl, based at the University of Groningen, who is a leading scholar in modeling and understanding the intersection of education finance and inclusive education. Based on Pijl’s conceptualizations, the following excerpt describes three education funding scenarios in relation to Serbian schools attempting to incorporate

Inclusive Development’s Movements

141

inclusive education and deinstitutionalize segregated schools, with specific targets on children with disabilities and Roma children. Knowing the costs of services is helpful for budgetary planning but may not align with the goal of implementing inclusion policies. For example, Serbia currently funds special schools independently of the general school system. A simple yet undesirable (from an inclusive frame) option would be for the Republic of Serbia to continue funding special schools as per current practice. One could use service package estimates as a way to estimate annual costs for special schools but not to facilitate inclusion. Having a solid understanding of costs may introduce greater efficiency in how the country funds special schools (currently, by budget request by site – primarily based on estimated operational costs). This option, however, would not support broader policy aims toward greater inclusion as part of Serbia’s Europeanization efforts and as part of its desire to better align education with inclusion policies. To this end, two other options may be desirable. The first is what Pijl (2014) calls an “input” model. In this model, service needs determine funding for children, in any schooling environment. . . . Weighted per-capita student funding models have the following characteristics: (1) money follows students to the school they attend; (2) per-student funding varies depending upon student need; and (3) schools have flexibility in how they use the money (Ladd 2008; Ladd and Fiske 2011). For example, according to Ladd and Fiske (2011), the Netherlands uses a weighted system where “many disadvantaged students bring with them almost twice as much funding as regular students” (p. 470). This model differs significantly from current models in Serbia that are based on relatively stable budget allocations year-to-year and assume service provision in special schools. In a percapita (or input) model, supplemental funding would theoretically follow a child wherever she or he attends school. The potential for enhancing inclusion in this model is great, as students entering general education schools would do so with needed academic or other supports ( Johnstone, Lazarus, Lazetic, & Nikolic, 2019, pp. 351–352). My colleagues and I later go on to explain the limitations of per-capital models. At the same time, Pijl (2014) warns that input-based per-capita models may be susceptible to self-interest by local actors – a factor known, in more theoretical terms, as “homo economicus” (see Persky 1995, for a discussion on how actors engage in economic activity focused on their own well-being). Pijl (2014) calls such behavior “strategic” and notes that local organizations may be tempted to find “problems” in children if they know additional funding is attached to such problems. . . . To address shortcomings of the input (per-capita) model, Pijl (2014) suggests a model that is less susceptible to local variation and strategic

142

Progressive and Critical Movements behavior. Called a “throughput” model, it uses historical data on student characteristics and service needs as a basis for annual distributions to local education authorities. For example, if Serbia were to implement a throughput model, the country may examine data1 based on the formulas we reported above, then annually allocate a specific amount of money to a municipal education office. The municipal education office would then distribute the fixed funding to individual schools. If schools overidentified children with special needs in order to secure a greater amount of funding, other schools in the municipal area would suffer (creating a municipallevel system for weighing school requests based on local school need). The benefit of a throughput model is that stable formulas are used for funding allocations. ( Johnstone et al., 2019, pp. 351–352)

Pijl’s thoughtful discussion in input and throughput models mirror movements in inclusive development in relation to social protection and redistribution. Within the context of schooling, however, Pijl (2014) also demonstrates that both “social protection-like” and “redistribution-like” funding models are susceptible to corruption. In fact, because education is a public good that most often is provided by government sources, its provision has a layer of complexity that is not present in characterizations of either social protection or redistribution. For example, there is a clear parallel between the way that Pijl (2014) describes “input” funding and social protection. Input funding is designed to provide a supplemental opportunity for populations deemed marginalized in particular societies. In the case of the Republic of Serbia described earlier, this would mean that students with disabilities and Roma children (an ethnic and linguistic minority group in the country) would receive supplemental state funding that would be used for supportive educational programming. The difference between social protection and input educational funding, however, is that under social protection programs, individuals or families receive funding supplements, whereas in formal education the supplemental funding goes directly to a system. The aforementioned “search for pathology” (Ysseldyke, 1987) is a possibility that could corrupt input funding models, which is why such models often require significant documentation to support the accuracy of numbers of target groups. Both social protection and input funding represent an approach to inclusive development and education because they acknowledge historic discrimination against particular groups and unequally fund these groups in order to ensure that educational rights are met. Input models are a proven way of funding inclusive education efforts, but examples of successful input modeling are primarily found in the countries with the largest concentration of wealth, educational infrastructure, and educational data available to policymakers. In countries where input models are not prevalent, overseas development agencies often step in to play an “input” role. Examples include providing teacher training, school supplies or assistive

Inclusive Development’s Movements

143

technologies, accessible or gender sensitive infrastructure (such as toilets), learning materials in nondominant languages, and so on. These input examples align with social protection in that they are typically targeted toward particular populations and not based on historic data. In many ways, social protection through education may be achieved through either input funding models in central governments or input model supplements provided by external agencies, advocacy groups, and so on. In inclusive development, however, I highlighted earlier that there is a movement underway to shift from social protection models to universal distribution models to support both marginalized populations and the general population. The movement is a result of the inability of the social protection model to reach all vulnerable populations, the challenges of recordkeeping for who is and is not eligible, ethical concerns over conditionalities for grants, and progressive politics that frame national wealth as something that should be accessible to all. Distributional models range from blanket grants for all people in general demographic groups (e.g., older people, mothers, children, rural people) to proposals for basic income grants for all people within a given society (Ferguson, 2015). In education, “throughput” models function in a similar way. Through the study of historic trends of access, discrimination, resource allocation, and personnel needs, school systems (at the municipality or district level) are provisioned a sum of money that is deemed adequate to meet the needs of the system. In theory, such funding should then be applied to systems-based inclusive education as was described in the work of Ainscow and Booth discussed earlier. However, the “movements” of inclusive development in terms of social protection and distributionism are difficult to characterize in practice. An extreme version of distributionism would be for government to issue vouchers to every child in a country and allow a child to select the private education school of his or her choice. Such a model would not likely come to pass for several reasons. First, states use education as a way of promoting specific values and citizenry requirements. Such education has been called everything from civics to “indoctrination” (Palmer, 1957). Second, as ineffective as large, public systems are, there is little evidence that privatization will occur on a mass scale at all educational levels in the next several decades, with the exception of states for which there is little existing government infrastructure. For this reason, the lessons that education can glean from inclusive development (movement from social protection to distributionism) can best be described by comparing the “movement” between input and throughput models (Pijl, 2014). Such a comparison, in this case, informs the broader field of development and development scholars. Throughput funding models are often thought to be the most efficient because they do not require specific registration of students or careful recordkeeping to ensure that the per-capita formulas are reaching the targeted students directly. They present and provide a degree of freedom to local education agencies to plan and deliver education in a way that works best for the municipality. In the same way that basic income grants can provide

144

Progressive and Critical Movements

freedom to individuals without their claiming a particular identity, throughput models allow local education agencies to make local decisions. My colleagues and I concluded our discussion on funding in the Republic of Serbia by acknowledging that input funding is necessary to gather data on what exactly is needed to support diverse learners in schools. After a period of transition, however, throughput models may promote greater inclusion. In the aforementioned study, we concluded: Based on data from 10 municipalities in the Republic of Serbia, we conducted a costing study of service provisions already existing and being delivered to students with SEN [Special Educational Needs – a term used by the Serbian government]. We then overlaid cost data against global trends related to the funding of inclusive education (a policy imperative in Serbia). Examining how systems fund education and services, and attaching numbers to these schemes, provides baseline knowledge for policyfunding reform. Understanding what the segregated schooling costs are can, at the least, provide a starting point for inclusive budgeting. Our findings also indicate that if service models can be developed for children with SEN, there is a way to fund these services through input and throughput models. Readers should note that inclusive models are not inherently less expensive than special schools but may be the site of therapeutic practices for children with SEN – while simultaneously allowing those children to engage in the national curriculum and with all peers from the local municipality. At the same time, “service” for a child may include provisions currently unexamined in SEN approaches, such as teacher development or whole-school learning strategies (such as positive behavior support models). As a starting point, policymakers may use categories and expenses found in Table 1 to guide initial allocations. They would have to annually update the actual costs for service provision, but throughput models would allow municipalities to have flexibility within service packages to create innovative programs for children with SEN. Further, each year, administrators would need to audit such spending decisions to ensure they are in children’s best interests. The initial service package costing data can provide a baseline of current practice and costs to be used in the development of throughput models, which provide new flexibility and freedom for municipalities to plan services in a decentralized, locally relevant way. With the influx of inclusive education supplements, municipalities can leverage existing infrastructure to support financing of inclusive education. Through the use of special school staff in regular schools, part-time support professionals from outside organizations, and schools within municipalities where services may be centered municipalities can make the most of their inclusiveeducation funding supplements. For example, if a municipality has a high population of students with hearing impairments, it may choose to create infrastructure for these students in one mainstream school and provide

Inclusive Development’s Movements

145

transportation to this school rather than having such infrastructure across multiple schools. Another municipality may hire psychologists from local hospitals on an hourly basis to provide counseling to students rather than hire a full-time psychologist. Still another may focus efforts on teacher development so that regular education teachers are more fluent with inclusive practices. A wide variety of provisions may occur – too many to be covered in this policy-level article. However, moving from place-based to throughput models of funding to support children with SEN may provide the Republic of Serbia and its peer nations the needed practical infrastructure to effectively enact their own inclusive-education policies. In all cases, it appears that per-capita funding can be used as a tool for supporting the transition from segregated to inclusive schooling. Understanding service costs and allowing for services to travel across settings minimize the initial shock for newly inclusive schools and satisfy advocates of children with SEN to ensure services are being provided. However, contemporary global visions of inclusion go well beyond service provision and require a critical examination of whether children’s rights to attend, participate in, and succeed in local schools are being upheld. To meet these needs, there will eventually need to be a shift to throughput models in order to fund system-based initiatives. Such initiatives may include individualized services, but will also likely include increased focus on teaching and learning activities, social environments of school, and physical access. Each of these inputs requires flexible funding. Evidence from around Europe indicates that inclusion often emerges when teachers and parents work collaboratively to solve problems (Smyth et al. 2014). Such local collaboration would require a degree of autonomy resourced at current or greater levels, coupled with oversight to ensure that these initiatives align with globally or locally developed indicators of greater inclusion. ( Johnstone et al., 2019, pp. 355–356)

Summary Chapters 9 and 10 investigated recent movements in inclusive development and inclusive education. In all cases, “inclusion” was demonstrated to be a complex phenomenon that involved a great deal more than the act of powerful actors reaching out to less powerful actors in a spirit of welcoming. Rather, inclusive development research and practice appears to be moving from a focus on participation to representation; from an uncritical focus on social capital to a critical focus on social capital; and from social protection to redistribution. In this chapter, I attempted to find parallels in the field of education to these inclusive education movements. I relied on two examples – inclusive education (mainly focused on school-level education) and in the case of universalization of higher education. In the movement from participation to representation, I turned to the education of children with disabilities. In this case, a historic approach to the education of children with disabilities was to provide these

146

Progressive and Critical Movements

children access to schooling. Access, however, has not led to substantive changes in the outcomes of schooling or the lifelong trajectories of these children. Some scholars even argue that such access does children harm because regular classrooms often lack the provisions needed to support children with disabilities. I draw a different conclusion, however, based on the movements described in Chapter 9 and the Convention on the Rights of Children with Disabilities. Based on the CRPD and the movement from participation to representation, I argue that inclusive education can be improved through greater representation of persons with disabilities in schooling processes. CRPD argues that this can be achieved through a variety of functions, including policy development, school management committees, and engagement of parents with disabilities in school decisions. The CRPD rights- and representation-based framework shifts the discourse of schooling that says that children with disabilities can have access to the same schools as other children to a discourse that says these children (or their representatives in organizations of persons with disabilities or parent groups) have a voice in shaping how schooling can take place. Disability advocates may see this point as obvious, but it is one that is worth noting within the context of recent movements of inclusive development. Participation historically has been framed as “inclusive” because it allowed for a voice in the process. Hickey et al. (2015), however, advocate for representation because “participants” often lack political power to drive decisions. Such is the case for inclusive education globally and within development contexts. Children with disabilities who were once ignored, and are often now an afterthought in participative models, may have a more clearly identified place and power in representative models outlined by the CRPD, illustrating a shift that is occurring in both inclusive development and inclusive education. The second movement identified in Chapter 9 was the movement from uncritical to critical social capital. Studies of social capital in school-based populations are less frequent than in higher education settings, although equally important. To exemplify the movement from uncritical to critical examination of social capital, I drew upon research in higher education. In inclusive development, Levien (2015) identified theoretical rifts in the understanding of social capital. He identified that large development organizations, such as the World Bank, embraced social capital as often defined by Putnam (1994), which is generative of social cohesion and provides affordances for groups of different statures to “bridge” with one another around common social concerns. Levien critically interpreted his data from rural India, however, and identified that high-status individuals were the ones who most frequently benefited from social connections and that the social capital that was present in his study tended to have a reproductive function in social inequality. A similar environment seems to exist in higher education. Globally, higher education access is growing. Systems are moving from elite, to mass, to universal education (Trow, 1973). Such systems, one might argue, are then making higher education more inclusive and thus allowing individuals with low economic or social status to form bridges with those with higher levels of status.

