The Power of Civil Society in the Middle East and North Africa: Peace-building, Change, and Development 2019003582, 2019011750, 9780429265006, 9780367210069, 9780429426018

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The Power of Civil Society in the Middle East and North Africa

This book investigates the power of civil society in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) in the context of the post–Arab Spring era as well as more longstanding challenges and constraints in the region. In recent years, local civil society actors have faced significant challenges from social conservatism, conflict, violence, and the absence of democracy and exclusive political systems. Over the course of the book, the authors investigate how the sector has succeeded in achieving its own objectives despite these shifting conditions, the restrictive political environment and the complexity of the socio-cultural and economic context. Structured around the three themes of peace-building, development, and change, the book also addresses challenges faced by civil society organizations linked to ethnic, linguistic, and cultural diversities as well as religious salient differences that are crucial markers of social and political identity. Case studies are drawn from the Palestinian Occupied Territories, Jordan, Iran, Nigeria, Niger, Egypt, and Morocco, and particular effort has been made to showcase original research from contributors who are from the region. This book will be of particular interest to researchers working on development, peace-building, conflict resolution, civil society, and politics within the MENA region. Ibrahim Natil is Lecturer in Politics and Business at the Centre for Talented Youth Ireland (CTYI) and a Research Fellow at the Institute of International Conflict Resolution and Reconstruction (IICRR), Dublin City University, Ireland. Chiara Pierobon is Postdoctoral Fellow and Lecturer at Bielefeld University, Germany and Associate Researcher at the St. Petersburg/Bielefeld Center for German and European Studies (CGES/ZDES). Lilian Tauber is a PhD candidate and Teaching Assistant at Durham University, UK.

Routledge Explorations in Development Studies

This Development Studies series features innovative and original research at the regional and global scale. It promotes interdisciplinary scholarly works drawing on a wide spectrum of subject areas, in particular politics, health, economics, rural and urban studies, sociology, environment, anthropology, and conflict studies. Topics of particular interest are globalization; emerging powers; children and youth; cities; education; media and communication; technology development; and climate change. In terms of theory and method, rather than basing itself on any orthodoxy, the series draws broadly on the toolkit of the social sciences in general, emphasizing comparison, the analysis of the structure and processes, and the application of qualitative and quantitative methods. Information Communication Technology and Poverty Alleviation Promoting Good Governance in the Developing World Jack J. Barry Valuing Development, Environment and Conservation Creating Values That Matter Edited by Sarah Bracking, Aurora Fredriksen, Sian Sullivan and Philip Woodhouse Engendering Transformative Thinking and Practice in International Development Gillian Fletcher New Donors on the Postcolonial Crossroads Eastern Europe and Western Aid Tomáš Profant The Power of Civil Society in the Middle East and North Africa Peace-building, Change, and Development Edited by Ibrahim Natil, Chiara Pierobon, and Lilian Tauber For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com

The Power of Civil Society in the Middle East and North Africa Peace-building, Change, and Development Edited by Ibrahim Natil, Chiara Pierobon, and Lilian Tauber

First published 2019 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2019 selection and editorial matter, Ibrahim Natil, Chiara Pierobon, and Lilian Tauber; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Ibrahim Natil, Chiara Pierobon, and Lilian Tauber to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted 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. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Natil, Ibrahim, editor. | Pierobon, Chiara, editor. |   Tauber, Lilian, editor. Title: The power of civil society in the Middle East and   North Africa : peace-building, change, and development /   edited by Ibrahim Natil, Chiara Pierobon and Lilian Tauber. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2019. |   Series: Routledge explorations in development studies | Includes   bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019003582 (print) | LCCN 2019011750 (ebook) |   ISBN 9780429265006 (eBook) | ISBN 9780367210069 (hbk) |   ISBN 9780429426018 (ebk) Subjects: LCSH: Civil society—Middle East. | Civil society—Africa,   North. | Islam and civil society—Middle East. | Islam and civil   society—Africa, North. | Peace-building—Middle East. | Peace-building—   Africa, North. | Arab Spring, 2010—Influence. Classification: LCC JQ1758.A91 (ebook) | LCC JQ1758.A91 P67 2019   (print) | DDC 300.956—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019003582 ISBN: 978-0-367-21006-9 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-26500-6 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Apex CoVantage, LLC

Contents

List of illustrations List of contributors  1 Introduction

vii viii 1

L I L I A N TA U B ER, I BRAHI M NAT I L , AND CHI ARA PIER O B O N

  2 Introducing civil society

13

C H I A R A P I E R OBON

  3 The power of civil society: young leaders’ engagement in non-violent actions

24

I B R A H I M N AT I L

  4 Challenges confronting religious civil society in peacebuilding: what lessons can Middle Eastern and North African (MENA) countries learn from Nigeria?

39

E Y E N E O K PA N ACHI

  5 Social entrepreneurship, civil society, and foreign aid in Jordan: addressing issues of self-sustainability and continuity

58

L I L I A N TA U B ER

  6 Moroccan civil society after the 2011 constitutional reforms: the case of the women’s movement

76

M O H A M M E D YACHOULT I

  7 Unions and civil society organizations in the struggle for political emancipation in Niger G A D O A L Z O U MA

97

vi Contents   8 Human rights organizations and navigating the political configuration of power in post-2011 Egypt

113

A H M E D E L A S S AL

  9 Framing the Green Movement and the 2017–2018 Iranian protests by the Kayhan newspaper

138

M E Y S A M TAYE BI P OUR

10 Participation modes and influence strategies of large environmental NGOs

152

M O H A M M A D AL - S AI DI

11 Conclusion

170

I B R A H I M N AT I L , L I L I AN TAUBE R, AND CHI ARA PIER O B O N

Index

177

Illustrations

Figure 10.1 Actors in global governance and global civil society

154

Tables   9.1 The predication strategy in Kayhan’s words during the Green Movement   9.2 The labels that Kayhan used during the 2017–2018 protests 10.1 Analysis framework of the influence of ENGOs on international environmental summits 

146 149 158

Contributors

Mohammad Al-Saidi is Research Assistant Professor for Sustainable Development Policy and Planning at the Center for Sustainable Development with the College of Arts and Sciences, Qatar University. He holds two master’s level degrees in Economics and Political Science and a PhD in Economics from Heidelberg University, Germany. Prior to joining Qatar University, he worked as a senior researcher with the Institute for Technology in the Tropics and Subtropics (ITT) at TH-Köln, University of Applied Sciences in Germany. He publishes on environmental policy, water management, the water-energy-food nexus, and natural resources governance in developing countries, particularly in the context of Middle East and North Africa. He teaches courses in different universities in Qatar and Germany on topics such as sustainable development, resource governance and economics, international cooperation, and environmental governance. Gado Alzouma is Professor of Anthropology and Sociology at the School of Arts and Science, American University of Nigeria, Yola. He did undergraduate and graduate studies in Sociology and Anthropology at the University of Bordeaux II, France, and is the holder of a PhD from Southern Illinois University, Carbondale, USA. His research and publications focus on information and communication technologies for development, democracy, and development, electronic democracy and electronic governance, civil society, social movements, and new media. He is the author of many book chapters and articles in internationally renowned academic journals. Ahmed El Assal is an Egyptian researcher and practitioner with nearly ten years’ experience in the international development sector, with a particular focus on governance and development issues. Over the past decade, he has been working with civil society organizations, development cooperation agencies, academic institutions, and government organizations across the Middle East and North Africa (MENA). He holds an MA in Governance, Development, and Public Policy from the Institute of Development Studies (IDS), University of Sussex, UK. He is an awardee of the Chevening academic scholarship from the UK government. His research interests focus on the attempts of democratic transition following the 2011 Arab uprising, with a particular emphasis on

Contributors  ix state-society relations, civil society and social movements, human rights, gender, and democracy. Currently, he is working as governance and human rights advisor on public sector reform in Egypt. Ibrahim Natil teaches politics and business at Centre for Talented Youth, CTY Ireland at Dublin City University (DCU). He is also a fellow at the Institute of International Conflict Resolution and Reconstruction at DCU. He is also a former visiting fellow at the School of Politics and International Relations, University College Dublin (UCD). He is an international development consultant and has worked for many international non-governmental organizations (NGOs). He also launched and managed more than 56 human rights, women’s empowerment, and peace-building programmes and projects since 1997. In 2016 he was nominated for the Tällberg Foundation Global Leadership Prize. He has authored and published several articles and book chapters on a wide range of subjects, including Hamas Transformation Opportunities and Challenges (Cambridge Scholars, 2015). Eyene Okpanachi is Banting Postdoctoral Fellow at the Department of Political Science, University of Victoria. His postdoctoral research focuses on conflict and contestations regarding domestic decision-making over resource-based sovereign wealth funds (SWFs). His broad area of research and academic interests are comparative politics and international relations, but he is specifically interested in federalism and federal governance, the politics of oil, natural resource management, institutions and institutional reforms, conflict and peace processes, public policy, and the politics of government decision-making. He graduated with a PhD in Political Science from the University of Alberta; his dissertation was titled Federalism and Natural Resource Management: A Comparative Study of Intergovernmental Conflict over Oil & Gas in Canada and Nigeria. Chiara Pierobon is a researcher, lecturer, and multiplier in the field of civil society. In 2012, she completed a PhD in Sociology at Bielefeld University (Germany) and Trento University (Italy) with a thesis on civil society, music, and national identity in contemporary Russia. In the past five years, she worked as a project manager and post-doctoral researcher at the St. Petersburg/Bielefeld Center for German and European Studies (CGES/ZDES). Between 2013 and 2016, she was manager of the collaborative research project “Exploring Patterns of Regional and Interregional Cooperation: Central Asia, Its Neighboring Countries and Europe” funded by the Volkswagen Foundation. Since 2017, she has been coleader of the research professionalization project titled “Between Stability and Transformation: Regional and Transnational Cooperation in Central Asia and between Central Asia and Europe” also funded by the Volkswagen Foundation. Dr. Chiara Pierobon is currently Associate Research Fellow at the OSCE Academy in Bishkek (Kyrgyzstan). She is a former visiting professor for macrosociology and European societies at the Otto-von-Guericke University Magdeburg (Germany). In addition, she is also a former visiting scholar at the University of

x Contributors California, Berkeley (USA), the University of California, San Diego (USA), St. Petersburg State University (Russia), German Kazakh-University (Kazakhstan), and American University of Central Asia (Kyrgyzstan). Lilian Tauber has a background in Middle Eastern political history and human rights and is particularly interested in issues of democratization, the role of civil society, and youth politics. She holds a bachelor’s degree with honours in History. She focused on US foreign policy and human rights in Egypt in her bachelor’s dissertation. She completed her master’s degree in Arab World Studies at Durham University. Her dissertation analyzed the Northern Islamic Movement in Israel, using the concept of socio-political entrepreneurship as the theoretical framework. She is now a PhD candidate and teaching assistant in the School of Government and International Affairs at Durham. Her thesis research explores how and to what extent social entrepreneurship in Jordan has affected the civil society landscape of the country, particularly in the post–Arab Spring period. Meysam Tayebipour is a PhD candidate in the Department of Politics, Philosophy and Religion at Lancaster University. His primary research interests include Iran’s domestic and foreign policy, critical discourse analysis (CDA) and metaphor analysis. His PhD applies CDA in Khomeini’s discourse during the in the Iran-Iraq war. His thesis is trying to discover Khomeini’s ideological stance and the way he normalizes the war for the Iranian audience. Mohammed Yachoulti graduated from Mohammed Ben Abdellah University, Faculty of Arts and Human Sciences, Fez-Morocco, with a BA degree in English Literature, a MA in Gender Studies, and a Doctorate in Linguistics and Gender Studies. Currently, he is an Assistant Professor at the Faculty of Arts and Human Sciences, Moulay Ismail University, Meknes-Morocco. He is interested in gender and politics, social movement studies, and migration. His publications include “Syrian Refugees in Morocco: Realities and Prospects,” “Women of February 20th Movement in Morocco: A New Feminist Consciousness,” “The Feminist Movement in the Moroccan Spring: Roles, Specificity and Gains,” “Regularizing the Status of Irregular Migrants in Morocco: Program Design and Policy Benefits,” and Civil Society, Women’s Movement and the Moroccan State: Addressing the Specificities and Assessing the Roles. He has also participated in many national and international conferences and workshops on gender, civil society, and migration.

1

Introduction Lilian Tauber, Ibrahim Natil, and Chiara Pierobon

The countries of the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region lie at the epicentre of a fragmenting Arab state system and the changing regional order. These countries have also experienced a significant demographic youth boom in recent years; persons aged 15 to 29 years across the region constitute almost 27% of the region’s population (Dhillon, 2008; Georgetown University in Qatar and Silatech, 2016). This portion of the population grapples daily with issues of tradition versus modernity, staggering unemployment rates, the impact of refugee crises, and wider regional turmoil (Assaad and Roudi-Fahimi, 2007; Beehner, 2007; NATO PA, 2011; Salem, 2014). The seeming stability of semi-autocratic governments rests on pervading attributes of neo-patrimonialism and the security state, both of which, it has been claimed, have led to a civil society that is fragile or even synthetic. Optimism about possible democratization in the Middle East, fuelled by the third wave of democracy in the 1990s, led to an academic focus on the idea that civil society expansion and economic development would significantly liberalize the MENA political sphere (Hudson, 1991; Huntington, 1991; Ibrahim, 1993; Norton, 1993; Al-Sayyid, 1995; Brynen et al., 1995). There has been little tangible democratization in the region, however, despite the emergence of civil societies, economic transformation, and Western democracy promotion efforts (Schlumberger, 2000; Ottaway et al., 2005; Durac and Cavatorta, 2009). More recent scholarship recognizes the hybrid quality of many Arab states, whose governments are neither entirely autocratic nor fully democratic. These “semi-autocracies” allow limited political openness and competition, but ultimately power remains within the regimes. Nominal democratic advances serve as a “safety valve” for civil society, while the public is excluded from meaningful participation in government (Brumberg, 2003; Brumberg, 2005; Barari, 2015). Such regimes generally survive due to a skilful combination of co-optation and repression aimed at collectives or individuals (Schlumberger, 2007). In addition, neo-patrimonialism and clientelism still pervade state structures in most MENA countries (Bellin, 2004; Posusney, 2004; Lust, 2009). Neopatrimonialism refers both to macrostructures (the society, state, and economy) and microstructures (the family and individual). Neo-patrimonial society exhibits facets of modernity externally but remains beholden to clan, tribe, ethnic, and sectarian identity structures, which often determine the dispensation of power.

2  Lilian Tauber et al. Patrimonial rule depends on the loyalty of a personal network of bureaucrats to govern. In the modern Middle Eastern state, this is manifested in both civil and military bureaucracies that have remained little more than extensions of the ruler (Weber, 1964; Hudson, 1977; Ayubi, 1995; Bill and Springborg, 2000). Several countries such as Jordan, Egypt, and Morocco, among others, rely heavily on their military’s expansive political role; the professional armies and security apparatuses have reached great capacity for maintaining domestic stability and protecting regime interests (Owen, 1991; Bligh, 2001). Another key aspect of patrimonial rule is the strategic fragmentation of potential opposition forces, both within the personal advisory network and in groups outside the ruling regime, in order to hinder the development of strong power concentrations outside the ruler’s sphere (Bill and Springborg, 2000). This strategy of inhibiting the emergence of a civil political culture can extend as far as regulating satellite television and telecommunications (Murphy, 2012). Thus regimechallenging institutions are often weak and, in part, provide external legitimation to the existing state order. In some cases, such as in Iran and Saudi Arabia, governments have been found to control non-governmental organizations (NGOs) by acting as the organizations’ sole, or predominant, financial benefactors. Such NGOs are known as government-organized NGOs (GONGOs); these groups may be benign but are often another tool used by repressive regimes (Naim, 2007; Weeden, 2015). Democracy promotion efforts often support civil society organizations, which supposedly create a buffer between citizen and state (Diamond, 1994; Norton, 1995; Schwedler, 1995; Salam, 2002). Civil society in any context, however, is dependent upon the government to allow the political space for civil society to evolve and develop (Wiktorowicz, 2000; Schlumberger, 2006). It is unlikely that even reformist autocratic regimes would be willing to give up their monopoly of power and coercion and instead expand the middle class and build a strong civil society (Hinnebusch, 2006; Schlumberger, 2000; Schlumberger, 2006). For example, the process of economic liberalization that was initiated by the Arab republics in the 1970s and 1980s helped the autocratic regimes to modify their state apparatus and adapt to new conditions. Thus economic liberalization enabled the old autocratic regimes to transform into more resilient, “new autocratic regimes” instead of building pluralistic democracies (King, 2010). It is therefore plausible that the monarchies employed the same strategy with regards to the expansion of civil society as a controlling mechanism. The so-called Arab Spring generated renewed optimism about the future of a strong civil society and democratic governance in the region. Meaningful democratic advances were expected, in part because Arab autocrats face a structural crisis of legitimacy brought about by a serious economic crisis as well as strong Western expectations of democratization and market-economic reforms (Albrecht and Schlumberger, 2004). The autocratic republics of Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, and Syria did suffer extensive internal turmoil and even changes in regime as a result of this movement. In contrast, the oil-rich Gulf monarchies of Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Oman, Kuwait, and Qatar remained stable because rent

Introduction  3 from oil revenues allowed for the strategic forestalment of political opposition movements1 (Barari, 2015). The regimes manipulate oil wealth by allocating much of its income for security expenses and other targeted patronage measures (TPMs) to maintain the status quo (Al-Alkim, 1996). The Gulf monarchies’ politics of patronage continued as a reaction to the 2011 uprisings; political challenges were met with financial benefits to key parts of society in order to effectively “buy allegiance” to the ruling families (Hertog, 2011). The semi-autocratic republics and monarchies of countries such as Morocco and Jordan had to rely on continued security measures, nominal changes in government (e.g. the dissolution of parliaments, dismissal of prime ministers, and appointment of new ministers), constitutional amendments and even adoptions of entirely new constitutions to quell popular uprisings and protests. Seven years after the beginning of the Arab Spring, optimism for change has turned to criticism of a period that led to an “Arab Winter” and pessimism for the future of civil society in the MENA countries (Byman, 2011; Spencer, 2012; Wiarda, 2012; Mihaylov, 2017). However, if we look at the current state of civil society in the region, it is undeniable that the sector has tangibly expanded since 2011, with “more voices making their way into the public and political space, becoming more determined and assertive” and more people throughout society who “have been mobilized and are contributing to the conversation on change” (ONTRAC, 2014: 1). In this regard, broad literature pinpoints the importance of independent civil society organizations (CSOs) in mobilizing society around a variety of issues ranging from women’s rights and minority rights to the protection of the environment and urban redevelopment (see, e.g., Marshall, 2013; Doyle, 2016). This expansion is also testified by the increase in the number of CSOs that have become established during the Arab Winter. Despite the legal obstacles and administrative constraints that hinder their ability to operate freely and independently, in 2016 there were around 130,000 CSOs registered in Morocco, 47,312 in Egypt, 12,000 in Yemen, 8,311 in Lebanon, 5,294 in Jordan and 2,795 in the West Bank and Gaza (USAID, 2017: v). Civil society keeps playing a role of central importance as the only opposition actor to the different regimes in the region. As noted by Cavatorta in this regard, “civil society activism represents the greatest challenge to authoritarianism in the region and the most important opposition figures [. . .] came from the ranks of civil society organisations engaged in issues of democratization, human rights and government, accountability” (2009: 32). As a matter of fact, in MENA countries, political groups have appropriated this realm to establish their interests and mobilize popular support for them, with civil society being organized between secular and Islamist political interests as in the case of Egypt, Algeria, and Jordan (see Abdelrahman, 2002; Cavatorta and Durac, 2011), but also along sectarian lines as in Lebanon (see Altan-Olcay and Icduygu, 2012). Although there is a general consensus in the literature seeing civil society as unable to push for democratic reform in the Arab world (see Yerkes, 2010), there are several examples showing how the role of (advocacy) CSOs has recently been acknowledged by governments in the MENA region. For instance, as reported by the US Agency for International Development (USAID) in 2013, around 10,000 associations in Morocco were

4  Lilian Tauber et al. engaged in a national dialogue on the role of civil society (2014: 3). In this framework, around 140 recommendations focused on the role of CSOs in promoting democracy and protecting human rights were produced and the need for further legal reforms as well as increased access to funding and capacity building for the sector were discussed (Ibid.). Similarly, in the territories of the West Bank and Gaza, a number of local organizations were involved in the drafting of new federallevel strategies in different sectors including health, education, and development and played a crucial role in the resolution of a strike by teachers in the West Bank who were protesting low wages (Ibid., 2017: vii). Overall, in the past years, organizations’ advocacy efforts in the MENA region have expanded, new coalitions have formed, and access to decision makers has increased, with the exception of Egypt and Yemen (Ibid.). In addition, since the 1990s Arab societies have undergone fundamental changes linked to economic crises and restructuring that have led to the withdrawal of the public sector and the progressive demise of the system of subsidies (Talani, 2017: 512). Remarkably, these changes have created new spaces for civil society and, in particular, for service-oriented CSOs focused on the provision of services that the state is unable (or unwilling) to provide. As highlighted by Bayat in this regard, “given the gradual retreat of states from their traditional social responsibilities, the poor in the Middle East would be worse off had grassroots actions been totally absent” (2000: v). More precisely, by providing services in fields such as healthcare, education, sport, and culture, these organizations significantly contribute to improving the lives of regular people by fostering social development through pressure from below. For instance, in 2014 and 2015, development- and serviceoriented CSOs continued to play a critical role in the provision of services especially in the poorest and underserved areas, thus improving significantly their public image (USAID, 2016: 9). Likewise, in the past years, Jordanian CSOs have played a role of increasing importance in humanitarian aid by specializing in the provision of relief services such as medical assistance, education, food, and other essentials to address the refugee crisis (Ibid.: 7). Although the ability of service CSOs to promote democratic reform in the Arab world is seen as limited compared to advocacy CSOs, scholars such as Denouex (2005) emphasize how the former can contribute to political liberalization in the long run. In particular, through the provision of social services these organizations foster the creation of partnerships between the government and civil society actors at the local level that “in turn, may generate a broader dynamic conducive to democratization” and “the capacity for activities that begin as grassroots development initiatives to develop into advocacy” (Denouex, 2005: 91). Finally, if we look at the debate around the state of (Islamist) civil society in the Middle East and North Africa, three main perspectives can be identified that testify to the ambivalent situation characterizing the sector in the region. According to a view first put forth by scholars such as Abootalebi (1998) and Yom (2005), although the number of civil society actors has significantly increased in past decades, the sector is not autonomous but rather dominated by the state, which manipulates their existence. Civil society is too weak to be able to challenge the

Introduction  5 state and, therefore, rather ineffective. A second perspective of scholars such as Berman (2003) emphasizes how modern secular and Islamist organizations operate nowadays independently from the state and are able to challenge state institutions in fields such as good governance and human rights. Based on this view, civil society is strong in the region, although it might present some “uncivil” features due to the predominance of Islamist organizations which by definition confer on it an anti-democratic and anti-liberal ethos (Ibid.). Finally, for scholars such as Cavatorta, it is not possible “to determine a priori the nature of any civil society and political action operating under the constrains of authoritarianism” (2009: 32). MENA civil society is not “uncivil” per se due to the predominance of Islamist organizations: indeed, Islamist and secular members of civil society can float in one or both directions (liberalism and authoritarianism) and contaminate each other (Ibid.: 34). Yet these interpretations were born before the Arab Spring and need to be (re)contextualized in the light of the recent mobilizations and the competing ideas produced and exchanged by contemporary civil society actors in the region. This edited volume explores the power of civil society in the Middle East and North Africa, keeping in mind not only the developments taking place in the post– Arab Spring era but also the region’s long-standing challenges and constraints. In this volume, the power of civil society is defined as the ability of this sector to cope with and operate despite the shifting conditions, restrictive political environment and complexity of the socio-cultural and economic context. In short, this book seeks to address the following questions: To what extent has civil society actually succeeded in achieving its own objectives despite the national and international context of the region? What is the role of civil society in non-democratic MENA countries? How did civil society organizations overcome challenges in nondemocratic societies? The volume focuses on three themes – peace-building, development, and change – and by examining specific case studies on the Palestinian Occupied Territories, Jordan, Iran, Nigeria, Niger, Egypt, and Morocco, it aims to improve our understanding on the engagement of CSOs in “divided societies.”2 Particular emphasis is placed upon the different challenges faced by civil society actors in the region that are linked not only to political constraints but also to ethnic, linguistic, and cultural diversities as well as religious salient differences that are crucial markers of social and political identity. Remarkably, although considerable research has highlighted the weaknesses and limitations of civil society in the MENA countries, as illustrated previously, rather less attention has been paid to its power in dealing with the exceptional circumstances and dynamics characterizing the divided societies in which its groups operate. Therefore, the volume offers new insights on how CSOs in the MENA countries not only are shaped by but also react to current regional challenges. The book provides concrete examples of civil society responses to competing religious identities and their politicization, as in Natil’s contribution on the Palestinian Occupied Territories and Okpanachi’s chapter on Nigeria; to the political and economic influence exercised by national and international actors, as portrayed in Tauber’s chapter on Jordan; to social (in)justice and socio-economic underdevelopment, as

6  Lilian Tauber et al. described in Yachoulti’s contribution on Morocco and Alzouma’s chapter on Niger; to legal-political resilience of civil society, as in El Assal’s chapter on Egypt. The book also examines the contribution of the media in framing mobilization, as in Tayebipour’s chapter on Iran, and the work of international NGOs, as in Al-Saidi’s chapter. This edited volume is structured as follows. Pierobon’s chapter (Chapter 2) on the debate on civil society and its implications for the MENA region familiarizes the reader with the theoretical framework on which the following chapters are grounded. More precisely, the chapter introduces the theoretical debate surrounding the concept of civil society, looking at its ancient as well as modern (liberal) interpretation together with alternative versions (communal, state-led, and global) that can be found especially when dealing with the non-Western context. In addition, the chapter explores the concrete contribution of civil society actors to peace-building, development, and change by taking into account the variety of roles and functions they can fulfil according to the literature available. Finally, the last part of the chapter is concerned with the extent to which civil society definitions and theorizations apply to the MENA countries, providing a general overview of the dynamics affecting civil society in the region that will then be analyzed in more detail in the following chapters. Natil’s chapter (Chapter 3) focuses on the political landscape characterizing the young leaders’ engagement in non-violent action in the Palestinian Occupied Territories (OPT). More precisely, his contribution investigates how young civil society activists have coped with the attempts of the Israel military administration to extend its control over the Palestinian population as well as with the divisions and fragmentation characterizing the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO). In the chapter, the author frames the involvement of youth in grassroots mobilization in terms of participatory democracy and as a reaction to their exclusion from regular public elections for more than 12 years. Natil provides concrete examples of how young activists have contributed to social change by encouraging women’s participation in the latest waves of popular resistance and by circulating new positive images of active women via new and traditional media. Also worthy of note is the reference to the mobilization taking place in connection to the Arab Spring in 2011, such as the 15 March movement. As highlighted by the author, although this movement posed a challenge for Hamas and Fatah by making a stand against their division, it failed in bringing about genuine change as in the other MENA countries due to the instability and fragmentation characterizing the political context. In Chapter 4, Okpanachi discusses the challenges and dilemmas affecting religious civil society in Nigeria, where religious identities are usually classified into three groups: Christianity, Islam, and Traditional African Religion. His chapter improves our understanding of the contribution of civil society in peace-building by looking at CSOs’ attempts to challenge the existing ethnic, religious, and social cleavages through the promotion of a political system including all these different groups. The democratization process is more challenging in divided societies such as Nigeria compared to less diverse countries in which people see themselves as members of the same community. Indeed, in these societies, the patterns of inclusion in and exclusion from the political process and the access to power and

Introduction  7 privilege are based more on ethnic features rather than national citizenship. Fostering the democratization process remains a key task of CSOs in Nigeria, where their contribution to the political struggle intersects with the conflicts existing between different identity groups, with dire consequences for peace, fundamental human rights, the rule of law and justice, economic development, and the consolidation of democracy in these societies. Tauber’s chapter (Chapter 5) enriches this edited volume on the power of civil society with new insights on the relationship between foreign aid and social entrepreneurship in Jordan, conceived as a growing subsector of civil society. In particular, in a context where civil society has been co-opted by the regime and its action has become predictable, transparent, and thus controllable, the author identifies the challenges and limitations coming from the international funding model as described by Jordan’s social entrepreneurs. This includes a frequent change of topics that receive foreign financial support and that jeopardizes the continuity and, in the long run, the consistency of their mission. In addition, the internationally driven agendas of Jordanian CSOs made them lose touch with local communities and their needs. At the same time, Tauber sheds light on the power of Jordanian civil society and, more specifically, on the businesslike strategies adopted by social entrepreneurs in the country to cope with the financial constraints they face. Remarkably, the chapter shows how the use of the independent model (based on their own capital from sales of products and services, on sponsorship from other companies and on members’ direct contributions) and of the hybrid model (based on their own capital for sustaining themselves and foreign aid for funding specific projects) have provided Jordanian social entrepreneurs with a valuable alternative to dependence on international foreign schemes. Yachoulti’s chapter (Chapter 6) similarly challenges the idea of a “weak” civil society. The chapter focuses on the women’s movement in Morocco following the 2011 political protests. The author notes that the political atmosphere of this protest period offered momentum for civil society, and in particular women’s organizations, to thrive and re-emerge as powerful actors with greater rights and more roles in the political arena. Yachoulti investigates what changed for the women’s movement in Morocco in relation to the state after the constitutional reforms of 2011. The chapter aims to determine whether the women’s movement managed to become more efficient after the progressive provisions of the new constitution. The analysis is based on a comparative approach to civil society activism in Morocco before and after the 2011 constitutional reforms, with a special focus on the women’s movement and its mobilization to promote women’s political representation, criminalize violence against women and support Soulaliyyate women. Yachoulti argues that the women’s movement in Morocco has made significant progress in pushing for increased rights, protections, and representation as a result of a welldefined and organized agenda based on decades of increased activism. Not only has the women’s movement been able to use the 2011 constitutional reforms and provisions to hold the government accountable, but it has also taken advantage of pro-democracy calls across the region to forge a new political identity in addition to achieving its objectives.