Inclusive Development’s Movements

147

Marginson (2016) argues, however, that despite the massification and universalization of higher education, stratifications still exist. These stratifications in family background, institutions within national systems, programs areas within institutions, private/public institutions within particular systems, and tuition, argues Marginson, must be examined critically. In all cases, social capital outcomes will be different for persons on either end of the stratification. Marginson laments that as long as there is global capitalism, these stratifications will exist and recommends mechanisms for reducing inequalities. With the exception of environments where economies cannot absorb large numbers of graduates and environments where debt from study stifles personal and national development, increased enrollment in tertiary education can be seen as an aspirational goal for inclusive development worldwide. Increased enrollment, however, does not guarantee equivalent social capital outcomes for students. Marginson’s critical assessment of stratifications in high enrollment tertiary systems exemplifies that there are both opportunities and barriers for social capital development in any initiative, including tertiary education. An important movement in scholarship of inclusive development (and higher education) is to identify where inequalities might be reproduced in the process of increasing access to development and educational opportunities. The third example of a movement in inclusive development outlined in Chapter 9 is the movement from social protection to redistribution. For this movement, I returned to inclusive education and children with disabilities to present a similar example for education. Social protection is a mechanism for providing minimal funding to societies’ most vulnerable populations. Social protection has recently been questioned for its efficiency, scale, and ethical dimensions. Rather, a recent movement in inclusive development is toward universal distribution of resources. A parallel example exists in education, as my colleagues and I examined potential funding mechanisms for inclusive education. Plural models (per capita funding), we argue, are necessary for understanding the breadth and depth of intervention needs for students and their costs at the school level. Once historic data exists and disaggregated data collection continues, however, inclusive education may benefit from a more universalist approach to funding by utilizing throughput models. Such models may reduce the pathologizing of children from a variety of backgrounds and force schools to consider whole-school approaches to inclusion. The process of writing this book, however, has helped me to identify a gap in the arguments we made in our 2019 Prospects article. The gaps are a result of continued theorization of models of inclusion as well as learning from the first to “movements” in inclusive development as they relate to education. Throughput financial modeling can very well spur innovation and allow for universalist approaches to inclusive education to be successful. I argue, however, that this cannot occur without representation and critical assessment of social capital. In the case of education (whether in schools or tertiary institutions), universalist assumptions about inclusion and higher levels of funding have the potential for

148

Progressive and Critical Movements

creating educational spaces that are appreciative of diverse identities, socioeconomic circumstances, and experiences. Throughput funding (and for that matter universal distributionism), however, also has the potential for reproducing inequalities and social exclusion. To that end, a failure of our 2019 study was the acknowledgment that universal approaches to inclusion (such as throughput funding) need to be held in tension with representation and critical assessment of social capital gains. In short, the “nothing about us without us” philosophy, in this case, acts as a political counterweight to mechanisms that at once allow for innovation in inclusion but could potentially reproduce exclusion. In Chapter 9 I highlighted the three movements present in contemporary inclusive development, then in this chapter, I identified three examples in education that align with these movements. I concluded this chapter with a short discussion on how the three movements may need to act in balance with one another, as there does not appear to be a strictly predictable movement toward pluralism or universal approaches in either development or education. The following chapter will act as a conclusion to the book. I will revisit the various ways in which development has been understood, the various ways inclusive development is understood, and three recent movements in inclusive development and education. The book will conclude with a conversation on how universal approaches to inclusion must be tempered by plural representation and how social approaches must be informed by critical assessment of differential outcomes.

Note 1. Such data would be disaggregated by population group for equity considerations.

11 Conclusions

The first ten chapters of this book covered a variety of topics. The book began with a look into development and its history. Over the past several decades, scholars have critiqued the underlying assumptions about how development works. Some have called for an outright end to overseas aid (Moyo, 2009), while others question the role of external “experts” who claim knowledge, direct resources, and often do not grasp local context (Easterly, 2006). Further, other scholars have called for alternative understandings of development that move away from the process of seeking macroeconomic growth to alleviating poverty. Recent foci on equality (Baud, 2016); political functions of development (Hickey et al., 2015); capabilities (Sen, 1999, 2009); and sustainability (Gupta & Vegelin, 2016) demonstrate that the word “development” itself is disputed. Within the field of development, a relatively recent phenomenon is the use the term “inclusive development.” This term, as described in the previous chapters, has historically been used as a way of improving the delivery of macroeconomic development schemes. Strategies like participation, development of social networks, and social protection have all been used by development organizations to widen the net cast by development initiatives to engage more people in more ways. Recent movements in the way inclusive development has been framed, however, demonstrate that inclusive development is increasingly associated with political engagement, economic equality, and critical scholarship. These movements take a “nice” term like inclusive development and provide new parameters for engagement. These movements in development and their parallels were described in the previous chapters and will be revisited in the book summary presented next.

This Book in Review To say the word “development” is contested is an understatement. The word itself, within the context of this book, gained currency with governments and organizations after World War II and the advent of overseas development aid (ODA). At this time in world history, a multitude of events were unfolding that gave rise to ODA. First, the United Nations began to exert influence over its member nations in order to have a wider global focus on the issues of the day.

150

Progressive and Critical Movements

Second, the Cold War emerged, a competition between the United States and the United Soviet Socialist Republic to be the first in space, the country with the largest arsenal of weapons (including nuclear weapons), and, most relevant to this book, leaders in the race for global influence. As Europe’s reconstruction after World War II came to a close or shifted to internal funding by nations themselves, bilateral donors (specifically, the United States and the United Soviet Socialist Republic) as well as new international institutions such as the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (later, the World Bank) began sending resources (e.g., aid or loans) to countries in the then called Third World. The term Third World referred to countries who were presently or recently colonized in Asia, Africa, and Latin America who were targets of influence by both the United States and the United Soviet Socialist Republic. As these two countries attempted to expand their global footprint with allies, aid began to be used as a form of building loyalty to countries with particular economic and political orientations. As we have seen in the early chapters of this book, numerous scholars questioned packages that explicitly or quietly associated aid with loyalty and political alignment, including that this type of aid was used as a “weapon” against Indigenous development in Africa (Moyo, 2009). Overseas development aid in its many forms (including technical assistance, provisions for social services, infrastructure projects, loans to governments for internal investments and operations, and so on) was built on an assumption, according to Arocena et al. (2018), that “enlightened” wealthy countries could endogenously stimulate economic growth in formerly colonized countries. Such an assumption ignored any form of acknowledgment of the repressive and lingering effects of colonization, the centuries of a head start that colonizing nations had on colonized nations, and the accumulated wealth in rich countries that allowed for sustained economic growth in those countries. In its early days, “development” was defined as something that occurred as a result of the influence of external inputs. The macroeconomic assumption of development was that investments in infrastructure, manufacturing, human capital, and national-level capitalism would lead to increases in gross domestic product (GDP), which would then lead to improvements in peoples’ lives. To date, the GDPs of certain countries have undergone change, but the greater change is that “development” itself has become a concept that scholars, practitioners, and governments have incorporated into their vocabularies. Often, the word is used to describe efforts aimed at impacting broader human development that extends beyond conceptualizations of macroeconomic growth. Over the past several decades “development” has come to mean many things.

Reconsidering Development In Chapter 3, I highlighted some of these conceptualizations. For example, Baud (2016) theorized that development does not occur when macroeconomic growth alone occurs, as often this growth creates disparities among

Conclusions

151

people living in a particular society. Rather, Baud suggested that development should be thought of as “equality.” Hickey et al. (2015), a group of authors who appear prominently in this book, framed development as a “political process” that needs to be defined by representation of historically marginalized populations in addition to powerful policymakers and aid/development organizations. Finally, Sen’s (2009) conceptualization of capabilities and the freedom that emerges when people can transform capabilities into functionings has significantly impacted the conceptualization of “development” over the past 30 years. These understandings of development, which recently have been complemented by conceptualizations of the environment and sustainability (Baud, 2016), have opened up understanding in the field related to the concept of “development.” These expansions decenter the role of economic growth as the sole indicator of development and have otherwise left the dominant framing of “development” largely unchanged. Indeed, despite the inclusion of earth-focused goals in the Sustainable Development Goals (thereby linking humans’ development goals within the broader environment) (Gupta & Vegelin, 2016), and a 1998 Nobel Prize in economics for Amartya Sen and his conceptualization of capabilities), development economics and infrastructure have largely remained a top-down, economically driven enterprise. Because capitalism and neoliberal reforms will always have layers of “stratification” (see Marginson, 2016) between privileged and unprivileged classes, a level of exclusion will always exist in such systems. Market-based development reforms, concluded the World Bank in 2008, would then also always leave a number of people unreached by programming or economic investments. The answer to this dilemma, spurred on in text by leading development agencies (specifically the Asian Development Bank) was to become more inclusive.

Fixing Development The words “inclusion” and “inclusive development” are concepts that most development agencies can get behind. In preparation for this book, I learned that the International Monetary Fund (Anand et al., 2013) and OECD are pushing toward “inclusive growth” (Cournède et al., 2015) as a way of expanding the number of beneficiaries in reforms. Not all development initiatives, however, are related to finance, loans, or macroeconomic conditions. Indeed, the term “inclusive development” has been used in a variety of ways from organizations, scholars, and participants in programs. One of the most common approaches to designing inclusive development is through “participation.” While participation itself has a variety of definitions, these can generally be categorized in two ways: population-based participation and local innovation. Population-based participation was what brought me to this topic – a concern that some were not receiving the benefits of development and needed to be identified through specific programming that enhanced participation in the process. The model, in general, draws upon Chambers’s (1983)

152

Progressive and Critical Movements

conceptualization of rural participatory development. Population advocates and allies have long contested that at various times women, persons with disabilities, rural populations, lower caste individuals (specifically in India), children, language minorities, and so on are left out of the development process. Such exclusion is a human rights issue, but Easterly (2006) also contends that lack of participation is an issue of wasted resources. Easterly used case evidence from his experience on development projects to contend that the faraway development professional knows very little about local context and the best people to engage in development projects are those who will be most impacted. Thus, participation might be framed as either stretching the circle of who engages in development initiatives (whether they be technical assistance, access to financial services, or infrastructure projects) to ensure more equal benefits or engaging those who are likely most knowledgeable of local conditions in order to increase the likelihood of success. Scholars, however, have criticized how “participation” is currently being framed. In Chapter 5 I outlined several studies (Chaudhry, 2011; Dill, 2009; Kendall et al., 2000; Mhamba & Titus, 2001) that found participation opportunities to be little more than tokenistic communication between development agencies and participants, managerial exercises that “tick the box” of local input or are rife with in-group disagreements. In this case, inclusive development has been framed as increasing participation, but this framing has its critics. A second framing of inclusive development is focused on social capital. In economic development and overseas development, aid models that have existed since post-World War II, human capital theory has been central to decision-makers’ theorizing on development needs. As discussed in the early chapters of this book, development often operates on deficit-based perspectives that assume recipients of foreign aid, participations in global development initiatives, and “beneficiaries” of programming lack capacity (Arocena et al., 2018). The answer to addressing these deficits came through human capital. Specifically, the theory states that if the health, skills, and education level of an individual improves, so does their access to the private goods of society and presumably their contribution to public goods. Economic scholars, however, soon realized that economic mobility does not occur in isolation and often requires social networks. Development scholars then turned to the work of Putnam (1993b) and Coleman (1988). Putnam’s research focused on the development of healthy democracies (also a predictor for economic development) while Coleman’s focused on the link between social networks, human capital, and exiting poverty. The concept of social capital is believed to have great promise for inclusion and inclusive development because individuals are expected to “bond” and “bridge” (Putnam, 1993b) across groups and leverage those groups for private gain and public contribution. Though social capital has been thought of as an opportunity for enhanced inclusion in development, this approach is also subject to critique. Levien (2015) and Hickey et al. (2015), began to theorize social capital through the lens of Bourdieu (1977). Citing North (1990) and drawing upon Bourdieu’s

Conclusions

153

work, Hickey et al. noted that social capital is often an “elite bargain” that has limitations for individuals on the lower rungs of societies’ power ladders. These critiques will be discussed in greater detail next, when I summarize the three “movements” of inclusive development originally presented in Chapter 9. The final approach to creating more “inclusive development” is social protection. Social protection is an approach used by governments and development agencies alike to ensure that societies’ most vulnerable people receive small grants to sustain their daily livelihoods. These grants may or may not come with conditions, like school attendance or regular health checkups. Social protection can also take the form of policies that directly outline the rights or legal protections of particular groups. Social protection programs were framed by the World Bank’s Commission on Growth (2008) as an “inclusive” way of creating a safety net for individuals for whom economic development does not occur. In many cases, people who live in remote areas, the elderly, mothers who stay home with children, children themselves, and people with illnesses or disabilities are the last to benefit from employment in any society. Because of this, social protection programs are designed to ensure that basic needs can be met on a monthly basis through small grants. It is only recently that scholars have begun to rethink social protection. This rethinking is primarily a result of governments in the Global South (and in particular, Southern Africa) rethinking how social protection should be framed. In the following section, I describe the “movement” from social protection to distributionism as a way of framing inclusive development as well as two other recent movements of inclusive development.

Three Movements of Inclusive Development In Chapter 9 I argued that inclusive development, framed as participation, social capital, and social protection, may not be inclusive enough in the eyes of some scholars. Critical scholarship has long informed the field of development. Some of the early critics of development itself are highlighted in the early chapters of this book. More recently, however, there have also been critiques of inclusive development, which was meant to be a solution to the shortcomings of development itself. The movements represent a change in stance, a politicization, and a social critique of what is now, or was previously, conceptualized as inclusive. Scholars identified in Chapter 9 have all offered reconceptualization of the term “inclusive development” rather than tossing it aside for another term. This reconceptualization is one that I recently called a “critical-progressive” framing of inclusive development. The critical and progressive focus on inclusive development, it appears, is situated in the confluence of how development is now being reconsidered, the influence of the Sustainable Development Goals, and political shifts in countries previously considered aid “recipient” countries. The three movements also represented ways in which the concept of inclusion is teased apart and given meaning beyond vague considerations

154

Progressive and Critical Movements

of “all.” For example, the first movement is the shift from a focus on participation to representation. Hickey et al. (2015) politicize the concept of inclusion by acknowledging that participation may be meaningless unless marginalized groups have the political power to meaningfully engage with and negotiate development initiatives. In this case, the politicization of inclusive development, through representation, demonstrates a move from a sense that “all” should have rights (what Mégret calls universal rights) and shifts to a conceptualization of plural rights – which identify groups that historically have been marginalized for special rights, which may include automatic representation in decision-making bodies rather than simply participation in what the powerful decide. What Hickey et al. (2015) propose may make some uncomfortable. It is far easier for development organizations and governments to ask for pro forma comments or “inputs” from stakeholders and carry on with intended plans than it is to make decisions with representatives who may shape, block, or recreate such agendas. In this case, representation may be political, contentious, and inefficient, but I would argue (as Hickey and colleagues do) that this represents a promising movement for inclusive development that could promote authentic engagement of stakeholders rather than insincere exercises of “participation” that change nothing. In this first movement, inclusive development goes beyond inputs of historically marginalized populations and endeavors into issues of power. The second movement is not as concrete as the first movement described earlier but represents an important shift for demystifying social networks and their potential power for populations on the margins of society. The shift from uncritical to critical assessment of social capital is largely an academic movement. In Chapter 9 I used Levien’s (2015) examples to demonstrate how this movement has occurred. In sum, social capital was seen as a development boon because it expanded human capital approaches for development agencies. The hope was that considerations for social networks would supplement the historic focus on human capital and help economically poor individuals rise out of poverty. This hope was found to be empty by Levien and others who theorized social capital through the lens of Bourdieu and found that social networks of the elite operate to reinforce and reproduce the privilege of the elite themselves. Only critical study of social capital within the sphere of development, I argue in Chapter 9, will help move scholarship and programming from celebrating ersatz versions of inclusive development to critical versions that clearly identify barriers that exist within social networks for nonelite individuals. In this case, critical assessment of social capital does not propose a newer or reconceptualized version of inclusive development (as the movement from participation to representation does) but holds the field accountable to theoretical and empirical challenges when claims are made about the connection between social capital and inclusiveness. The final movement highlighted in Chapter 9 was the movement from social protection to distribution. On the surface, this movement appears to be a

Conclusions

155

simple one, shifting from focusing on targeted support of particular marginalized groups to a more universal disbursement of funds to all or at least large demographic groups that can easily be identified. The movement, however, can be characterized in a more nuanced way through Gupta and Vegelin’s (2016) “social” and “relational” models of inclusion. As noted in the previous chapters, social inclusion is that which seeks to support all people in being part of the existing society, without expectation that vertical power or economic structures will change. Social protection provides such opportunities. Small disbursements of funds allow marginalized individuals to meet their basic needs and participate in everyday economic activities such as buying food and clothing, making visits to the clinic, or using funds for transportation to find work. Distributionism, or redistribution, has a sharper political edge because it often engages in what Gupta and Vegelin call “relational” inclusion, or the examination of power structures to understand why inequalities exist and prohibit inclusion. In this case, Ferguson (2015) explains the new distributionism occurring in Southern Africa as a question of citizens’ “shares” of the national wealth. Shares of wealth connote a different message than social protection because shareholding means that the natural resources and economic development of a country belong to everyone. The relational piece of this movement is that the distribution of shares of wealth, or sharing itself, usually requires stricter regulation and taxation on the wealthiest corporations or individuals in order to make such shares possible. In sum, the movement away from social protection to universal basic income schemes can be framed as a “relational” (Gupta & Vegelin, 2016) form of redistribution or a “progressive” ( Johnstone, under review) form of inclusion because it requires change and regulation at the top rungs of the economic ladder in order to create resources for all. This movement, like the previous two, will likely create a degree of discomfort for organizations and governments that claim inclusion and are satisfied with disbursing piecemeal grants to targeted populations that do not require adjusted corporate or individual tax rates. Redistribution, and its requisite policies, represents a movement toward framing inclusive development in terms of equality (see Baud, 2016) rather than one that seeks to patch the holes of market-based reforms.

Three Movements: Parallels in Education The three movements of inclusive development, I argue in Chapter 10, have parallels in education. My research focuses primarily on inclusive education and higher education, so I highlighted examples from these subfields, although there are likely many more in the field of education broadly. The movement from participation to representation, the first movement, highlights many of the requirements of the Conventions on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD). The CRPD represents some of the strongest language to date emanating from the United Nations and its member states and represents a decided shift from the idea of people with disabilities “participating” in development

156

Progressive and Critical Movements

initiatives to them being representatives who can drive development, especially in relation to disability. In schools, this movement translates into a shift from inclusive education that seeks to improve the access and participation of children with disabilities to that which is partially shaped by advocates of these children, including the children themselves, their parents, and organizations of people with disabilities (OPDs) – which are often also called disabled peoples’ organizations (DPOs). The representation of parents of children with disabilities and DPOs represents a shift in the broad conceptualization of who has expertise around disability. Education professionals will continue to play a role in shaping inclusive education for development, but the shift to representation called for by the CRPD also acknowledges that mere participation of children in schools is not enough. Moreover, the shift to representation acknowledges that pro-disability and pro-inclusive measures must inform the quality and outcomes of education experienced by children. According to Schwanke et al. (2001), the accommodations and accessibility considerations that can bring about improved quality and outcomes begin with advocacy to change systems that are exclusionary. The movement to representation in inclusive education by DPOs, parents of children with disabilities, and children themselves represents a global shift in how educational decision-making and education for development occurs. The second movement that I highlighted in Chapter 10 was the movement from uncritical to critical framing of social capital. For this movement I used the example of higher education as an example. As early as 1973, Martin Trow highlighted a global trend within the higher education sector of many countries that followed a predictable pattern – elite higher education systems were influenced by the demand of increasing numbers of secondary school completers. In response, higher education systems became “massified” or underwent a period of massification that eventually led to universal higher education. As higher education systems massified worldwide, national systems gradually became universal. The movement from elite to universal education has occurred at a differential pace around the world (Mohamedbhai, 2014), but has generally been viewed as a mechanism for increasing both human and social capital worldwide. Marginson (2016) warns, however, that massified and universal systems of higher education still have some of the “stratifications” that are experienced in elite systems. In a critical analysis of high enrollment university systems (massified or universal), Marginson identified that stratifications existed between families with different wealth within such systems, between institutions, between private and public education, between fields within institutions, and in the labor market that absorbs graduates. Marginson did not critique the universalization of higher education itself, which has tremendous potential for inclusive development and educational outcomes. What he critiqued was the logic that improved access to higher education creates equal opportunities for social capital development among participants.

Conclusions

157

Finally, in Chapter 9 I highlighted the movement from social protection to distributionism that is being tracked in both scholarly papers and implemented by governments in the Global South. I highlighted the example of input and throughput funding for primary and secondary schools (see Pijl, 2014) as an example of targeted school funding versus universal school funding, using an example from a recently published study in Serbia. The movement from targeted input funding to universal funding for inclusive education allows for investments in the structures that support schoolwide inclusion for all children. However, this is a movement that requires extreme caution. In our 2019 study from Serbia, my colleagues and I recommended that historic data from input models be used to plan for throughput sums to be distributed to schools. We also recommended that there be oversight of how funds are spent to ensure inequalities are not reproduced. Although not mentioned in the article, two ways of ensuring throughput funding is used to promote inclusion are 1) representation of stakeholders from marginalized groups in budget decisions and 2) a critical assessment of how investments spur social capital within schools (and if that social capital benefits some more than others). Despite its promise for inclusive development and education, the movement to throughput funding for inclusive education may be a moot point unless investments are large enough to facilitate access, quality, and outcomes for all. In a recent interview (FreshEd, 2020), David Archer of Action Aid provided a sobering reality check with regards to the excitement in inclusive development around distributionism, and the limitations of throughput funding for inclusive education. Archer noted that both initiatives are severely hampered by the scale of resources that can be dedicated to such plans, highlighting why social protection may be the historic (and potentially future) default choice for governments and development organizations. Archer stated that the tax-to-GDP ratio in the countries where social redistribution is at its highest levels (Nordic countries), is 45% (i.e., taxes are recuperated at a rate of 45% of the GDP). He further contended that in order to meaningfully deliver programming, the rate must be at least 20%, which it is not in place in most places in the world. The movement toward distributionism inclusive development and flexible throughput funding, then, is severely hampered by a lack of resources in many countries. The OECD average tax to GDP ratio is 34% (OECD, 2019), but the actual tax revenue available for distributional and educational funding initiatives is actually closer to a 15% share of GDP for OECD members and at 11.7% for low- and middle-income countries (World Bank, 2019). This complicates matters for lower-income countries because not only is the amount of money available for universal protection or education programs lacking in comparison to other countries, but there also appears to be a lack of political will to collect taxes for the purposes of funding universal protection and education initiatives. Archer blames this lack of infrastructure on two actors: corporate actors in the Global South that benefit from tax breaks (and the governments that give them) and aid agencies that underinvest in governments themselves,