8  Lilian Tauber et al. In Chapter 7, Alzouma answers those questions of democratization development by discussing that the struggle of civil society, which has never been separate from the political struggles under colonization and after independence, already shaped and oriented the organized labour protest movements in Niger. Alzouma examines the historical struggles of the unions as part of the civil society in Niger, where the various components of the civil society played the role of leading forces at various periods in the country’s history. This chapter also traces the historical political contribution of labour unions, which played the most important role in the fight for political emancipation during the colonial period, and the students union (USN), which proved more resilient during the dictatorial periods between 1960 and 1990. El Assal’s chapter (Chapter 8) discusses the way in which Egypt’s human rights organizations have adapted to the changing political and legal landscape of the country through four presidential administrations since the 2011 uprisings. The chapter analyzes the methods Egyptian human rights organizations used to navigate the various challenges posed by state practices and legal hurdles. El Assal seeks to answer to what extent human rights organizations were able to adopt new strategies in the seemingly shrinking civil society space. To do this, the author traces the work of human rights organizations, tactics employed by the state, and changes in the legal landscape in the period from the January 2011 uprising until the end of July 2017. A central and crucial focus of the chapter is an analysis of the legality of the new civil work law (Law 70/2017) in Egypt. The chapter distinguishes itself by providing a discussion and analysis of the ability of Egyptian human rights organizations to adapt to, and become resilient because of, restrictive laws and repressive state practices. Through new legal registration and reallocation practices, diversifying funding sources, setting new agendas and reordering priorities, and focusing on coalition-building and networking, human rights organizations were able to resist the state crackdown. Ultimately, El Assal argues, the re-emergence of authoritarian practices in the post-Mubarak period forced human rights organizations in Egypt to rethink their tactics and become more resilient in order to withstand the shrinking of the civil society space. Tayebipour’s chapter (Chapter 9) is focused on the contribution of the conservative newspaper Kayhan in framing the two most recent unrests in Iran: the Green Movement of 2009–2010 and the Iran protests in 2017–2018. By using critical discourse analysis (CDA) and predication strategy, the author provides an in-depth analysis of the similarities and differences in the ways in which Kayhan has represented the two mobilizations. More precisely, whereas the newspaper described the protesters taking part in the Green Movement in negative terms, during the unrests of 2017–2018 they were described as ordinary citizens. In addition, whereas Ahmadinejad’s government was never blamed for the protests taking place in the country, Rouhani’s government was openly criticized. The chapter also pinpoints the political reasons behind the different narrative frames adopted by Kayhan. This edited volume is enriched by a final contribution explicitly dealing with the power of civil society on a global scale. Indeed, in Chapter 10, Al-Saidi

Introduction  9 investigates the role and functions of international non-governmental organizations (INGOs) and, more precisely, of environmental non-governmental organizations (ENGOs) engaged in the field of protection of nature resources. By focusing on three major organizations and three case studies represented by the Earth Summits of 1992, 2002, and 2012, the study examines the ways and the conditions under which ENGOs can be involved in global environmental governance. In addition, it also reveals the motivations and concrete tools that NGOs have at their disposal to promote sustainable development. Overall, the chapter sheds new light on the influence strategies and mechanisms through which civil society can affect government decisions to develop domestic policies that have important implications for other areas besides the environmental one. In conclusion, this edited volume examines not the weaknesses but the concrete power of civil society in the Middle East and North Africa. This power manifests itself in the ability to function and achieve its objectives despite shifting socioeconomic and political conditions, restrictive legal environments, and the complexity of the political situation of the region. The analysis keeps in mind the region’s enduring challenges and constraints but focuses on the post–Arab Spring period to provide up-to-date research. The three themes of peace-building, development, and change provide insight into how MENA civil society has affected three different sectors. The volume shows how civil society is not only affected by current regional challenges but also demonstrates its considerable agency to be a change-maker itself.

Notes 1 One exception is Bahrain, which experienced extensive protests; however, these were quelled with Saudi military intervention and Western support (Shehabi and Jones 2015). 2 Although Nigeria and Niger do not belong to the group of Northern African and Middle Eastern countries, they were included in this edited volume based on their political and cultural affinities as well as linkages to the region. Indeed, Nigerian civil society has significant commonalities with other MENA countries struggling with ongoing religious conflicts and divisions that the Arab Spring has further fomented. We believe that the challenges and dilemmas confronted by religious civil society groups in Nigeria can improve our understanding of the constraints and challenges characterizing civic engagement in the region under investigation. Niger shares a long history of geopolitical relations with the MENA countries, especially with Tunisia and Libya, which was intensified by the Arab Spring. Indeed, after the outbreak of the Arab Spring and the conflict in Libya, Niger received a number of political refugees and has become an important transit country for migrants directly to Europe.

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2

Introducing civil society Chiara Pierobon

On the notion of civil society Civil society: an ancient concept Although its meaning is highly controversial and still much debated, civil society undoubtedly represents one of the central concepts in European political thought. The term has a long history and goes back to the notion of politike koinonia introduced by Aristotle in the 4th century bc, referring to a “public ethnical-political community of free and equal citizens under a legally defined system of rule” (Cohen and Arato, 1994: 84). For the scholar, civil society was a collectivity characterized by a unique set of goals derived from a common set of norms and values (ethos) defining not only political procedures but also preferred virtues and forms of interactions (Ibid.: 85). Based on Aristotle’s account, the end (telos) of the politike koinonia was the common well-being of men understood as political animals (Davis, 1996: 22). In this first idealized version, there was no clear distinction between state and society, and “plurality and differentiation were integrated in a model that presupposed a single, homogeneous, organized solidary body of citizens capable of totally united action” (Cohen and Arato, 1994: 84–85). The Aristotelian notion was then translated by the Romans as societas civilis and used to indicate a rational and law-governed society of humans in contrast with the natural society of animals (Parekh, 2004: 18). All in all, the concept of civil society was not particularly relevant until the 17th century, when scholars such as John Hobbes and Thomas Locke articulated it with more clarity by attaching to it a positive and sometimes even utopian connotation (Kocka, 2003: 30). For Locke, civil society was the “realm of political association instituted among men when they take leave of the ‘state of nature’ and enter into a commonwealth” (Seligman, 2002: 15). The scholar conceived human beings as by nature free and equal and endowed with the capacities of rationality and self-determination. Nonetheless, in order to pursue their self-chosen purposes, they needed a well-ordered (or civil) society equipped with a public or civil authority entitled to take and enforce collectively binding decisions to guarantee their freedom (Parekh, 2004: 18). Remarkably, in Locke’s account, civil society was still coterminous with the political realm and was not differentiated from the state and its institutions (Seligman, 2002: 15).

14  Chiara Pierobon A similar view was also shared by the thinkers of the Scottish Enlightenment, such as Adam Ferguson. Ferguson equated civil society with “civilized” society: a society characterized by increased wants, division of labour, growth of the arts and sciences, rationality, and liberty in opposition to sage, rude or militaristic society (Parekh, 2004: 18). In his vision, only a civil society based on a civil authority governing by means of laws and ensuring the basis rights of its citizens could create the necessary framework for the development of an industrial society (Ibid.: 19). It followed that non-European societies that had remained backward because of their lack of civil society “had not hope of turning the corner without developing one with or without European help” (Ibid.). Modern civil society Nowadays, the notion of civil society reflects multiple understandings placing emphasis on different aspects such as its social and economic functions, its involvement in the making of policies and politics, the rights and individual freedoms it guarantees, the social capital it produces and is made of, and so forth. Nonetheless, all these uses have in common a conceptualization of civil society as pertaining to the relationship among three different actors: the individual, the society, and the state (Howell and Pearce, 2001: 13). The concept obtained this interpretation during the 18th and 19th centuries especially thanks to the work of scholars such as George W. F. Hegel and Karl Marx. As a matter of fact, the modern idea of civil society is “the result of a crisis in social order and a breakdown of existing paradigms of the idea of order” (Seligman, 2002: 14). The socioeconomic transformations taking place from the 17th century onwards accompanied by several discoveries, together with the English, North American and continental revolutions, have jeopardized the foundations of existing models of social order and authority, creating new possibilities for the increasingly autonomous individuals to pursue their interests in the social arena (Ibid.: 14–15). More precisely, the process of industrialization together with the emergence of a capitalist economy and a modern bureaucratic state brought to the rise of the middle class that started questioning the status-based social order and the privileges enjoyed by the aristocracy (Keane, 1988). This class – also known as bourgeoisie – was composed of businessmen, entrepreneurs, and bankers as well as professors, well-educated public servants, teachers, doctors, journalists, lawyers, and so forth, sharing the same civic culture based on universal education, values such as autonomy and agency, and communication forms and family models (Kocka, 2003: 30). Remarkably, civil society arose from the attempts made by members of this social group to (re) define their new place in society vis-à-vis the aristocratic state having at their disposal important assets in terms of economic and cultural resources and networks to call for and exercise more political influence. Now, going back to the term civil society and its different conceptualizations, Hegel was certainly the first to consider the bürgerliche Gesellschaft (civil society) as a separate realm between the bürgerliche Familie (family) and the politischer Staat (the state) (Hegel, 1972: 169). As his predecessors, the scholar conceived of

Introducing civil society  15 civil society as a legally constituted association of free, independent, and equal individuals pursuing their self-chosen goals in a spirit of mutual respect and within the limits of the laws (Parekh, 2004: 19). Nonetheless, for Hegel the bürgerliche Gesellschaft was inherently unstable due to the heterogeneity of interests and classes it is made of and the contradictory desiderata of particular interests (those of different strata, classes, occupational groups, and so on) (Seligman, 2002: 25). In Hegel’s view, the tensions and conflicts arising from the acute contrasts of wealth and poverty could not be regulated by civil society itself that, therefore, required the institution of the state (Parekh, 2004: 19). Similarly, for Marx, civil society was a sphere of conflict and of war between organized classes and, more precisely, a realm “within which the bourgeoisie exploited the laboring class” (DeWiel, 1997: 30). For the scholar, the bürgerliche Gesellschaft was indeed the manifestation of modern society and, especially, of the most developed and diversified historical organization characterizing the capitalist production (Marx, 1971: 636). In Marx’s view, the state could not transcend civil society: it was rather the product of the class conflict, it was ruled by the bourgeoisie class, and it represented its interests by sustaining the prevailing economic order. Civil society was therefore seen by Marx as the “locus of degradation, not liberation” that the rise of the proletariat would have dissolved together with the oppressive structures it supported (DeWiel, 1997: 30). Finally, worthy of note is also the Gramscian neo-Marxist interpretation of civil society. In opposition to Marx, for the scholar, political action is determined not by economic structure but rather by the interpretation of it (Parekh, 2004: 20). In his view, civil society was the realm of free associational activity and was composed by different cultural and spiritual agencies such as family, trade unions, universities, the press, working men’s clubs, and so forth. These agencies provided the ideological resources necessary for the survival of the capitalist system in that they mobilized popular consent in favour of the prevailing economic order by establishing hegemony through the use of carefully planned cultural instruments (Gramsci, 1971: 53). At the same time, besides being the realm where the state imposes its hegemony, civil society represented the space where “socio-economic groups acquire consciousness of the interests and expectations, ideologies are produced and spread, and alliances formed” (Talani, 2017: 509). Indeed, according to the scholar, it is in this sphere that societies could defend themselves against the market and the state by imposing a shift in forma mentis (Buttigieg, 1994: 538) using cognitive rather than coercive means. (Neo-)liberal form of civil society In the late 20th century, civil society was given a tripartite meaning based on the fact that it was differentiated not only from the state but also from the market (Avritzer, 2004: 43). The concept was used to explain social processes taking place not only in the West but also in Eastern Europe and in Latin America (Glasius et al., 2004: 3). As a matter of fact, this re-invention of the concept goes back to the political transformations affecting the regions mentioned

16  Chiara Pierobon above, where dissident opposition movements had launched a liberal political project to terminate their region’s socialist/communist experiment (Babajanian et al., 2005: 211). In this new framework, civil society was re-defined, characterized by the existence of autonomous organizations that are neither state-run nor otherwise directed from the central political power (Dahrendorf, 1991: 262). It was seen as made up of a set of institutions, which is strong enough to counterbalance the state and, whilst not preventing the state from fulfilling its role of keeper of peace and arbitrator between major interests, can, nevertheless prevent the state from dominating and atomizing the rest of society. (Gellner, 1994: 5) In addition, civil society was conceived as a “buffer zone, strong enough to keep both state and market in check, thereby preventing each from becoming too powerful and dominating” (Anheier, 2005: 57). The idea of civil society as a counterpart to the state (and the market) pertains to a neo-liberal interpretation of this phenomenon and represents only one facet of a very colourful prism. Babajanian et al. (2005) elucidate alternative versions of civil society that can be found especially in non-Western contexts. As highlighted by the scholars, these ideal types can be used “to appreciate the different roles they can play in affecting change” in various contexts (Babajanian et al., 2005: 211) and can therefore be useful in the investigation of the civil society dynamics characterizing the region examined in this book. In their edited volume on civil society in Central Asia and the South Caucasus, the scholars emphasize the existence of at least four different ideal types of civil society: the neo-liberal type already introduced, a communal type, a state-led type, and a global type of civil society. As already pointed out above, the neo-liberal type of civil society refers to a political project where civic groups engage for the promotion of values such as democracy, human rights, freedom, and justice. In this case, civil society is conceived of as an enclave of independence where, through lobbying and advocacy activities, people can defend themselves against the state and undermine the tyranny of the government (Ibid.). This form of civil society is attributed a role of pivotal importance in democratic consolidation by “stabilizing expectations and social bargaining, generating a more civic normative environment, bringing actors closer to the political process, reducing the burdens of governance and checking potential abuses of power” (Diamond et al., 1997: xxxi). Central actors of this type are non-governmental organizations (NGOs) that have been mushrooming since the 1980s thanks to the generous financial support made available by international agencies and Western donors. Remarkably, these organizations came to be seen by target countries as an instrument of unwarranted foreign intervention and have led “some to suggest the abbreviation is better understood as standing for ‘not-grassroots organizations’” (Glasius et al., 2004: 13).

Introducing civil society  17 Alternative versions of civil society: communal, state-led, and global Besides the neo-liberal form, it is possible to identify at least three additional ideal types of civil society. The communal form of civil society is grounded in traditions of mutual aids and community organizing together with local forms of decisionmaking. This ideal type is not defined in opposition to the state: instead of being concerned with state-society relations, it is rather focused on relations within society, on community solidarity, self-help, and trust (Babajanian et al., 2005: 213). Communal civil society is based on informal structures such as family ties, friendships, or good neighbourhoods that can be mobilized to offer services and infrastructures, ensuring that “all the members of the group had the necessary means for survival” (Ibid.). This form is rather conservative and patriarchal and can be oppressive to those who do not conform to the majority: its values are oriented toward community stability and security rather than the assertion of the individual’s will and freedoms. The third ideal type of civil society – the state-led one – was typical of the Soviet period during which formal public organizations and associations “were controlled by the state as part of the Soviet political structure and yet performed civil society functions” (Babajanian et al., 2005: 214). In this case, civil society is not a counterpart of the state but part of it, by helping the state in organizing the economy and society and acting as its powerful ally in separating individuals from society (Frolic, 1994: 10). This form can still be found in authoritarian countries where public organizations are involved in the provision of services, in the mobilization of volunteers, in the organization of activities, and so forth, representing their beneficiaries vis-à-vis the state. More precisely, this version of civil society operates as a “crucial communication channel between a state organ and the organisations’ members, thereby helping the state to get across ideological points or specific policies” (White, 1993: 79). Central actors of the state-led type are the so-called government-organized non-governmental organizations (GONGOs). These organizations are the ultimate manifestation of the state’s attempt to fund and control more liberal-style NGOs and are generally used by repressive governments to manage their domestic politics while appearing democratic (Naim, 2009). Last but not least, the global type of civil society can be defined as the “realm of non-coercive collective action around shared interests and values that operates beyond the boundaries of the nation states” (Anheier et al., 2005: v). It can be conceived of as a “thick, sometimes thinly stretched networks, pyramids and hub-and-spoke clusters of socio-economic institutions and actors who organize themselves across borders” (Keane, 2003: 2, 8). Social movements and citizens’ networks operating across borders in fields such as climate change, the fights against HIV/AIDS, banning of land mines, and so forth provide a good example of this version of civil society (Babajanian et al., 2005: 214).

18  Chiara Pierobon

The power of civil society: change, development, and peace-building The first encounter between civil society and development goes back to the late 1980s, when the ability of the state to operate as development actors was put into question (Howell and Pearce, 2002: 14). Indeed, due to its lack of accountability and representation, its distortion of market forces and the creation of large monopolies as well as its tendency to militarism and authoritarianism, the state became to be seen not as the solution but rather as part of the problem of development (Ibid.). The shift in the development paradigm was accompanied by the emergence of the neo-liberal form of civil society operating as a privileged partner in the dismantling of the idea of the state as the sole provider of universal welfare. It was in this context that NGOs were employed as an instrument in the new policy agenda of bilateral and multilateral donors to reduce public expenditure and to cut aid budgets. The resurgence of interest in civil society led to the development of a new body of literature that conceived of democracy as a precondition for development and civil society (organizations) as the building blocks for democracy. By embracing the Tocquevillian view of public associations as “learning schools for democracy,” scholars such as Robert Putnam emphasized the importance of norms and networks of civic engagement (what he called “social capital”) for both economic development and effective government. More precisely, as noted by the scholar, “the vigorous network of indigenous grassroots associations can be as essential to growth as physical investment, appropriate technology, or (that nostrum of neoclassical economists) ‘getting prices right’” (Putnam, 1993: 38). The theory of social capital has been strongly criticized for its circular logic and its tendency to homogenize civil society in liberal terms without considering the question of power and social differentiation. Nonetheless, Putnam and other social capital theorists have undoubtedly influenced the emergence of a new body of NGO literature focused on understanding the different roles that civil society can play at the different stages of the democratization process. Building on this account, the establishment of a robust civil society was postulated as a precondition for democratization and democratic consolidation all over the world and, in this spirit, northern donors looked to civil development programmes to strengthen and even manufacture civil society (Howell and Pearce, 2002: 14) in the Global South. The existence of a strong link between the growth of civil society activism and the process of democratization has been demonstrated by several studies describing how, through their ability to mobilize citizens, civil society organizations (CSOs) can increase government accountability and promote institutional reforms (Cavatorta, 2009: 31). For scholars such as Larry Diamond, civil society organizations may play a role of major importance in both democratic transitions and democratic consolidation. More precisely, organized social groups, including not only NGOs but also grassroots and human rights organizations, trade unions, think tanks, and the media, can act as a crucial source of democracy by mobilizing pressure for change (Diamond, 1994: 5). At the same time, civil society can contribute

Introducing civil society  19 to the consolidation of democracy by checking power abuses on behalf of the state, by preventing the resumption of power by authoritarian governments, and by encouraging wider participation (Ibid.: 7). The literature on NGOs and democratization identifies three main ways in which civil society can strengthen (liberal) democracy. First, NGOs are said to pluralize the institutional arena by virtue of their existence as autonomous actors. As observed by Mercer in this regard, more civic actors mean more opportunities for a wider range of interest groups to have a “voice,” more autonomous organizations to act in a “watchdogs” role vis-à-vis the state, and more opportunities for networking and creating alliances of civic actors to place pressure on the state. (Mercer, 2002: 8) Second, NGOs “both widen (in social and geographical terms) and deepen (in terms of personal and organizational capacity) the possibilities of citizen participation” (Ibid.) by representing also the interests of marginalized and underrepresented groups within the public arena, campaigning for and seeking to influence public policy on their behalf. Finally, NGOs can challenge the autonomy of the state at both national and local level “by pressuring for change and developing an alternative set of perspectives and policies” (Ibid.: 8). Besides being active as advocates, NGOs can promote development through the provision of goods and services that either the state cannot offer to its citizens or from which citizens are excluded. Overall, it is possible to identify three main fields of service provision by NGOs: basic needs, capacity building, and the support of community initiatives (see Pierobon, 2019). First, NGOs can contribute to the development process by providing disadvantaged groups with essential goods such as adequate food, shelter, and clothing as well as essential services in sectors such as education, health, sanitation, and so forth (Ibid.). Second, NGOs can offer capacity-building initiatives that are aimed at improving the knowledge and/or skills of the target population. These activities can be focused on both raising awareness on a specific issue or increasing the ability of a group to perform specific functions to solve problems related to their development needs (Ibid.). Finally, NGOs can foster development by providing support to community-level initiatives through the strengthening of self-governing grassroots organizations and the linking of these groups in broader networks and federations (Edwards and Hulme, 2000: 54 in Pierobon, 2019). Last but not least, the power of civil society is particularly evident if we look at its involvement in conflict prevention, resolution, and post-conflict reconstruction, where it takes on different roles depending also on the nature of the conflict. Civil society can contribute to resolution of conflict by, for instance, demonstrating against war and rejecting provisions in peace agreements that “sought to appease rebel groups by providing a certain quota for their representation in transition governments” (Kode, 2012: 87). In addition, CSOs are usually perceived as neutral actors and therefore as good mediators in conflict situations as well as resolution.

20  Chiara Pierobon For this reason, they are often engaged in negotiation and peace processes, and also thanks to their ability to represent civilians and local voices that have firsthand information on the complex constellation of interests and parties involved. Through their engagement and contacts with communities that were affected by conflict, these groups can serve as repositories of evidence, also contributing to the documentation of war crimes and fact-finding and the support to identifying missing people (see, e.g., Fischer, 2006). But it is especially in post-conflict situations that these organizations fulfil important peace-building functions. For instance, CSOs can foster cross-border, inter-religious, and ethnic reconciliation by supporting informal exchange, dialogue, and joint projects between divided groups (Ibid.). Through art activities as well as the creation and promotion of alternative media and reporting, civil society can sustain the establishment of a peaceful culture. In addition, these organizations can strengthen communities by providing trauma and psycho-social support for conflict-affected individuals and by empowering youth and women through education and awareness-raising initiatives.

Civil society in the MENA region The expression “civil society” is widely used in the Middle East and North Africa (Browers, 2006), where it has become a “terrain of contestation between different types of social institutions where the liberal notion does not entirely apply” (Cavatorta, 2009: 32). In the Arabic language, it is possible to identify two distinct terms referring to this concept: al-mujtama’ al-ahli and al-mujtama’ al-madani (Haerdig, 2015: 1135). Whereas the former term pertains to indigenous and kinship-related associations with deeper social roots and longer history (what in the first section of this chapter was defined as communal civil society), the latter term is more akin to the neo-liberal conceptualization of civil society implying a civic orientation. In the MENA region, the members of these two types of civil society coexist by sharing the same realm of activities: although they are not necessarily in opposition to each other, their interaction is rather contentious in nature. Overall, if we look at the role(s) of civil society in the region, a clear specialization in the provision of social services emerges following what in the previous section was described as the state-led type of civil society. This is especially due to the difficulties encountered by the MENA states in addressing the socio-economic needs of their population (Talani, 2017: 513–514) with the sector sustaining (and very often being sustained) rather than challenging the state. The mobilization of thousands of ordinary citizens taking place during the socalled Arab Spring in 2011–2012 was interpreted – maybe too optimistically – as the manifestation of a people-led wave of democratization that would have created new space for civil society involvement in politics. Yet, eight years after the popular unrest swept North Africa and led to the fall of long-term rulers such as Zine El Abidine Ben Ali in Tunisia, Hosni Mubarak in Egypt and Muammar Al Qaddafi in Libya, the situation of civil society in the region is ambivalent (Haerdig, 2015: 1131). The sector is indeed confronted with several challenges not only

Introducing civil society  21 from without – such as the presence of a repressive state and the lack of the rule of law and economic constraints – but also from within the realm of civil society. The MENA countries are characterized by high levels of membership in community-based organizations as well as social networks outside the state framework (Ibid.: 1132–1133). However, the expansion of associational life after the Arab Spring has neither meant the emergence of an autonomous sphere from the state nor the fostering of democratization in the region. Civil society is still fragmented along religious and communal identities and is often dependent on the state that through its funding infiltrates and influences the sector’s agenda and modus operandi. As noted by Doyle in this regard, this state-led form of civil society has played a central role in “maintaining the political economic status quo, extending the state’s control over its citizens and reinforcing the existing societal power structure” (2016: 420). As a result of a financial environment supporting mainly organizations that are not critical and non-threatening to the government, independent neo-liberal-style CSOs have been increasingly marginalized and their capacity to advance democratization has been curtailed (Ibid. 421). In addition, the political discourses produced and the identity politics carried out are very often used to legitimize violence against particular actors, preventing the construction of inclusive participatory democracies (Haerdig, 2016: 40). As a matter of fact, the MENA civil society comprises a variety of groups including family associations, confessional and patron-founded organizations, political groups, and militia that are not necessarily interested in promoting democracy and the emergence of a civic state (Ibid.: 36). Their empowerment does not necessarily coincide with the empowerment of the majority of the people (Beinin and Vairel, 2011: 16), since these groups often strive towards the realization of parochial interests that do not necessarily match those of the wider strata of society. Yet despite the non-conducive environment in which they operate and the political, financial, and cultural challenges that they face, the engagement and contribution of civil society actors in Middle East and North Africa cannot be denied. This volume is therefore aimed at offering a new perspective on civil society developments in the region by providing the reader with concrete examples of the power and strengths of MENA civil society in promoting peace, fostering change, and sustaining socio-economic development.

Bibliography Anheier, H. K. (2005) Non-Profit Organisation: Theory, Management, Policy. New York: Routledge. Anheier, H. K., Glasius, M., and Kaldor, M. (2005) Global Civil Society 2004/5. London: Sage. Avritzer, L. (2004) ‘Civil society in Latin America. Uncivil, liberal and participatory models’. In Glasius, M., Lewis, D., and Seckinelgin, H. (eds.), Exploring Civil Society: Political and Cultural Contexts. New York: Routledge, pp. 43–47. Babajanian, B., Freizer, S., and Stevens, D. (2005) ‘Introduction: Civil society in Central Asia and the Caucasus’. Central Asia Survey, 24(3), 209–224.

22  Chiara Pierobon Beinin, J., and Vairel, F. (2011) ‘The Middle East and North Africa beyond classical social movement theory’. In Beinin, J., and Vairel, F. (eds.), Social Movements, Mobilization, and Contestation in the Middle East and North Africa. Stanford: Stanford University Press, pp. 1–32. Browers, M. L. (2006) Democracy and Civil Society in Arab Political Thought: Transcultural Possibilities. New York: Syracuse University Press. Buttigieg, J. A. (1994) ‘Gramscis Zivilgesellschaft und die Civil-Society-Debatte’. Das Argument, 206, 529–554. Cavatorta, F. (2009) ‘A clash of civilizations inside the MENA countries: Islamist versus secular civil society and the failure of pro-democracy policies’. In Zank, W. (ed.), Clash or Cooperation of Civilizations?: Overlapping Integration and Identities. New York: Routledge, pp. 31–41. Cohen, J. L., and Arato, A. (1994) Civil Society and Political Theory. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Dahrendorf, R. (1991) ‘Die gefährdete civil society’. In Michalski, K. (ed.), Europa und die Civil Society: Castelgandolfo-Gespräche 1989. Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, pp. 247–263. Davis, M. (1996) The Politics of Philosophy: A Commentary on Aristotle’s Politics. Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield. DeWiel, B. (1997) ‘A conceptual history of civil society: From Greek beginnings to the end of Marx’. Past Imperfect, 6, 3–42. Diamond, L. (1994) ‘Rethinking civil society: Toward democratic consolidation’. Journal of Democracy, 5, 4–18. Diamond, L., Plattner, M. F., Chu, Y., and Zien, H. (1997) Consolidating the Third Wave of Democracies. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Doyle, J. L. (2016) ‘Civil society as ideology in the Middle East: A critical perspective’. British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 43(3), 403–422. Edwards, M., and Hulme, D. (2000) ‘Scaling up NGO impact on development: Learning from experience’. In Eade, D. (ed.), Development, NGOs, and Civil Society. Oxford: Oxfam, pp. 44–63. Fischer, M. (2006) Civil Society in Conflict Transformation: Ambivalence, Potentials and Challenges [online]. Available at: www.berghoffoundation.org/fileadmin/redaktion/Publications/Handbook/Articles/fischer_cso_handbook.pdf [Accessed 14 May 2018]. Frolic, M. (1994) ‘The emergence of civil society in China’. In Eastern Asia Policy Paper, 14. North York: University of Toronto – York University Joint Centre for Asia Pacific Studies. Gellner, E. (1994) Conditions of Liberty: Civil Society and Its Rivals. Allen Lane: Penguin Press. Glasius, M., Lewis, D., and Seckinelgin, H. (2004) ‘Exploring civil society internationally’. In Glasius, M., Lewis, D., and Seckinelgin, H. (eds.), Exploring Civil Society: Political and Cultural Contexts. New York: Routledge, pp. 11–16. Gramsci, A. (1971) The Prison Notebooks. New York: Columbia University Press. Haerdig, A. C. (2015) ‘Beyond the Arab revolts: Conceptualizing civil society in the Middle East and North Africa’. Democratization, 22(6), 1131–1153. Haerdig, A. C. (2016) ‘MENA civil society post–Arab Spring. Facing challenges beyond authoritarianism’. Orient, 3, 35–42. Hegel, G. W. F. (1972) Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts. Naturrecht und Staatswissenschaft. Frankfurt: Ullstein. Howell, J., and Pearce, J. (2001) Civil Society and Development: A Critical Explanation. Boulder: Lynne Rienner.

Introducing civil society  23 Kaldor, M. (2003) ‘The idea of global civil society’. International Affairs, 79(3), 583–593. Keane, J. (1988) Civil Society and the State. London: Verso. Keane, J. (2003) Global Civil Society. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kocka, J. (2003) ‘Zivilgesellschaft in historischer Perspektive’. Forschungsjournal Soziale Bewegungen, 16(29), 29–37. Kode, D. E. (2012) ‘Civil society, conflict resolution and post-conflict reconstruction in Kosovo and Liberia’. In List, R., and Domer, W. (eds.), Civil Society, Conflict and Violence: Insights From the CIVICUS Civil Society Index Project. London: Bloomsbury Academic. Marx, K. (1971) ‘Einleitung zur Kritik der Politischen Ökonomie’. In Marx, K., and Engels, F. (eds.), Werke. Berlin: Dietz Verlag, pp. 615–642. Mercer, C. (2002) ‘NGOs, civil society and democratization: A critical review of the literature’. Progress in Development Studies, 2(1), 5–22. Naim, M. (2009) ‘What is a GONGO?’ Foreign Policy [online]. Available at: https://foreignpolicy.com/2009/10/13/what-is-a-gongo/ [Accessed 15 May 2018]. Parekh, B. (2004) ‘Putting civil society its place’. In Glasius, M., Lewis, D., and Seckinelgin, H. (eds.), Exploring Civil Society: Political and Cultural Contexts. New York: Routledge, pp. 18–24. Pierobon, C. (2019) ‘Promoting sustainable development through civil society: A case study of the EU’s NSA/LA Thematic Program in Kyrgyzstan’. Development Policy Review. https://doi.org/10.1111/dpr.12411 (Forthcoming). Putnam, R. (1993) ‘The prosperous community: Social capital and public life’. The American Prospect, 4(13), 35–42. Seligman, A. B. (2002) ‘Civil society as idea and ideal’. In Chambers, S., and Kymlicka, W. (eds.), Alternative Conceptions of Civil Society. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Talani, L. S. (2017) ‘Women, globalization and civil society in the MENA area: Between marginalization and radicalisation’. Journal of Balkan and Near Eastern Studies, 19(5), 499–523. White, G. (1993) ‘Prospects for civil society in China: A case study of Xiaoshan City’. The Australian Journal of Chinese Affairs, 29, 63–87.

3

The power of civil society Young leaders’ engagement in non-violent actions Ibrahim Natil

Introduction Civil society organizations and representation and engagement in grassroots, nonviolent resistance activities can help promote young people’s contribution to the decision-making process and give them a platform to decide on changes to their society. This can be understood as a form of “participatory democracy,” as defined by Aragones and Sánchez­Pagés (2009). Young people, however, may view their representation as an outcome of empowerment according to the cultural context of their society. This empowerment can be understood through the lens of security, transformative change, and participation (Porter, 2013), and can be achieved via the contribution of active civil society organizations. This chapter examines the power and impact of the network of community organizations, and their coordination and cooperation in undertaking effective actions and campaigns, in order to make change a reality in terms of politics and development. This chapter provides an in-depth examination of young people in the historical trajectories of engagement in the non-violence movement prior to the establishment of the Palestinian Authority (PA) in the Palestinian Occupied Territories (OPT). The author supports arguments by documenting a number of stories and conversations with people who witnessed various accidents and actions and took a role of popular resistance in the OPT since 2004. Since the occupation of the Gaza Strip and the West Bank, Palestinian women have used different modes of resistance, including violence and non-violence, in their defiance of the Israeli occupation of the OPT. There have been a number of defiant, resilient, and empowered women who have already contributed to this process of resistance, struggle, and development of their society. Young people’s power can also be embedded in non-violent struggle and popular protest despite the fact of the uncertain future of unarmed resistance in the OPT (Darweish and Rigby, 2015). Experience of bodies, power, and resistance in the OPT shows the various ways in which the occupation is directed at making Palestinian citizens into subjects of power. Occupation policies exercise power, which focus on controlling and disciplining citizens. These policies of violence and control create insecurity for citizens in their daily experiences of conflict; however, citizens’ bodies resistance can be found embedded within daily life in the OPT (Ryan, 2016).