158

Progressive and Critical Movements

allowing for universal protection and education programs. Archer found in a recent study that an additional $139 billion could immediately be available worldwide if corporations simply paid fair taxes and did not receive tax holidays. What is immediately clear is that the movement from social protection in inclusive development and input funding in inclusive education to distribution and throughput funding is at risk because sufficient resources may not be available worldwide to fund such an initiative. Archer argues, however, that the funds exist but require political will to be collected. To date, he noted policies from the IMF and donors, despite their claims on inclusive development, are still focused on dependency and distrust for governments in the Global South. According to Archer, an increase in public funding for education requires widening the tax base (in particular, by ending harmful tax incentives), preventing tax evasion, and increasing the share of the national budget allocated to education. The Incheon Declaration (UNESCO, 2016) specifically spells out how funding will need to be part of the process of enhancing inclusion in education by providing three recommendations. •

•

•

Increase public funding for education: This requires widening the tax base (in particular, by ending harmful tax incentives), preventing tax evasion and increasing the share of the national budget allocated to education. Prioritize those most in need: Disadvantaged children, youth and adults, as well as women and girls and people in conflict-affected areas, typically have the greatest education needs and financing should therefore be targeted towards them. Financing should be sensitive to their needs and based on evidence of what works. Increase efficiency and accountability: Improving governance and accountability can increase efficiency and effective use of existing resources and ensure that financing reaches the classroom. (p. 67)

The earlier section demonstrates some of the lessons learned from the literature reviewed for this book. Inclusive development and inclusive education are attractive and socially desirable words to use and are terms that are not trademarked or limited in any way. Any organization, government, or corporation can claim inclusion. Archer and others, however, argue that the best claims of how empowering development or education can be are limited when money and resources are not behind the claims. Archer, for example, states that as long as corporations are not paying their fair share of taxes (2016) and as long as aid agencies ignore that assisting the daily operations of governments to meet their own goals rather than externally ascribed goals related to education, the lofty goals of transformation in development and education will never be met (FreshEd, 2020).

Conclusions and the Way Forward This book was meant to be useful at this juncture in history. In the decades ahead, it is possible that the whole industry of development will collapse as

Conclusions

159

stakeholders begin to recognize its reproduction of dependency relationships and inequalities. At present, development is undergoing a series of reforms that are meant to expand access to a larger number of beneficiaries through “doing development” more inclusively. Inclusive development approaches used by large development organizations typically align with the Sustainable Development Goals and focus on aspects of participation, considerations of social capital, and social protection. Recent movements in inclusive development, however, have framed the term differently. Politically progressive and critical approaches highlighted in this book acknowledge that inclusive development means more than tweaking current practice to allow more people to participate in a superficial way. Rather, the inclusive development movements highlighted in this book work from a distinct framework of equity that focuses on transforming a practice that is long overdue for an overhaul. In many ways, the middle chapters of this book describe an evolution in development practice that move toward gradual improvement. The movements represented in Chapter 9 may represent more of an epistemic or practical revolution by identifying critical and politically progressive inclusive approaches that provide a way forward for engaging in development practice. The current era of the Sustainable Development Goals has provided a template from which many development organizations and donor nations operate. At the same time, the business of development does not appear to be disappearing in this era. In fact, evidence suggests that former recipient countries are now becoming donor countries, meaning that the practice of international development is far from extinct and will likely continue to exist long after the 2030 goals have passed and a new set of goals guides development practice. Inclusive development may help historic and new partners to rethink their approach to aid and to refashion their actions toward inclusive, sustainable partnerships. This may be especially the case if the “movements” characterized in this book take root. Such movements will likely be slow to develop, however, as they are politicized and dispute the neoliberal hope that markets will eventually improve the lives of everyone involved. In the end, development and sustainable development appear to be worthy pursuits but not if solely defined by economic growth or fueled by agendas of neocolonialism or dependency relationships. Further, tokenistic “participation” and “empowerment” schemes that do not address the root issues of power will likely not have any long-term impact for those who are intended to benefit from such initiatives. Inclusive development and inclusive education are social aspirations that require critical self-reflection on the part of development organizations, governments, schools, and communities. The far-reaching and aspirational goals set by this world’s nation-states, such as the Sustainable Development Goals, CRPD, and so on cannot be achieved through increasing the degree of “welcomingness” into systems that have yet to tangibly reduce inequalities in the world. Rather, inclusive development as it is framed in this book is a relational process, one that sets out to identify and redress power and resource differences through strong representational approaches to policy development, local

160

Progressive and Critical Movements

innovation, earth-centeredness, and redistribution. The only way to achieve inclusive development is through difficult and possibly contentious political struggle until a point of political settlement, and then do it again. This message is not meant to cast a cloud of conflict theory upon development activities but is meant to reflect the high standard that the use of the word “inclusion” should carry. The recent movements of inclusive development and education demonstrate that inclusion is hard work, requires transparent discourse about inequalities, and is never really done. As Booth and Ainscow (2014) and others have stated, attempts at producing inclusion (whether in development, education, or both) will need to be addressed and readdressed over time as inclusion is only a process, not an outcome. Its imperfections in present time allow for adjustments in future versions. This book covered a lot of ground and did not end up with a definitive working definition of inclusive development or inclusive education, which may frustrate readers looking for a solid and concrete answer or checklist by which to set about their work. Such a list does not exist because it is completely dependent on the actors and environmental circumstances present for the development context. Recent movements, however, allow for clear distinctions of what inclusive development is not. It is not an activity that can be undertaken solely by so-called experts. It is not an activity that only considers human wellbeing while disregarding the environment. It is not economic growth alone. It is not patronizing or uninformed invitations to “participate” in decisions that are already made. It is not a process whereby the powerful dictate to the powerless. It is not a process that assumes that universal access to institutions or services alone will necessarily eliminate disparities. It is complex, messy, contentious, political, and unapologetically concerned with addressing inequalities. Indeed, framed this way, inclusive development may be the only way that SDGs or any other lofty development goal will ever be achieved.

References

Abbott, P., Wallace, C., & Sapsford, R. (2017). Socially inclusive development: The foundations for decent societies in East and Southern Africa. Applied Research in Quality of Life, 12(4), 813–839. Acemoglu, D., & Robinson, J. (2012). Why nations fail: The origins of power, prosperity and poverty. New York, NY: Random House. Addison, T., & Cornia, G. A. (2001). Income distribution policies for faster poverty reduction: UNU-WIDER discussion paper 2001/93. Helsinki: UNU-WIDER. Adésinà, J. O. (2009). Social policy in sub-Saharan Africa: A glance in the rear-view mirror. International Journal of Social Welfare, 18, S37–S51. Ainscow, M. (Ed.). (1991). Effective schools for all. London: Fulton. Ainscow, M., & Miles, S. (2008). Making education for all inclusive: Where next? Prospects, 38(1), 15–34. Alberti, M. (2019). Indigenous groups in Brazil march for human rights. Al Jazeera (April 26). Retrieved from: www.aljazeera.com/news/2019/04/indigenous-groups brazilmarch-land-rights-190426193925569.html. Ali, I. (2007a). Inequality and the imperative for inclusive growth in Asia. Asian Development Review, 24(2), 1–16. Ali, I. (2007b). Pro-poor to inclusive growth: Asian prescriptions. ERD Policy Brief Series No. 48. Asian Development Bank, Manila. Ali, I., & Son, H. (2007). Defining and measuring inclusive growth: Application to the Philippines. ERD Working Paper Series No. 98. Asian Development Bank, Manila. Ali, I., & Yao, X. (2014). Inclusive growth for sustainable poverty reduction in developing Asia: The enabling role of infrastructure development. ERD Policy Brief No. 27. Asian Development Bank, Manila. Alkon, M. (2018). Do special economic zones induce developmental spillovers? Evidence from India’s states. World Development, 107, 396–409. Anand, R., Mishra, S., & Peiris, S.J. (2013). Inclusive growth: Measurement and determinants. IMF Working Paper 13/135. Washington, DC: International Monetary Fund. Anderson, C. D., & Bell, M. M. (2003). The devil of social capital: A dilemma of American rural Sociology. In Cloke, P. (Ed.). Country visions (pp. 232–244). Essex: Pearson Education. Annen, K. (2001). Inclusive and exclusive social capital in the small-firm sector in developing countries. Journal of Institutional and Theoretical Economics (JITE)/Zeitschrift für die gesamte Staatswissenschaft, 319–330. Antonelli, M. A., & De Bonis, V. (2017). Social spending, welfare, and redistribution: A comparative analysis of 22 European countries. Modern Economy, 8, 1291–1313. Archer, D. (2016). Domestic tax and education: ActionAid research report for The International Commission on Financing Global Education. London: Action Aid.

162

References

Arocena, R., Göransson, B., & Sutz, J. (2015). Knowledge policies and universities in developing countries: Inclusive development and the “developmental university”. Technology in Society, 41, 10–20. Arocena, R., Göransson, B., & Sutz, J. (2018). Universities and underdevelopment. In Developmental universities in inclusive innovation systems (pp.  159–179). Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Asongu, S., & Asongu, N. (2018). The comparative exploration of mobile money services in inclusive development. International Journal of Social Economics, 45 (1): 124–139. Asongu, S. A., & Nwachukwu, J. C. (2017). The comparative inclusive human development of globalisation in Africa. Social Indicators Research, 134(3), 1027–1050. Atkinson, A. B., & Marlier, E. (2010). Analysing and measuring social inclusion in a global context. New York: United Nations. Bandyopadhyaya, J. (1977). The non-aligned movement and international relations. India Quarterly, 33(2), 137–164. Bartha, O., & Smith, M. (2017). Realizing “nothing about us without us” in sustainable development: Together 2030 blog. Retrieved from: https://together2030.wordpress.com/2017/ 01/04/realizing-nothing-about-us-without-us-within-sustainable-development/. Baud, I. S. A. (2016). Moving towards inclusive development? Recent views on inequalities, frugal innovations, urban geo-technologies, gender and hybrid governance. The European Journal of Development Research, 28(2), 119–129. Beall, J. (2001). Valuing social resources or capitalizing on them? Limits to pro-poor urban governance in nine cities of the south. International Planning, 6(4), 357–375. Bebbington, A. (2015). Governing natural resources for inclusive development. In Hickey, S., Sen, K., & Bukenya, B. (Eds.). The politics of inclusive development: Interrogating the evidence (pp. 86–118). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Berdegué, J. A., Escobal, J., & Bebbington, A. (2015). Explaining spatial diversity in Latin American rural development: Structures, institutions, and coalitions. World Development, 73, 129–137. Bonham, C. (2018). Building an inclusive community through social capital: The role of volunteering in reaching those on the edge of community. In Bonner, A. (Ed.). Social determinants of health: An interdisciplinary approach to social inequality and wellbeing (pp. 119– 133). Bristol: Bristol University Press. Bonlan, C. (2016). A word of caution: Human rights, disability, and implementation of the post 2015 Sustainable Development Goals. Laws, 5(22). doi:10.3390/ laws5020022. Booth, T., & Ainscow, M. (2000). Breaking down the barriers: The Index for Inclusion. Retrieved from: http://inclusion.uwe.ac.uk/csie/index-inclusion-summary.htm. Booth, T., & Ainscow, M. (2014). Index for inclusion. Bristol, UK: Center for Studies on Inclusive Education. Bourdieu, P. (1977). Outline of a theory of practice. New York: Cambridge University Press. Bourdieu, P. (1979). Symbolic power. Critique of Anthropology, 4(13–14), 77–85. Bourdieu, P. (1990). The logic of practice. Palo Alto, CA: Stanford University Press. Bourdieu, P. (2003). Sociology in question. London: Sage Publications. Bourdieu, P., & Passeron, J. (1977). Reproduction in education, society and culture. London: Sage Publications. Bourdieu, P., & Passeron, J. (1990). Reproduction in education, society and culture, 2nd ed. London: Sage Publications. Bourdieu, P., & Wacquant, L. J. (1992). An invitation to reflexive sociology. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