The power of civil society  25

Theoretical background To understand the active participation and power of young people and women’s leaders in non-violence activism and engagement, it is essential to study Aragones and Sánchez­Pagés (2009), who define participatory democracy as a process of collective decision­making where citizens have the power to decide on change. The citizens’ active participation and engagement in local organizations, student unions, political groups, movements, and CSOs was as a form of “participatory democracy” responding to the shifting political landscape in the OPT. Intervention by civil society organizations is considered where the core approach of active engagement of young people as identified from democracy theory (Paffenholz and Spurk, 2010: 65) and non-violence is tested (Darweish and Rigby, 2015: 6–9). The author tested this approach by conducting ten interviews with activists who have already worked for and engaged in non-violent activities. The author also used participatory observation, in addition to reviewing the existing literature, to enrich the argument in this chapter and understand the historical approach of civil society’s engagement in non-violent resistance. This study is enriched by the author’s experience of watching a number of events during the 2000s, as well as personal observations, interactions, and experiences in civil society organizations in the OPT. During this time, the author observed the most significant events in the area during the advent of the Palestinian Authority (PA) and the establishment of the PLO offices and its impact on the social context development of civil society organizations. Also considered is the existing literature’s emphasis on a narrow, classical definition of civil society and young people’s activism and participation in non-violence. There are specific studies in the context of civil society activism and peace-building in the conflict area (Paffenholz, 2010). There have been community organizations across the world, and in OPT in particular, that encourage active engagement of young leaders in non-violent activities. CSOs also aim at promoting local networks amongst CSOs to stimulate a national debate between young people and decision makers, focusing on the themes of active participation in peace-building (Hanafi and Çuhadar, 2010: 211–213). They also seek to raise public awareness of respect for rights by using social media to promote the concepts of non-violence. Activation of participatory democracy of civil society is to promote the power of non-violence and peace-building engagement. This approach is to draw upon the theory of “participatory democracy” based on “civil society intervention” in order to examine the impact of civil society programmes (Paffenholz and Spurk, 2010: 66–76). Young people attempted to use the Arab Spring opportunity to overcome the shortcomings of representative democracy that had failed to achieve their inspiration of ending occupation, violence, and internal division (Natil, 2017: 33–42). However, young leaders have not participated in regular public elections to elect their representatives for more than 13 years now, owing to division and occupation in OPT. Was the participation of young people in grassroots activism a form of “participatory democracy” in the absence of regular elections in reference to the definition of Aragones and Sánchez­Pagés (2009)?

26  Ibrahim Natil The power of participatory civil society is reflected to meet the vision of engaging young people in civic actions and freedom of expression. Their narratives and roles also contribute to the introduction of long-term changes in attitudes, stereotypes, and prejudices and to promote people’s rights, foster tolerance and understanding of the “other” by applying lessons learnt from other conflicts in the world (Paffenholz and Spurk, 2010: 66–76). The new social media tools and older forms of communication are employed in civil society activities to promote and encourage active participation, tolerance, better understanding, balanced reporting, and objectivity and ending the violence against women. The non-violent and peace-building activities of CSOs also aim at rebuilding mutual trust through capacity building, activating marginalized groups of young people, and launching joint development policies and strategies (Paffenholz and Spurk, 2010: 66–76). These activities would broaden the base of support for young people’s civic engagement in OPT through promotion of communication and understanding of the key elements of active community participation of young people as follows: Capacity building is a key element, as young people still desperately need to be educated about civic engagement in order to change the norms – the traditional, political and social policies based on old values that challenge accessing political and social freedom. It includes promoting the level of culture and education for young people. CSOs also aimed at engaging young people by raising the level of their awareness about their legal rights, as well as those relating to the social, economic and political situations; raising their organisational and administrative capacities; and empowering their leadership skills and economic initiatives. This has contributed to strengthening communications between civil society operators and networks by establishing dialogue and trust between interlocutors and different actors, in order to influence policy-making, legislation and law making. (Al Samak, 2016) Practice and engagement is through a transparent and effective political system where young people can participate and engage freely without any social or political restrictions. Power intervention by civil society organizations is a participatory process reflected by different mechanisms and processes, for example, through CSOs, universities, public institutions, local councils, political parties and the decision-making process (Paffenholz and Spurk, 2010: 66–76). These activities may also address the internal divisions between the Palestinian factions, rebuilding mutual trust through increasing capacity for conflict resistance and activating marginalized young people as well as launching joint development policies and strategies (Hanafi and Çuhadar, 2010: 212–213). In the early months of the Oslo Peace Process, CSOs participated in the early days of “state institution building,” hoping for peace and prosperity based on human rights and for democracy, justice, and the rule of law. The PA, however, was unable to respond rapidly to the social and economic demands, and the needs

The power of civil society  27 of desperate residents of the OPT; it was dramatically weakened by Israeli activity as well as by the deteriorating economic situation (Natil, 2015b). CSOs, on the other hand, proved that they could deliver a model of services managed by professional teams. CSOs have been considered crucial stakeholders in the Palestinian territories, mobilizing and empowering society as key drivers of political and societal change processes. They deliver actions in the fields of human rights, community development, conflict resolution, sports, and women’s empowerment (Natil, 2014).

Historical background On 7 June 1967, the Palestinian contemporary civil society movement, which included all Palestinian social and political spectrums and beliefs, faced a new challenge when Israel occupied the Gaza Strip and the West Bank, including Jerusalem. It has been part of the national movement that used different slogans to confront the Israeli military administration that exerted control over the population with its power but allowed Palestinians to exercise their religious rights (Natil, 2017: 33–42). In 1969, the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) was restructured to become an umbrella organization for some ten Palestinian nationalist groups, led by the Fatah National Movement under the leadership of Yasser Arafat, who remained in this position for 36 years. Young groups have been part of the different factions and groups of the PLO, but there have also been groups affiliated with the Muslim Brotherhood Society and Islamic Jihad, which are still not yet a part of the PLO. The representative of the General Union of students was present in the Palestinian National Council and was established and active in exile before the establishment of the Palestinian Authority in the Occupied Palestinian Territories of the Gaza Strip and the West Bank in 1993 (Natil, 2015a: 34–35). On 8 December 1987, the different spectrums of society participated actively in the popular uprising that struck the OPT and continued until 1993. Various national and Islamist groups, including young people, used various tools – mainly stones – to resist the occupation. Women’s active participation in this popular uprising was a visible expression of national and political awareness (Natil, 2017: 33–42). They delivered a variety of popular resistance activities, which aimed at establishing a future “entity” without any politically driven agenda or any single national or Islamic movement leading it. The Intifada had an organizational infrastructure based on local and popular committees led by youth, coordinated by a Unified National Leadership of the Uprising (UNLU), which in turn coordinated initiatives with the PLO elite based in Tunis. The popular committees led by young people were dedicated not only to organizing actions against Israeli forces but also to the provision of social welfare and healthcare, empowering women to participate in economic development and social reconciliation among citizens and encouraging self-sufficiency at the grassroots level (Darweish and Rigby, 2015). The outbreak of the uprising was, in reality, a spontaneous collective action with no prior planning. It was the result of the accumulation of continuing acts of aggression committed by the Israeli occupying forces against citizens in the West Bank

28  Ibrahim Natil and the Gaza Strip from 1967 onwards (Hanafi and Çuhadar, 2010: 207). The Palestinian young people were the fuel of this Intifada that continued for seven years. Young people also took part at different levels (Darweish and Rigby, 2015). The images of women, covered by the international media during the first uprising, sheltering youth and defying soldiers was a mode of non-violence and active participation in resistance. There were a number of young people who took an active role in the uprising events and helped the young people in their resistance activities, arrested during the Israeli occupation. Boshra Al Tamimi, for example, was arrested many times in the first uprising for her active role in the events of 1987. She has never given up her role in resistance, even after her husband and son were arrested by the Israeli occupation forces for their active participation (Al Tamimi, 2017). Young people also took on a different role in the uprising when the youth unions, for example, distributed the secret communiqués of the unified leadership. This involvement of women in resistance, during periods of popular resistance before the Oslo agreement, resulted in higher visibility of women’s programmes in delivering PLO funds for social relief, visited prisoners and their families, and also performed other activities (James, 2013: 19). The young movement aimed at the mobilization of young women at the grassroots level to become engaged in liberation activities and to contribute to ending the Israeli occupation during the first uprising prior to the Oslo agreement in 1993 between the PLO and Israel. Palestinian national growth has been promoted under Israeli occupation since the seven years of the first uprising, or Intifada, took place on the eve of 8 December 1987, despite the Oslo peace process in 1993. The Oslo agreement was a transitional period of five years which started in 1994 and expired in May 1999. It was intended to establish a Palestinian state as a result of negotiations, but the process failed and the Palestinian Authority (PA) became a de facto government under occupation (Natil, 2015a: 35). The young groups, however, depoliticized after the first Intifada and became marginalized from the political arena following the establishment of the PA. They found self-satisfaction in their local communities by providing activities including consultancy on legal and social rights (James, 2013: 18–22). Since the official failure of the peace process in October 2000 and the outbreak of the second uprising, which continued until 2004, there have been a number of Palestinian groups ready to return to the mode of popular resistance, as armed resistance destroyed the national cause during the second uprising (Darweish and Rigby, 2015: 68).

Attempts for change Young leaders had already engaged and participated peacefully in a number of initiatives, attempted to change the political circumstances as follows. Popular resistance The failure of the PLO to achieve a two-state solution has already encouraged local groups from various social, political, and cultural groups, supported by

The power of civil society  29 civil society groups to organize “popular resistance,” or peaceful popular protests in the West Bank (Darweish and Rigby, 2015). Popular resistance also includes monitoring and documentation of violations. These initiatives attempted to promote the existence and protection of Palestinians in the area called C, which is under the full control of the Israeli military occupation according to the Oslo agreement. Peaceful popular resistance is a tool used by Palestinians to resist the Israeli plans of expansion settlements or demolition and expulsion of the Palestinian communities, such as Khan Al-Ahmar during 2018. Khan AlAhmar is a Palestinian village is located about two kilometres south of the settlement of Kfar Adumim in Jerusalem. The villagers were displaced from the Negev Desert in southern Israel and established Khan Al-Ahmar in the 1950s. It is now home to 32 families totalling 173 persons, including 92 children and teenagers. It also has a school, which was built in 2009, that serves more than 150 children (Btselem, 2018). Civil society groups participating in non-violent activities educated a large number of young people on different values of democracy, human rights, and peacebuilding who use new tools and techniques of social networking to express their views and to escape the suppression and violence of the security agencies (Hanafi and Çuhadar, 2010: 212). For example, the Human Rights Defenders Association (HRDA), led by young people, documents the violations of Israeli settlers and soldiers against Palestinians in the heart of Hebron City in the West Bank, where 800 Israeli settlers live amongst 20,000 Palestinians. CSOs, however, are involved in the change process in the society and struggled against the occupation years ahead of the Arab Spring (Khosrokhavar, 2012: 223). The generation of young people who were born during the time of the Oslo peace process witnessed the establishment of both the PA and the failure of the peace process, including the rapid expansion of Israeli settlement. They attempted to challenge the Israeli occupation of Palestine, the disastrous impact of Palestinian division on the national project after the failure of Oslo, and the outbreak of the armed second uprising (Natil, 2015a: 35). There have been a number of women activists who engaged in non-violent, popular resistance actions. Michael Potter writes that women are normally peaceful and like to contribute to peaceful activities in their own societies (Potter, 2008: 142–143). The concept of the non-violent popular resistance mode is a new concept in Palestinian society, as Manal Al Tamimi says: I believe popular resistance is a non-violence mode which gives me, as a woman, an opportunity to participate in the resistance and the struggle to retain the rights and land of my people according to international law. Nonviolent demonstrations and protests, working in the land, assisting the families of martyrs and prisoners, and educating the children on the culture of liberation is a mode of non-violent resistance. I lost my parents who were killed by the Israeli occupations when I was 27 days old. I also lost my uncle two months later. I have lost 15 members of my family in total since 1973. I have to continue in their process of resistance to achieve their goal via participating

30  Ibrahim Natil in events and protests and educating my children, “mother activism,” on resistance. (Manal Al Tamimi, 2017) Activist women of the popular resistance often work during the week and participate in resistance activities against the separation wall that take place on Fridays. This keeps them busy and away from their family commitments (Al Khateeb, 2016). As a part of their civic engagement and non-violent activities, young women also engaged with international solidarity groups and raised their voices before numerous international forums, explaining the suffering of women living under the Israeli occupation (Natil, 2016). Women’s active participation in the actions of the popular resistance contributes to the process of freedom and liberation, says Abeer Qassam Al Khateeb, a leader of the Popular Resistance Committees: The non-violent approach, however, is our will and lifestyle of resistance in rejection of all forms of the Israeli foreign occupation that violate our human rights and humanitarian international law by confiscating and occupying our land. Palestinian public engagement has been important for raising our voices to persuade the free nations to support our struggle and cause internationally. Our aim of employing this approach of resistance is to pass this mode and technique on to the next generations, showing them that we are still able to resist the occupation despite living under its hard economic and political circumstances. (Al Khateeb, 2016) Another way in which young activists engage with the community is by assisting the Bedouin women and their families who reside in area C of the West Bank. The Palestinians’ homes and lands in area C are always subject to confiscation and demolition by Israeli settlers and occupation forces (Darweish and Rigby, 2015: 66). Area C is under the full control of the Israeli settlers and the occupation authority, and the Palestinians have no access to the services of the Palestinian Authority. The PA has no civil or security operations in area C (Hanafi and Çuhadar, 2010: 211–213). Civil society activists organized a number of donation campaigns to support defiance, resilience, and the existence of the Bedouin women and their families in their lands. However, families continue to worry about the level of violence exerted on women. The Israeli violence against women remains a major challenge to increasing the number of civil society activists participating in this “idealist approach” of non-violent, popular resistance, as Boshra Al Tamimi says: All women should stand beside men in this struggle, as women have been participating in different modes of resistance against occupation. Women’s participation, however, in non-violent activities is very limited, as Palestinian families are worried about women’s participation in such activity, as the

The power of civil society  31 Israeli occupation uses so much aggressive power against all participants. There have been, for example, a number of girls involved in the peaceful national work, who were arrested during the last few months from their university accommodation in the West Bank. The society is masculine too and prefers women not to participate in these activities; however, they participate in the non-violent activities and can take decisions. There have been a number of women who have occupied senior positions, such as governor, minister and employee. They primarily deliver “motherhood activism,” which is a part of resistance as well. (Boshra Al Tamimi, 2017) Israeli peace and international activists took a visible role against the separation wall, which was built by the Israelis in 2002 (Darweish and Rigby, 2015: 71–72). Many Palestinian women activists, however, were hesitant and worried about the participation of the Israeli activists, as Manal Al Tamimi says: I feel the rumours, owing to the participation of the Israelis, often decreases the participation of women. There is still a stereotyping that the Israeli soldiers physically and sexually abuse women who participate in the events. Many of those arrested and released still suffer from this stereotyping and it has been so hard to persuade the older generation of this stereotyping, which has already contributed to decreasing women’s participation. (Manal Al Tamimi, 2017) Women also worry about the economic impact when they are arrested, as the Israeli occupation imposes high fines and/or bans them from travel. In addition to the Israeli “iron fist” measures against women, there have been some local norms that restrict women’s active participation in peaceful resistance. They sometimes also travel between the cities, which involves transportation costs and efforts to return back home (Al Khateeb, 2016). Economic empowerment is a key element for active engagement, as employment and financial income have a significant impact on an individual’s decision-making. Civil society would show the advantages of working for mutual benefit with tangible results between different groups to engage the victimized in participating in economic empowerment activities. The relationship between young’s leaders and grassroots, however, should be strengthened and young leaders should engage actively with the target groups (Hanafi and Çuhadar, 2010: 211–213). Women’s engagement in various activities also continued by participating in grassroots, non-violent actions, responding to the waves of change taking place in the Arab Spring countries during early 2011. Young people played a major role in a range of non-violent protests and revolutions against dictatorships in North Africa and the Middle East that ousted the dictators of Egypt and Tunisia, and which became widely and collectively known as the Arab Spring (Pace and Cavatorta, 2012: 125–138).

32  Ibrahim Natil 15 March movement On 15 March 2011, social and youth groups organized massive peaceful marches and non-violent protests to make a stand against the division and conflict between Hamas and Fatah in the OPT. The Palestinian young people, however, had already watched the events of the Arab Spring and hoped that the revolutions in the Arab world would reflect positively on the Palestinian cause as the 15 March movement. The movement employed different tools of modern social media networks to organize the protests. These protests were the first well-organized marches in the OPT since 2007. The youth 15 March movement posed a real challenge for Hamas and Fatah but could not become a similar phenomenon to other wave of changes in the region (Natil, 2017: 33–42). They decided to challenge Palestinian division and to try to influence the leadership of the PLO in the West Bank and Hamas in the Gaza Strip. They wanted to end the division that started in 2007, which had caused harm to the Palestinian national project and had created a poor image for the Palestinian people in their resistance to end the occupation (Natil, 2017: 33–42). The Palestinian movement, however, was also part of a series of peaceful efforts against the Israeli occupation that had emerged in different areas of the Gaza Strip and the West Bank during the previous few years. Many members of the 15 March movement had already learnt the lessons of Gandhi and Martin Luther King in using non-violent resistance and they continued their efforts against the Israeli wall in the West Bank, as well as against the security fence in the Gaza Strip (Natil, 2017: 33–42). In spite of the failure of this movement, a number of activists from civil society organizations and the liberal and political affiliation to the PLO continued their weekly protest calling to end the division between Hamas in the Gaza Strip and the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank. They continued their struggle against the division every Thursday on a weekly basis. Young groups from Hamas in the Gaza Strip rejected these protests against division from ideological perspectives. The division and ideologies have already influenced the CSOs scope of work and activities since 1993, in particular, despite their engagement in many grassroots activities of peaceful resistance and “mother activism” against the occupation. Their engagement and contribution to national work are much more polarized now. The young movement from all groups should focus on resistance against the Israeli occupation (Siam, 2016). The 15 March movement was a brave initiative and a step forward, but it did not succeed in bringing about genuine change until the Israeli destructive war on the Gaza Strip in 2014. This has created a new environment of destruction, overloaded with psychological problems on the entire society. It has left 100,000 Gazans homeless and over 2,100 Gazans dead, the majority of them Palestinian civilians, compared with 76 Israeli fatalities, all soldiers (Natil, 2014: 82–87). This cycle of violence and destruction created a massive social and economic challenge for CSOs as they struggle to meet citizens’ needs and demands transparently and efficiently, not least because resources are sorely lacking after 12 years of blockades. Local pressures pushed various activists from social and political groups to

The power of civil society  33 start organizing the “Gaza great return marches” on 30 March 2018 (Asad Abu Sharak, 2018). Gaza great return marches 2018 On 30 March 2018, activists from various civil society and political groups launched the “great return marches of Gaza” to run a peaceful protest every Friday before the separation fence between the Gaza Strip and the Israel. The activists planned, organized, and engaged in a number of peaceful activities as sport, songs, enchanting anthems, planting, tenting, reporting, and folklore dancing to protest against the Israeli blockade on the Gaza Strip. A young human rights activist, Mohammed Srour, said “there have been a number of those young people who trained on advocacy and community peaceful actions by many civil society organisations during the last years who participated in the marches” (Srour, 2018). Citizens’ active participation at the marches has been visible despite the political control of Hamas over the Gaza Strip. Citizens’ massive participation was curbed by extreme and unjustified violence used by the Israeli forces against the protestors; more than 250 Palestinians have been killed in the Gaza Strip since the marches, according to the Ministry of Health (2019). Local engagement in peaceful marches and protests gives the Palestinians a platform to raise their own political and social demands for changes of their society in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. Women’s active participation at the Gaza great marches of return has been visible since 30 March 2018, despite the iron fists of the Israeli occupation and social conservatism. Razan al-Najjar, a 21-year-old female paramedic, has been a different symbol of peaceful defiance and humanitarian resistance. Razan was killed by Israeli soldiers on Friday, 1 June while carrying out her humanitarian duties with a local civil society organization, Medical Relief Society (PMRS), during protests along the separation fence between the Gaza Strip and Israel. Jamie McGoldrick, the UN Humanitarian Coordinator, said “It is very difficult to see how Razan posed such a threat to heavily-armed, well-protected Israeli forces in defensive positions on the other side of the fence.” Women have the power to contribute to their society by participating in nonviolent actions as well as being a part of the humanitarian resistance. This engagement in non-violent resistance activities also promotes their active participation in the decision-making of politics and social life. It also gives them a platform to decide on the political and social changes of their society in the current extreme humanitarian circumstances in the Gaza Strip and the West Bank. However, women’s engagement contributes to the peaceful development of their society at the grassroots level and the national and/or international arena. It also promotes the active participation of youth in public life to decide on the future of their society by contributing to the ongoing needs and demands of the different sectors of society, despite the existence of violence and restrictions on public freedoms.

34  Ibrahim Natil

Conclusion The shifting political landscape and escalation of violence and conflict since 1967 have already affected and hindered the civil society process of participatory democracy, which social and political empowerment have hugely challenged. CSOs are now much more fragmented, less focused on national priorities and more involved in details of the daily needs of a few “elite organisations.” Their focus is to secure funding to maintain the existence of these organizations regardless of the priorities of society’s issues (Siam, 2016). The lesson learnt from this is to use a different approach of working intervention in activating young people’s participation in civic activities at different levels. One example is the CSOs’ use of a new approach of assisting trainees to form community forums or platforms to increase their scope of intervention in community issues and problems. Trained young people have attempted to put their newly acquired skills and knowledge of engagement into practice to advocate for active civic participation. One example is the Society Voice Foundation, which implemented a 12-month project that trained young leaders to practice their new skills through local forums and participate in social accountability activities. Young leaders selected their representatives to lead community forums for social and political representation at the local level (Amer, 2017). This educates and enhances the capacities of target groups in implementing programmes in various fields of peace-building and good governance. This includes raising awareness on rights of social and political participation empowerment. In this study, I observed the activation of the local network of grassroots organizations and the implementation of a number of capacity-building training, awareness, monitoring, advocacy, and media campaigns that are aimed at contributing to the elimination of all forms of discrimination against young women to be involved in community non-violence activities. However, the current leadership of CSOs also fails to identify realistic programmes to introduce social change. Leaders still consider the political discourse and ideological theories, and they cannot mix political discourse and civil society activities based on the priorities and needs of grassroots leaders themselves who live under occupation. Samira Abedalleem, a leader at a civil society organization, says: The relationship between the CSOs’ leaders and the target groups or victim women finishes once the services delivered. Many CSOs, however, focus on fighting violence amongst other needs but there have no changes on the ground as the political environment has not been changed. Women, for example, protested against murder but what was the influence and impact of their protest on the decision-making process and policy makers. (Abedalleem, 2017) CSO leadership fails to challenge the political groups that still dominate the political landscape. Women leaders have no influence; for example, the political groups impose women’s leadership. The majority of CSOs leaders have failed to

The power of civil society  35 get engaged and interact with their own people and grassroots and marginalized women to assist them to find solutions for their social and economic problems at the grassroots levels. Refqa Hamalawy, a civil society leader, says: Leader of women’s civil society groups believe that they are leaders but in fact they are not because they are controlled by their political groups and concerned about their own salaries and incentives. Have CSOs done any efforts to assist those women to find jobs despite the fact there have been many initiatives, controlled by certain politicians and groups? Now, women leaders are concerned about their own social life much more than other issue, owing to the impact of the political division on the economic circumstances and social structure of the society at large. (Hamalawy, 2017) However, CSOs have already accommodated their operations to increase their interventions and activism in order to promote the values of youth resilience and empowerment. Young people’s active participation in popular and collective public activities to rid themselves of foreign occupation may contribute to their empowerment. This form of active grassroots engagement to defy the Israeli occupation and their policy of settlement expansion in the West Bank is a challenge to the control and power of Israeli occupation of the area, including Jerusalem, in spite of the very limited impact of popular resistance. This form of resistance is considered a mode of non-violence and defiance of the dominance of radical government since the failure of the Oslo peace process. This also includes the engagement of media agencies and the government to ensure that political, social, and economic priorities are based on a broad consensus of society. CSO staff also seek to strengthen mutual relationships with different young groups, who often express their needs and views freely. This close relationship with young people provides staff with a remarkable knowledge and understanding of the different needs of target groups. These groups provide the staff with up-to-date information on the issues affecting young people as well as their priorities and needs. The Oslo peace process assisted in installing the Palestinian Authority, but it also contributed to increasing the rapid expansion of Israeli settlements as well as the Israeli occupation of Palestine, the second uprising and three destructive wars in the Gaza Strip. It deepened the disastrous impact of Palestinian division on the national project. The Oslo peace process did not contribute to the division of the Palestinian “national house” between Hamas and Fatah, but it divided the geography of Palestine into A, B, and C. It aggravated human suffering and affected the capacity of Palestinians to remain mobile, to connect with and move from one location to another within the West Bank or between the Gaza Strip and the West Bank. After the destruction of the second uprising, the limited active participation in the demonstration against the separation wall revived the concepts and practices of popular resistance by local, Israeli, and international peace activists. In spite of the challenges of occupation and societal conservatism, women took a leading role

36  Ibrahim Natil in non-violent resistance activities in a variety of areas, such as Nabi Salah and Bilin on the West Bank. Their visible role had already become politically powerful locally and internationally, as long as the Israeli occupation targeted them directly and arrested and/or hurt them. The Palestinian activists, however, received visible support from Israeli peace and international solidarity activists who participated actively in the weekly activities, events, and protests in the West Bank. More importantly, it emphasizes the significance of young people’s participation in non-violent, popular resistance despite it having had little impact on limiting or ending the occupation, without third-party intervention and a collective strategy engaging all social and political categories in the OPT. Palestinian young groups still play an essential role in peaceful resistance to end the occupation and the division despite the complexity of the socio-political context and landscape. In other words, they succeeded in contributing to a number of community grassroots and social solidarity activities, which encourage the next generation of women to become engaged in non-violent resistance and political empowerment. Women should be empowered, via participation in capacity-building training, to learn about their rights because the Israelis could arrest them. They must break the wall of fear to contribute to the Palestinian cause, just as my participation broke the wall of fear. They are always worried about being arrested and/or injured. They should be educated about their important role of resistance. Civil society organizations have wasted thousands of dollars in organizing workshops, conferences, and training to raise women’s awareness but have spent less on their economic empowerment. The popular resistance committees should liaise with Palestinian universities in educating female students about their role, as the universities were a main venue for resistance in the popular uprising of 1987–1993. The first uprising was 100% popular resistance without any Israeli and international participation (Manal Al Tamimi, 2017). Young people’s engagement contributes to the development of their society peacefully at the grassroots level and the national and/or international arena. It also promotes the active participation of women in public life to help decide the future of their society by contributing to ongoing needs and demands of the different sectors of that society despite recurring violence and restrictions on public freedom. They still face serious challenges hindering their participatory engagement and contribution to ending the occupation and division. Young people’s participation in popular resistance in the Gaza Strip represents essential seeds for the Palestinian popular resistance and its contribution, despite the vertical and horizontal division separating Hamas and Fatah. The international solidarity campaigns, including the freedom boats that travelled to the Gaza Strip, have broadcast the suffering of the Gazans and the cruelty of occupation to the wider world. However, women also suffer from the de-functional role of the PA in the Gaza Strip and the changes of local organizations’ objectives and activities that challenged the power and strategies of the limited emergence of Palestinian popular resistance after the construction of the separation wall. These challenges add to the uncertainty of the role of young people in the Palestinian popular resistance and its impact on contributing to the struggle against

The power of civil society  37 occupation in the OPT. This includes their level of political participation, which is still lower than expected but they are attempting to increase it. There have been, however, a number of young people who have already broken the traditions and norms during the last few years. They have explored opportunities to increase their active engagement and contributions to their society via an alternative community dispute system, which had been an exclusively male role.

Interviewees Abedalleem, S. (2017, 15 August) Interviewed. Women Working Committees, Rafah-Gaza. Abu Sharak, A. (2018, 17 August) Spokesperson of Great March of Return-Gaza, Interviewed in Dublin. Al Samak, H. (2016) Interviewed. Civil Society Activist, Gaza. Al Tamimi, B. (2017, 22 March) Interviewed. Activist in the Peaceful Popular Resistance. Al Tamimi, M. (2017, 23 March) Interviewed. Activist and Women Coordinator of the Coordination Committee of the Popular Resistance. Amer, F. (2017, 17 December) Interviewed. Executive Director of Society Voice Foundation. Hamalawy, R. (2017, 15 August) Interviewed. The Head of Al Najd Development Forum. Qassam Al Khateeb, A. (2016, 17 January) Interviewed. Activist in the Peaceful Popular Resistance. Siam, H. (2016, 4 May) Interviewed. Gaza Civil Society Activist. Srour, M. (2018, 31 May) Interviewed. A Young Human Rights Activist, Gaza.

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38  Ibrahim Natil Natil, I. (2014) ‘A shifting political landscape: NGOs’ civic activism and response in the Gaza Strip, 1967–2014’. Journal of Peacebuilding and Development, 9(3), 82–87. https://doi.org/10.1080/15423166.2014.983369 Natil, I. (2015a) Hamas Transformation: Opportunities and Challenges. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars. Natil, I. (2015b) ‘Palestinian youth: A wave of popular resistance or a smart uprising?’ Australia Independent. Available at: https://independentaustralia.net/article-display/ palestinian-youth-a-wave-of-popular-resistance-or-a-smart-uprising,8290 Natil, I. (2016) ‘The empowered, resilient women of Palestine’. Australia Independent. Available at: https://independentaustralia.net/politics/politics-display/the-empoweredresilient-women-of-palestine,8992 Natil, I. (2017) ‘Youth movement and Arab Spring’. In Arbatli, E., and Rosenberg, D. (eds.), Non-Western Social Movements and Participatory Democracy in the Age of Transnationalism. Switzerland: Springer. Pace, M., and Cavatorta, F. (2012) ‘The Arab uprisings in theoretical perspective: An introduction’. Mediterranean Politics, 17(2). Paffenholz, T., and Spurk, C. (2010) ‘A comprehensive analytical framework’. In Paffenholz, T. (ed.), Civil Society & Peacebuilding: A Critical Assessment. Boulder: Lynne Rienner. Paffenholz, T. (2010), Civil Society & Peacebuilding: A Critical Assessment. Boulder: Lynne Rienner. Porter, E. (2007) Peacebuilding: Women in International Perspective. USA and Canada: Routledge. Porter, E. (2013) ‘Rethinking women’s empowerment’. Journal of Peacebuilding and Development, 8(1), 1–14. https://doi.org/10.1080/15423166.2013.785657 Potter, M. (2008) ‘Women, civil society and peace-building in Northern Ireland: Paths to peace through women’s empowerment’. In Farrington, C. (ed.), Global Change, Civil Society and the Northern Ireland Peace Process Implementing the Political Settlement. UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Ryan, C. (2016) ‘Bodies, power and resistance in the Middle East’. In Experiences of Subjectification in the Occupied Palestinian Territories. UK: Routledge.