References

163

Bourguignon, F. (2004). The poverty-growth-inequality triangle. Washington, DC: World Bank. Bradshaw, S. (2008). From structural adjustment to social adjustment: A gendered analysis of conditional cash transfer programmes in Mexico and Nicaragua. Global Social Policy, 8(2), 188–207. Breton, A. (1997). Understanding democracy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Buntaine, M. T., Daniels, B., & Devlin, C. (2018). Can information outreach increase participation in community-driven development? A field experiment near Bwindi National Park, Uganda. World Development, 106, 407–421. Burchardt, T. (2004). Capabilities and disability: The capabilities framework and the social model of disability. Disability & Society, 19(7), 735–751. Campbell, B. (2008). Reform processes in Africa: Issues and trends. Presented to the 2nd International Study Group Meeting, Economic Commission for Africa, Addis Ababa, May 19–21. Chakrabarti, A., & Dhar, A. (2012). Interrogating Inclusive development in India’s transition process. Collegium Antropologicum, 36(4), 1089–1099. Chambers, R. (1983). Rural development: Putting the last first. New York: Longman. Chambers, R. (1994). The origins and practice of participatory rural appraisal. World Development, 22(7), 953–969. Chambers, R. (2017). Can we know better? Warkwickshire, UK: Rugby. Charlton, J. I. (1998). Nothing about us without us. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Chaudhry, V. (2011). Disability and the Neoliberal Indian state: The perils of community participation. In Carey, A. & Scotch, R. K. (Eds.). Disability and community (pp. 265–281). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group Publishing Limited. Cheru, F. (2009). Development in Africa: The imperial project versus the national project and the need for policy space. Review of African Political Economy, 36(120), 275–278. Clarke, S., Barudin, J., & Hunt, M. (2016). Ethics and community-based rehabilitation: Eight ethical questions from a review of the literature. Physiotherapy Canada, 68(2), 197–205. Cleaver, F. (2005). The inequality of social capital and the reproduction of chronic poverty. World Development, 33(6), 893–906. Coleman, J. S. (1988). Social capital in the creation of human capital. The American Journal of Sociology, 94, S95. Collier, P. (2007). The bottom billion: Why the poorest countries are failing and what can be done about it. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Collins, V. (2020). Covid-19 and universal basic income: Lessons for governments from the tech world. Forbes Magazine, March 19. 2020. Retrieved from: https://www. forbes.com/sites/victoriacollins/2020/03/19/covid-19-and-universal-basicincomelessons-for-governments-from-the-tech-world/#24719b8a57ec. Cornwall, A. (2006). Historical perspectives on participation in development. Commonwealth and Comparative Politics, 44(1), 62–83. Cournède, B., Denk, O., & Hoeller, P. (2015). Finance and inclusive growth. OECD Economic Policy Papers, No. 14. Paris: OECD. Retrieved from: https://doi.org/10.1787/ 5js06pbhf28s-en. Datt, G., & Ravallion, M. (1992). Growth and redistribution components of changes in poverty measures: A decomposition with applications to Brazil and India in the 1980s. Journal of Development Economics, 38(2), 275–295. Deininger, K., & Squire, L. (1998). New ways of looking at old issues: Inequality and growth. Journal of Development Economics, 57(2), 259–297. Desai, D., & Woolock, M. (2015). The politics: And process: Of rule of law systems in developmental states. In Hickey, S., Sen, K., & Bukenya, B. (Eds.). The politics of inclusive development: Interrogating the evidence (pp. 174–196). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

164

References

Desai, R. (2017). Rethinking the universalism versus targeting debate. Retrieved from: www. brookings.edu/blog/future-development/2017/05/31/rethinking-the-universalismversus-targeting-debate/. de Souza Briggs, X. (1998). Brown kids in white suburbs: Housing mobility and the many faces of social capital. Housing Policy Debate, 9(1), 177–221. Devereux, S., & Sabates-Wheeler, R. (2004). Transformative social protection: IDS working paper 32. Sussex: Institute of Development Studies. Retrieved from: www.ids.ac.uk/ download.php?file=files/dmfile/Wp232.pdf. Dill, B. (2009). The paradoxes of community-based participation in Dar es Salaam. Development and Change, 40(4), 717–743. Dill, B. (2010). Community-based organisations (CBOs) and norms of participation in Tanzania: Working against the grain. African Studies Review, 53(2), 23–48. Dinda, S. (2011). Inclusive growth of through creation of human and social capital. International Journal of Social Economics, 41(10), 878–895. Dolan, C., & Rajak, D. (2016). Remaking Africa’s informal economies: Youth, entrepreneurship and the promise of inclusion at the bottom of the pyramid. The Journal of Development Studies, 52(4), 514–529. Donais, T., & McCandless, E. (2017). International peace building and the emerging inclusivity norm. Third World Quarterly, 38(2), 291–310. Dovi, S. (2006). Making democracy work for women? Paper presented at Political Women and American Democracy Conference, Notre Dame University, Indiana. Driskill, R., Horowitz, A. W., & Méndez, F. (2009). Human capital and economic growth: Theory and evidence. Journal of Institutional and Theoretical Economics (JITE) / Zeitschrift für die gesamte Staatswissenschaft, 165(4), 723–743. Easterly, W. (2006). White man’s burden: Why the west’s efforts to aid the rest have done so much ill and so little good. New York: Penguin Books. Escobal, J., Favareto, A., Aguirre, F., & Ponce, C. (2015). Linkage to dynamic markets and rural territorial development in Latin America. World Development, 73, 44–55. Escobal, J., & Torero, M. (2003). Adverse Geography and Differences in Welfare in Peru  (No. 073). World Institute for Development Economic Research (UNU-WIDER). Evans, P. (2010). The challenge of 21st century development: Building capability-enhancing states. New York, NY: United Nations Development Programme. Ferguson, J. (1994). The anti-politics machine: “Development,” depoliticization, and bureaucratic power in Lesotho. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ferguson, J. (2006). Global shadows: Africa in the new neoliberal order. Raleigh: Duke University Press. Ferguson, J. (2015). Give a man a fish. Raleigh, NC: Duke University Press. Fernald, L. C., Gertler, P. J., & Neufeld, L. M. (2008). Role of cash in conditional cash transfer programmes for child health, growth, and development: An analysis of Mexico’s oportunidades. The Lancet, 371(9615), 828–837. Few, R., Brown, K., & Tompkins, E. L. (2007). Public participation and climate change adaptation: Avoiding the illusion of inclusion. Climate Policy, 7(1), 46–59. Fine, B. (2001). Social capital versus social theory: Political economy and social science at the turn of the millennium. London: Routledge. Foucault, M. (2003). “Society must be defended”: Lectures at the College de France, 1975–1976. New York: Picador. Fraser, N. (2010). Scales of justice: Reimaging political space in a globalising world. New York: Columbia University Press.

References

165

FreshEd (with Will Brehm). (2020, March 9). Financing education through domestic taxation (David Archer). Retrieved from: https://www.freshedpodcast.com/davidarcher/. Fricas, J. (2019). Well-being, community development, and Andean Worldview: An analysis of meanings and changes in Pedro Moncayo, Ecuador using participatory photography (PhD Thesis). University of Minnesota-Twin Cities Campus, Minneapolis, USA. Gentilini, U., & Omamo, S. W. (2011). Social protection 2.0: Exploring issues, evidence and debates in a globalizing world. Food Policy, 36, 329–340. Gini, C. (1921). Measurement of inequality of incomes. The Economic Journal, 31(121), 124–126. Gladwell, M. (2000). The tipping point: How little things can make a big difference. Boston, MA: Little Brown. Global Fund for Women. (2020). What is a movement? Retrieved from: https://www.glo balfundforwomen.org/infographic-what-is-a-movement/#.WKSehTsrJhE. Goetz, A. M., & Nyamu-Musembi, C. (2008). Voice and women’s empowerment: Mapping a research agenda. Pathways Working Paper No. 2. IDS, Brighton. Green, M. (2003). Globalizing development in Tanzania: Policy franchising through participatory project management. Critique of Anthropology, 23(2), 123–143. Green, M. (2010). Making development agents: Participation as boundary object in international development. The Journal of Development Studies, 46(7), 1240–1263. Griggs, D., Stafford-Smith, M., Gaffney, O., Rockström, J., Öhman, M. C., Shyamsundar, P., Steffen, W., Glaser, G., Norichika, K., & Noble, I. (2013). Policy: Sustainable development goals for people and planet. Nature, 495(7441), 305. Grootaert, C. (2001). Social capital: The missing link? In Dekker, P., & Uslaner, E. M. (Eds.). Social capital and participation in everyday life (pp. 9–29). London: Routledge. Gross, A. (2019). Brazilian cattle industry fights to prove its green credentials. Financial Times (May 13). Retrieved from: www.ft.com/content/9225a0a0-5d2d-11e9840c530737425559. Guijit, I., & Shah, M. K. (1998). The myth of community: Gender issues in participatory development. Colchester, UK: Intermediate Technology Development Group Publishing. Gumede, V. (2018). Social policy for inclusive development in Africa. Third World Quarterly, 39(1), 122–139. Gupta, A. K. (2013). Introduction. In V. Kumar, V. S. Chand, L. Zhang, C. A. O. Hoppers, W. Zhang, M., Esders, & A. K. Gupta (Eds.). Grassroots innovation for inclusive development: Need for a paradigmatic shift (pp. 103–107). VIKALPA, 38(3). Gupta, J., & Vegelin, C. (2016). Sustainable development goals and inclusive development. International Environmental Agreements: Politics, Law and Economics, 16(3), 433–448. Hayes, A. M., Dombrowski, E., Shefcyk, A. H., & Bulat, J. (2018). Learning disabilities screening and evaluation guide for low- and middle-income countries. Research Triangle Park, NC: RTI Press. Hickey, S., Sen, K., & Bukenya, B. (2015). Exploring the politics of inclusive development: Towards a new conceptual approach. In Hickey, S., Sen, K., & Bukenya, B. (Eds.). The politics of inclusive development: Interrogating the evidence (pp. 3–34). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Himmelstein, J., Ares, A., & van Houweling, E. (2016). Sustainable intensification: A multifaceted, systemic approach to international development. Journal of the Science of Food and Agriculture, 96(15), 4833–4839. Hirvonen, K., Mascagni, G., & Roelen, K. (2016). Linking taxation and social protection. UNU-WIDER Working Paper 2016/111.