4

Challenges confronting religious civil society in peace-building What lessons can Middle Eastern and North African (MENA) countries learn from Nigeria? Eyene Okpanachi

Introduction A particular challenge faced by countries often regarded as “divided societies” is how to build and sustain peace (Lederach, 1997). In countries that face significant ethnic, linguistic, regional, and religious cleavages, the establishment of institutions that are conducive to the emergence and sustenance of democracy is more difficult than in less diverse countries in which people see themselves as members of the same community (Mill, 1958; Horowitz, 1985, 1993; Lijphart, 2004). Indeed, the challenge of instituting democracy, with its patterns of inclusion and exclusion and access to power and privileges, becomes more heightened in divided societies because in these countries, ethnic identities, rather than national citizenship, “determine who will be included and who will be excluded” from the democratization process (Horowitz, 1993: 18). To be sure, the challenge of managing diversities applies to all countries, because no country is homogeneous in the strictest sense (Fearon and Laitin, 1996). However, this challenge is particularly problematic in divided societies. In these societies, ethnic, linguistic, religious, or cultural diversities are not just mere identity markers but are “politically salient” differences in that they are “persistent markers of political identity” (Choudhry, 2007: 573) that are central to political contestations, mobilizations, and claims. If not well managed, political conflicts can intersect with conflicts between identity groups, with dire consequences for peace, fundamental human rights, the rule of law and justice, economic development, and the consolidation of democracy in these societies (Choudhry, 2007: 573). Until recently, the dominant academic and policy debates on responses to the challenges of managing ethnocultural diversity in divided societies has focused mainly on the formal institutional level. This focus stems from the awareness that in these societies, institutional engineering or the purposeful design of institutions “can systematically favour or disadvantage ethnic, national, and religious groups” (Belmont et al., 2002: 3), and that “getting institutional arrangements right from the beginning” (Horowitz, 2012: 22) is central to reducing conflict and building peace in divided societies.

40  Eyene Okpanachi Divided societies have used or attempted various formal institutional design strategies. These strategies range from “accommodationist” and “integrationist” constitutional engineering approaches exemplified, respectively, by consociation or power-sharing arrangements, multicultural policies, and federalism (Lijphart, 1969, 2004; Horowitz, 2007; McGarry et al., 2008) on the one hand, and electoral, party, and executive systems engineering on the other (Horowitz, 1997; Reilly, 2006). The role of civil society as an important factor in building peace in divided societies has attracted substantial interest. In a sense, the increasing importance of informal mechanisms such as civil society is underscored by the limited success of formal mechanisms in reducing conflict or promoting long-term peace in these societies. This fact is succinctly highlighted, for example, by the breakdown of power-sharing agreements and eventual outbreaks of armed conflict in Cyprus in 1963, Northern Ireland in 1974, Lebanon in 1975, and Czechoslovakia in 1993 (Norris, 2008). This is also reflected in the collapse of South Sudan’s multi-ethnic governing coalition and the relapse of the country into civil war, which has been ongoing since 2013. In particular, scholars have criticized formal institutions intended to stabilize divided societies, such as power-sharing regimes, for being too elitist and statecentric (Lederach, 1997; Byrne, 2001), and thus unconnected with the efforts of citizens within the community, relationship issues, political and economic experiences, and social and psychological barriers to or resources for peace-building (Lederach, 1997). These critics claim that such lack of connection to the grassroots has diminished the potency of these formal solutions. As Kerr (2005: 192) noted in relation to Northern Ireland, the Belfast Agreement was struck devoid of “interethnic reconciliation” at the community or local levels that would ensure the efficacy and legitimacy of the agreement, creating problems for the long-term durability of the pact. The focus on non-state participants is further underscored by the rising incidence of wars, rebellions, and terrorism in many fragile states, in which civil society organizations (CSOs) have played important roles in the outbreak and/or intensification of political violence. To some extent, Nigeria exemplifies the success of the use of formal institutional mechanisms and designs in the management of its complex diversity. These federalist and power-sharing institutional designs have helped in attenuating sectional identities, preventing a recurrence of secessionist warfare, and avoiding the tragedy of state collapse (Suberu, 2009; Paden, 2008). Yet in spite of this, the management of diversity has often posed significant challenges in Nigeria. This chapter contributes to an understanding of the challenges faced by civil society in its role as peace-builder, using the case of religious civil society in Nigeria from 1999 to date. While in recent decades the role of civil society has been emphasized, with some exceptions (see e.g. Orjuela, 2003; Obadare, 2007; Haynes, 2009; Marchetti and Tocci, 2009; Paffenholz et al., 2010), many studies have tended to romanticize the peace-building roles of civil society (Pouligny, 2005). Most existing studies have not given adequate attention either to the contradictory roles of civil society in peace-building or the formidable obstacles to the

Challenges in religious civil society  41 peace process, especially those arising from the contextual issues specific to the local political and economic dynamics in the countries in which these civil society groups operate. Using literature from secondary data sources and qualitative and analytical research methodologies, this chapter contributes to the growing body of literature that underscores how the theoretical expectations of the role of civil society in peace-building is shaped by local realities and state-society relationship by answering the research question: what challenges confront religious civil society in building and sustaining peace in Nigeria? The following section of this chapter provides a brief overview of religious identity and historical background of religious conflict in Nigeria. This is followed by a definition of civil society and profiles Nigeria’s religious civil society organizations (CSOs). The main analytical segment uses empirical examples of several conflicts that were specifically chosen because of their effects on intergroup relations, especially in the period following the re-introduction of democratic rule in Nigeria in 1999, to examine the challenges civil society faces in building peace. Five key challenges are discussed in this section: competing religious identities, the politicization of these identities, questions of social justice, socio-economic underdevelopment, and the roles of the international environment and the media, which have continued to undermine the roles of civil society in the peace-building process.

A brief overview of cultural identity and conflict in Nigeria Nigeria, Africa’s most populous country, is a deeply divided state that has struggled to peacefully manage its sharp ethnic, religious, and regional divisions (Osaghae and Suberu, 2005: 4). According to Onigu Otite (1990), there are 374 ethnic groups in Nigeria. The population of these ethnic groups varies considerably, as does their political influence, but they have generally been divided into two broad categories: majority and minority ethnic groups. The majority ethnic groups are the Hausa-Fulani in the north (27%), the Yoruba in the south-west (21%), and the Igbo in the southeast (17%) (Lewis, 2007). The minority ethnic group category, which constitutes less than half of the country’s population, consists of at least 250 groups of varying numerical size and political influence. Of Nigeria’s 180 million people, the majority of the Hausa-Fulani residing in the north are mainly Muslim, while the Igbo-speaking people of the south-east and the ethnic minority population in the south-south are predominantly Christian. Nigeria’s Middle Belt (or northcentral zone) is a mixture of Christian and Muslim populations, while the Yorubaspeaking communities in the south-west are about half Muslim and half Christian. This religious identification underlies the north-south cleavage in Nigeria, in terms of the north being predominantly Muslim and the south predominantly Christian, and sharpens ethnic cleavages in the country. This is especially true in the north, where, as Paden (2007) noted, “the all-consuming nature of Islamic identity does eclipse other identities and religious differences play a major part in ethnic

42  Eyene Okpanachi differentiation.” As Lewis (2007: 6) explained, the salience of religious identity among the Hausa-Fulani of the north is a reflection of “the historical salience of Islam in the formation of the northern emirates in the early nineteenth century, and the continuing importance of emirs and religious authorities in framing identities in the northern states.” Identities have historically been significant in the formation of the Nigerian state during and after colonial rule (Jega, 2000). As Jega further elaborates: Under colonialism, administrative exigencies warranted the nurturing and exacerbation of an “us” versus “them” syndrome: Muslim versus Christian; Northerner versus Southerner; Hausa-Fulani versus Yoruba versus Igbo, and so on. Religious, regional and ethnic differences were given prominence in conceiving and implementing social, educational and economic development policies and projects under the indirect system of colonial administration favoured by the British. Thus, the differential impact of colonialism set the context of the regional educational, economic and political imbalances which later became significant in the mobilization or manipulation of identity consciousness in order to effectively divide and rule, as well as in the politics of decolonization and in the arena of competitive politics in the post-colonial era. (2000: 15–16) Religious identities in Nigeria are usually classified into three groups: Christianity, Islam, and Traditional African Religion (TAR). There are no official figures of Nigeria’s religious population, as this information has been deliberately excluded from recent national censuses in order to avoid conflicts regarding the size of each religious group. The complexity of managing Nigeria’s religious cleavage is reflected in claims by adherents of each of the two major religions, Christianity and Islam, that they are the numerically dominant religious group, with each of these claims upheld by different population surveys. For example, although the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life’s 2009 estimate of the religious makeup of Nigeria indicated that 52% of the country’s population is Muslim, 46% is Christian, and only 1% is associated with TAR (PEW Forum on Religion and Public Life, 2010), a 2008 survey by Afrobarometer puts the figures at 56% Christian, 43% Muslim, and 1% belonging to TAR (PEW Forum on Religion and Public Life, 2010). These conflicting survey results could be the outcome of each survey source using different methods to identify religious adherents; nevertheless, they did reveal the tenuous religious division between Muslims and Christians in Nigeria, a situation that prompted Archbishop John Onaiyekan to describe the country as “the greatest Islamo-Christian nation in the world” (2008). By this he meant that Nigeria “is the largest country in the world with an evenly split population of Muslims and Christians” (Paden, 2007). Against this background, Nigeria is “really the test case of the ‘clash of civilizations’” (Paden, 2007) and the best context from which to examine the role of civil society in peace-building.

Challenges in religious civil society  43 Conflict has been a recurring element of Muslim-Christian relations in Nigeria since its return to civil rule in 1999 after nearly 16 years of successive military rule. Though some of these conflicts were low-intensity confrontations and bitter wars of words, others erupted into violent communal clashes. Indeed, according to the US Commission on International Religious Freedom (2017), thousands of Nigerians have been killed in sectarian and communal attacks and reprisals between Muslims and Christians since the return to democratic rule in 1999. Added to this are the over 28,000 people reportedly killed, over 1.8 million people displaced, and thousands, including school girls, kidnapped by Boko Haram, the terror group that has claimed an Islamic identity (US Commission on International Religious Freedom, 2017). Given this tumultuous background, therefore, one of the greatest challenges facing Muslims and Christians in contemporary Nigeria is how to manage and live with their religious diversity and prevent the country from being overwhelmed by religious intolerance (Mbillah, 2007). What is the role of civil society in overcoming this problem?

Civil society and peace-building between Muslims and Christians in post-military Nigeria There are many definitions of civil society. However, this chapter takes as its guide the definition given by the Centre for Civil Society (2006), which defines civil society as follows: The arena of uncoerced collective action around shared interests, purposes and values. In theory, its institutional forms are distinct from those of the state, family and market, though in practice, the boundaries between state, civil society, family and market are often complex, blurred and negotiated. Many scholars have emphasized the connection between religious civil society and peace-building. For instance, citing Douglas Johnston, David Smock (2006) outlines the characteristics of religious civil society as follows: • • • • • • •

Credibility as a trusted institution A respected set of values Moral warrants for opposing injustice on the part of governments Unique leverage for promoting reconciliation among conflicting parties, including an ability to rehumanize situations that have become dehumanized over the course of protracted conflict A capability to mobilize community, nation, and international support for a peace process An ability to follow through locally in the wake of a political settlement A sense of calling that often inspires perseverance in the face of major, otherwise debilitating, obstacles.

44  Eyene Okpanachi Since 1999 when democracy was re-established in Nigeria, renewed efforts have been made to foster peaceful Muslim-Christian relations in the country (Ludwig, 2008; Haynes, 2009). Generally, CSOs use several mechanisms to contribute to peace-building between Muslims and Christians. Nigeria has a plethora of religious CSOs, both Christian and Muslim. The Christian groups include the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN), and its youth (YOWICAN) and women’s wings (WOWICAN), and the Fellowship of Christian Students (FCS). The Muslim groups include Jama’atu Nasril Islam (JNI), the Muslim Rights Concern (MURIC), the Ansarudeen Society of Nigeria, the Nigerian Supreme Council for Islamic Affairs (NSCIA), the Federation of Muslim Women’s Association in Nigeria (FOMWAN), the Professional Muslim Sisters Association (PMSA), and the National Council of Muslim Youth Organizations (NACOMYO). Other CSOs include charities such as the Catholic Relief Service; religious movements such as the Supreme Council for Sharia in Nigeria (SCSN), Muslim Rights Concern (MRC), the Pentecostal Fellowship of Nigeria (PFN), and the Mennonite Central Committee, Nigeria (MCC); and bi-religious groups such as the Nigeria InterReligious Council (NIREC) and the Interfaith Mediation Centre-Muslim/Christian Dialogue Forum (IMC-MCDF). These organizations have worked either on their own or in partnership with other organizations within the other religion to contribute to peace-building and conflict prevention. For instance, working through its volunteers in 17 local governments of Plateau State, which has been periodically plagued by violence, the MCC has collaborated with other religious and nonreligious CSOs and with government agencies, including the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN), Jama’atu Nasril Islam (JNI), the Federation of Muslim Women’s Association in Nigeria (FOMWAN), and the Nigeria Red Cross Society (NRCS), to prevent and mitigate conflict (Catholic Archbishop of Jos, undated). In addition, some religious institutions, and especially churches, now have peace, justice, and reconciliation ministries or departments within their structures for the promotion of peaceful co-existence between Muslims and Christians.

Muslim-Christian relations and (un)civil society: the role of context and political opportunity structure In spite of the positive efforts of civil society to build peaceful Muslim-Christian relations, the results of these efforts are still tenuous and peace is still fragile. In Nigeria today, CSOs have promoted exclusive ethnic and religious identities, militancy, and violence in their claim-making on the state and competition with other groups for the control of the public space, thereby undermining rather than facilitating peace (Ikelegbe, 2001). Marchetti and Tocci (2009) argue that the optimal choice for civil societies peacefully managing conflict depends on several identifiable factors that are specific to the country, including the nature of the state, the way and degree to which identity is politicized, the intensity of conflict, the question of social justice, the degree of democratization, and the efficacy of governance structures. In short, though civil societies can play particularly powerful roles in shaping the content

Challenges in religious civil society  45 and practice of politics in divided societies, their success is highly influenced by context and political opportunity structure. During the period under investigation, Muslim-Christian conflict was provoked, or peace efforts by CSOs were undermined, by several factors that are discussed below. The continuing challenges of managing religious diversity The first of these factors is competing religious identities. These identities, which are focused on “the absolute and unconditional,” encourage the adoption of “totalitarian characteristics” and thus leave little ground for compromise (Haynes, 2009: 53). In other words, conflict can grow out of genuine but remarkably different values and visions of a good society, the role of religion in society, the relationship between religion and the state, and how these visions are realized. As Reychler (1997) explains, when conflicts are couched in religious terms, they become transformed in value conflicts. Unlike other issues, such as resource conflicts, which can be resolved by pragmatic and distributive means, value conflicts have a tendency to become mutually conclusive or zero-sum issues. They entail strong judgments of what is right and wrong, and parties believe that there cannot be a common ground to resolve their differences. The controversy over the implementation of the criminal-law aspects of the Islamic Shari’a code, particularly in the 12 northern states of Nigeria that (re)introduced Shari’a after 1999, fits this pattern. This dispute pitted Nigerian Muslims who believe that Shari’a is the pure law revealed by God against Christians “who regard this measure as a step to Islamize Nigeria” (Ludwig, 2008) and an attempt to reduce them to second-class citizens. These contentions led to bitter wars of words between Christians and Muslims. CSOs were at the forefront of these contentions as defenders of group rights, producing press statements and religious sermons for or against Shari’a in ways that sometimes damaged the relations between them and further polarized the civil society along these religious fault lines. Occasionally, these seemingly irreconcilable differences led to violent conflicts. One such case occurred in Kaduna State in 2000, when attempts to introduce Shari’a precipitated riots that left at least 3,000 people dead and later led to reprisal killings against Muslims in the southern states of Aba, Umuahia, Owerri, Uyo, and Calabar (Ndiribe, 2000). Though inter-religious efforts and initiatives by both the government and civil society progressed significantly, relationships at the grassroots level have been broken and remain so to this day. For example, the population of Kaduna, the capital city of Kaduna State, has been split into differential residential communities, with the Christians having moved from the Muslimdominated parts of the cities to the places where their co-religionists live and vice versa, with all the pathological incentives this holds for future conflicts (Okpanachi, 2011).

46  Eyene Okpanachi The Jama’atul Alhul Sunnah Lidda’wati wal jihad (people committed to the propagation of the Prophet’s teachings and jihad), or Boko Haram, is a fringe Islamic sect that came into the limelight in 2009 when its members clashed with government forces, leading to the deaths of 700 people, including Mohammed Yusuf, the group’s leader. This group has invoked the Shari’a narrative as a reason for its insurrection against the state and attacks against Christians and mainstream Muslims. The group’s more violent campaigns began in 2010, a period that also coincided with the intensification of its ideological rhetoric to establish an Islamic state in the north, or even the entire country, with strict adherence to Islamic Shari’a law. The group, while still targeting politicians, the police, and Islamic authorities, also widened the targets of its attacks to include places in which it believes non-Shari’a-compliant practices are carried out, including churches, schools, bars, cinemas, UN buildings, and football viewing centres. Boko Haram has claimed, or has been blamed for, acts of terrorism that have led to the death, displacement, and abduction of many Nigerians, including more than 200 Chibok girls who were abducted from their school on 14 April 2014 and have yet to be freed. Besides the casualties and human suffering left in their wake, Boko Haram’s campaign of terror has polarized relationships and deepened the sectarian discord between Muslims and Christians, with each religion blaming the other for the festering of the insurgency, amidst the government’s demonstrated ineffective response to the terrorist threats. The conflict was thus seen as one between Christians and Muslims. To be sure, at the initial stage of Boko Haram’s operation, leaders of both religions tried to avoid blaming the other religion in order to prevent the conflict from escalating. At the same time, Christians and Muslims have shown some display of solidarity against Boko Haram’s terrorism, such as the security provided by 200 Muslim youth volunteers for Christ Evangelical Church in Sabon Tasha, Kaduna South during Christmas in order to “protect the church attenders from any attacks from extremist Islam groups” (Ramos, 2014), or Christian youths breaking the Ramadan fast with Muslim youths in Kaduna State (Sahara Reporters, 2012). However, as beneficial as these acts aimed at strengthening peaceful religious coexistence were, they were not enough to prevent Boko Haram’s deadly terror attacks against both Christians and Muslims. As these attacks escalated, religious leaders became increasingly drawn into them and thus failed to sustain their earlier condemnation of Boko Haram’s activities instead of blaming the “other.” For instance, in the wake of some of the attacks against Christians, including the bombing of worshippers and churches, the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN) blamed Islam for Boko Haram’s activities, stating that “it is the ideas that people coin from the Koran and are being used to terrorize the world. Now we cannot deny that these are Muslims” (Christians Association of Nigeria, 2012a). Elsewhere, Pastor Ayo Oritsejafor, president of CAN, argued that that the terrorist group had the support of Muslims: we told the nation that the bombings and killings of innocent Nigerians may be termed senseless but that it is not without a sense for those sponsoring the

Challenges in religious civil society  47 act. We also said the killings and bombings were being done according to their plans in order to instill fears with the subsequent aim of eradicating religious freedom, democratic liberties with the church and Christianity as its primary target. (Christians Association of Nigeria, 2012b) Indeed, the Southern Christians Association of Nigeria, a regional body of CAN representing the 17 southern states, put this allegation more bluntly following an attack on a church on the campus of the Bayero University Kano, in Kano State: That the gunmen walked past several Mosques on the campus and singled out the Church for this dastardly act has reinforced our belief that there is an agenda by those who carried out these acts to exterminate Christians in the North and Islamise the country. (PM News, 2 May 2012) Christians were not the only ones imputing conspiracy to the Boko Haram killings. On the other hand, Muslims claim that Islam is a religion of peace and as Sa’ad Abubakar, Sultan of Sokoto, pointed out, Boko Haram is not an Islamic group (Ogbeche, 2015). In this atmosphere of mutual suspicion, mistrust, and finger-pointing, CSOs’ efforts to build sustainable peace would have been repeatedly weakened and made fruitless, and any gains achieved would have quickly been eroded. Politicization of religious identity The second challenge is the politicization of religious identities as a result of their use in political competition and to “bolster or undermine the legitimacy of governments, opposition groups, and most other types of social or political institutions or movement” (Fox and Sandler, 2003: 562). As Natufe (2001) notes, in the absence of significant unifying ideologies other than corruption and political opportunism, the competition for power in Nigeria invariably becomes anchored to, and driven by, the logic of the country’s identity fault lines. Thus, though the various identities do serve as veritable sources for conflict on their own as discussed above, they have also been mobilized and exploited in the contest over which identity groups or coalitions of groups should control the state and its vast resources (Jinadu, 2007). Ideally, under the Nigerian constitution, governments should be neutral in religious matters, and should be impartial arbiters and guarantors of the rights of all individuals, no matter their religion or belief. In reality, however, this is not the case; what takes place instead is the mixing of religion with politics. When, in the quest for power, Nigerian politics primarily builds itself on the appeasement of religion, as Amadi (2003) noted, religion then becomes a deity in itself, which proves difficult to overcome, at the same time that it “also becomes subject to the exercise of political power” (Moyser, 1991: 10). Such a

48  Eyene Okpanachi mutually reinforcing relationship between religion and politics in turn generates more intense mobilizations of civil society, thereby intensifying the conflict (Marchetti and Tocci, 2009). Examples of the politicization of religion during the period under consideration include state government support for the building of churches or mosques in government houses, sponsorship of pilgrimages to Mecca and Israel, and sponsorship of religious teachings in the newspapers that are, or may be perceived as, offensive to other religions. As politicians, especially at the highest levels, have used religion as a symbolic tool to serve their political interests, civil society has also been at the vanguard of this as it attempts to leverage its religious links to benefit from the patronage provided by politicians at the expense of the other religion, thus further deepening suspicion between the two religious groups. The deep-seated perception among both religious groups that a politician who should be fair to adherents of all religions has displayed religious bias and propagating their own religion in what should be a multi-religious country has damaged the existential trust upon which peaceful Muslim-Christian relationships are built and made efforts by faith-based organizations (FBOs) to build bridges between the two religions more daunting. Civil society, peace-building, and the question of social justice The third challenge to peace and civil society peace-building efforts is the question of social justice. As Chambers and Kopstein (2001) have noted, civil society organizations cannot champion the cause of peace if they “contribute to an insidious erosion of values that threatens democracy” (p. 843). One such activity is the adoption of a “particularistic civility” that undermines key attributes of participation such as trust, public-spiritedness, and self-sacrifice in the CSO’s relation with non-members while promoting these attributes with its own members (Chambers and Kopstein, 2001). When this happens, social justice, which is essential to the flourishing of democracy, is diminished. The state, through its laws and policies, thus has a greater role to play in fostering an environment that allows “democratic civility” and social justice to flourish. Failure to do this leaves people vulnerable to exclusivist behaviour that erodes opportunities to build peace (Chambers and Kopstein, 2001). In Nigeria and many other African countries, for instance, social injustice was sown by the colonial government in order to sustain its domination through the “divide and rule” policy based on preferences given to particular ethnic and religious groups (Osaghae, 2006). This division was carried over even more virulently into the postcolonial period, as the new rulers later became champions and defenders of their own ethnic and religious groups (Mandani, 2012). These ethnic and religious discords distorted political activities, including civil society organizations’ activism, and directed such activism more towards particularistic group ends than broader civic ends (Ekeh, 1975). A particularly worrisome example of divided citizenship in Nigeria is the indigeneity problem, or what has been described as the “native” and “settler”

Challenges in religious civil society  49 or “indigene” and “non-indigene” dichotomy (Bach, 1997; Jinadu, 2002). As Jinadu (2002) notes, this problem brings into the foreground the “conflict between liberal theories of individual rights and theories of collective group rights.” The crux of the problem is that Section 318(1) of the 1999 Nigerian Constitution defines an indigene by ancestry rather than by place of birth, as a “person either of whose parents or any of whose grandparents is/was a member of a community indigenous to a state” (Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999). This biological definition of citizenship serves as the basis for the implementation of the federal character principle, Nigeria’s power-sharing formula aimed at engendering “inclusivity and equal access to public goods by the various groups and nationalities” (Adejumobi, 2004: 218). Nigeria’s 36 state governments have seized on this definition to perpetuate discriminatory practices that exclude socalled non-indigenes (Nigerians who are residents of, and may have even been born or lived permanently in, states in which they have no direct ethnic or biological roots) from opportunities such as employment and promotion in the bureaucracy, political appointments, admissions to public schools, contract awards, state development projects, and even acquisitions of land and real estate/properties (Jinadu, 2002; Human Rights Watch, 2006). This situation has provoked a violent backlash from groups that have thus been negatively affected. Large-scale ethnic and communal violence, involving hundreds of fatalities, in several states with large “settler” or “non-indigene” populations, such as the middle belt states of Plateau, Taraba, and Nasarawa, have largely emanated from this politics of inclusion or exclusion over citizenship (Human Rights Watch, 2006). Ethnic and religious CSOs have championed the struggle to dominate and to resist domination in majority-minority struggles for the control of the public space and its attendant benefits, and this dynamic has led to violence in many instances. This raises the question of how civil society organizations representing ethnic and religious groups can promote social justice for their own members without being exclusionary. This question is very appropriate in the Nigerian context, given its increasing economic inequality and the rampant looting of government resources that are inadequate to begin with (Human Rights Watch, 2006). Under this condition of scarcity, as Human Rights Watch notes, being a non-indigene can mean exclusion from any real prospect of socioeconomic advancement. This makes seemingly esoteric disagreements over who should and should not be able to claim indigene status into an issue worth fighting over, and such disputes have lain near the heart of some of Nigeria’s bloodiest episodes of intercommunal violence in recent years. (2006: 6) Operating in such a deeply conflict-prone situation, where unresolved politicaleconomic issues relating to social justice and citizenship can transform even minor disagreements into major conflicts, interventions by religious CSOs can be, at best, only partially successful.

50  Eyene Okpanachi Civil society peace-building amidst nagging socio-economic constraints The fourth factor affecting the peace-building process in Nigeria, related to the preceding discussion, is the country’s nagging socio-economic problem, reflected in the restricted economic space, brazen corruption, and acute poverty that have continued despite unprecedented oil receipts, especially during the past 16 years of democratic rule, and which has worsened with recession, largely as a result of the dip in oil prices in the international market. The logical outcome of this is a mass of frustrated and angry youths, ripe for recruitment into violent identity politics, and the phenomena of ethnic militias and intergroup conflicts in the country in general (Babawale, 2003; Program on Ethnic and Federal Studies, 2005; Onuoha, 2014). The deteriorating economic situation and the withdrawal of the state could also partly explain the rise of fundamentalist religious groups (Meagher, 2009) that are now, in addition to their spiritual functions, performing the welfare role intended for the state. Indeed, the inefficiency of the state amidst growing corruption and the worsening economic situation has, according to Matthew Kukah, the bishop of the Diocese of Sokoto in north-western Nigeria, “stirred up religion to the point that it becomes a defining identity” (The Economist, 20 December 2014). This has led to mass disenchantment with the state, and the concomitant reliance on the psycho-social and economic protection and alternative power that membership in these “new” religious organizations or movements brings. This process has significant implications for the development of conflicts and the participation of CSOs in those conflicts. Although these new religious movements can facilitate “strategies to create, exercise and legitimate new power relations and new opportunities for survival” and thus contribute to challenging oppressive state power and violence, as Marshall (1993: 215) noted in relation to his study of Pentecostalism in Yoruba towns, they can also undermine peace themselves, either as a result of their own inherent radicalism or of radicalism spurred on by perceived injustice and the failure of governance and security. Such radicalism allows religious fundamentalism, the aggressive defence of groups’ rights, outright criminality, and senseless violence to flourish. Global dynamics and civil society peace-building Finally, the prospects of peaceful Muslim-Christian relationships, and the constructive roles of civil society in developing those relationships, are also affected by the international environment. This is increasingly so in today’s globalized world. As Robertson (1992) argues, globalization represents a “compression of the world” into a “single place,” and this forces a corresponding increase in the interaction and interpenetration between the local and the global. The critical role of “world images” in helping people to make sense of their local experiences is central to this intersection between the particular and the universal (Robertson, 1992).

Challenges in religious civil society  51 One such example is the polio vaccine controversy of 2003, whose effects on the health rights of children lingered in the north for years afterward. This controversy was sparked when Datti Ahmed, the president of the Supreme Council for Sharia in Nigeria (SCSN), accused the polio immunization campaign of being part of a Western conspiracy, and accused the United States of deliberately contaminating the vaccines with birth control drugs to reduce the Muslim population, and also of lacing the vaccines with HIV. These comments, and eventual pressure from other Muslim CSOs, led the government of Kano State to stop immunization programmes, as did Kaduna and Zamfara States. During the national immunization programme, vaccination teams moving from house to house were chased away by many parents in these states based on the advice of the Islamic clerics. This suspension led to the re-emergence of poliomyelitis not just in Kano State, but also throughout northern Nigeria, thus setting back the entire global eradication programme (Samba et al., 2004). Although the concern Muslim CSOs raised about vaccination in Nigeria was connected to the tragic deaths of 11 Nigerian children in 1996 in Kano during tests of an experimental meningitis drug by the US pharmaceutical company Pfizer (Olusanya, 2004), the boycott also stemmed from the international and internal dynamics of political power and resistance politics. According to Datti Ahmed, a medical doctor and president of SCSN who first raised the opposition: We believe that modern-day Hitlers have deliberately adulterated the oral polio vaccines with anti-fertility drugs and contaminated it with certain viruses which are known to cause HIV and AIDS. (News24.com, 2004) The government of the born-again Christian Olusegun Obasanjo was thus seen as the channel through which the United States sought to reduce the population of Muslims in Nigeria. As Yahya (2006) noted: Influenced by resentment amongst Muslim civil society leaders over US foreign policy towards the Islamic world, the 16-month controversy that unfolded in Nigeria demonstrated an interesting play of political might between the international community and the federal government on the one hand and the northern Muslim states on the other. To reiterate, the SCSN played a dominant role in the polio vaccine conflict. To many, the organization and its leaders were simply displaying ignorance and religious extremism that impinged on the rights of children in the north. However, the organization was able to project itself as a conscience of the state and to demonstrate the benign role of a caring and compassionate substitute to a distant Nigerian state controlled by a Christian president and his Western (US) collaborators who were thought to detest Nigerian Muslims and all they stand for.