166

References

Holmes, R., Samuels, F., Ghimire, A., & Thewissen, S. (2018). Nepal’s cash allowances for children with disabilities. London: ODI. Holzmann, R., 2009. Social protection and labor at the World Bank, 2000–2008. Washington, DC: World Bank. Hopkins, D., Ainscow, M., & West, M. (1994). School improvement in an era of change. New York: Teachers College Press. Huang, F. (2012). Higher education from massification to universal access: A perspective from Japan. Higher Education, 63(2), 257–270. Iniguez-Montiel, A. J. (2014). Growth with equity for the development of Mexico: Poverty, inequality, and economic growth (1992–2008).  World Development,  59, 313–326. International Council for Education of People with Visual Impairment (ICEVI). (2006). United English Braille (UEB) resolution for ICEVI 2006. 12th ICEVI World Conference in Kuala Lumpur, International Council on English Braille. Retrieved from: www.iceb. org/ICEVI2006_UEB_Resolution.htm. Jackimow, T. (2017). Beyond “State Ibuism”: Empowerment effects in state-led development in Indonesia. Development and Change, 49(5), 1145–1165. Jackson, C. (1999). Social exclusion and gender: Does one size fit all? The European Journal of Development Research, 11(1), 125–146. Jagannathan, M. (2019). Andrew Yang says $1,000 a month for every American will create a “trickle up” economy: Here’s what 2020 Democrats have to say about universal basic income. Market Watch. Retrieved from: www.marketwatch.com/story/ heres-what-2020-democratic-candidates-for-president-have-said-about-universalbasic-income-201907-09. Johnstone, C. J., Hayes, A., Cohen, E., & Niad, H. (in press). Formative evaluation of inclusive education. New York: UNICEF. Johnstone, C. J., Hayes, A., Dombrowski, E., Karr, V., & Tjabane, M. (2020). National disability situational analysis in Lesotho. Maseru: United Nations Population Fund. Johnstone, C. J., Lazarus, S., Lazetic, P., & Nikolic, G. (2019). Introducing finance perspectives into inclusive education policy rhetoric. Prospects, 47(4), 339–359. Johnstone, C. J., Limaye, S., & Kayama, M. (2019). Inclusion or assimilation? Program development in disability-focused organizations in India. Disability & Society, 34(9– 10), 1595–1612. Kabeer, N. (1994). Reversed realities: Gender hierarchies in development thought. London and New York, NY: Verso. Kaplinsky, R. (2013). What contribution can China make to inclusive growth in subSaharan Africa? Development and Change, 44(6), 1295–1316. Karl, T. M. (2007). Ensuring fairness: The case for a transparent fiscal contract. In Humphreys, M., Sachs, J., & Stiglitz, J. (Eds.). Escaping the resource curse (pp. 256–285). New York: Initiative for Policy Dialogue, Columbia University Press. Kauffman, J. M., & Badar, J. (2016). It’s instruction over place: Not the other way around! Phi Delta Kappan, 98(4), 55–59. https://doi.org/10.1177/0031721716681778. Kendall, E., Buys, N., & Larner, J. (2000). Community-based service delivery in rehabilitation: The promise and the paradox. Disability and Rehabilitation, 22(10), 435–445. Kendi, I. X. (2019). How to be an anti-racist. New York: Penguin Random House. Kidd, S. (2016). Social protection: Universal provision is more effective than poverty targeting. Retrieved from: https://ideas4development.org/en/social-protection-universalprovisionis-more-effective-than-poverty-targeting/. Kingdon, J. W. (1984). Agendas, alternatives and public policies. Boston: Little, Brown.

References

167

Kisanji, J. (1999, March). Historical and theoretical basis of inclusive education. Keynote Address for the Workshop on Inclusive Education in Namibia: The Challenge for Teacher Education (pp. 24–25). Windhoek, Namibia: Rossing Foundation and Centre for Educational Needs, School of Education, University of Manchester (UK). Kornat, M., & Micgiel, J. (2007). The policy of equilibrium and Polish bilateralism. In A.M. Cienclala, J.S. Micgiel, & P.S. Wandycz (Eds.). Reflections on Polish foreign policy (pp. 47–88). New York, NY: Józef Piłsudksi Institute. Krishna, A. (2002). Active social capital: Tracing the roots of development and democracy. New York: Columbia University Press. Kumar, V. (2013). Grassroots innovation for inclusive development. In V. Kumar, V. S. Chand, L. Zhang, C. A. O. Hoppers, W. Zhang, M., Esders, & A. K. Gupta (Eds.). Grassroots innovation for inclusive development: Need for a paradigmatic shift (pp. 110–112). VIKALPA, 38(3). Kushner, J. (2013). Tanzania’s perplexing youth unemployment crisis. Global Post (October 29). Retrieved from: www.pri.org/stories/2013-10-29/tanzania-s-perplexingyouth-unemployment-crisis. Ladd, H. F. (2008). Reflections on equity, adequacy, and weighted student funding. Journal of Education, Finance, and Policy, 3, 401–423. Ladd, H. F., & Fiske, E. B. (2011). Weighted student funding in the Netherlands: A model for the U.S.? Journal of Policy Analysis and Management, 30(3), 470–498. Lange, S. (2008). The depoliticisation of development and democratisation of politics in Tanzania: Parallel structures as obstacles to delivering services to the poor. Journal of Development Studies, 44(8), 1122–1144. Langelett, G. (2002). Human capital: A summary of the 20th century research. Journal of Education Finance, 28(1), 1–23. LeFanu, G. (2012). The inclusion of inclusive education in international development: Lessons from Papua New Guinea. International Journal of Educational Development, 33, 139–148. Levien, M. (2015). Social capital as obstacle to development: Brokering land, norms, and trust in rural India. World Development, 74(77–92). Lewis, W. A. (1954). Economic development with unlimited supplies of labor. The Manchester School, 22(2), 139–191. Li, F. (2009). Documenting accountability: Environmental impact assessment in a Peruvian mining project. PoLAR, 32(2), 218–236. Lindström, E. (2016). Voluntary work as a form of social capital and as a tool for inclusion and integration. Helsinki: University of Finland. Retrieved from: https://helda.helsinki.fi/ bitstream/handle/10138/170097/Lindstrom_Sosiaalipolitiikka.pd?sequenc. Loos, J., Abson, D. J., Chappell, M. J., Hanspach, J., Mikulcak, F., Tichit, M., & Fischer, J. (2014). Putting meaning back into “sustainable intensification”. Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment, 12(6), 356–361. Lopez, J. H. (2006). The relative roles of growth and inequality for poverty reduction. In Perry, G. E., Arias, O. S., Lopez, J. H., Maloney, W. F., & Serven, L. (Eds.). Poverty reduction and growth: Virtuous and vicious circles. Washington, DC: World Bank. Lopez, J. H., & Serven, L. (2006). A normal relationship?: Poverty, growth, and inequality. Washington, DC: World Bank. Lundvall, B.-A. (1985). Product innovation and user: Producer interaction. In Industrial Development Research Series No. 31. Denmark: Aalborg University Press. Lupton, R. (2011). Toxic charity. New York: Harper Collins. Mader, P. (2018). Contesting financial inclusion. Development and Change, 49(2), 461–483. Manji, A. (2010). Eliminating poverty? “Financial inclusion,” access to land, and gender equality in international development. The Modern Law Review, 73(6), 985–1004.

168

References

Marginson, S. (2016). The worldwide trend to high participation higher education: Dynamics of social stratification of in inclusive systems. Higher Education, 72, 413–343. McClain-Nhlapo, C. (2019). Personal communication: Interview conducted January 7. McDuie-Ra, D., & Rees, J. A. (2010). Religious actors, civil society and the development agenda: The dynamics of inclusion and exclusion. Journal of International Development, 22, 20–36. Mcloughlin, C. (2011). Factors affecting state-non-governmental organization relations in service provision: Key themes from the literature. Public Administration and Development, 31, 240–251. Mcloughlin, C. (2015). The politics of what works in service delivery. In Hickey, S., Sen, K., & Bukenya, B. (Eds.). The politics of inclusive development: Interrogating the evidence (pp. 119–145). Oxford: Oxford University Press. MEDICI. (2019). M-Pesa: Mobile phone-based money transfer: Global presence. Retrieved from: https://gomedici.com/m-pesa-mobile-phone-based-money-transfer-global presence/. Mégret, F. (2008). The disabilities convention: Towards a holistic concept of rights. The International Journal of Human Rights, 12(2), 261–267. Mehrotra, N. (2011). Disability rights movements in India: Politics and practice. Economic and Political Weekly, 46(6), 65–72. Mhamba, R. M., & Titus, C. (2001). Reactions to deteriorating provision of public services in Dar es Salaam. In Tostensen, A., Tvedtenand, I., & Vaa, M. (Eds.). Associational life in African cities (pp. 218–231). Uppsala: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet. Ministry of Foreign Affairs. (2017). Inclusive development action plan results. Retrieved from: www.dutchdevelopmentresults.nl/2016/sdg/actionplan. Mitra, S. (2006). The capability approach and disability. Journal of Disability Policy Studies, 16(4), 236–247. Mitra, S. (2013). A data revolution for disability-inclusive development. The Lancet Global Health, 1(4), e178–e179. Mohamedbhai, G. (2014). Massification in higher education institutions in Africa: Causes, consequences and responses. International Journal of African Higher Education, 1(1). Mosse, D. (2010). A relational approach to durable poverty, inequality, and power. Journal of Development Studies, 46(7), 1156–1178. Moyo, D. (2009). Dead aid: Why aid is not working and how there is a better way for Africa. New York: Farrar, Strauss and Giroux. Nadvi, K. (1999). Shifting ties: Social networks in the surgical instrument cluster of Sialkot, Pakistan. Development and Change, 30, 141–175. Nazneen, S., & Mahmud, S. (2015). The gendered politics of securing inclusive development. In Hickey, S., Sen, K., & Bukenya, B. (Eds.). The politics of inclusive development: Interrogating the evidence (pp. 197–231). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ncube, M., Shimeles, A., & Verdier-Chouchane, A. (2013). South Africa’s quest for inclusive development. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199671656.003.0042. Noodin, M. (2018). Ganawendamaw: Anishinaabe concepts of sustainability. In Haladay, J. & Hicks, S. (Eds.). Narratives of education for sustainability in unsustainable environments (pp. 245–260). East Lansing, MI: Michigan State University Press. North, D. C. (1990). Institutions, institutional change and economic performance. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. North, D. C., Wallis, J. J., & Weingast, B. R. (2009). Violence and social orders: A conceptual framework for interpreting recorded human history. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Nussbaum, M. (2000). Women and human development. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

References

169

Nussbaum, M. (2009). The capabilities of people with cognitive disabilities. Metaphilosophy, 40(3–4), 331–351. Obeng-Odoom, F. (2015). Africa: On the rise, but to where? Forum for Social Economics, 44(3), 234–250. Ocampo, J. A., & Gómez-Arteaga, N. (2017). Social protection systems, redistribution and growth in Latin America. CEPAL Review, 122(August), 7–30. OECD (n.d.). Time spent in paid and unpaid work, by sex. Retrieved from: https://stats.oecd. org/index.aspx?queryid=54757. OECD. (2019). Distribution of net ODA (indicator). doi:10.1787/2334182b-en (Retrieved May 17, 2019). Okin, S. M. (1979). Women in western political thought. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Olson, M. (1982). The rise and decline of nations. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Oxfam. (2000). Growth with equity is good for the poor. London: Oxfam: Retrieved from: https://oxfamilibrary.openrepository.com/bitstream/handle/10546/114035/bpgrowthwith-equity-is-good-for-the-poor-270600-en.pdf ?sequence=1&isAllowed=y. Pal, K., Behrendt, C., Leger, F., Cichon, M., & Hagemejer, K. (2005). Can low-income countries afford basic social protection? First results of a modelling exercise. Issues in Social Protection Discussion Paper No. 13. International Labour Organisation, Geneva. Palmer, J., Cooper, I., & Van der Vorst, R. (1997). Mapping out fuzzy buzzwords‒who sits where on sustainability and sustainable development. Sustainable Development, 5(2), 87–93. Palmer, R. (1957). Education and indoctrination.  Peabody Journal of Education,  34(4), 224–228. Pateman, C. (1988). The sexual contract. Cambridge: Polity Press. Peercy, C., & Svenson, N. (2016). The role of higher education in equitable human development. International Review of Education, 62, 139–160. Persky, J. (1995). Retrospectives: The ethology of homo economicus. The Journal of Economic Perspectives, 9(2), 221–231. Peters, S. J. (2011). A historical analysis of international inclusive education policy and individuals with disabilities. Journal of Disability Policy Studies, 18(2), 98–108. Petersen, I. H., Kruss, G., Gastrow, M., & Nalivata, P. C. (2018). Innovation capacitybuilding and inclusive development in informal settings: A comparative analysis of two interactive learning spaces in South Africa and Malawi. Journal of International Development, 30(5), 865–885. Pichaud, D. (2013). Social protection, redistribution and economic growth. Development Southern Africa, 30(1), 1–24. Pijl, S. J. (2014). Funding. In Florian, L. (Ed.). The SAGE handbook of special education (pp. 251–261). London: Sage Publications. Portilla, M. (1997). Social capital in developing societies: Reconsidering the links between civil agency, economy and the state in the development process. Working Paper Series 248. Institute of Social Studies, The Hague. Retrieved from: https://ideas.repec.org/p/ems/ euriss/18990.html. Pretty, J. N. (1997). The sustainable intensification of agriculture. Natural Resources Forum, 21, 241–256. Psacharopoulos, G. (1987). Economics of education: Research and studies. Oxford: Peramon Press. Psacharopoulos, G., & Patrinos, H. A. (2004). Returns to investment in education: A further update. Education Economics, 12(2), 111–134.

170

References

Putnam, R. (with Leonardi, R., & Nanetti, R. Y.). (1993a). Making democracy work: Civic traditions in modern Italy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Putnam, R. (1993b). What makes democracy work? National Civic Review, 82(2), 101–107. Putnam, R. (1994). Social capital and public affairs. Bulletin of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, 47(8), 5–19. Putnam, R. (1995). Bowling alone: The collapse and revival of the American community. New York, NY: Simon & Schuster. Raheem, I. D., Isah, K. O., & Adedeji, A. A. (2018). Inclusive growth, human capital development and natural resource rent in SSA. Economic Change and Restructuring, 51(1), 29–48. Ravallion, M. (1997). Can high-inequality developing countries escape absolute poverty? Economics Letters, 56(1), 51–57. Ravallion, M. (2001). Growth, inequality and poverty. Looking beyond averages. World Development, 29(11), 1803–1815. Ravallion, M. (2005). Inequality is bad for the poor. Washington, DC: World Bank. Ravallion, M. (2009). A comparative perspective on poverty reduction in Brazil, China and India. Policy Research Working Paper No. 5080. World Bank, Washington, DC. Ravallion, M., & Chen, S. (2003). Measuring pro-poor growth. Economic Letters, 78(1), 93–99. Ravallion, M., & Datt, G. (2002). Why has economic growth been more pro-poor in some states of India than others? Journal of Development Economics, 68(2), 381–400. Rawlings, L. B., & Rubio, G. M. (2005). Evaluating the impact of conditional cash transfer programs. The World Bank Research Observer, 20(1), 29–55. Rose, N. (1999). Powers of freedom: Reframing political thought. New York: Cambridge University Press. Sachs, J. (2005). The end of poverty: Economic possibilities for our time. New York: Penguin Books. Sachs, J. (2012). From Millennium Development Goals to Sustainable Development Goals. Lancet, (379), 2206–2211. Saisho, D., & Purugganan, M. D. (2007). Molecular phylogeography of domesticated barley traces expansion of agriculture in the Old World. Genetics, 177(3), 1765–1776. Sandbrook, R., Edelman, P., Heller, P., & Telchman, J. (2007). Social democracy in the global periphery. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sarma, M. (2008). Index of financial inclusion (Working Paper No. 215). Delhi, India: Jawaharlal Nehru University. Sarma, M., & Pais, J. (2011). Financial inclusion and development. Journal of International Development, 23, 613–628. Schubert, B. (2005). The pilot social cash transfer scheme in the Kalomo district, Zambia. CPRC, Working Paper No. 52. Manchester. Schubert, B., & Huijbregts, M. (2006). The Malawi social cash transfer pilot scheme: Preliminary lessons learned. Paper Presented at the Conference Social Protection Initiatives for Children, Women and Families: An Analysis of Recent Experiences, New York, October 30–31. Schuurman, F. J. (2003). Social capital: The politico-emancipatory potential of a disputed concept. Third World Quarterly, 34(6), 991–1010. Schwanke, T. D., Smith, R. O., & Edyburn, D. L. (2001). A3 model diagram developed as accessibility and universal design instructional tool. RESNA Annual Conference Proceedings, 21, RESNA Press. Sen, A. (1980) Equality of what? In S. McMurrin (Ed.). The Tanner lectures on human values. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

References

171

Sen, A. (1999). Development as freedom. New York: Random House. Sen, A. (2009). The idea of justice. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Sen, K. (2015). The political determinants of economic growth: An analytical review. In Hickey, S., Sen, K., & Bukenya, B. (Eds.). The politics of inclusive development: Interrogating the evidence (pp. 35–59). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Shortall, S. (2004). Social or economic goals, civic inclusion or exclusion? An analysis of rural development theory and practice. Sociologia Ruralis, 44(1), 109–123. Shortall, S. (2008). Are rural development programmes socially inclusive? Social inclusion, civic engagement, participation, and social capital: Exploring the differences. Journal of Rural Studies, 24, 450–457. Smyth, F., Shevlin, M., Buchner, T., Biewer, G., Ferreira, M. A. V., Flynn, P., Latimier, C., Díaz, S. R., Šiška, J., & Martin, M. T. (2014). Inclusive education in progress: Policy evolution in four European countries. European Journal of Special Needs Education, 29(4), 433–445. Subrahmanian, R. (2005). Gender equality in education: Definitions and measurements. International Journal of Educational Development, 25(4), 395–407. Sumida Huaman, E., & Brayboy, B. (2017). Indigenous peoples and academe: Building learning spaces through innovative educational practice. In Sumida Huaman, E. & Brayboy, B. (Eds.). Indigenous innovations in higher education: Local knowledge and critical research (pp. 3–19). Rotterdam: Sense. Sumner, A. (2016). Why are some people poor? European Journal of Development Research, 28(2), 130–142. Tadros, M. (2011). Women engaging politically: Beyond magic bullets and motorways. Brighton, UK: Pathways Women’s Empowerment RPC. Therborn, G. (2007). Is there a future for the family? Public Policy Research, 14, 41–46. Tough, P. (2019). The years that matter most: How college makes or breaks us. Boston: Houghton Mifflin-Harcourt. Trow, M. (1973). Problems in the transition from elite to mass higher education. Berkeley, CA: Carnegie Commission on Higher Education. United Nations. (2006). Convention on the rights of persons with disabilities. New York: United Nations General Assembly. United Nations. (2015). Transforming our world: The 2030 agenda for sustainable development. Resolution adopted by the General Assembly on 25 September 2015. A/ RES/70/1. Retrieved from: https://sustainabledevelopment.un.org/post2015/ transformingourworld. United Nations. (2016). Convention on the rights of persons with disabilities: General comment 4 (2016) on the right to inclusive education. New York: Author. United Nations. (n.d.). Sustainable development knowledge platform. Retrieved from: https:// sustainabledevelopment.un.org/?menu=1300. United Nations Children’s Education Fund. (2013). Children and young people with disabilities: Fact sheet. Retrieved from: www.unicef.org/disabilities/files/Factsheet_A5__ Web_NEW.pdf. United Nations Children’s Emergency Fund (UNICEF). (1990). Convention on the rights of the child. New York: Author. United Nations Development Programme. (n.d.). Goal 4: Targets. Retrieved from: www. undp.org/content/undp/en/home/sustainable-development-goals/goal-4qualityeducation/targets.html. United Nations Development Programme. (2018). Human development indices and indicators: 2018 statistical update. New York: Author.

172

References

United Nations Development Programme. (2019). United Nations development programme human development reports, dashboard 4: Environmental sustainability. Retrieved from: www. hdr.undp.org/en/composite/Dashboard4. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). (1990). World declaration on education for all. Jomtien, Thailand: Author. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). (1994). The salamanca statement and framework for action on special needs education. Paris: Author. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). (2012). Youth and skills: Putting education to work. Paris: Author. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). (2015). Education for all 2000–2015: Achievements and challenges. EFA Global Monitoring Report. Author, Paris. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). (2016). Incheon declaration and framework for action for the implementation of Sustainable Development Goal 4. Paris: Author. United Nations Human Rights. (n.d.). UN treaty body database. Retrieved from: https:// tbinternet.ohchr.org/_layouts/15/treatybodyexternal/Download.aspx?symbolno= RPD/C/GC/4&Lang=en. Valenzuela, A. (1999). Subtractive schooling: US-Mexican youth and the politics of caring. New York: SUNY Press. Van Gent, S. (2017). Beyond buzzwords: What is “inclusive development?” Synthesis report, August 2017. Amsterdam: INCLUDE Secretariat. Retrieved from: https://pdfs. semanticscholar.org/a858/78b48436cfa49f556f6ad807f192909b85a3.pdf. Vavrus, F., & Kwauk, C. (2013). The new abolitionists? The World Bank and the “boldness” of global school fee elimination reforms. Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 34(3), 351–365. Walton, M. (2010). Capitalism, the state, and the underlying drivers of human development. Human Development Reports Research Paper. United Nations Development Programme, New York. Waylen, G. (2007). Engendering transitions. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wong, C. Y. (2016). Evolutionary targeting for inclusive development. Journal of Evolutionary Economics, 26(2), 291–316. Wood, A. (2018). Rain or shine, Asia needs a better umbrella of social protection. OECD Observer. Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development, Paris, January 28. World Bank. (2008). The growth report: Strategies for sustained growth and inclusive development. Washington, DC: World Bank. World Bank. (2018). Year in review: 2018 in 14 charts. Retrieved from: www.worldbank. org/en/news/feature/2018/12/21/year-in-review-2018-in-14 charts. World Bank. (2019). School enrollment, secondary, private (% of total secondary). Retrieved from: https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SE.SEC.PRIV.ZS. World Federation of the Deaf. (2017). Human rights. Retrieved from: https://wfdeaf.org/ human-rights/. World Federation of the Deaf. (2018). Advancing human rights and sign language worldwide. Retrieved from: https://wfdeaf.org/our-work/human-rights-of-the-deaf/. World Health Organization. (2011). World report on disability. Geneva: Author. World Health Organization. (2017). Assistive devices/technologies: What WHO is doing. Retrieved from: www.who.int/disabilities/technology/activities/en/. Yakter, A. (2019). The heterogeneous effect of diversity: Ascriptive identities, class and redistribution in developed democracies. European Journal of Political Research, 58, 820–824.

References

173

Yosso, T. J. (2005). Whose culture has capital? A critical race theory discussion of community cultural wealth. Race Ethnicity and Education, 8(1), 69–91. Ysseldyke, J. E. (1987). Classification of handicapped students. In Wang, M. C., Reynolds, M. C., & Walberg, H. J. (Eds.). Handbook of special education: Research and practice (pp. 253–271). New York, NY: Pergamon Press. Yunus, M. (1999). Banker to the poor. New Delhi: Penguin Books. Zapp, M., & Dahmen, C. (2017). The diffusion of educational ideas among international organisations: An event history analysis of lifelong learning, 1990–2013. Comparative Education Review, 61(3), 492–518.