52

Eyene Okpanachi

Conclusion: is religious civil society a sanguine or sinister force in peace-building? This chapter has examined the peace-building role of religious civil society in Nigeria and explored the questions of whether, and how well, civil societies formed on the basis of religious identity can facilitate inter-religious peace in a deeply divided society in which groups increasingly live in tension, and the civil society itself is pressured to be more oriented towards protection of the exclusivist identity/claims of their group. The major contention of this chapter is that the success of religious CSOs in facilitating peaceful Muslim-Christian relations is shaped by context, particularly the sharp identity of Nigeria’s deeply divided society and the mutual imbrication of these identity divisions with the political opportunity structure relating to the country’s political economy: the degree to which the state politicizes identities, ensures social justice, protects security of citizens, and provides socio-economic development and stimuli from the international context. These factors interact with and shape the power relations or imbalances driving identity formation, mechanisms of identity mobilization, conflict dynamics, and the roles of civil society in peace-building. A main contention of this chapter is that the promotion of peace by civil society has a double-edged nature. In addition to mediation/dialogue by bi-religious peace bodies, civil society groups working under a variety of circumstances also carried out different peace-building activities, including advocacy, protection, and service delivery. Yet at the same time, religious CSOs were also implicated in stimulating or sustaining patterns of exclusion and intolerance that undermined peace-building or contributed to the escalation of divisions with their inflammatory speeches that incite conflict and violence, or their participation in open violence, including terrorism under the guise of affirming or protecting religious identity. The Nigerian experience shows that, besides directly fuelling conflict, reinforcing existing divisions in communities and deepening the polarization within civil society itself, religious CSOs themselves can also subvert peace in other indirect, but pernicious, ways. One major way they do this is by encouraging impunity through the significant political pressure they bring to bear on governments to free those accused of complicity in violence or riots from trial without persecution. This politicization of arrests of suspects contributes to obstructing the process of justice and encouraging further violence (Human Rights Watch, 2003, 2005). The failure to bring those responsible for violent conflict to justice can be attributed to the weakness of the justice system and failure of the government to impose sanctions on perpetrators of violence in accordance with the country’s law (The Guardian, 15 May 2009). It also arises from political pressures from CSOs, including religious CSOs, which through their narratives of victimization and victimhood are quick to defend their kith and kin who have been arrested, and to claim innocence. In turn, in their desire not to antagonize a particular religious group and lose electoral/political support, governments succumb to these pressures and assent to the release of most suspects, even when the governments’ own investigative panels and commissions of inquiry about these conflicts enjoin them to ensure justice for the victims by prosecuting and punishing offenders (Human Rights

Challenges in religious civil society  53 Watch, 2003). This has been a noticeable trend in conflicts in different parts of Nigeria and a core incentive of impunity and continuing conflict (Human Rights Watch, 2003, 2005). Generally, the “perverse manifestation of civil society” (Ikelegbe, 2001) in Nigeria has not only negatively affected relationships but has also influenced the health of children and education, human rights, political violence (including terrorism), economic development, and the consolidation of the country’s democracy. Yet my exploration of this issue and illumination of the Herculean hurdles that religious civil societies face, and their pernicious roles in state and society relations, should by no means be taken as suggesting that these civil societies represent a homogeneous identity group or that their responses to the challenges of peacebuilding are fixed or unchanging. Rather, there have been mixed responses, even by civil society within the same religion, reflecting the ambivalence and doubleedged character not just of civil society but also of religion itself, to which several scholars have drawn attention (Reychler, 1997; Appleby, 2000; Haynes, 2009). Therefore, while some CSOs have promoted exclusion and divisiveness, others have moderated this tendency. During the period under discussion here, this ambivalence could be seen in both Muslim and Christian CSOs’ activities. Some of these activities include the JNI and NSCIA’s declaration, albeit belated, that the polio vaccine is safe for use, following the stalemate provoked by the SCSN which admonished Muslim parents not to make their children available for immunization because of an alleged plan to reduce the population of Muslims; the withdrawal of the Catholic Church from membership of CAN over allegations that CAN’s national leadership was dragging the organization “into partisan politics,” thus undermining its autonomy (Ezigbo, 2013); and the internal criticism of Shari’a implementation by some Muslim CBOs, including women’s organizations, and other prominent Islamic personalities. Another example is the emergence of a group of youth known as the Civilian Joint Task Force (Civilian JTF) in order to combat Boko Haram extremism in the north-eastern state of Borno. In spite of the challenge that such a vigilante group may pose for human rights violations and their use by politicians to carry out political violence, the fact that these young men risk their own lives to use their deep knowledge of their local terrain to combat insecurity is a salutary departure from Boko Haram’s campaign of terror and hate. In the final analysis, therefore, the “uncivil” character of religious civil society should not lead to the undervaluing of its potential to contribute to peace-building. It only raises the question of which type of civil society best promotes peace and the context within which CSOs operate (Marchetti and Tocci, 2009). Indeed, that CSOs have not all acted to thwart peace or fuel conflict is a sign that we can still be positive about their potential for engendering peace.

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56  Eyene Okpanachi Natufe, I. (2001) Resistance Politics: An Essay on the Future of Nigeria. Paper presented at the African Studies Programme Conference on the Challenges and Opportunities of Globalization at the Dawn of the Millennium, Howard University, Washington, DC, 11–14 April. Ndiribe, O. (2000, 11 March) ‘Nation on the edge’. The Post Express (Lagos). News24.com (2004) ‘Vaccine boycott spreads polio’. News24.com (South Africa). Available at: https://www.news24.com/Africa/Features/Vaccine-boycott-spreads-polio-20040211 Norris, P. (2008) Driving Democracy: Do Power-sharing Institutions Work? Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Obadare, E. (2007) ‘Religious NGOs, civil society and the quest for a public sphere in Nigeria’. African Identities, 5(1), 135–153. Ogbeche, D. (2015) ‘Sultan of Sokoto says Boko Haram is un-Islamic’. September 25. Available at: dailypost.ng/2015/09/24/sultan-of-sokoto-says-boko-haram-is-un-islamic/ Okpanachi, E. (2011) ‘Between conflict and compromise: Lessons on Sharia and pluralism from Nigeria’s Kaduna and Kebbi states’. Emory International Law Review, 25(2). Available at: law.emory.edu/eilr/content/volume-25/issue-2/religious-nigeria/conflictcompromise-sharia-pluralism-kaduna-kebbi.html Olusanya, B. (2004) ‘Polio vaccination boycott in Nigeria’. The Lancet, 363(1912), 5 June. Onaiyekan, J. (2008) Panel Discussion on the Role of Bishops in Peace Building: A Contribution From the Nigerian Perspective. Catholic Peacebuilding Network Conference Notre Dame University, South Bend, USA, 13 April. Available at: http://nd.edu/~cpn/ papers_2008CPN/Homily%204-14%20-%20Onaiyekan.pdf Onuoha, F. (2014) Why Do Youth Join Boko Haram? US Institute of Peace (USIP) Special Report Number: 248. Orjuela, C. (2003) ‘Building peace in Sri Lanka: A role for civil society?’ Journal of Peace Research, 40(2), 195–212. Osaghae, E. (2006) ‘Colonialism and civil society in Africa: The perspective of Ekeh’s Two Publics’. Voluntas: International Journal of Voluntary and Nonprofit Organizations, 17(3), 233–245. Osaghae, E., and Suberu, R. (2005) A History of Identities, Violence, and Stability in Nigeria. CRISE Working Paper Number: 6. Otite, O. (1990) Ethnic Pluralism and Ethnicity in Nigeria. Ibadan: Shaneson. Paden, J. (2007) Comments at the Symposium on Religious Conflict in Nigeria: Contemporary Religious Dynamics in Nigeria – Session 2. New York: Council on Foreign Relations. Available at: www.cfr.org/project/1312/religious_conflict_in_nigeria_symposium. html Paden, J. (2008) Faith and Politics in Nigeria: Nigeria as a Pivotal State in the Muslim World. Washington, DC: US Institute of Peace Press. Paffenholz, T. et al. (2010) ‘Enabling and disenabling factors for civil society peacebuilding’. In Paffenholz, T. (ed.), Civil Society and Peacebuilding: A Critical Assessment. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, pp. 405–424. Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life. (2010) Islam and Christianity in Sub-Saharan Africa. Appendix B: Religious Demography of Sub-Saharan Africa. Available at: assets. pewresearch.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/11/2010/04/sub-saharan-africa-appendix-b. pdf PM News. (2012, 2 May) ‘Boko Haram plans to wipe out Christians – CAN’. Available at: www.pmnewsnigeria.com/2012/05/02/boko-haram-plans-to-wipe-out-christians-can/ Pouligny, B. (2005) ‘Civil society and post-conflict peacebuilding: Ambiguities of international programmes aimed at building “new” societies’. Security Dialogue, 36(4), 495–510.

Challenges in religious civil society  57 Program on Ethnic and Federal Studies. (2005) Constitutional Reforms Dialogues: The South-South Agenda for Constitutional Reform. Ibadan: PEFS. Ramos, J. (2014, 29 December) ‘200 Muslim youth guard Christians in Christmas church service in Nigeria’. Christian Today. Available at: www.christiantoday.com.au/article/ 200.muslim.youth.guard.christians.in.christmas.church.service.in.nigeria/18867.htm Reilly, B. (2006) ‘Political engineering and party politics in conflict-prone societies’. Democratization, 13(5), 811–827. Reychler, L. (1997) ‘Religion and conflict’. The International Journal of Peace Studies, 2(1). Available at: www.gmu.edu/academic/ijps/vol2_1/cover2_1 Robertson, R. (1992) Globalization, Social Theory, and Global Culture. London: Sage. Sahara Reporters. (2012) Christians in Kaduna Storm Mosque, Eat ‘Solidarity’ Ramadan Breakfast With Muslims. Available at: saharareporters.com/2012/07/22/ christians-kaduna-storm-mosque-eat-solidarity-ramadan-breakfast-muslims Samba, E., Nkrumah, F., and Leke, R. (2004) ‘Getting polio eradication back on track in Nigeria’. New England Journal of Medicine, 350, 645–646. Smock, D. (2006) Religious Contributions to Peacemaking: When Religion Brings Peace, Not War. USIP PeaceWorks Number: 55. Suberu, R. (2009) ‘Federalism in Africa: The Nigerian experience in comparative perspective’. Ethnopolitics, 8(1), 67–86. US Commission on International Religious Freedom. (2017) Annual Report 2017: Nigeria. Available at: www.uscirf.gov/sites/default/files/Nigeria.2017.pdf Yahya, M. (2006) Polio Vaccines – Difficult to Swallow: The Story of a Controversy in Northern Nigeria. IDS. Working Paper Number: 261.

5

Social entrepreneurship, civil society, and foreign aid in Jordan Addressing issues of self-sustainability and continuity Lilian Tauber1

Introduction: the context of civil society in Jordan In theory, the development of a vibrant and robust civil society is seen as a necessary precursor to democratic transitions and a remedy to authoritarian rule (Wiktorowicz, 2000). The United States in particular allocates substantial resources to civil society organizations (CSOs) in the Middle East to promote democratic reform in the region (Bush, 2015; Ottaway and Choucair-Vizoso, 2008). Since the early 2000s, Jordan has also benefited from these efforts. In practice, the equation is more complex and shoring up civil society institutions has not (yet) delivered the expected results (Wiktorowicz, 2000). Jordan’s civil society development has been impacted both by domestic upheavals and the security role that Jordan has played over the years for Britain, the United States, and its Arab neighbours, depending on the period. The state received foreign aid subsidies that created and reinforced the roles of the security forces, and Jordan’s international political alignments raised tensions with its citizens on several occasions (Choucair-Vizoso, 2008; Shaikh, 2011; Sharp, 2011; Jamal, 2012). In response to domestic upheavals, the monarchy repeatedly curbed the activity of CSOs, most notably politically oriented organizations (Brand, 1994; Hinnebusch, 2000; Bellin, 2004; Lust-Okar and Jamal, 2002; Lust-Okar, 2009; Yom, 2009). In 1989, a process of liberalization began that led to “unprecedented gains” for civil society in Jordan (Brand, 1994). This was marked by the legalization and development of political parties, free and regular parliamentary elections, greater respect for human rights including freedoms of expression and for the press, the development of political satire, and the ability for citizens to hold discussions and conferences on politics and civil matters (Brand, 1994). The Jordanian monarchy, faced with multiple international and domestic challenges, has permitted civil society to grow in a very controlled manner since the 1990s. CSOs in Jordan are subjected to many bureaucratic regulations and legal codes which allow the regime to monitor these organizations; thus the regime “utilizes the growth of civil society institutions through non-governmental organizations to enhance state social control using order and visibility” (Wiktorowicz, 2000: 57). This tactic was begun under King Hussein and has continued with King Abdullah II since his accession to the throne. This serves to maintain the power and stability of the regime, allows citizens to participate in collective action, and appeases international aid donors

Social entrepreneurship and foreign aid in Jordan  59 who increasingly expect democratization efforts, but it does not truly empower citizens. When civil society has been co-opted by the regime, collective action becomes “predictable, transparent, and thus controllable” (Wiktorowicz, 2000: 58). The effectiveness of civil society in this instance remains inherently limited because it has become another mechanism of state social control. This context presumably presents deep-rooted challenges for Jordan’s social entrepreneurs, who function within the realm of civil society. This chapter investigates the relationship between foreign aid and the function of social enterprises in Jordan and seeks to comment on their emerging role in civil society. To address this question, the research draws on over 40 interviews conducted in Jordan between January and April of 2018 as part of a larger study on social entrepreneurship in the country. The interview transcriptions were analyzed with the help of NVivo software to establish patterns and connections among the data. This analysis revealed that Jordanian social entrepreneurs deliberately choose an independent funding model, and reject foreign aid assistance, in favour of their enterprises’ sustainability, continuity, and operational integrity. Other CSOs in Jordan must rely on external funding to operate, which can influence their operation, programme implementation, and even overall objectives. Therefore, this chapter argues that, due to their independent funding models, social enterprises are better equipped to address community issues in contrast to most CSOs in Jordan, as it allows them to operate more autonomously. Entrepreneurship studies are multifaceted and varied, so the chapter begins with a brief introduction to social entrepreneurship and a working definition of the term to provide clarity for the purpose of this study. The chapter then briefly explains the methods used and the relationship between civil society and social entrepreneurship in the Middle East, followed by an analysis of the interview data.

Review of entrepreneurship studies Within much of the literature, definitions of entrepreneur have been vague or missing entirely. In addition, few studies use the same definition or even the same criteria to evaluate entrepreneurship, as Gartner (1988), Koppl and Minniti (2003), and Alvarez (2005) have demonstrated. While a range of definitions has added richness to the field, it has also denied it a common theoretical framework. It is therefore important to outline what is meant by the term in this study. The entrepreneur “is a difficult person to pin down” (Hébert and Link, 2006: 4); regardless, some overarching themes of entrepreneurship have emerged from the literature. This brief review delineates essential characteristics of social entrepreneurship. The themes emerging from the review inform the definition of social entrepreneurship for this chapter. Critical aspects of the social entrepreneur Beginning in the mid-1950s, some scholars tentatively began to apply the concepts of the entrepreneur to spheres beyond the strictly economic model. Cyril Belshaw was perhaps the first to establish the position of the entrepreneur as influencing

60  Lilian Tauber society beyond economic developments. He wrote that entrepreneurs both represent and influence the direction of social change because “their values and methods are a reflection of the synthesis between old and new that is the developing culture” (Belshaw, 1955). Belshaw argued that scholarship must determine what constitutes the “business” of social entrepreneurship in each case study of the entrepreneur as an agent of social change. Described below are aspects of social entrepreneurship that appear consistently in the literature. Social objectives The most distinguishing feature of social entrepreneurship is that a social mission forms a part of the objectives of the enterprise. Although a number of innovations address social needs, the “distribution of financial and social value [is] tilted toward society” only for social innovations (Phills et al., 2008). A social innovation can be “a product, production process, or technology (much like innovation in general), but it can also be a principle, an idea, a piece of legislation, a social movement, an intervention, or some combination of them” (Phills et al., 2008). Social objectives can feature in a range of ways in an enterprise: “there appears to be a continuum of possibilities, ranging from the requirement that social benefits be the only goal of the entrepreneurial undertaking to the stipulation merely that social goals are somewhere among its aims” (Peredo and McLean, 2006). This changes the way in which social entrepreneurs assess opportunities, because instead of wealth creation being the only criterion, possible mission-related impact features prominently in assessments instead, and wealth creation may only be a means to an end. In contrast, for business entrepreneurs, profit, wealth creation, and customer satisfaction are the gauges of value creation; for social entrepreneurs, “social impact is the gauge” (Dees, 2001). Emphasis on the use of social capital Entrepreneurs are known to “mobilize the resources of others to achieve their entrepreneurial objectives” (Dees, 2001). This is also known as social capital, which refers to the actual or potential resources accessible and acquired through a network of social connections (Kim and Aldrich, 2005; Bourdieu, 1985; Portes, 1998; Fukuyama, 2001; Adler and Kwon, 2002). Social capital can also be understood as “an instantiated informal norm that promotes co-operation between two or more individuals”; these norms can range from reciprocity between friends to complex religious doctrines, but they must involve an actual human relationship (Fukuyama, 2001). In political science, a high amount of social capital has been associated with a robust civil society; civil society forms as a result of social capital but does not constitute social capital itself (Fukuyama, 2001). An abundance of social capital makes organization and action towards a common goal in a community easier; this may produce a dense civil society (Portes, 1998; Fukuyama, 2001; Putnam, 1993). Social capital is thus a powerful resource for entrepreneurs if they manage and invest in it well.

Social entrepreneurship and foreign aid in Jordan  61 Social value creation through social change Joseph Schumpeter (1947) offered some early insight into the entrepreneur’s relationship with society, writing that entrepreneurial functions involve not only the ability to perceive and implement new opportunities but also the “will power adequate to break down the resistance that the existing social environment offers to change,” which is known as “creative destruction.” In this way, entrepreneurial activity “extends to the structure and the very foundations of . . . society” (Schumpeter, 1947). This introduction of entrepreneurs’ role in society led to the development of social entrepreneurship theory, on which Fredrik Barth expanded. Barth’s (1963) contribution is his more precise explanation of how an entrepreneur might function in terms of social change. He explained that enterprises establish “innovations and patterns which, proven successful, may be expected to become prototypes for the formation of further similar units.” Therefore, this definition of the word entrepreneur “leads us directly to highly seminal points of social change, and to basic social processes of replacement and activity in general” (Barth, 1963). Entrepreneurs have been described as persons who improved the status of society because they “not only swept and garnished their own houses but initiated a . . . process of social amelioration in an age facing insuperable problems of social adjustment” (Wilson, 1955). Wilson’s concept of social amelioration has carried through to present-day analyses of social entrepreneurs. Skoll writes that “social entrepreneurs take workable value creation models and adapt them for the benefit of [all] communities” (Skoll, 2006). Social entrepreneurship involves “creating and sustaining social value” (Dees, 2001), a term which refers to “contribution of welfare or wellbeing in a given human community” (Peredo and McLean, 2006). Creating and sustaining social value “is the core of what distinguishes social entrepreneurs from business entrepreneurs. . . . Social entrepreneurs look for a longterm social return on investment” (Dees, 2001). The entrepreneur is best able to create social value through social innovations. In fact, as Drucker points out, “the rapid changes in today’s society, technology, and economy are simultaneously an even greater threat to [government agencies, etc.] and an even greater opportunity [for innovation and entrepreneurship]” (Drucker, 2010). Social entrepreneurship may, due to its flexibility, achieve purposeful, directional, and controlled change in pragmatic, modest, and gradual ways, as opposed to the dogmatic, grandiose, and abrupt methods of revolution, civil war, or economic catastrophes.

A comprehensive definition of social entrepreneurship For the purpose of this study, and drawing from an extensive literature review of entrepreneurship, I define social entrepreneurship as having the important aspects of innovation, assumption of risk and/or uncertainty, autonomy in leadership and decision-making, management and investment of capital, emphasis on the use of social capital, social objectives, and social value creation. The following comprehensive definition is based on the seminal works of entrepreneurship scholars.

62  Lilian Tauber The first four characteristics are not unique to social entrepreneurship, but are essential to entrepreneurship in general, and distinguish enterprises from regular businesses and other organizations and undertakings. These characteristics are briefly defined below: Innovation: In keeping with the foundational scholarship on entrepreneurship, the social enterprise must be able to distinguish itself from similar or related undertakings with a characteristic that is new or different (see Baudeau, 1910; Hébert and Link, 2006; Schumpeter, 1934; Bentham, 1952; von Thünen, 1960; Kirzner, 1985). Assumption of risk and/or uncertainty: The entrepreneur assumes the risk and/ or uncertainty of the enterprise. The enterprise’s viability depends on the members’ efforts and their ability to secure resources as well as prudent management of capital. Although the enterprise assumes risk and/or uncertainty, its primary focus is opportunity (see Iversen et al., 2008; Hébert and Link, 2006; Cantillon, 1931; Knight, 1921; Alvarez, 2005). Autonomy in leadership and decision-making: The enterprise is an autonomous project that is not managed, either directly or indirectly, by any other organization or authority, whether private or governmental. Thus, the enterprise may formulate its positions and organize its actions freely and may terminate the undertaking. The leaders of the enterprise manage, organize, and direct other members and resources (see Smalley, 1964; Menger, 1950; Wieser, 1927; Mill, 1965; Walras, 1954; Quesnay, 1888; Say, 1840). Management and investment of capital: The entrepreneur manages the capital necessary to produce the enterprise’s services and invests sufficient capital to ensure future operation of the enterprise. This can be in the form of financial, physical, human, or social capital (see Smith, 1976; Turgot, 1977). The last three characteristics differentiate social entrepreneurship from other forms of entrepreneurship, such as business entrepreneurship or political entrepreneurship – that is, these features make it inherently social: Emphasis on the use of social capital: The social enterprise relies on the resources of others to achieve its objectives. A network of social connections and established norms of reciprocity and cooperation among organizations and individuals are crucial to the success of the enterprise (see Dees, 2001; Kim and Aldrich, 2005; Bourdieu, 1985; Portes, 1998; Fukuyama, 2001; Adler and Kwon, 2002; Putnam, 1993). Social objectives: The social enterprise aims to serve society, or a part of society, to some degree. Social entrepreneurs assess opportunities in terms of their possible social impact rather than wealth creation (see Phills et al., 2008; Peredo and McLean, 2006; Dees, 2001). Social value creation: The task of the entrepreneur is “creative destruction” of existing norms in favour of change, which economic theory sees as

Social entrepreneurship and foreign aid in Jordan  63 normal and healthy. Essentially, social entrepreneurs exploit changes as opportunities for social value creation (see Schumpeter, 1947; Wilson, 1955; Barth, 1963; Skoll, 2006; Drucker, 2010).

Methods and operationalization This research first requires identifying social enterprises in Jordan. Ashoka, Innovators for the Public is one of the key organizations that seeks to foster social entrepreneurship globally (Praszkier and Nowak, 2012: 24). Ashoka argues that only social entrepreneurs “are advanced in all . . . dimensions, whereas other leaders (social activists, professional innovators, and socially responsible business people) may excel only in some” (Praszkier and Nowak, 2012: 25); this makes it possible to distinguish social entrepreneurs from other civil society actors. This chapter takes a similar approach to identifying social entrepreneurship, using the criteria established in the entrepreneurship literature review in the previous section. The review established that social entrepreneurship involves innovation, assumption of risk and/or uncertainty, autonomy in leadership and decisionmaking, management and investment of capital, social objectives, and social value creation. In order to identify social entrepreneurs, interviews were conducted with persons or organizations that self-identify as social entrepreneurs or social enterprises as well as with persons or organizations that were identified as possible social entrepreneurs or social enterprises. Persons familiar with social enterprises in Jordan were also interviewed. Through the interviews it was determined whether the persons or organizations in question meet the social entrepreneurship criteria. It is necessary, however, to recognize that the aspects of social entrepreneurship identified in the literature review are rooted in a long tradition of European political and economic thought. It is thus important to remain open to the idea that in an Arab, Islamic, or Middle Eastern social, political, cultural, and economic context, social entrepreneurship may manifest itself differently. So as not to impose an entirely Western framework, the analysis remained open to the ideas of Jordanian social entrepreneurs and considered how they define social entrepreneurship and its functions. This approach allowed for the discovery of what it means to be a social entrepreneur in Jordan, and the role of social entrepreneurship in Jordan’s civil society.

Civil society and social entrepreneurship in the Middle East Jordan is a country with a high degree of social capital (a necessary component for both social entrepreneurship and civil society) due to clientelism, religion, and neo-patrimonialism pervading state and social structures. Neo-patrimonialism refers both to macrostructures (the society, state, and economy) and microstructures (the family and individual). Neo-patrimonial society exhibits facets of modernity externally but remains beholden to clan, tribe, ethnic, and sectarian identity structures, which often determine the dispensation of power and resources

64  Lilian Tauber (Bellin, 2004; Lust, 2009; Posusney, 2004). Civil society organizations supposedly create a buffer between citizen and state (Diamond, 1994; Norton, 1995), but are simultaneously dependent upon the government to allow the political space for them to evolve and develop (Schlumberger, 2006; Wiktorowicz, 2000). In the Middle East, autocratic governments might view rapid expansion of civil society as a threat to their monopoly on power, because a large civil society is understood to be a precursor and necessary component of democratization (Hinnebusch, 2006; Schlumberger, 2000; Schlumberger, 2006). The term “social entrepreneurship” is increasingly becoming a buzzword for development, youth unemployment, and civic responsibility solutions in Jordan and across the Middle East. There has been some debate about whether social entrepreneurship is a part of civil society, which is defined as “the sphere of uncoerced human association between the individual and the state, in which people undertake collective action for normative and substantive purposes, relatively independent of government and the market” (Edwards, 2011: 4). Some scholars have described social entrepreneurship as a growing subsector of civil society or a new generation of civil society actor (Nicholls, 2011). Thus, social entrepreneurship is better understood as a fluid concept, which, precisely because of the adaptability of its functions, is found in diverse realms. Thus, it will be interesting to explore the function of social entrepreneurship in Jordan and whether it is as fluid, diverse, and adaptable there as the literature suggests. The adaptability of social entrepreneurship lends it distinct advantages over other established institutions which are more rigid and raises questions of its role in social and political change in an autocratic country such as Jordan. The academic literature suggests that the ability of social enterprises to restructure and blur familiar organizations makes them more flexible, adaptable, and faster to respond to complex, modern, and increasingly global issues (Nicholls, 2011: 81–88). This distinctive re-assembling of established institutions leads to innovation, which ranges from incremental changes to disruptive interventions (Nicholls, 2011: 84). If this is true in Jordan, it raises questions about the democratization process.

Analysis: advantages of self-sustainability and continuity of social enterprises Jordanian social entrepreneurs were asked about the type of funding model they chose for their enterprises and the rationale for choosing one model over another. In response, social entrepreneurs in Jordan generally agreed that a self-sustainable funding model is best for implementing their goals and to ensure the long-term continuity of their initiatives. In connection to this, but without being prompted, they voiced their opinions and concerns regarding the role of the international donor community and how this affects civil society organizations in Jordan. The entrepreneurs also discussed the various funding models they considered for their enterprise, why they chose the model they are currently applying, and how they feel that their enterprises are better equipped to address Jordan’s social problems because of this choice.

Social entrepreneurship and foreign aid in Jordan  65 As part of their reasoning for choosing to create a social enterprise rather than a non-governmental organization (NGO), for example, social entrepreneurs expressed their frustration with the way they perceived civil society to normally operate in Jordan. Their main criticism with civil society organizations (CSOs) was that they depend on mostly foreign funding and thus on the goals of the international community to operate. Saddam Sayyaleh, founder of the enterprise ILearn, said “civil society is supposed to be the voice of the nation, or the voice of the locals. Now they operate as the donor voice, not the people’s voice” (interview with Saddam Sayyaleh, Amman, 2018). Another social entrepreneur, Sami Hourani, similarly stated that “civil society in Jordan remains project-based, grantdependent, grant-shaped, and the funding comes mainly from foreign aid” (interview with Sami Hourani, Amman, 2018). He added that local funding for CSOs remains limited, and that even local companies’ contributions to civil society through their corporate social responsibility (CSR) programmes are small. Thus, most CSOs must rely on funding from international donors, an arrangement which imposes certain conditions on Jordan’s civil society. Issues of sustainability and continuity One of the main criticisms social entrepreneurs have for the civil society funding model is that they perceive it as unsustainable and lacking in continuity. Social entrepreneurs understood CSOs to be lacking in continuity because they continuously go through the “rat race of raising funds” (interview with Lama Zawawi, Amman, 2018) from one grant application cycle to the next. Only those CSOs that manage to secure funds year after year continue to exist, and those that cannot secure funding shut down. The frequent changing of topics that are driven internationally also jeopardize the continuity of CSO programmes. Ahmad El Zubi, a social entrepreneur, gave this example: one year, we have a hundred campaigns on child abuse, and the next year we have zero campaigns on child abuse because the donor ran out of money, and now they’re doing women’s rights. We have a hundred campaigns on women’s rights now. (interview with Ahmad El Zubi, Amman, 2018) When the goals of the international community change, funding for previous objectives shifts towards the new objectives, thus leaving CSOs with no choice but to amend their programmes to match the new objectives or risk shutting down due to lack of funding. Additionally, Lama Zawawi, a regional social entrepreneurship trainer, reported that in her many years of experience working with various CSOs, she saw that this funding model can cause CSOs to amend or even change not only their programmes but also their core missions just to be able to continue to function (interview with Lama Zawawi, Amman, 2018). Rabee Zureikat was one of the social entrepreneurs who encountered this issue while applying for a large grant from an international organization. During the grant-writing process,

66  Lilian Tauber he felt that he began to change his initial objectives to those favoured by the donor, and ultimately, he decided not to apply for the grant at all. He explains: In the beginning we wanted to get a huge fund. . . . So while working on this, and sending the proposal back and forth, after three, four months, we looked at the proposal, and it was something else. . . . That’s when we said we don’t want [the grant]. Because they started saying, “you know the jury would like something else, so how about we add something about dropouts? This is good, and how about dropout boys connected with sports?” But this is not our project. (interview with Rabee Zureikat, Amman, 2018) Mr Zureikat was in the position to be able to continue his organization’s work without the international grant due to funding from other sources. A CSO relying entirely on grant funding would be in a more difficult situation with less room for a choice like this and might be forced to change its project objectives to more closely match those of the donor. Social entrepreneurs criticized international organizations for the brevity of the projects they fund. Aline Bussmann, a social entrepreneurship project developer working for an international organization, commented that “in general, [international organizations’] thinking is based on project durations” and that they often “don’t have money to develop a ten-year program that [they] know would make more sense than a two-year program” (interview with Aline Bussmann, Amman, 2018). She lamented that there is not enough funding, or not enough funding allocated over long time periods, to be able to develop long-term projects on the ground in Jordan. The resulting short-term projects are known as “hit and run projects,” and one social entrepreneur expressed the following critical view: “[They have JOD] 5000[]2 to do a project, throw it in one community, take a couple of photos, write a report, out. With this regard, what impact did that have on the community? It . . . gave them false impact” (interview with Saddam Sayyaleh, Amman, 2018). Another entrepreneur, Ahmad El Zubi, commented that this is: the way foreign aid money is deployed, and this is not unique to Jordan. . . . You have a specific budget for a specific time, so I wouldn’t entirely say that it’s this party’s fault or that party’s fault. What I would say in general, is that [the donor’s] program design needs to include an element of sustainability. (interview with Ahmad El Zubi, Amman, 2018) This inhibits the ability of CSOs to implement long-term programmes usually necessary to create lasting changes, as they can only rely on short-term funding. Issues of programme content and implementation Another problem that social entrepreneurs described is that international organizations drive the programmes connected to the initiatives they perceive as important

Social entrepreneurship and foreign aid in Jordan  67 in the community. In and of itself, this was not perceived to be a problem, but social entrepreneurs are frustrated that in connection to this, locals’ own expressions of their problems are not addressed. Rabee Zureikat, social entrepreneur and founder of the Zikra Initiative, illustrated this point with an anecdote: For example the problem in Jordan Valley is the flies, but now no one mentions the flies . . . because no organization wanted to fund such projects. So even the community started not seeing it as a problem, or not remembering to mention it. They repeat the problems that most organizations came to tell them are their problems. (interview with Rabee Zureikat, Amman, 2018) Ahmad El Zubi said that the presence of foreign aid has an overall positive effect on Jordan by promoting growth and helping the government address various areas it cannot afford to address or does not have the ability to address. He added, however, “when you look at the effect on civil society, what I am seeing from my humble experience is that there’s this whole group of NGOs that does whatever the donor wants them to do” (interview with Ahmad El Zubi, Amman, 2018). These CSOs are therefore not necessarily representative of the Jordanian people, but rather of the topics that are driven internationally and for which funding is provided at any given time. Further, social entrepreneurs expressed concerns that international organizations are out of touch with the communities in which they work. Saddam Sayyaleh recounted that in his experience working with international organizations, “they lack the perspective of the local community. . . . They’re not listening to what the local community is saying” (interview with Saddam Sayyaleh, Amman, 2018). In a specific example, Mr Sayyaleh described an entrepreneurship training programme hosted by an international organization in Zarqa, a city north-east of Amman. Entrepreneurship training programmes have recently become one of the ways that international organizations aim to increase employment in Jordan, especially among youth. A Canadian organization with a local partner conducted a four-day training on social entrepreneurship in Zarqa. One of the kids who was in it messaged me. . . . Supposedly he should come up with a project and they will pick three out of ten projects to fund, to continue. He called me when he was taking the training, telling me about his idea. He asked me, “Is this social entrepreneurship or not? Is it a business that leads to social responsibility?” I said, “I don’t think so, did you tell the trainers about it?” He was telling me, “I did, and they told me it’s great.” And I knew his idea was not going to work in Jordan. He wanted to create a mobile caravan that sells juices for people with allergies and diabetes. First, in Jordan, we don’t authorize mobilized sellers. So, you will never see a caravan or a car selling tea or coffee or sandwiches. How can you say it’s a good idea, knowing that he can’t be successful? At the end of the training, he pitched the idea. They told him, “Your idea is great,” even

68  Lilian Tauber though the trainers and the funder knew that it’s not feasible. They pushed him to end the training, so they just had him as a number. (interview with Saddam Sayyaleh, Amman, 2018) This example illustrates that the organization running the training was not familiar enough with local laws and regulations in Jordan to accurately assess whether a project developed by a participant has a chance of success, much less offer pertinent advice. Mr Sayyaleh’s example sheds light on an additional issue. The way international organizations appear to measure success is by counting numbers of participants, as illustrated by Rabee Zureikat: For example, if you’re teaching music, a lot of organizations say they want to see a concert at the end. But is really the concert the thing that counts? Don’t you think that the process was also so important for people? . . . [The international donors] don’t care, they want numbers. Fifty youth in front of two thousand people: Bravo! But if [the community] took funds but they couldn’t make a concert, the donors consider it a failure. No. A lot of things happened during the process. (interview with Rabee Zureikat, Amman, 2018) Seeking high participation rates has evidently led international organizations on multiple occasions to offer cash incentives for Jordanians to attend their programmes. Mr. Sayyaleh noted that the organizers of this particular training programme seemed to be more concerned with the number of participants they could report back to their superiors in their impact statement than with the quality and applicability of the training itself. Mr. Sayyaleh later added that his acquaintance had received JOD 20 as payment for participating in the training session. He  reported that he himself had also been paid JOD 40–50 for each training he attended held by the US Agency for International Development (USAID). He expressed concern that many of the other training participants were in attendance primarily because of the financial reward offered, and not because they were interested in the skills or knowledge they could gain. In the same vein, other entrepreneurs expressed frustration at international organizations and their implementing partners paying JOD 20–30 per day to their volunteers, and that this practice has warped Jordanians’ understanding of what community service is. One social entrepreneur said, “if I want [youth] to come to volunteer, they ask me, ‘how much are you paying me?’ And that’s a ripple effect of what the international organizations did. They changed the mentality” (anonymous interview, Amman, 2018). For those social entrepreneurs dedicated to increasing civic activism and involvement in community service, this trend was particularly worrying, not only because they felt that people’s expectations of the rewards of volunteering had changed. They also reported difficulties in recruiting volunteers to help with their initiatives because they cannot afford to pay their volunteers, like international organizations do.

Social entrepreneurship and foreign aid in Jordan  69 Social entrepreneurship funding models Instead of relying on the donor-funded model, social entrepreneurs in Jordan use business-like strategies to ensure their enterprise’s longevity. Both independent and hybrid funding models are popular with social entrepreneurs as they seek to provide an alternative to the foreign-aid-dependent funding model most used by other CSOs, and thereby hope to avoid some of the issues civil society faces in Jordan. The independent model appeared to be the preferred model for social enterprises when fiscally possible. In this model, social enterprises use only their own capital from sales of products, sponsorship from local companies such as telecommunication companies or banks, and members’ direct contributions. They rely on the community’s cooperation and involvement. They often reject foreign funding entirely in favour of being more sustainable and ideologically independent. For Saddam Sayyaleh, the choice to be entirely financially independent was clear, and he explained that he wants his enterprise to act as a role model for other organizations: So far ILearn operates on . . . local sponsorship and funding. I’m trying to prove something. Why can’t we do it by ourselves? Why don’t we get funded by ourselves? Why do we always need a foreign hand to show us how? (interview with Saddam Sayyaleh, Amman, 2018) Similarly, Amir Shihadeh explained that he insists on not receiving grants or other funding from anyone because he is “trying to prove that you can make great change if you really put determination and focus into it” (interview with Amir Shihadeh, Amman, 2018). For Mr Shihadeh, the long-term continuity of his objectives plays an important role in the decision not to accept grants. He stated: I have pure and clear goals and objectives that are constant that I’m focusing on for the next 20 years. I’m not going to be “fake” just so I can satisfy the granter or the donor. This is another reason why I don’t apply to grants. It’s more about continuing the ideas that I started with and staying consistent, rather than going with what is fashionable in grant industry. (interview with Amir Shihadeh, Amman, 2018) Rabee Zureikat said, “our model is to give people hope, that yes, you can work and have an organization that is independent and still exist” (interview with Rabee Zureikat, Amman, 2018). His reasoning for choosing an independent funding model is based on experience. He said that in the early 2000s, many CSOs received USAID funding. When the grants ran out several years later, many of these organizations closed because they were unable to find other sources of funding. Mr Zureikat’s social enterprise is connected to a parallel for-profit consultancy company, and profits from this company help to sustain the enterprise. Lama Zawawi’s organization is an example of a social enterprise

70  Lilian Tauber which changed its funding model from being dependent on donors to being independent. She explained she no longer wanted to go through the cycle of cultivating a relationship with a donor and then having to worry about the money. She said, “for example, [our program funded by] Coke: That grant was such a big grant, it was such a beautiful program. Then at some point they changed their CSR strategy and they decided to stop funding the programme. Now it’s shut” (interview with Lama Zawawi, Amman, 2018). Social entrepreneurs often see choosing the independent funding model as part of their mission to be independent and sustainable and also to serve as a role model for other organizations. The independent model allows them to focus on their mission for as long as they see fit without any external influence and without the threat of being forced to adjust or end programmes. In the hybrid model, social enterprises use their own capital to sustain themselves but apply for and receive foreign funds for specific projects. They use foreign support to run particular programmes but remain inherently ideologically independent and do not rely on foreign funding to exist. This allows them to work with donors and receive grants which reflect their core mission and ideals rather than adapting their projects to fit donors’ objectives. Commenting on the hybrid model as a possibility for funding a social enterprise, Mr Zureikat said that “[foreign funding] is good for a specific project, but not the whole organization” (interview with Rabee Zureikat, Amman, 2018). He strongly believes that the hybrid model can only be successful if the social enterprise’s main funding model is not dependent on foreign funds. Mr Hourani explained the way he adapted the funding model of his social enterprise to be more sustainable using the hybrid model: When we first started Leaders of Tomorrow, we were registered as an NGO and we were heavily aid dependent. The initiatives that were sustained by foreign aid were difficult to keep going. . . . But it’s imperative for any organization or civil society initiative to be independent and sustainable, and to do that it must have its own income. . . . We now have some income generating units. We sell some services. So it is a hybrid model of funding. For example we have the art market. People can buy the art. (interview with Sami Hourani, Amman, 2018) Hazem Zureiqat’s social enterprise also uses the hybrid funding model. Most of the enterprise’s income comes from founding members’ direct contributions, so that the enterprise is self-sustainable. He said, “we’ve made it a point not to get external funding, definitely not for our running costs” (interview with Hazem Zureiqat, Amman, 2018). He explained that he is currently looking for foreign funding sources for one of the enterprise’s initiatives, but that he does not want the enterprise itself to depend on foreign funds. By using the hybrid funding model, social enterprises can use foreign aid to supplement the enterprise’s income and thereby fund specific projects, but at the same time still remain ideologically independent and financially self-sustainable.

Social entrepreneurship and foreign aid in Jordan  71 Why social entrepreneurship? Social entrepreneurs are acutely aware that Jordan and the Middle East face many issues, and the solutions that are provided are mostly given by the government, public institutions, or international donors. As Aline Bussmann, social entrepreneurship project developer for the international organization CEWAS, points out, “the sustainability of those can be questioned often. . . . In all the sectors, I think a lot of localized solutions are still missing” (interview with Aline Bussmann, Amman, 2018). Lama Zawawi agrees, saying that “people are looking for sustainability and they are looking for smart sustainability. How can you do good, but also sustain yourself and not be funder driven?” (interview with Lama Zawawi, Amman, 2018). Social entrepreneurs are trying to provide the localized solutions that Ms Bussmann and Ms Zawawi mention. Sami Hourani defines a social enterprise as “something independent, sustainable, and strategic.” He believes that “social enterprises can go beyond the concepts of grants leading to projects, to a general programmatic approach in which the passion for a particular issue or set of issues is sustainable” (interview with Sami Hourani, Amman, 2018). This issue of self-sustainability, and the ability to ensure continuity of the enterprise’s core mission(s), lies at the core of social entrepreneurs’ choice to create social enterprises rather than another type of civil society organization. In the words of Amir Shihadeh, founder of the social enterprise YARA: I could sum it up by a quote by from Chuck Palahniuk. It says “We all die. The goal isn’t to live forever, it’s to create something that will.” What I wanted to do was create YARA to be my legacy, to continue and enhance humanity even after my departure. . . . You need to create something that continues to grow even after you’re gone. (interview with Amir Shihadeh, Amman, 2018)

Conclusion Social entrepreneurs expressed considerable concerns regarding the way the international donor community operates in Jordan. While they recognized that international aid does help to promote growth and address certain issues the government is unable to deal with, they also felt that in certain regards, civil society organizations’ reliance and dependence on foreign aid funding weakens the overall ability of civil society to engage in solutions to Jordanians’ needs. Social entrepreneurs noted that the involvement of international organizations seemed to change local CSOs’ goals to the goals of the international community with not enough regard for the needs the local community expressed. They also said that CSOs’ reliance on international donors restricts their project implementation to just a few years with limited funding. For these reasons, the founders of social enterprises chose to establish independent financial models for their organizations, which gives them the opportunity to be self-sustainable and not reliant on foreign grants or loans. This further allows

72  Lilian Tauber them to protect the integrity of their mission and projects so that they are not influenced by external actors. Therefore, social enterprises are better positioned to reflect the needs of the communities they serve, and are more able to provide longterm solutions, than other civil society actors. Social enterprises face many of the domestic issues present in Jordan that affect civil society, such as bureaucratic obstacles and occasional harassment by security forces. Adopting more independent funding models is one of the demonstrable ways that social enterprises are more flexible and adaptable than most of their CSO counterparts. This makes them better equipped to work on long-term solutions to community issues because they are not constrained by the various issues that arise from dependence on international funds. Jordan’s social entrepreneurs address diverse issues through their enterprises’ programmes. Additionally, through their adoption of business-like practices, they have provided an alternative to dependence on foreign aid, which they view as one of the systemic issues facing civil society in the country. Social entrepreneurs’ adaptability in this regard allows them to be more directly responsive to the communities they serve, as well as to ensure the continuity of their programmes and the self-sustainability of their enterprises.

Notes 1 This research has been generously supported by the UK Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC). 2 JOD = Jordanian dinar.

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List of interviews quoted Ahmad El Zubi. Naua. Individual Interview, Amman, Jordan. February 2018. Aline Bussmann. CEWAS. Individual Interview, Amman, Jordan. March 2018. Amir Shihadeh. YARA. Individual Interview, Amman, Jordan. February 2018. Hazem Zureiqat. Taqaddam, Maan Nasel. Individual Interview, Amman, Jordan. February 2018. Lama Zawawi. Injaz. Individual Interview, Amman, Jordan. February 2018. Rabee Zureikat. Zikra Initiative. Individual Interview, Amman, Jordan. February 2018. Saddam Sayyaleh. ILearn Jordan. Individual Interview, Amman, Jordan. January 2018. Sami Hourani. Leaders of Tomorrow, For9a. Individual Interview, Amman, Jordan. March 2018.

6

Moroccan civil society after the 2011 constitutional reforms The case of the women’s movement Mohammed Yachoulti

Introduction Muslih (1995) argues that civil society should not be looked at as the exclusive domain of a country or continent, or of a particular type of political system. He maintains that almost all societies have within them civil society formations regardless of their system of government (Muslih, 1995). More elaborately, despite the tendency in mainstream literature to trace its origins to 17th- and 18th-century Europe, the concept of civil society is neither new nor region specific; each culture has its own unique indigenous roots and tradition of civil society (Ibid.). In this regard, the present chapter aims to briefly trace the development of Moroccan civil society before 2011 and to investigate what changed for the women’s movement, as part of vibrant Moroccan civil society groups, in relation to the state after the unprecedented 2011 constitutional reforms. Said differently, has the women’s movement managed to become more efficient in its actions after the new progressive provisions of the 2011 constitution? To achieve this, I look at the development and dynamics of civil society in Morocco. Specifically, I compare civil society activism and its role in Morocco before and after the latest constitutional reforms. This comparative approach looks at the key differences and changes between the two eras with special focus on the women’s movement as a good example of a vibrant Moroccan civil society group. I do this based on the findings of my previous doctorate research on civil society in Morocco (2006–2012) and on following the civil society actors in the post– Moroccan Spring movement on the ground and through media. I rely mainly on the women’s movement’s changing modes of action and cases to demand specific rights in the post-Moroccan Spring movement. This includes cases of mobilizing to promote women’s political representation in the first Islamist-led government, criminalize violence against women, and support Soulaliyyate women. To this effect, the chapter is divided into five sections in addition to an introduction and a conclusion. The chapter starts with providing a background on civil society in Morocco. The purpose is to identify how the concept is understood in the chapter. The second section briefly traces the development of civil society in Morocco with special focus on the liberalization phase (1980s–1990s) as the main fertile era with regard to the development and consolidation of civil society

Moroccan civil society after the 2011 reforms  77 in Morocco. The second section also engages in detecting the different obstacles that have prevented the development of a strong civil society able to counterweight the state in Morocco. The third section summarizes briefly the development of the women’s movement as one of the best examples of vibrant civil society groups in Morocco in the post-protectorate period. The 2011 constitutional reforms as a turning point for Moroccan civil society in general and the women’s movement in particular are discussed in the fourth section to highlight the different provisions of the new constitution, including those that pertain to civil society. The last section sheds light on how women’s movement uses the 2011 constitutional reforms and provisions to hold the government accountable. Before closing the chapter, an analysis is provided to elaborate more on the different conditions and factors that have helped in making women’s movement more efficient in its action in the aftermath of the so-called Arab Spring.

Civil society in Morocco: background Civil society is a constantly debated issue along with democracy, the rule of law, justice, citizenship, human rights, and the free market. It has become a pedestal topic of discourse for scholars, decision makers, and observers. Still, the concept of civil society has remained contentious through ages as different philosophers and theorists have used it to vastly different ends. It is immensely inflected by its national and regional contexts as well as by the academic discipline or theoretical perspective it is spoken within. In this chapter, civil society is used to mean that part of society which organizes itself in a set of networks of political, economic, social, educational, and professional and religious institutions that lobby government for their interests rather than the interests of the state. Political parties are also included, although they straddle civil society and the state if they are represented in parliament or the cabinet (UNDP, 2002). The importance of these groups and organizations lies in their independence from the government and the “ruling class.” Mass media is also included, as it serves as a public sphere or forum to discuss issues that concern the welfare of its citizens. Though defined this way, civil society in this chapter does not encompass groups or associations which campaign for exclusive communication concepts (Kaldor, 1999), nor does it include self-interest private associations like that of criminals, terrorists, or capitals. It is a peaceful society that is not meant to impose its views upon its citizens but to contribute to the development and welfare of its groups. In a word, civil society is an ensemble of constantly changing groups or individuals who have acquired, through their activism, some consciousness and they use it to stimulate resistance to non-democratic regimes. Social movements are also included as they are made of groups and individuals and work to stimulate resistance to the inconveniences of the nondemocratic states. This chapter subscribes to Jeff Goodwin and James Jasper’s (2003) argument that social movements “are the central part of what has been called ‘civil society’ or ‘public sphere’ in which groups and individuals debate their own futures” (p. 5). This is because they are seen as “conscious, concerted

78  Mohammed Yachoulti and sustained efforts by ordinary people to changes some aspect of their society by using extra-institutional means” (p. 3). In this chapter, I argue that a number of actors and activists accessed civil society activism in Morocco to work in the form of interest groups forming movements concerned with issues of human, cultural, women’s rights, and so forth. These groups took the form of formal organizations to validate their legitimacy, capture their beliefs and facilitate their activism. Therefore, civil society organizations and social movement organizations are used interchangeably to describe groups that defend the aforementioned basic rights and work outside the state’s control. Moroccan civil society organizations are numerous and diverse in terms of their agenda, their objectives, and the impact they make in the public sphere. These include basic rights defence associations (including human rights associations, Amazigh associations, and women’s associations); unions (including the Moroccan Labor Union, General Union of Moroccan Workers, and Democratic Labor Confederation of Workers, among others); and state associations, or what are also called government-organized non-governmental organizations (GONGOs, such as Angad el Maghreb Acharqi Association, Dukkala Association, Haoud Assafi Association, and Fez-sais Association). In this chapter, the focus is on the women’s movement organizations/associations as part of the first category. The aim is to investigate what changed this movement, as part of vibrant Moroccan civil society groups, in relation to the state after the unprecedented 2011 constitutional reforms. In other words, has the women’s movement managed to become more efficient in its actions after the new progressive provisions of the 2011 constitution?

Moroccan civil society before the Arab Spring: dynamics and change As already argued, the concept of civil society is neither new nor region specific, but each culture has its own unique indigenous roots and tradition of civil society. In Morocco, the development of civil society could be traced to four main phases: the pre-protectorate era, the protectorate era, and the post-independence era, which is divided into two phases: the oppression phase (1956–1980) and the liberalization phase (1980s–1990s) (see Sater, 2007; Yachoulti, 2012). Each of these phases has its own characteristics and specifics. Importantly, however, the political and economic liberalizations the country has engaged in since the late 1980s and early 1990s remain the most fertile phase in the growth and consolidation of Moroccan civil society. To explain, since the mid-1980s Morocco has started to witness unprecedented growth and diversification of associative life. This growth has come as a result of what follows: first, the Moroccan regime started to recognize the necessity to implement economic and political liberalizations as a way of staying in power. Therefore, it allowed new civil society organizations to be created and expanded the operating space for the existing groups. Said differently, civil society in Morocco is the result of the state’s projects of political liberalization and one of its main features; at the same time, it is one of the main triggers or contributors to

Moroccan civil society after the 2011 reforms  79 this political process. Second, state officials found in civil society a new political language to promote projects of modernization and development and reinforce notions of pluralism and democracy. This new attitude of Moroccan state officials encouraged citizens to join “civil society” activism. Third, the increase of foreign aid from international institutions and organizations such as the National Endowment for Democracy (NED), European Instrument on Democracy and Human Rights (EIDHR), and the US Agency for International Development (USAID) channelled to civil society organizations also encouraged their growth. Fourth, the ongoing growth of unmet needs of individuals contributed to the rise of Moroccan social work. That is, for the lower and lower-middle classes, these needs were socio-economic needs. The state’s disengagement from providing basic needs opened the gates widely to civil society organizations to revive the tradition of corporation and solidarity in the country and try to work out their legitimacy based on the proximity, participation, and adaptation to local needs. Specifically, civil society associations have always worked in basic infrastructure and services (providing drinking water, irrigation networks, and environmental conservation), social services (health, schooling, and adult literacy), and a range of incomegenerating projects (such as female cooperatives for embroidery and weaving, planting of fruit trees, beekeeping, and tourism). As for the upper and middle classes, the needs were mainly cultural, provisional, and political. Finally, the expansion of the educated population has a share in the development of Moroccan civil society. In other words, though lacking in quality in the policy, the mass education the state has followed has nevertheless created high levels of consciousness, expectations and organizational skills. Such attributes have been instrumental in building formal associations. To note, the new urban groups have always drawn the suspicion of the state and the monarch and aroused the interest of political and urban notables. These associations were approached and even used by political parties for electoral and personal advancement (Layachi, 1998: 40). The largest increase in these civic formations was registered in the mid-1980s and 1990s; the number exceeded 40,000 associations. Layachi and Azzdine (1998) reports that many of these associations were, however, highly influenced by political and social environments in which they evolved, a fact which often contributed to their inefficiency as independent aggregators and articulators of grassroots demands. They also often served as top-down relays between the political sphere and society, and many of them were used by the state as an instrument of ideological integration (Ibid.: 40). In addition to these obstacles, there have been a number of obstacles that prevented the development of a strong civil society that could have been able to counterweight the state’s hegemony since the early 1980s to the eve of the socalled Arab Spring. These mainly include the absence of a public sphere, restrictions on freedom of association, and limited autonomy of institutions. Absence of a public sphere: For civil society to grow and develop, “the public sphere must be guaranteed as a realm of freedom from the state and by the state itself” (Bernhard, 1993: 309, cited in Baker, 2002: 99). The concept of public

80  Mohammed Yachoulti sphere refers to the practice of open discussion about matters of common interest. The concept owes much of its academic popularity to Jürgen Habermas and the publication of his pioneering book, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere (1991). In this book, Habermas argues that the public sphere is “made up of private people gathered together as a public and articulating the needs of society with the state” (Habermas, 1991: 176). That said, Habermas’s public sphere is formed when citizens, of any state, are able to enjoy the fundamental freedoms of thought, opinion, and expression. In Morocco, the public space as Habermas envisions it has always been a work in progress (Yachoulti, 2012). Rights and liberties of expression and opinion have been criminalized in many cases (Smith and Loudiy, 2005). Moroccan authorities made opinions, assemblies, and expressions subject to censure and interdiction, namely when the king and members of the royal family were insulted, criticized, or accused of malfeasance publicly. Opinions were also criminalized when the legitimacy of Islam as a state religion with the king as its tutelary head was questioned or undermined and when Morocco’s territoriality was defied (Ibid.). Tight control on freedom of association: Freedom of association “necessitates the non-interference of the state in the formation and in the affairs of association that function within the scope of law.” It also necessitates “the assistance of the state in creating and maintaining an environment that is conductive to the exercise of the right to free association” (Bello, 2003: 1, cited in Marshy, 2005). In 2002, the Moroccan parliament approved a new law on associations (Law No. 75.000, dahir 1.02. 206 of 23 July 2002). This law came as a modification to the law of 1958 and the decree of 1973. Article 5 of this law dictates that every association has to submit a declaration of its constitution to local representatives of the Ministry of the Interior, being usually the Caid (district sheriff), and the founder of the association would receive a dated and stamped receipt right away. The Caid sends a copy of the declaration to the tribunal and issues a definite receipt to the association after a period of two months (60 days). Still, the activities of the association would be considered legal though the association did not receive the receipt after this delay. Added to this, the 2002 law came with many other bureaucratic control measures. For example, founding members of the association had to submit their national identity card and an extract of their criminal record and had to pay fees for the legalization of copies. On the other side, it gave the Caid and his office the right to grant permission for public gatherings, including public gathering of the association. Limited autonomy of institutions: A viable civil society necessitates the existence of autonomous institutions (Kazemi, 2002). That is, no single institution or agency dominates social or political life or should work as the only legible arbiter of norms. In Morocco, under the previous constitution, the king garnered absolute power for the royal family in matters of the state and in the interpretations of what is best for the community (Smith and Loudiy, 2005). For instance, the parliament initiated legislation and the king had to sign on before it became a law. The king also had the capacity to dissolve parliament by decree and call for new elections and propose his own legislation for popular consent by way of referendum. He

Moroccan civil society after the 2011 reforms  81 could declare a state of emergency, rule by decree, and sign and ratify international treaties. Further, the king acted as a referee in national matters and delegated authority to others in the executive, legislative, and judicial branches; he appointed the prime minister and cabinet and presided over meetings of the cabinet and that of the Supreme Judicial Council (Ibid.). All this restricted the proper functioning of institutions. It is worth noticing that the development of civil society organizations in Morocco is shaped by many changes that affected both Moroccan civil society and the state. The political and economic liberalizations the country has engaged in since the late 1980s and early 1990s remain the fertile phase in the growth and consolidation of what may be called Moroccan civil society. It has produced a number of organizations that coalesced in the form of interest groups forming movements concerned with issues of human, cultural, and women’s rights. These groups took the form of formal organizations to validate their legitimacy, capture their beliefs, and facilitate their activism. The best example here is that of the women’s movement.

Vibrant civil society actors in Morocco after the protectorate: the case of the women’s movement The first discussion of women’s issues in the public sphere was recorded in the national press in the 1930s and, interestingly, was largely generated by men (Baker, 1998). Men tried to prove that Morocco would not take steps forward without educating and empowering women. The best example worth mentioning in this regard is Allal El-Fassi – a very famous nationalist figure. In his 1952 book, al-Naqd al-Dhaati [Self-Criticism], El-Fassi called for the education of girls, criticized Moroccan family law, and called for the abolition of polygamy, judicial regulation of repudiation and divorce, and the equivalent of alimony for repudiated women. In addition to El-Fassi, Sadiqi (2003) argues that all the men who first discussed women’s rights in Morocco “were mostly highly educated with legal training and exposure to Western thought” but “their views were more abstract as they formed part of men’s ‘remedies’ to the ‘backwardness’ of Morocco and their plan to produce future good Moroccan citizens” (p. 23). Indeed, the only female voice was that of Malika al-Fassi, coming from one of the most prominent intellectual families of the Fez bourgeoisie (Ibid.). This voice took girls’ education as the first priority for Moroccan women. Malika al-Fassi’s articles at that time aimed “to persuade fathers of the necessity of sending their daughters to school” (Ibid.: 48). Indeed, access to education and schooling meant a new life and an end to the seclusion of her generation of women. From the middle of the 1940s onward, the Moroccan women’s movement started to take shape through the instigation of the state, political parties, and civil society (Sadiqi, 2003). Also, Moroccan women massively joined the armed resistance, taking active militant roles in the fight against colonization; they managed to fulfil important tasks that facilitated men’s fighting. In this regard, Alison Baker (1998) writes that “mission for resistance not only brought them [Moroccan

82  Mohammed Yachoulti women] out of seclusion, but sent them into dangerous situations, travelling long distances by themselves carrying weapons and even setting bombs all the way using their wits to escape” (p. 8). The struggle Moroccan women led at that time had a twofold dimension: they rebelled against colonial occupation and oppression and also against the restrictive attitude of the Moroccan traditional society. However, after independence, Moroccan women discovered that nothing had changed in their society at large and in regard to their issues and status in particular; the women’s question and the women themselves were for the most part relegated to the periphery of the public and private spheres. In simple terms, women found themselves helpless with no power circles willing to speak for them and defend their cause. Actually, different factors arose together during that period to prevent women from participating in public life, especially at the political level. These factors ranged from the high rate of illiteracy, through lack of interest, to the heavy burden of domestic shores. Further, this marginalization was exacerbated by the total absence of women leadership in the political parties and government official institutions, which could have advanced women’s status (Yachoulti, 2015). By the 1960s and 1970s, namely during what is known as the “Years of Lead,”1 the political atmosphere negatively impacted the vibrancy and effectiveness of active civil society groups, including female ones. Authoritarianism and political oppression did not help women to take action except for some state-sponsored groups. Added to this, political parties were very reluctant to deal with gender issues and claims seriously, except when these were part of pushing for a national consensus (Ibid.). Since the late 1980s, the political and economic reforms Morocco has engaged in favoured and encouraged the rise of a number of associational bodies – under the rubric of civil society. These groups seized the opportunity to proliferate, voice their demands publicly, and contribute to enhancing reforms. Because of their conviction that only an autonomous activism would bring changes to their status, women activists seized the new political atmosphere to establish a number of women’s organizations as part of the emerging civil society groups. These organizations coalesced into a new movement pressuring to change many things for Moroccan women. Therefore, the actual Moroccan women’s movement is defined by Laila Chafaai (1993) as “a set of feminine voluntary organizations, whose ideological discourse aims to defend women in a general framework of struggle and implement the laws that enlarge public liberties and guarantee equality between the sexes” (p. 102, author’s translation). This definition shows the following: first, women’s activism in Morocco is practiced through women’s organizations, a fact which makes women’s movement organizations the best label of this brand of feminism. Second, the Moroccan women’s movement fluctuates between a social movement organized and directed by women and a political movement that struggles for the emancipation of Moroccan women. Finally, the precedence of the social characteristic over the political one validates the claim that Moroccan feminists’ activism emerged out of the real social needs of women and not from an alien, Western concept (Yachoulti, 2012).

Moroccan civil society after the 2011 reforms  83 Importantly, because of the specificities of each society and culture, the Moroccan women’s movement is, to a certain extent, different from other feminist movements of the Arab world. Sadiqi (2003) argues that despite the affinities it has with both Middle Eastern feminism and Western feminism, Moroccan feminism remains different from both of them because of its historical and sociocultural backgrounds and contexts. Sadiqi contends that unlike Western feminism, Moroccan feminism did not grow out of a militant feminist movement, and unlike Middle Eastern feminism, Moroccan feminism did not emerge out of nationalism. Generally speaking, women’s activism within their own organizations helped them gain a new presence in society, allowed them greater visibility, and facilitated their entrance into the public sphere. More than this, activism within their own organizations allowed women the chance to achieve a number of gender reforms and many victories in the name of democracy and equality. For example, in 2004 women’s movement organizations managed to help reform the family law known as Moudawana, now considered one of the most advanced family laws in the Arab and Muslim world. The main reforms of the new law included establishing a minimum age of marriage (18 years of age), making men and women equal partners in marriage and household responsibilities; abolishing the requirement of a male legal tutorship in marriage; restricting polygamy; and giving women the right to initiate divorce. However, it is worth mentioning in this regard that the activism of these organizations did not conform to the principles of “a democratic activism” as defined in the democratic theory (Yachoulti, 2016). To put it more succinctly, in the late 1990s, after the failure to implement the national Plan for Integrating Women in Development launched by the government and pursuant to the growth of the Islamists as key actors in the political arena, the leading organizations within the women’s movement bypassed all the democratically elected institutions and addressed the king in person to achieve their agenda of reform. The same story of addressing the king in person repeated itself in 2007 when women’s movement organizations sought the reform of the Nationality Code. During a royal visit to Europe in 2005, the Moroccan king, Mohammed VI, met a delegation of Moroccan women living abroad and married to non-Moroccan citizens. The delegation claimed Moroccan citizenship for their children and pointed to the difficulties their children faced because of some articles in the 1958 Nationality Code. The king promised to find a solution to the problem. In his throne speech on 30 July 2005, King Mohammed VI announced that Moroccan women could pass on their nationality to their children born to non-Moroccan fathers and asked the government to submit him proposals to amend the legislation on citizenship (Yachoulti, 2007). Following the royal decision, both the cabinet and parliament adopted the draft bill to reform the country Nationality Code that was released in the official bulletin on 2 April 2007. The cornerstone of this new code was the amendment to Article Six, which sought to put men and women on equal footing when they are the source of citizenship; it sought to achieve complete equality regardless of whether it is the mother or the father who is the single Moroccan parent.