Index

access 9, 17, 22, 35, 39, 47, 48, 53–57, 60, 62–63, 66, 68–69, 73, 76, 78–79, 83, 85, 88, 89, 92–94, 100, 105, 111–112, 119–20, 123, 128–139, 143, 145–147, 152, 156–157, 159–160 Acemoglu, Daron 39, 110 agency 15, 38, 61, 100, 118 agriculture 12, 21, 35 Ainscow, Mel 14 anishinaabe 37–38 Annen, Kurt 71–72 Ares, Adrian 36–37, 47, 78, 103 Asongu, Ndemaze 54–55, 57 Asongu, Simplice 54–55, 57 Bangladesh 54, 140 barriers 3, 35, 46, 61, 72, 75, 82, 85, 102, 105, 113, 115, 118, 128–130, 139, 147, 154 Baud, Isa 24–26, 34, 36, 39, 62, 94–95, 99, 119, 149–151, 155 Bebbington, Anthony 18, 27–28 biraderi 72 bottom-up 53, 109, 112–113 Bourdieu, Pierre 66–70, 73–74, 117, 126, 136, 138–139, 152, 154 Brazil 28–29, 34, 121 buen vivir 38 Bukenya, Badru 13–14, 17–18, 21, 27–29, 39, 56, 60–63, 68–69, 73, 81, 94–95, 100–101, 110, 113, 146, 149, 151–152, 154; see also development as politics capabilities theory/approach 11, 24, 30, 31, 32, 33, 40, 41, 45, 50, 95, 99–100, 104, 109, 120, 125, 149, 151 capital/capitalism/capitalistic, “capitalless” 8–10, 15, 20–22, 26,

35–36, 39–41, 45, 47, 53–56, 64–76, 79, 82, 88–95, 99, 101, 103, 106, 109, 115, 119, 121, 125–127, 131, 135–139, 141, 145–148, 150–154, 156–157, 159 children 1, 3, 48, 77, 82, 84–85, 124–125, 127–136, 140–147, 152–153, 156–158 China 11, 22, 25, 35, 55, 136 civic 66–67, 70–71, 74, 94, 143 civil society 11, 27–29, 101 cohesion (social, political) 58, 70, 79, 81, 87, 89 Coleman, James 66–67, 73, 117, 135, 152 collective/collective action 7, 64, 67, 69–70, 72–74, 81, 104, 110, 115–117, 125 Commission on Growth 76, 78–79, 87, 153 community-based organizations (CBOs) 58–60, 106–107 conditional cash transfers (CCTs) 82–83, 88, 122, 125 corporate social responsibility 28 cosmovisión Andina 38 development as politics 24, 26 Dill, Brian 58–60, 102, 106–108, 152 Dinda, Soumyananda 67–68, 73–74 disability/disabilities 1, 31, 46–48, 59, 62, 67–69, 83, 85, 103–105, 113–114, 119, 129–136, 141–142, 145–147, 152–153, 155–156 disabled persons organizations (DPOs) 59, 135, 156 discrimination 59, 69, 74, 85, 88, 103–104, 110, 129, 134, 142–143 distributionism 86, 88–89, 91–92, 120, 124, 126, 143, 148, 153, 155, 157

Index 175 Donais, Timothy 47–48, 50, 113 donor(s) 8, 11, 16, 22–24, 39, 46, 48, 50, 55, 62, 129, 150, 158–159 Earth Summit (1992) 34 Easterly, William 12–13, 16, 19–21, 39, 46, 51–52, 57, 62, 64, 80, 99, 109, 149, 152 ecosystem 37, 81–82, 86, 100 elite(s) 13, 18, 26–27, 62, 66, 68–69, 91–92, 94, 101, 107, 112–113, 115, 117, 126, 136, 138, 146, 153, 154, 156 environment 14, 21, 27–29, 31–38, 40, 45, 51–54, 56, 73, 78, 79, 81–82, 93–94, 100, 111, 118, 133, 135, 137, 141, 145–147, 151, 160 equality 24–26, 30, 32, 33, 34, 39–41, 45, 66, 80, 90, 94–95, 99, 103, 118, 123, 129, 139, 149, 155, 159 equity 46, 61, 94–95, 100–101, 103, 111, 112, 131, 133, 137, 139, 140, 148, 159 exclude/excluded/exclusionary/ exclusive 2, 3, 25, 46–48, 58, 61, 64, 68–72, 74–75, 91, 95, 101–108, 112, 117–118, 123–124, 129–130, 133, 136, 139, 148, 151–152, 156 exploit/exploitative 14, 54, 63, 79, 109, 126 feminism 104, 111–112 Ferguson, James 12, 14, 16, 21, 57–58, 60, 76–77, 83, 88–89, 91, 93–94, 102, 104, 120–121, 124–125, 143 Financial Inclusion Index (FINDEX) 54 fragile/fragility 54, 56, 82, 85, 92, 108 Fraser, Nancy 25, 81 Fricas, Jennifer 38

151–152, 154; see also development as politics higher education 73, 115, 131, 135–139, 145–147, 155–156; see also tertiary education; university Himmelstein, Jennifer 36–37, 47, 78, 103 HIV 19–20, 23, 51–52, 64, 111 human capital 9, 15, 21–22, 26, 39, 65–67, 73, 79, 82, 88, 90, 116–117, 125, 127, 135, 150, 152, 154 Human Development Index (HDI) 25, 33; financial 53–57, 62–63, 102, 125; inclusion 33; relational 2, 46, 61, 63, 155, 159; social 33, 61, 70, 74, 79, 155 India 3, 9, 21, 57, 67, 69–72, 91–92, 103, 105, 121, 140, 146, 152 Indigenous 14, 18, 29, 32, 38, 46–48, 62, 105, 114, 131, 133, 150 Inequalities–Adjusted Human Development Index (IHDI) 24–25 inequality(-ies) 13–14, 17, 23, 25–26, 30–31, 35, 39, 54, 60–61, 63–64, 66–69, 73–74, 79, 86, 89–92, 94–95, 99, 103, 120, 123–124, 126, 136, 138, 146–148, 155, 157, 159–160 infrastructure: financial 78–79, 144, 157; organizational/governmental 107, 143, 145; physical 7–11, 18–19, 22, 26, 62, 91, 143–144, 145, 150–152; social 91, 142, 143, 145 Jackimow, Tanya 103–104 jiniganawejigandaagwak 247 justice 1, 3, 14, 16, 30, 34, 36, 77, 100, 108 Kaplinsky, Raphael 22, 47, 53, 55–56 Kenya 54

ganawendamaw 37 governmentality 59 grant(s) 9, 56, 77–79, 84–86, 88, 119, 137, 140, 143, 153 Green, Maia 47, 49–50, 56, 102, 108 Growth, Employment and Redistribution (GEAR) 89 Gumede, Vusi 76, 80, 114–115 Gupta, Joyeeta 46, 51–52, 57, 61, 63, 76, 81, 82, 85, 94, 100, 102, 149, 151

labor/wage labor 56, 58–59, 65, 79, 88, 93–94, 103, 111, 120, 124, 156 “least developed countries” 11 LeFanu, Guy 109 Lesotho 20–21, 83–85, 88, 93, 105 Levien, Michael 66, 68–74, 91, 116–118, 139, 146, 152, 154 livelihood(s) 36–37, 55, 76, 78, 81, 85–86, 88, 105, 119–120, 153

heterogeneity 60 Hickey, Sam 13–14, 17–18, 21, 27–29, 39, 56, 60–63, 68–69, 73, 81, 94–95, 100–101, 110, 113, 146, 149,

Mahmud, Simeen 110–113 managerialism 49, 50, 52, 60, 108 marginal/marginalization 2–3, 15, 27, 35, 46–47, 55–56, 60–62, 67–69,

176

Index

74–76, 78–79, 82, 85, 87, 90, 92, 102–103, 105, 107, 110–111, 113–114, 119, 126, 129, 131, 142–143, 151, 154–155, 157 market(s) 2, 9–11, 16, 55, 75–80, 82–83, 85–86, 92–94, 100, 117, 119–125, 131, 155–156, 159 McCandless, Erin 47–48, 50, 113 Mégret, Frédéric 48, 61, 63, 133, 154; see also rights, plural rights Mexico 90 Miles, Susie 14 Mirtra, Sophie 31, 47, 104–105 moralism 94 Moyo, Dambisa 7–13, 16, 18, 39, 80, 99, 149–150 MPesa 84 Nadvii, Khalid 72 Nazneen, Sohela 110–113 negotiate/negotiation 27, 69, 110, 113–116, 134 neoliberal/neoliberalism 21, 26, 35, 57, 89, 91, 103, 123, 151, 159 Nepal 85 New Growth Path (NGP) 89 Noodin, Margaret 14, 37–38 Northern Ireland 70, 75 Nussbaum, Martha 32, 47, 104 overseas development aid (ODA) 7–13, 16, 25, 45, 87, 99, 125, 127, 149 Pakistan 71–72 panchayat 72 Participatory Rural Appraisal 50 planning/planners 16, 19, 20, 28, 35, 46, 51, 62, 88, 106, 133–135, 139, 141 political settlements 21, 26–29, 101, 112–114, 116; see also Mahmud, Simeen; Nazneen, Sohela politics 8, 11, 14, 17, 21, 24–27, 29–31, 36, 52, 60, 95, 100–101, 110–113 primary education 66, 127–128 Putnam, Robert 66–67, 69–70, 72–74, 94, 117 reciprocity 52, 57, 67, 70, 81 redistribution 18, 25, 28, 36, 41, 45, 54, 61, 69, 86–95, 99, 101, 110, 118–121, 123–126, 131, 140, 142, 145, 147, 155, 157, 160

representation 2, 15, 27, 34, 40–41, 47, 49, 57–58, 60–63, 65, 73, 75, 81, 95, 100–102, 107, 109, 116, 118–119, 126, 131–135, 139, 145, 146–148, 151, 154–157, 159 rights 3, 14, 26, 29, 38, 48, 76, 78–79, 80–82, 86, 88–90, 92, 95, 100–101, 105, 110–111, 113, 115, 122, 129, 132–135, 142, 145–146, 152–155; plural rights 48, 133, 154; see also Mégret, Frédéric Robinson, James A. 39, 110 rural 40, 46–48, 50, 62, 66, 70–72, 78–79, 84, 90, 92–93, 114, 116, 122, 143, 146, 152 Sarma, Mandira 26, 102 secondary education 66, 136–138, 140, 156–157 secular/secularism 77 Sen, Amartya 1, 3, 16, 24, 30–32, 40, 61, 70, 100, 149, 151 Sen, Kunal 13–14, 17–18, 21, 27–29, 39, 56, 60–63, 68–69, 73, 81, 94–95, 100–101, 110, 113, 146, 149, 151–152, 154; see also development as politics Shortall, Sally 47, 70–74, 94, 102–103 social capital 15, 41, 45, 64–76, 91, 94–95, 99, 101, 106, 116–119, 126, 131, 135–139, 145–148, 152–154, 156–157, 159; “bridging” 67; individual 66; see also Bourdieu, Pierre; Coleman, James; Dinda, Soumyananda; Putnam, Robert socialism 89, 150 “social leverage” 73 social mobility 66, 136 social protection 140, 142–143, 145, 147, 149, 153–155, 157–159 South Africa 52, 76, 80, 89, 93, 113–115, 120 Southern African Development Community (SADC) 84, 140 special economic zones (SEZs) (India) 92 students 48, 73, 130–133, 136–139, 140–145, 147 sumak kawsay 38 Sumner, Andy 25–26, 39 sustainability 14, 27, 29, 33–38, 40–41, 45–46, 78, 81–82, 86–87, 89, 99, 100, 149, 151

Index 177 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) 1, 14, 24, 32–33, 40, 46, 82, 131, 133, 151, 153, 159 sustainable intensification (SI) 36–37

Nations Human Rights Council 133–134 university 137, 156; see also higher education; tertiary education

Tanzania 35, 59, 103, 106 tax/tax system 10, 17, 28, 30, 35, 39, 53, 87, 89, 92, 94, 120, 123–124, 126, 155, 157–158 tertiary education 66, 137–139, 147 top-down 16, 19, 49, 51–52, 103–104, 113, 151

van Houweling, Emily 36–37, 47, 78, 103 Vegelin, Courtney 46, 51–52, 57, 61, 63, 76, 81, 82, 85, 94, 100, 102, 149, 151 vulnerable populations/vulnerability 28, 75–77, 81, 84–89, 100, 102, 120, 122, 131, 133, 140, 143, 147, 153

Uganda 104, 115 United Nations 9, 11, 19, 25, 33, 34, 37, 39–40, 46–48, 105, 109, 124, 126–127, 134–135, 149, 155; United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) 129, 132; United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) 25, 33, 133; United Nations Educational, Science, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) 3, 52, 108, 128–129, 131, 137, 158; United Nations Food and Agricultural Organization 34; United

welfare/social welfare state 77, 85, 88, 112, 118 well-being 30, 34, 70, 80, 95, 100, 141 World Bank 7–10, 19, 35, 53–54, 62, 66, 72, 76, 78, 83, 87, 89, 93, 95, 101, 106, 108, 116, 127–128, 140, 146, 150–151, 153, 157 World War II 7–8, 12, 22, 39, 62, 149–150, 152 Yunus, Muhammad 54–55