84  Mohammed Yachoulti

2011 constitutional reforms: a turning point for Moroccan civil society The pro-democracy calls that swept the region inspired a number of young people to take action and initiate campaigns and struggles through the use of the internet. Indeed, multiple Facebook groups were created in different cities like Rabat, Casablanca, Fez, and Marrakesh to mention but a few. The unifying demands and claims of these activists and groups were “freedom, equality, an end to corruption, better living conditions, education, labor rights, Amazigh rights and many others” (Benchemsi, 2012). Despite the attempts of the official national media to discredit the campaign, virtual activism continued to develop through the creation of a number of websites providing information and news about the movement. Also, these local groups decided to meet locally, discuss, prepare, and urge citizens to demonstrate on 20 February. Interestingly, on 18 February, Al Adl wal Ihsan (Justice and Charity)2 published a communiqué stating that its youth section would join the protest throughout the country, a fact which boosted the courage of the activists and proved, once again, that their claims and demands were the demands of all ideologies in Morocco. Actually, various sections helped to launch the 20 February movement. The success of the first protests that swept through all Moroccan cities and villages not only set the ball rolling for subsequent rallies but received an immediate response from the king and resulted in many political reforms. On 9 March 2011, the king announced the creation of the Consultative Commission for the Revision of the Constitution (CCRC) to propose amendments to the constitution. The ultimate aim was to limit the power of the monarchy and strengthen the roles of the prime minister and parliament. In this regard, the reforms aimed to give voice to all actors in the political arena. Dozens of civil society organizations were invited to make recommendations on constitutional reforms and were consulted by the CCRC. On 1 July, the constitutional reforms were subject to a referendum and were followed on 25 November by parliamentary elections, which brought the Justice and Development Party (PJD) to power. Importantly, unlike the previous constitutions, the newly approved one has come with unprecedented reforms. These include that the Amazigh language has become an official state language along with Arabic. The king has the obligation to appoint a prime minister from the party that wins the most seats in the parliamentary elections. Also, the king is no longer “sacred,” but the “integrity of his person” is “inviolable.” The prime minister is the head of government and president of the council of government; he has the power to dissolve parliament. The judiciary system is independent from the legislative and executive branches; the king guarantees this independence. Women are guaranteed “civic and social” equality with men. Previously only “political” equality was guaranteed, though the 1996 constitution grants all citizens equality in terms of rights and before the law. All citizens have freedom of thought, ideas, artistic expression, and creation. In the previous constitution, only free speech and the freedoms of circulation and association were guaranteed (Jefri, 2011).

Moroccan civil society after the 2011 reforms  85 As far as civil society provisions are concerned, the general provisions of Part I of the constitution preamble, Article 12 explicitly states that “The associations of civil society and the non-governmental organizations are constituted and exercise their activities in all freedom, within respect for the Constitution and for the law” (Ibid.). These associations “may not be dissolved or suspended by the public powers except by virtue of a decision of justice” (Ibid.). Within the framework of participative democracy, these associations contribute “in the enactment, the implementation and the evaluation of the decisions and the initiatives [projects] of the elected institutions and of the public powers” (Ibid.). Added to this, “the organization and functioning of the associations and the non-governmental organizations must conform to democratic principles” (Ibid.). Article 13 states that public authorities should create consultation bodies in order to involve the different social actors in the preparation, activation, implementation, and evaluation of public policies. Further, Articles 14 and 15 expand the scope of civil society action to include all citizens and guarantee them the right, in the field of legislation, to present petitions to public authorities under the conditions and clauses prescribed by a subsequent regulatory law. In Part II of the constitution entitled “Fundamental Freedoms and Rights,” Article 27 stresses the right of all citizens to access information held by public administration, elected institutions, and public service agencies. Article 33 creates a Consultative Council of Youth and of Associative Action [Conseil consultative de la jeunesse et de l’action associative], while Article 170 specifies its function as “a consultative instance within the domains of the protection of youth and of the promotion of associative life” (Ibid.). It is also charged to study and to follow the questions [of] interest to these domains and to formulate the proposals on any subject of economic, social, and cultural order [of] direct interest to youth and associative action, as well as the development of the creative energies of youth, and their inducement [incitation] to participation in the national life, in the spirit of responsible citizenship. (Ibid.) In this regard, the government emerging from the 25 November 2011 elections showed its commitment to strengthen the constitutional status of civil society through the creation of a new ministerial sector called the Ministry in Charge of the Relationship with Parliament and Civil Society. Part IX of the constitution, entitled “Regions and Local Governments,” includes Article 139 which stipulates that Regional Councils and other local government entities should develop participatory mechanisms for dialogue and consultation for the sake of facilitating the contributions of citizens and associations in the preparation and tracking of development programmes (Ibid.). The same article reiterates that citizens and associations have the right to make petitions asking the councils to include them in their agenda points falling under their jurisdiction (Ibid.).

86  Mohammed Yachoulti Still, the question that pops up in this regard is the following: given its genuine and unconditional support and participation in the 20 February movement, what are the gains of the Moroccan women’s movement in the aftermath of the Moroccan Spring?

Women’s movement after the 2011 constitutional reforms: toward efficient action As members of Moroccan civil society, Moroccan women’s organizations seized the Arab Spring momentum to put their agenda forth. Actually, they took action both at the local and regional level. At the national level, women’s movement organizations created the “Feminist Spring for Equality and Democracy”3 on 16 March 2011. The aims of the coalition are to establish equality between women and men in civil, political, economic, social, and cultural rights. Immediately after its creation, the coalition drew up a memorandum reflecting women’s movement organizations vision of the new constitution that Moroccan women aspire to in the 21st century (ADFM, 2011). A month later (11 April 2011), given the prominent role of women’s movement organizations as strong political actors in the Moroccan political arena, and in order to give an equal voice to all categories and actors in the making of a new constitution, the coalition was invited by the CCRC to submit its propositions for reform. In general, the Feminist Spring called mainly for the necessity to implement democratic reforms that are based on international human rights norms and conventions and for substantive equality of men and women (ADFM, 2011). Within this context, because it wanted its propositions to be taken seriously by the consultative commission and because it includes most feminist organizations, the Feminist Spring for Equality and Democracy coalition organized marches in Rabat and Casablanca on 1 May 2011, insisting on the principle of parity and the constitutionalization of women’s gains and rights. At the regional level, the Feminist Spring for Equality and Democracy coalition moved beyond borders to seek coalitions at the level of the MENA region. The aim is to unify women of the region against dictatorship, inequality, and marginalization. To this effect, on 11 March 2011 a coalition of women’s movement organizations in the MENA region named “Equality Without Reservation”4 launched a campaign pressuring the government in the region to withdraw the reservations on the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW)5 and the ratification of its optional protocol. Following the same path, the coalition “Equality Without Reservation” invited representatives from civil society, women’s rights organizations, the public sector, international organizations including UN Women, and the diplomatic corps from Egypt, Lebanon, Morocco, Syria, and Tunisia to meet in Rabat in May 2011 for two days. The aims of the meeting were to review regional changes and strategize for the future in the wake of the Arab Spring transitions and look at how to ensure that constitutional reforms clearly protect equality between women and men in both the private and the public spheres, legitimize women’s role in politics and

Moroccan civil society after the 2011 reforms  87 public affairs, and include implementation mechanisms to achieve these effects (Yachoulti, 2015) Accordingly, in addition to crafting a new status within society because of their unconditional and courageous participation in the protests, Moroccan women managed in the aftermath of the Moroccan Spring to secure many constitutional rights and oblige the newly elected government to amend legislation and launch reforms that would contribute more to the advancement of women’s status in society. Besides calling upon five women (Amina Bouayach, Rajae Mekkaoui, Nadia Bernoussi, Amina Messoudi, and Zineb Talbi) to take part in the CCRC to review the constitution and deliver recommendations for democratic reform,6 the newly approved constitution incorporates many significant changes concerning Moroccan women. The section entitled “Fundamental Freedoms and Rights” also includes Article 19, which makes both men and women equal citizens before the law (freedom and equality of all citizens and their participation in the political, economic, cultural, and social spheres). In this regard, the state commits itself to work towards the realization of parity and create an Authority for Equality and the Fight Against All Forms of Discrimination for the purpose of achieving equality between men and women. Article 21 prohibits sexism. Articles 32 and 34 state clearly the rights of women, children, and the disabled (Ibid.). Further down in the constitutional draft/text, we find that Article 59 safeguards these rights and liberties during states of emergency, and Article 175 states that these rights cannot be retracted in future constitutional revisions (Ibid.). At first glance, one would think that these are limited in number, but more scrutiny reveals that the gains not only constitute a significant milestone in the trajectory of gender equality in Morocco but also an unprecedented official framework for Moroccan women to become more efficient in their action and hold the government accountable “to the new constitution and its mechanisms such as the new Authority for Equality.” This appeared immediately after the approval of the new constitution and the election of the new “Islamist government,” namely when it sought to promote women’s political representation in the first Islamist-led government, criminalizing violence against women and supporting Soulaliyyate women. Promoting women’s political representation in the first Islamist-led government Women’s effective agency started immediately after the approval of the 2011 constitution. When the Islamists won elections in Morocco in 2011, a number of feminists expressed their fear that the Islamists would turn back the clock on women’s rights. This fear increased when the new cabinet, headed by Islamists, was nominated. The new cabinet included only one female minister, Ms Bassima Haqaoui, being nominated as Minster of Solidarity, Women, Family and Social Affairs. This has been a surprise for all actors in the political arena: a single female cabinet member is a huge step back for Moroccan women, as the previous cabinet included seven women ministers. Women’s movement groups and activists considered this disproportion as the first tangible infraction of the new constitution, which

88  Mohammed Yachoulti promotes gender equality and equal representation for women. Other feminist activists even went further, accusing the head of the government – Abdelilah Benkirane – of being misogynistic towards female politicians. Despite Benkirane’s attempt to defend the accusations by claiming that “there was no intention to exclude women from this government,” the limited female participation has not eased the angry demonstrations against the new Islamist government. When Benkirane appeared in parliament as the head of government to announce his government agenda for the coming five years, female members of parliament stood up with placards reading “women 1, men 30 is this equitable sharing.” In the meantime, outside parliament there were dozens of women protesting this lack of women’s representation in the cabinet. After his election on 23 September 2012, the new general secretary of the Istiqlal (independence) party – considered the second most powerful component of the four-party governing coalition in Morocco – announced its withdrawal from the Justice and Development Party (PJD)-led cabinet because of (as he claimed) his dissatisfaction with the PJD approach to governance and its inability to adequately deal with Morocco’s pressing social and economic problems. This fact pushed the head of the government to look for new alliances and engage in a cabinet reshuffle. On the other hand, the status quo gave the Moroccan women’s movement a chance to intensify its struggles and pressure for more women’s political representation in the new cabinet. Therefore, the movement went on publishing articles, blogs, and organizing seminars asking the prime minister to activate and implement the provisions of the new constitution, namely Article 19 which calls for equality. As a response to Moroccan women’s angry voices, Benkirane spoke on Tuesday, 1 October 2013 at a seminar in Rabat on women’s political participation. He declared that his new cabinet would be announced officially on the Friday before the opening of the autumn session of the Moroccan parliament and pledged to increase women’s representation in the new coalition government. Mr Benkirane continued his speech by defending himself against all the accusations and assuring the participants that his government is “not against the principle of parity and equality between men and women, as a constitutional right,” but he insisted that his government has “since its inauguration, appointed 38 women in senior positions at the state level out of 300 positions.” Benkirane’s promise was translated in the 2013 government’s mini-reshuffle when he announced the inclusion of five other women in his cabinet. Criminalizing violence against women The second example in which the women’s movement took efficient actions and used the provisions of the new constitution to hold the government accountable is the issue of violence. Indeed, the absence of laws that address gender violence, including domestic violence and rape in Morocco, pushed women’s rights organizations to organize a series of protests and events called the “Spring of Dignity,” after the Amina Filali case. Amina Filali, a 16-year-old rape victim, committed

Moroccan civil society after the 2011 reforms  89 suicide in 2012 after being forced to marry her rapist.7 The incident was seized upon by women activists not only to highlight the lack of laws that protect victims of sexual assault and gender violence but also to remind the decision makers and the Moroccan public at large of the failure of the law to uphold the Moudawana. Moroccan women’s organizations including L’Union de l’Action Féminine (Union of Feminine Action, UAF) and L’Association Démocratique des Femmes du Maroc (Democratic Association of Moroccan Women, ADFM) supported the call for an end to violence against women and for legislation that would protect women who were assaulted and prosecute the men who assaulted them. Women’s movement protests that included organized demonstrations, sit-ins, television, radio and social media campaigns, and press conferences served to educate and raise citizens’ social awareness of gender violence and lobby for legal reforms. The international network “Equality Now”8 joined the coalition of Spring of Dignity in calling for the government of Morocco to amend the Penal Code to safeguard women’s rights. On 8 December 2012 they organized a human chain that started at the headquarters of the Ministry of Justice in Rabat and ended at the seat of the House of Representatives. Further, in March 2014, after seeing that the Islamist-led government was doing little to enforce the new legislation or take seriously the 2011 constitution that guarantees Moroccan women equality with Moroccan men, a Civil Coalition for the Application of Article 19 was formed and it was reported that about 500 organizations joined the coalition. Article 19 of the constitution states that “men and women have equal civil, political, economic, social, cultural and environmental rights and freedoms” (Jefri, 2011) and “the state shall work towards the establishment of parity between men and women” (Ibid.), but it hasn’t been fully implemented by the Islamist-led government. On 13 April 2014, about 800 women marched from the centre of Rabat to the parliament building to demand that the government undergo a “comprehensive review of all discriminatory laws,” “women’s safety in public places,” and “equality as a right, not a privilege” (Middle East Online (MEO), 13 April 2014). In addition, the movement published “dozens of articles in newspapers, blogs, forums, and pages such as Webzine, which detailed feminists’ outrage at the government’s silence. The case went international and a Twitter account was opened on 17 March dedicated to Amina’s memory (@RipAmina)” (Sadiqi, 2015). Further, “a petition on the international activism site Avaaz gathered more than 50,000 signatures” (Ibid.). As a result, “the government finally acknowledged the rape of Amina and Article 475 was amended to the effect that a rapist can no longer escape punishment by marrying his victim and faces a 30-year term of imprisonment” (Ibid.). Interestingly, the activism led by women’s groups to push the government to apply the provisions of the constitution and to stop violence against women has brought some young, new women into the movement (Ibid.). Supporting Soulaliyyate women Another efficient action of the women’s movement is its unconditional support to Soulaliyyate women. The term Soulaliyyate “refers to ‘tribal’ women, from both

90  Mohammed Yachoulti Arabic and Tamazight speaking collectivities that are demanding an equal share compared to men, when their land is privatized or divided” (Salime, 2016: 35). In Morocco, the land system is divided into five categories. These include melk, or titled land (privately owned); Habous, or religious land endowments (which can be leased but not sold); Guich land (granted to members of the military by the monarchy); state-owned land; and soulaliyyate or jema’a (collective tribal land held in trust by the state). This last type, which is categorized as al-aradi alsulaliyya, points to a dominant mode of land tenure in which members of an “ethnic” collectivity hold communal rights on the land they inhabit and/or exploit. According to Zakia Salime (2016), “although communal land could in the past neither be seized nor sold, it could be transferred from fathers to sons over the age of sixteen” (p. 35). She argues that According to hegemonic understanding of ‘urf’ (customary law), women can only benefit through male relatives. Unmarried women, widows, divorcees – and those with no sons – often face expropriation and become destitute. Many end up living in slums surrounding their communal land. (Ibid.) Soulaliyyates’ fight against exclusion, injustice, and discrimination started in the mid-2000s when Rkia Bellot – a Soulaliyyate from Kenitra – was passed over for land use rights. Her eight brothers exempted her from inheritance, claiming that women don’t inherit land in urf (tribal) law. Rkia felt exclusion and injustice and, therefore, started a struggle on her own to change tribal laws and win compensation for Soulaliyyate women. The ADFM adopted Bellot’s cause in 2007 and later included other Soulaliyyates from Kenitra. ADFM began its journey of helping these Soulaliyyates by training them in civic leadership and public speaking. Also, being aware of the illiteracy and deteriorating conditions of these Soulaliyyates and in order to encourage them to participate in sit-ins and demonstrations in front of parliament in Rabat, ADFM helped them financially by covering the cost of their transportation. Further, as the Soulaliyyate land problem is a national one and restricted to women in Kenitra, ADFM expanded its efforts to include Soulaliyyate women from all areas of Morocco. It also launched a petition for a nationwide law to guarantee that Soulaliyyate women have inheritance rights to communal land. The law would allow Soulaliyyate women who live on communal lands to have equal access to communal property, to farm the land or use it for private means, and to receive fair compensation when communal lands are sold. Interestingly, despite its unconditional support to these women, ADFM strategically and intentionally avoided speaking and doing all the work for these women. For this reason, in each village ADFM has identified one Soulaliyyate woman to act as a liaison between the ADFM and local Soulaliyyate women, and left most of the organizing to the local leader. To further enhance its advocacy strategy to support the claims of Soulaliyyate women, ADFM campaigns and national seminars in many areas of Morocco have

Moroccan civil society after the 2011 reforms  91 partnered with other civil society groups to make all parts of Moroccan society aware of and sensitive to the problem of Soulaliyyate women. Faced with women’s movement persistent and growing mobilization, the Ministry of the Interior issued a third circular in March 2012 (the first was in 2009 and the second was in 2010) ordering local administrations and tribal leaders to recognize the right of Soulaliyyates to their share of money when communal land is sold. This decision is the culmination of many steps and actions with relevant officials; it also repairs the sense of injustice felt by thousands of women who have tirelessly condemned the archaic law that deprived them of their lands. Zakia Salime (2016) argues that although “these circulars are not to be taken for laws, they still gave the Soulaliyyates enough leverage for their demands” (p. 38). Like Amina Filali’s case, Soulaliyyate women gained international support and recognition. On a recent visit to Morocco, Michelle Bachelet, the executive director of UN Women, delivered a special address to the Soulaliyyate women. She said, “you, the Soulaliyates, succeeded in mobilizing the media and public opinion against the violation of your rights. I congratulate you for obtaining official recognition of women’s rights” (cited in Global Post, 18 July 2012).

Analysis and discussion Because of the positive changes that affected their status (improvements in healthcare, more access to education than before, growing participation in the labour force and politics, and frequent interaction with the West), Moroccan women are playing an enormous role in shaping the politics of their society. Strong evidence from both the past and present suggest that women activists are making important inroads in pushing for more rights and representation in positions of decisionmaking. Indeed, their present status or position is the outcome of a well-defined and organized agenda polished by an accumulated experience over years of activism in political parties and social work and the significant assistance of foreign actors. Now, given the fact that Arab Spring is turning into an Arab Autumn, the women’s movement and women’s activists mobilized again to put gender equality issues in the spotlight. In fact, the experience of participating in the 20 February movement’s protests taught them that only public protests and demonstrations can bring change and make a difference in their lives. They also, along with all other actors and activists, came to the conclusion that protests are a very important part of modern and democratic life in Morocco. On the other hand, this change in modes of activism can be attributed to the desire of women’s movement organizations to correct the undemocratic way the Moudawana and the Nationality Code were reformed (Yachoulti, 2016). In other words, victories of women’s movement in the name of democracy promotion before the Arab Spring have always been in their content but a reinforcement of the existing system of government. So to speak, women’s movement organizations’ direct resort to the king seeking his personal intervention to achieve their agenda of reform made them violate the norms of a democratic activism, a fact that has had dramatic repercussions on both

92  Mohammed Yachoulti women themselves in particular and the democratic practice in Morocco in general. Indeed, women activists within women’s movement organizations confirm that the new provisions of the Moudawana are not widely implemented and are largely ignored within the judicial system. This is mainly due to the fact that they are top-down reforms. More than this, the fact of addressing the king in person opened the door to other components of society to follow the same trajectory when claiming their rights or expressing their grievances. Nowadays, social media is full of videos in which ordinary citizens address the king in person, claiming injustice or specific grievances. For them, the king is the only decision maker that could end their sufferings. In addition to the momentum provided by the Arab Spring, the increasing use of social media such as email, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, texting, and blogs as well as street advertisements facilitated communication and thus helped largely the Moroccan feminist movement in successful networking, manoeuvring, and continuous lobbying (Sadiqi, 2015). That said, internet-based tools allowed a quick and relatively unregulated and easy sharing of information and destroyed the frontiers between intellectual and activist spaces. This change in its turn helped to galvanize popular participation and create the conditions for meaningful change (Ibid.). Therefore, it is worth arguing that the context of the Arab Spring and its aftermath in Morocco have not only offered a fertile ground for structural changes but also contributed to revolutionizing modes of action and networking. Indeed, these changes have echoed recently in the debate sparked by the women’s movement on inheritance laws, mainly on inheritance practices such as ta’asib (residues). Ta’asib gives the rights to the men closest to the family of the deceased or distant relatives, even those never known to have any links with the family, to share the inheritance with female orphans who do not have a brother. Seen as a form of social injustice and women’s oppression and a way of stripping women of their financial independence, the women’s movement launched a lobbying campaign to end the ta’asib practice and seek broader gender equality in inheritance. Members of the movement along with other activists created a petition on the grassroots action site Avaaz.org in March 2018 to raise the discussion and urge the government to address this issue. This new struggle of the women’s movement shows its efficiency in perpetuating women’s issues at the forefront of political discourse, desacralizing issues that have remained taboo for decades and staying faithful to the loud calls for wide-ranging social and political reform brought on by the spirit of the Arab Spring in 2011.

Conclusion Following the changing modes of action of the Moroccan women’s movement in relation to the state in the post–Moroccan Spring movement shows a development towards more maturity and efficiency in its activism to ask for specific rights. Moroccan women’s movement organizations have seized the prodemocracy calls that swept over the MENA region in general and Morocco in particular not only to achieve gains but also to forge a new political identity.

Moroccan civil society after the 2011 reforms  93 Previously, to defend women’s causes and achieve gender reforms, women’s movement organizations opted for the shortest ways by directly addressing the king in person – a fact which had repercussions on women themselves and on civil society activism in Morocco. In 2011, efficient actions and strategies of activism by the women’s movement has gained them a new image in their society and allowed them to impose themselves as undeniable political actors in the Moroccan political sphere. I believe that this genuine shift in the modes of activism is necessary for future action.

Notes 1 The Years of Lead is the term used by opponents to the rule of the former King Hassan II to describe a period of his rule (from the 1960s to the beginning of the 1980s). This period of Moroccan history was marked by state violence against dissidents and democracy activists. 2 Adl wal Ihsan (Justice and Charity Group) is the biggest and best-organized Islamist group in Morocco. It is active mostly in universities and in helping the poor, but it is banned from politics due mostly to what is seen as its hostile rhetoric towards the monarchy. 3 It is a coalition composed of many feminist organizations in Morocco. It was created on Wednesday, 16 March 2011 in Rabat. 4 It is a regional coalition of 600 Arab women’s rights and human rights organizations belonging to several Arab states. It was created in 2006 and calls for the removal of all reservations to CEDAW and the ratification of the Optional Protocol. The coalition is coordinated by ADFM. 5 CEDAW is the international bill of rights for women adopted by the UN General Assembly in 1979. It mainly consists of a preamble and 30 articles; it defines what constitutes discrimination against women and sets up an agenda for national action to end such discrimination. 6 Amina Bouayach is the president of the Moroccan Human Rights Organization (OMDH) and the vice president of the International Federation for Human Rights (FIDH). Rajae Mekkaoui is a law professor at the Faculty of Rabat-Agdal, a member of the Higher Council of Ulema, and a legal expert and consultant to several national and international organizations. Nadia Bernoussi is a professor of constitutional law at the Law Faculty of Rabat and at the National School of Administration (ENA). She is also vice president of the International Association of Constitutional Law, an international consultant, and a former Special Advisor to the Director General of UNESCO. Amina Messoudi is a professor of constitutional law at the Faculty of Law of Rabat-Agdal and a member of the CDMA (Moroccan Association of Constitutional Law) and Iberian and Moroccan-EuroMediterranean scientific networks. Zineb Talbi is a magistrate and a special assistant to the General Secretariat of Government and a former member of the Advisory Commission for review of the Moudawana. 7 Indeed, the controversial Article 475 of the Moroccan penal code states that a man who rapes a minor can escape punishment for rape if he marries the victim. This clause is usually interpreted as a way to compromise between the victim and the perpetrator to enable the victims “corrupted” by rape to avoid public shame and ostracism. 8 Equality Now is an international human rights organization founded in 1992. It works to protect and promote the rights of women and girls around the world in the areas of discrimination in law, female genital mutilation (FGM), and sexual violence and trafficking, with a cross-cutting focus on adolescent girls. It encompasses groups and individuals in almost every country in the world. For more information, see http://annualreport2013. equalitynow.org/year-in-review/approach/.

94  Mohammed Yachoulti

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Moroccan civil society after the 2011 reforms  95 Henry, C. M. (1970) Politics in North Africa: Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia. Boston, MA: Little, Brown and Co. Ibrahim, S. E. (1995a) ‘Civil Society and Prospects for Democratization in the Arab World’. In Norton, A. R. (ed.), Civil Society in the Middle East, Vol. I. Leiden: E. J. Brill, pp. 27–54. Ibrahim, S. E. (1995b) ‘Liberalization and democratization in the Arab world: An overview’. In Brynen, R., Korany, B., and Noble, P. (eds.), Political Liberalization and Democratization in the Arab World: Theoretical Perspective, Vol. I. London: Lynne Reinner, pp. 29–57. Jefri, J. R. (2011) Draft Text of the Constitution Adopted at the Referendum of 1 July 2011. Online World Constitutions Illustrated Library. Available at: www.ancl-radc.org.za/sites/ default/files/morocco_eng.pdf [Accessed 10 August 2013]. Kaldor, M. (1999) ‘Transnational civil society’. In Dunne, T., and Wheeler, N. J. (eds.), Human Rights in Global Politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 195–213. Kamal Sayyid, M. (1995a) ‘A civil society in Egypt’. In Norton, A. R. (ed.), Civil Society in the Middle East, Vol. I. Leiden: E. J. Brill, pp. 269–294. Kamel Sayyid, M. (1995b) ‘The concept of civil society and the Arab world’. In Korany, B., Brynen, R., and Noble, P. (eds.), Political Liberalization and Democratization in the Arab World: Comparative Experience, Vol. I. London: Lynne Reinner, pp. 131–147. Kazemi, F. (2002) ‘Perspectives on Islam and civil society’. In Hashimi, S. (ed.), Islamic Political Ethics: Civil Society, Pluralism and Conflict. Princeton & Oxford: Princeton University Press. Layachi, A. (1998) State, Society and Democracy in Morocco: The Limits of Associative Life. Washington, DC: The Center for Contemporary Arab Studies and Georgetown University. Marshy, M. (2005) ‘Freedom of speech with regard to political parties and civil society’. The Middle East, North Africa, and the Gulf: A Literature Review [online]. Available at: http://web.idrc.ca/uploads/user-S/12018943281Pub_Mona_Marshy_doc.pdf [Accessed 10 August 2008]. Middle East Online (MEO) (13 April 2013) ‘Morocco women take fight for gender equality to Rabat streets’ [online]. Available at: https://middle-east-online.com/en/moroccowomen-take-fight-gender-equality-rabat-streets [Accessed 9 March 2019]. Muslih, M. (1995) ‘The Palestinian civil society’. In Norton, A. R. (ed.), Civil Society in the Middle East, Vol. I. Leiden: E. J. Brill, pp. 243–268. Norton, A. R. (1995) ‘Introduction’. In Norton, A. R. (ed.), Civil Society in the Middle East, Vol. I. Leiden: E. J. Brill, pp. 1–26. Norton, A. R. (1996) ‘Introduction’. In Norton, A. R. (ed.), Civil Society in the Middle East, Vol. II. Leiden: E. J. Brill, pp. 1–16. Pennell, C. R. (2000) Morocco Since 1830: A History. London: Hurst. Sadiqi, F. (2003) Women: Gender and Language in Morocco. Leiden: Brill. Sadiqi, F. (2015) ‘Women’s organizing in Morocco in light of a PostArab spring moment and an Islamist government’. In Zaatari, Z., and Joseph, S. (eds.), Encyclopedia of Women and Islamic Cultures. Supplement XI. Political-Social Movements: Community Based. Leiden: Brill Academic Publishers. Sadiqi, F. (2016) ‘Political-social movements: Community based Morocco’. Encyclopedia of Women and Islamic Cultures [online]. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1163/18725309_ewic_COM_002025 [Accessed 13 August 2016]. Salime, Z. (2016) ‘Women and the right to land in Morocco: The Sulaliyyates movement’. Women and Gender in Middle East Politics. POMEPS STUDIES, 19 [online]. Available at: https://pomeps.org/wpcontent/uploads/2016/05/POMEPS_Studies_19_Gender_Web. pdf [Accessed 1 June 2017].

96  Mohammed Yachoulti Sater, J. N. (2007) Civil Society and Political Change in Morocco. London: Routledge. Smith, A. R., and Loudiy, F. (2005, August) ‘Testing the red lines: On the liberalization of speech in Morocco’. Human Rights Quarterly, 27(3), 1069–1119. Stewart, Ch. F. (1967) The Economy of Morocco: 1912–1962. Harvard Middle Eastern Monographs XII. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. UNDP. (2002) Arab Human Development Report 2002: Creating Opportunities for Future Generations. New York: United Nation Publications. Yachoulti, M. (2007) Women and the Moroccan State: The Struggle Over the Issue of Citizenship. A paper presented in Politics and Gender: On Citizenship, Representation and Reform, a panel for the German Congress of Oriental Studies, Freiburg im Breisgau, Germany, 24–28 September. Yachoulti, M. (2012) Civil Society, Women’s Movement and the Moroccan State: Addressing the Specificities and Assessing the Roles. A published Doctoral Dissertation. Saarbrücken: LAP Lambert Academic. Yachoulti, M. (2015, December) ‘The feminist movement in the Moroccan Spring: Roles, specificity and gains’. Sociology Study, 5(12), 895–910 [online]. https://doi.org/ 10.17265/2159-5526/2015.12.001. Available at: www.davidpublisher.org/Public/ uploads/Contribute/573146c6be542.pdf Yachoulti, M. (2016) ‘Women of February 20th movement in Morocco: A new feminist consciousness’. In Sadiqi, F., Ennaji, M., and Vintges, K. (eds.), Moroccan Feminisms, New Perspectives. Trenton: Africa World Press.

7

Unions and civil society organizations in the struggle for political emancipation in Niger Gado Alzouma

Introduction Along with the military, unions1 (like the USTN)2 have played the most important role in shaping the political landscape of the Republic of Niger3. Indeed, it can even be said that unions (and some civil society organizations like the MPCR4 and Alternative Espace Citoyens5 today) have always been the only significant counterpower in Niger. Not only did they play a decisive role in the advent of democracy in 1991, they also have been at the forefront of all the struggles against the different attempts to restore authoritarian rule in the country. For example, the USTN and the USN6 were the first organizations, in 1991, to have publicly claimed the establishment of democracy in Niger, while the MPCR and Alternative Espace Citoyens are currently the two main civil society organizations opposing authoritarian regime in Niger. As noted by various authors (Gazibo, 1998; Charlick, 2007), while an active and influential political opposition has existed in Niger for a long time (at least since the end of the 1950s), that opposition has never succeeded in fostering its claims or score any important victories without the tacit or implicit adhesion of the unions and civil society actors. Thus, whenever the opposition was weakened by repression and various forms of co-optation, unions and civil society organizations like the USTN, the USN, the MPCR, and Alternative Espace Citoyens took over and brought to light the people’s aspirations through mass protests and street demonstrations, proving every time to be both politically more powerful than the opposition parties were and less vulnerable to repression than any organized body in the country. That is why it is important to recall the history of Niger’s unions and their role in promoting civil society, as doing so shows how Niger’s non-static organizations and associations built up, grew, diversified, and consolidated over time, and thus forged their personality through relentless resistance to total state control. In this perspective, the chapter seeks to address the following questions. What is the role that unions played in the political emancipation of Niger? In what way did the colonial context shape the organizational structures and political claims of the unionist and associative movement in Niger’s history? In what way did unions contribute to the formation of the political elite in Niger? What were the factors that contributed to the slow and progressive weakening of unions’ role in the fight against political oppression over time? How can we explain the resilience of the

98  Gado Alzouma student union, the Union des Scolaires Nigériens? What are the main civil society organizations today, and how are they taking over the struggle for democracy and human rights? Those authors who tried to answer those questions in previous studies all praised the advent of a “public space” (Gazibo, 2007) and the role of civil society in the electoral processes. While some studies have focused on the active and organizational aspects of unions in the context of democratic struggles (Adji, 2000; Azizou, 2010), others (Elischer, 2013) sought to show the new challenges they confronted because of the current reconfiguration of the civil society. However, in the overwhelming majority of studies, the focus so far has been on what happened between the end of the 1980s and after 1990. Thus, the period before the democratization era is understudied, and we still lack a full history of the Nigerien unions and civil society in the long run. More importantly, while most authors clearly have addressed, in some way or another, the political consequences of the unions’ struggle, they did not always fully explain why political demands prevailed over economic demands and how the political context actually shaped the struggles of the unions in Niger. This chapter, therefore, answers those questions by retracing the history of Niger’s civil society and particularly the history of its unions. It shows that the struggles of the unions (as part of the civil society struggles) in Niger have never been separate from the political struggles and that the political context, both under colonization and after independence, heavily shaped and oriented the organized labour protest movements. It also shows how the various components of the civil society, particularly the unions, played the role of leading forces at various periods of the history of Niger. Thus, while labour unions played the most important role in the fight for political emancipation during the colonial period and in the 1990s, the student union (USN) proved more resilient during the dictatorial periods between 1960 and 1990. Thus, from 1990 onward, a new breed of civil society organizations has emerged that is now taking over from both unions and political opposition parties.

Historical background Niger is located in West Africa and is home to 22 million people. Niger is regularly ranked by reports of the United Nations as last in the world based on the Human Development Index (see the UN Development Programme, Human Development Report, 2016). The Nigerien territory was conquered by France between 1897 and 1900 and transformed into a colony. At the end of the Second World War, the resulting weakening of the colonial powers and the consequent rise of nationalism and the struggle for political independence had important consequences in Niger, just as they did in all the territories then under French domination. The new elites from the colonial system fought for the emancipation of their country. As a result, Niger first achieved the status of a republic in 1958 and gained independence in 1960. After independence, Niger’s political life was essentially characterized by chronic instability in between several coups d’état. Of the nine presidents who ran the country between 1960 and 2018, six were military or former military. But coups in Niger are in fact only one of the manifestations of a deeper political

Political emancipation in Niger  99 instability. Over the last decades, the country has also experienced four rebellions (Deycard, 2011) and relentless student and worker strikes. These have sometimes led to very long work stoppages by public service workers. The unionization of Nigerien workers Three important factors must be highlighted to explain the birth of the Nigerien civil society and particularly Nigerien unions. First, the process of unionization of the emerging occupational groups was accompanied by their politicization. Due to the country’s low level of industrialization and the absence of a large wage sector, political demands tended to take precedence over economic demands, especially during the colonial period and the early 1990s. As noted by Maïnassara (1989), Fluchard (1997), and Fall (2006), the unionization of workers in Frenchspeaking Africa and Niger in particular was initiated with the help and active solidarity of the metropolitan trade union organizations, which then had a decisive influence on the “political” and the social orientation of any future union activities. Thus, from the outset, the Nigerien trade union movement, like similar movements in the rest of Francophone Africa, was an integral part of a transnational civil society whose support was decisive for its very survival and development. The trade union movement was also the result of the transformations that affected African societies with the introduction of the colonial economic system. Thus, the forced integration of African societies into the capitalist system resulted in a number of social transformations, the main aspects of which were creation of a market for colonial industrial goods and the birth of new social classes (or new social groups), such as those colonial workers who represented a new labour force. Some of those who made up this new labour force were the workers who were building the major infrastructural facilities, such as roads, bridges, railways, and administrative buildings in the colonial territories (see Fall, 2006). These were workers cut off from their indigenous communities and domestic production and regrouped as a multi-ethnic workforce whose situation and common interests largely transcended community interests, thereby creating the early premises of a class consciousness. Until the suppression of the forced labour policy, this first group of workers had a semi-slavery status and experienced brutal treatment (see Fall, 1993). They were the “rural” workforce of the colonial administration. In contrast, in the cities and towns the workforce essentially comprised both illiterate and literate workers. According to Maïnassara (1976, 1989), the bulk of the illiterate workers were “boys” (domestic servants or factotums), cooks, water carriers, port workers, wood and construction workers, and so forth. The literate workers were mostly clerks, teachers, nurses, veterinary nurses, and private enterprise workers. Along with the indigenous workers, the local French population was another component of the workforce which, contrary to the two first groups, had the right since 1920 to organize into unions, including in the colonial territories. According to Djibo (2003), between 1920 and 1940, at least 20 associations and amicales were created in Niger by the local French population and workers from elsewhere in Africa.

100  Gado Alzouma However, as in other French colonial territories, the first truly “Nigerien” union only appeared in 1937 under the form of an amicale (once again), which in French is defined as a grouping of people from the same profession. In this case, it was the association of Niger’s teachers,7 mostly composed of non-indigenous Nigeriens, and later in 1944–1945 the amicale of the civil servants of Niger.8 It is important to note here that it was also in 1937 that a new decree granted African workers the right to create unions under the very strict condition of having “French citizenship” and that workers concerned must know how to write and read (see Fall, 2006). This restriction was, of course, an attempt to undermine the solidarity between workers and isolate the vast majority of them from the elite group of political activists. In the case of Niger, the task was easy for the colonial administration because of the very small number of indigenous Nigeriens who were schooled. As noted by Djibo (2003), even in 1960, the year of independence, only 4% of Nigerien children were going to school, including the children of the local French population and the children of the foreign population, who were a good part of this percentage. Therefore, the law had no significant impact as far as unionization was concerned; this was contrary to what happened in many other French colonial territories. Apart from the low level of modern, Western-style education, the country was also characterized by the existence of a very small number of indigenous Nigeriens who were also permanent salaried workers. Even in 1959 at the dawn of independence and after 60 years of colonization, salaried workers totalled only 3,021 out of a population of 2.6 million (see Djibo, 2003). However, even before 1937 the small number of associations and amicales that comprised local French citizens set the tone for further organizations of indigenous Nigerien unions. Actually, the local French population was politically heterogeneous and notably included both Communist workers and unionized civil servants in its colonial administration as well as other workers who were affiliated with the major metropolitan French unions, among which was the General Confederation of Labour (CGT),9 France’s largest left-leaning union. Most of the other French unions had local branches everywhere in Africa. Also, this was a time when the French Communist Party (PCF)10 and other French leftist parties, such as the SFIO11 (French Section of the Workers’ International), were some of the most important political organizations in metropolitan France. Many of the members of these parties were also engaged in promoting social and political emancipation in French colonies. Although the Second World War contributed to delaying the outcome of these efforts, in 1944 the French colonial conference of Brazzaville paved the way for the development of indigenous unions and political parties by granting the right to organize to indigenous Africans in the French colonies. More importantly, a decree dated August 1944 lifted all the restrictions related to literacy or French citizenship (see Fall, 2006). Thus, with the help and the influence of the French leftist parties and unions, between 1944 and 1955 Niger local branches of French unions were created. As noted by Maïnassara (1976, 1989) and Kado (2016), these were also “confederations” or “federations” of the local smaller Nigerien unions, namely, the General

Political emancipation in Niger  101 Confederation of Labour/Workers’ Force (CGT/FO),12 created in 1947; the Autonomous United Unions of Niger (UASN),13 also created in 1947; the local branch of the French Confederation of Christian Workers (CFTC),14 created in 1954; and the United Confederated Unions of Niger (USCN/CGT),15 created in 1952. The composition of these unions was heterogeneous, and many of their affiliated workers and leaders were not “indigenous” Nigerien workers but rather workers from other French West African colonial territories. These were groupings of smaller unions, which in the 1950s were usually made up of but a few dozen members. For example, the UASN comprised five smaller unions, including the Unique Teachers’ Union (SUE),16 with 70 members; the Union of Nurses and Health Services employees,17 with 200 members; and the Union of Veterinary Nurses,18 with 50 members (see Kado, 2016). This weak indigenous unionization can largely be explained by the country’s economic situation at the time. Even during the colonial period, when compared to all the other French West Africa (AOF)19 countries, Niger was one of the most deprived territories and had the least educated population, and it was characterized by the almost total absence of any modern industry. This situation did not favour the emergence of a strong salaried workforce in the industrial sector. For example, the USCN/CGT20 consisted of a heterogeneous group of unions composed of “boys” (housekeepers or factotums), cooks, timber, building and metal workers, and trade and commerce workers from private companies (see Maïnassara, 1976, 1989). It should also be noted that despite the low level of schooling and the small number of individuals who were capable of reading and writing, the mass media played an important role in unionization awareness and the political awareness of the first Nigerien activists. Although the first local radio station was created in 1959, there was a radio station operating from Dakar, the capital of French West Africa, that had existed since 1939 and was broadcasting to the entire French West African colonial territories (Iboudo, n.d.). As for the French press, it was circulating mainly within the small local French population, but then in 1933 a number of colonial officials created a local newspaper called Cahiers Nigériens (The Nigerien Notebooks) (see Programme des Nations Unies pour le Développement-PNUD; Fonds des Nations Unies pour l’Enfance-Unicef; and Ministère de la Communication-Niger, 2003). In 1946, one of the leaders of the nascent trade union movement, who also was a Communist, created the first Nigerien native newspaper, the Talaka (The Poor, in the Hausa and Zarma languages). The Talaka was certainly a trade union newspaper, but as noted by Van Walraven (2005), it was also primarily part of a political dynamic. This focus is indicative of the fact that in Niger, trade union struggles have often taken on a more political than economic dimension.

Prevalence of political demands over economic demands in Nigerien unions As evidenced by the preceding discussion, in Niger the associative and trade union movement preceded and even prepared the birth of the political movement. Thus,

102  Gado Alzouma the indigenous political leaders who emerged in the late 1940s and early 1950s were in the overwhelming majority from the associative and trade union movement. The most well-known were Djibo Bakary (1922–1998), leader of the Nigerien Democratic Union/Sawaba (UDN/Sawaba),21 an independentist party created in 1954; and Hamani Diori (1916–1989), a future president of Niger (1960–1974) and leader of the Nigerien Progressive Party, Section of the African Democratic Rally (PPN/RDA),22 created in 1946. Djibo Bakary also was a former member of the PPN/RDA. He defected in 1951 to promote and organize what he called “a political unionism” under the form of local unions that were closely “affiliated” to UDN/Sawaba, the pro-independence political party. According to Maïnassara (1989), after he left the PPN/RDA, Djibo Bakary founded the first federation of trade unions in Niger (the Nigerien branch of the French CGT). It is from this union and thanks to the many actions in favor of the workers that Djibo Bakary acquired an obvious (political) popularity in the large agglomerations, including Tahoua, Maradi, Agadez, Zinder and Niamey. (pp. 22–23) Maïnassara (1989) also notes that “shortly before 1957 . . . there existed in Niger a multitude of unions among which the CGT of Djibo Bakary was the most followed because of its political-unionist character” (p. 34). Thus, as a result of his popularity as a trade union leader, Bakary was first elected as mayor of Niamey, the capital city, in 1956, and later as vice president of the Council of the Nigerien government. It should also be noted that both Diori Hamani and Djibo Bakary were teachers and former members of indigenous local associations and trade unions, such as the Unique Teachers’ Union (SUE), created in 1947. The associative and trade union movement thus played a catalytic role in the political demands; it also nourished political vocations. It may even be argued that the trade union struggles have been part of a political dynamic that was rejecting a narrowly corporatist approach under the influence of metropolitan trade union organizations like the CGT. These unions were close to Communist circles but did not intend to limit their field of activity only to defending the economic interests of the workers. Moreover, the general context of colonial society in Africa and its effects on workers, particularly political oppression and discrimination, could hardly be ignored. However, it goes without saying that the colonial state and later the postcolonial state (even after 1990 and still today) both provoked, encouraged, and maintained the corporatist tendency and even the subjugation of trade unions to the state. This resulted in active policies of “containment” of trade union activities to prevent any destabilization of the state by the civil society. In particular, the colonial authorities encouraged the creation of numerous pro-colonial trade union organizations to counter the independentist demands of the radical trade unionists. Thus, the UASN was deemed to be close to colonial circles. Also, as noted by Maïnassara (1989), “shortly before the Declaration of the Republic in December

Political emancipation in Niger  103 1958, the PPN-RDA of Diori Hamani, confronted to the dizzying rise of Djibo Bakary, created a competing federation of unions to counter his (Djibo Bakary’s) influence” (p. 35). After independence and until 1989, both the one-party regime (1960–1974) and the military dictatorship (1974–1987) managed to keep trade unions captive. However, as shown by Gervais (1998) and Alidou (2000), they ran up against the student union movement, the USN, which indeed remained the only significant counter-power during that period. “Political” resistance of the Nigerien student union Between 1964 and 1965, Djibo Bakary, the leader of the Sawaba (independence) party and the former leader of some of the most important unions in Niger history, organized a rebellion from outside the country. Sawaba commandos trained in China and were illegally sent to Niger to incite the populations to rise up against the authorities (see Chaffard, 1967; Fuglestad, 1973; Van Walraven, 2003, 2005). The rebellion failed, many of its instigators were shot dead, and Djibo Bakary fled the country and stayed in exile until 1978, when he returned home before being arrested and imprisoned for more than ten years. Alleging security issues, the government of Diori Hamani then introduced a one-party system with the total co-optation of all trade unions. Workers were organized under a single centrale syndicale (a single central labour organization), the National Union of Workers of Niger (UNTN),23 that was created in 1960. Its leader was also a high member of the party. Government policies and interventions were structured around the notion of nation/state building, and no separate or independent organized activity with any political character was allowed. Trade union activities and other associative activities were also subsumed into governmental ones (see Robinson, 1991). Strikes and protests were forbidden. During this period, only one organization, the USN, managed to keep its independence. USN is not a classic student movement. It brings together all primary and secondary school pupils as well as all Nigerien students, whether they are in Niger or in foreign countries. Founded in July 1960, the USN in its early days could be considered an offshoot of the Federation of Black African Students in France (FEANF),24 founded in 1950. Indeed, the USN has always been under the ideological influence of the FEANF, even during the early 1970s and the late 1980s when the quarrels between Maoist and non-Maoist African students in France were transposed in the different African countries they (the students) came from. After the crackdown on the Sawaba revolution in the late 1960s, the USN became the only organized group to fiercely resist the authoritarian regimes that ruled the country for nearly 30 years. Ideologically, the USN claimed to be an “anti-imperialist and Marxist-Leninist organization.” In this fundamentally political ideology claimed by the USN, one can see how political demands still prevailed over the corporatist demands in the Nigerien union movement. Thus, in a 1998 interview with Alidou (2000), the president of the USN states: “[The leaders of the USN] . . . must have a good political formation. You must have a socialist perspective to

104  Gado Alzouma become a leader in the student movement, particularly if you want to have a position of responsibility” (p. 222). This “anti-imperialist” posture also explains why any subordination of the USN to the regimes became difficult, if not impossible, especially since the USN’s positions were largely inspired by those of the Association of Niger Students in France (AESNF).25 Actually, the AESNF mostly dictated the USN political orientations based on the positions that were dominant in the FEANF, of which it was a section at the time. However, because the AESNF was established in France and escaped the state control exercised over the citizens within Niger, the USN was partially free from the constraints inherent in national trade union life. Moreover, because the country sent a large majority of its students to foreign universities, especially in Europe but also elsewhere, as it had to rely on international cooperation to develop its higher education system, the USN’s external sections were greater in number and could set policy directions at the union congresses without fearing any repression from the regime. Of course, those militants who were inside the country were directly exposed to the repression of the regime that was being mercilessly exercised, often resulting in dismissals of the union students, imprisonment, multiple school closures, and even frequent closures of the unique university in the country at that time, the Abdou Moumouni University of Niamey. Sometimes, (for example in 1983), the repression even forced the students’ union leaders into exile, but because it (the repression) could not reach the vast majority of students enrolled in foreign countries, it was on the whole ineffective. Thus, in the aforementioned interview with Alidou (2000), the leader of USN states: Between 1983 and 1987, the Nigerien Student Movement suffered a serious setback under the dictatorship of Seyni Kountché who dissolved its organization after killing a number of its members and deporting others . . . Under the cover of regional associations, then, the student movement strove to overcome the constraints imposed by the dictatorship. (p. 224) It is in this context that Colonel Seyni Kountché, who overthrew the civilian regime of Diori Hamani in 1974, introduced what Robinson (1991) called a “neotraditional corporatist state,” namely “a mode of governance that draws heavily on indigenous cultural patterns of authority, interest aggregation, and leader-follower relations as prime sources of legitimation” (p. 1). In other words, the regime sought adherence to and participation in its political objectives by organizing and coopting the populations in all sectors of society, based on the traditional patterns of association. Robinson (1991) recalls that within months of the takeover, the CMS26 (Supreme Military Council – the Kountché’s regime leading organ) resuscitated the Association of Traditional Chiefs (Association des Chef Traditionnels) from the colonial past, launched the moderately reformist Islamic Association of Niger (Association Islamique

Political emancipation in Niger  105 du Niger), and fashioned a national youth movement called the Samariya27 modeled after the Hausa age-grade association. (p. 9) When it comes to unions and civil society, this action essentially amounted to curtailing their organizational autonomy and bringing the different organizations under the tutelage of the state. Thus, youth in organizations known as Samariyas, women in the Association of Women of Niger (AFN),28 and workers in a new union called USTN29 (United Unions of Niger Workers) all became part of “national organizations,” namely, organizations whose activities were now confounded with those of the state. At the national level, this new policy was instituted under the name Société de Développement (development society), the main aim of which was to build participation of all members of society and also a national consensus around the objectives set by the dictatorial regime. This action was an attempt to regiment the entire society from the bottom up and the village level to both regional and national levels and have them become a web of organizations and institutions fully controlled by the government. However, as in the previous regime, amid relentless strikes, ruthless repressions, and underground activities, only the student union, the USN, was powerful enough to escape this Fascist-style regimentation. It was only through its journal and “tracts” (leaflets), which were clandestinely distributed, that a counter-discourse was produced. What was happening in the country was also further relayed and amplified by the USN branches already operating in foreign countries. It should also be noted here that the confrontation between the USN and the regime was heightened by the economic situation of the country, which began to worsen in the early 1980s. During the previous decades, efforts to promote mass education had led to swelling enrolments and the arrival each year of more and more young people seeking employment in the job market. Thus, the number of civil servants increased from 22,000 in 1978 to 27,100 in 1981 and 31,000 in 1984 (see Adamou, 2006). For years the public sector, the main employer in the country, had been able to absorb newcomers without encountering many difficulties. However, from 1986 onwards, the state faced increasing financial difficulties in the context of the Structural Adjustments Programs (SAP) being promoted by the International Monetary Fund (IMF), causing the government to restrict employment in the public sector (see Gervais, 1995). Thus the public sector, which had traditionally been the engine of employment growth in the country, now experienced a drastically reduced rate of absorption of new entrants. As the students saw their employment prospects looking progressively dimmer, they took the streets to express demands that quickly turned political. It should also be noted that, as during the colonial period with various worker unions, a new political elite was being slowly nurtured through the activities of the USN. In August 1983, members of the USN Executive Committee who had taken refuge in neighbouring Burkina Faso convened a secret meeting with activists from the USN branches in Senegal and France to create a clandestine political party, the Nigerien Revolutionary Group (GRN).30 This organization was the

106  Gado Alzouma prefiguration of what would become in 1990 the officially declared Nigerien Party for Democracy and Socialism (PNDS-Tarayya)31 (see Mallam Issa, 2016). The PNDS/Tarayya (Tarayya means “togetherness” in the Hausa language) won the presidential elections in 2011 and 2016 (in a very dubious and contested way, as the president campaigned alone, having imprisoned his main contender) and is currently the incumbent political party in Niger. Here again, we can easily see how political stakes in Niger concurred to frame and orient union activities and how political activities thus became the logical extension of union activities.

Nigerien unions and democratic transition When Seyni Kountché died in 1987, senior army officers gathered to entrust the reins of the country to the army chief of staff, Colonel Ali Saibou. However, Ali Saibou soon faced the wave of democratization that swept Africa in the 1990s. When several students lost their lives during a February 1990 strike to protest his regime, he was forced to convene a sovereign national conference in July 1991, whereupon he was stripped of most of his powers and forced to share them with a civilian prime minister until 1993. At that time, he handed over the reins of the country to Niger’s first democratically elected president, Mahamane Ousmane. Ousmane won the elections with the help of a broad coalition of newly created political parties that sought political change by ousting the former single party, the National Movement for a Development Society (MNSD-Nassara).32 These parties founded the Allied Forces for Change (AFC)33 to rule the country together. However, a deep financial crisis crippled the nation, making it impossible to pay wages on time. (Gervais, 1995). Labour unions, which had gained independence and recognition at the July 1991 national conference, led by the USTN, continuously organized strikes. The country thus became almost ungovernable. In January 1996, General Ibrahim Baré Maïnassara overthrew Ousmane’s regime and monopolized power. The legally recognized parties, including those of the former president and prime minister, called for elections within a reasonable time frame. When faced with the apparent unwillingness of the Baré Maïnassara regime to do anything, they organized massive demonstrations in several cities, each time with the help of unions and other civil society organizations. Baré Maïnassara was thus obliged to hold elections that were immediately challenged after the fact because they were marred by extensive fraud. The opposition leaders were also arrested. On 9 April 1999, General Baré Maïnassara was assassinated on the tarmac of the Niamey airport by his own presidential guard led by Colonel Wanké, who then immediately seized power. In January 2000, Wanké organized democratic elections in which Tandja Mamadou, an older retired colonel, was elected to lead the country when his party – the MNSD-Nassara (Nassara meaning “victory” in Hausa), the former single party created by Seyni Kountché – won those elections. The country subsequently experienced a period of relative political stability. Indeed, Tandja Mamadou was re-elected in 2005 for a second term. But in 2010, at the end of his second term, Tandja refused to leave office as dictated by the

Political emancipation in Niger  107 constitution, which he then suspended to create a new one more in line with his own aspirations. He organized new elections in which no opposition party participated, and he proclaimed himself the winner. The unions, notably the USTN and other civil society organizations, joined with the opposition political parties to demand the restoration of democracy. They organized huge demonstrations that paralyzed the country and gave the army a ready opportunity to intervene once again on the political scene. On 18 February 2010, Colonel Djibo Salou overthrew Tandja’s regime and established a Supreme Council for the Restoration of Democracy (CSRD).34 The CSRD gave itself a one-year term to use to organize new elections after approving a new constitution that inaugurated the Seventh Republic. New presidential elections were organized in 2011 and 2016, and both were won by the PNDS/Tarayya. Civil society in Niger today As seen in this discussion, unions have played the most important role in Niger’s civil society’s history. During the last decades of the colonial period (1946–1960), workers were at the forefront of the political protests and the struggle for independence. However, during the PPN/RDA single-party period (1960–1974) and the dictatorial regime of Seyni Kountché (1974–1987), as trade union organizations of the workers were now subservient to the regimes in place, students took over the struggle for democracy and political emancipation. Thus, both the students and former students constituted the social and political counter-elite that appeared during the democratic transitions of the early 1990s. For example, almost all the governing bodies of the PNDS-Tarayya consisted of former leaders of the USN. After 1990, however, structural transformations also affected both the social composition of the civil society and its organizational components. The democratic transition made it possible for new actors to emerge as powerful players in the political arena. This process subsequently overshadowed the role of both the traditional unions and the USN. At the same time, new claims voiced by hitherto invisible segments of society reframed the social and political debates in Niger. I am alluding here to the emergence of independent civil society organizations like the RDFN35 (Democratic Rally of Women of Niger), the DLD36 (Democracy, Liberty, Development), the ANDDH,37 and many others (for more details about these organizations, see Idrissa and Decalo, 2012). Indeed, the democratization and liberalization era of the 1990s in Niger also resulted in the diversification and fragmentation of organized labour unions. It was during that period that the cohesion and unity of the labour movement, so remarkable during the struggle for democracy began to break down. There were conflicts between the unions affiliated to [with] the federation and divergences among union leaders suspected, rightly or wrongly, of playing the political game. (Adji, 2000: 3)

108  Gado Alzouma In the years that followed, these divergences only deepened with the creation of a new confederation, the Nigerien Confederation of Labour (CNT),38 and the growing number of disaffiliated unions, the interference of political parties each trying to control and even create unions under their influence, the continuous splits of existing unions, and the renewal of the workforce with the arrival of white-collar workers who now were creating autonomous organizations. This situation has made it difficult to undertake concerted actions. Thus, the political relevancy of unions essentially waned over time. In this context, as at every major historical turning point in Niger, the rest of the civil society has been reduced to filling the void left by the trade unions and the political parties. Thus, in 2005, a value-added tax increase of 19% resulted in a cost of living increase that sparked gigantic street protests. Civil society actors who were not affiliated with the traditional labour unions created what they called the Equity and Quality Coalition Against Expensive Living Conditions.39 On 15 March 2005, it succeeded in mobilizing more than 150,000 protesters in the streets of Niamey, forcing the government to negotiate new provisions of the law (see Azizou, 2010; Baudais and Chauzal, 2011). A new civil society was thus born following the abdication of the unions. It has gained counter-power status due to the recent political events in Niger that considerably weakened all the political opposition parties.40 In this context, only the new civil society is left to take charge of the citizens’ demands for better economic and political conditions. Thus, for more than three months in 2017 and 2018, a broad coalition of civil society organizations led by Alternative Espaces Citoyens, the ROTAB,41 and the MPCR has tussled with the government over the fiscal measures contained in the 2018 Finance Law, but more fundamentally, over the French and American military bases currently installed in Niger because of the rise of terrorism in the Sahel in recent years. This coalition of civil society organizations is calling for the dismantling of foreign military bases in Niger and the repeal of the 2018 finance law, but it is still faced with the government’s refusal. The civil society coalition has, therefore, organized massive street demonstrations. Following these demonstrations, its popularity and influence have never been greater in Niger. As can be clearly seen, in normal times these demands would have been the concern of unions for their economic role (the withdrawal of the fiscal measures contained in the 2018 Finance Law) and the concern of the opposition political parties for their political component (the departure of foreign military bases). However, the void left by the retreat of the unions and the weakening of opposition political parties has forced the civil society to play both an economic and a political role. The face-off between the government and the civil society has currently reached a turning point, and the outcome will likely be decisive for Niger’s history in the years to come.

Conclusion The history of civil society in Niger demonstrates that it is the political conditions of this country that have always dictated and guided the positions of both unions and associations during the colonial period and after independence. Thus, between

Political emancipation in Niger  109 1937 and 1960 the rise of nationalism and the struggle for independence eclipsed the economic demands of the trade union organizations. On the other hand, during the colonial period and after independence, political elites emerged first from the trade unions of workers and later from the student union (USN). Between 1960 and 1990, the dictatorial nature of the successive regimes and the total control exercised over the population led to the situation where any claim inevitably took on a “seditious” and, therefore, a strong political character. The period from 1990 to 2010 was essentially characterized by a very acute political instability, a weakening of trade union organizations as a result of divisions of all kinds they were confronted with, and a reconfiguration of civil society, particularly in its social and organizational composition, with the emergence of new actors. These new actors have now taken over from the traditional trade unions and political organizations, once again fostering the political aspirations of Niger’s population. Thus, with regard to the main questions this chapter sought to answer, it can be said that it essentially showed how, over the course of Niger’s recent history, unions countered the state’s tendencies towards totalitarian control of society and its institutions. The chapter demonstrated that unions have provided citizens with an organizational framework and contributed to forming an elite capable of taking charge of people’s demands and successfully carried out, alongside political organizations, the struggle for independence, then the struggle for democracy, and later the struggle for the preservation and the consolidation of these achievements. The chapter also highlighted the fact that the colonial context shaped both the organizational structures of the unions and the political claims of the unionist and associative movement in Niger’s history. However, while the role of trade unions has been central and decisive during the colonial period and in the early 1990s, divisive tendencies seriously weakened the unions’ effectiveness in the last 25 years or so. As emphasized by the chapter, the economic reforms the country engaged in during this period strongly affected employment opportunities and youth living conditions, sparking a fierce and resilient resistance by students and their organization, the USN. The USN activities prepared the ground for the emergence of both democratic political organizations and a new civil society that is now the major player in the political field of the country. Finally, it can be said that the diverse components of Nigerien civil society each played different and major roles at different time periods in the history of the Republic of Niger, and that what explains the civil society’s successes resides in its flexibility and capacity to shift the “burden” of the fight for political emancipation onto one or the other of its components, depending on the kind of political constraints it is confronted with.

Notes   1 In this chapter, unions are understood as being one of the major components of the civil society. I think that the history of civil society in Niger is inseparable from that of the unions and, depending on the historical period, the civil society was alternatively and/ or mainly represented by the unions or some other organizations.

110  Gado Alzouma   2 The USTN or Union des Syndicats des Travailleurs du Niger (United Unions of Niger Workers) is a large federation of unions representing the interests of public salaried workers. Created in 1976 (see Maïnassara, 1989), it was led in the 1990s by Ibrahim Mayaki. Today it claims more than 60,000 members (see Idrissa and Decalo, 2012).   3 To make the reading easier for English-speaking readers, the names of the associations and organizations have been translated from French to English while the acronyms are left unchanged (in their original French versions). The original French names of all the organizations and associations can be found in the endnotes. Original citations in French have been translated into English by the author.   4 The MPCR or Mouvement pour la Promotion de la Citoyenneté Responsable (Movement for the Promotion of a Responsible Citizenship) is an organization promoting citizenship-related values and rights, led by Nouhou Mahamadou Arzika.  5 Alternative Espaces Citoyens is the Nigerien branch of the alter-globalization movement, which opposes the neo-liberal style of globalization and its economic consequences. Its current leader in Niger is Moussa Tchangari.   6 The USN (Union des Scolaires Nigériens [Union of Niger Students]) is a student union regrouping all Niger pupils, Niger high school students, and Niger university students both nationally and abroad (those Nigerien students enrolled in foreign countries). As such, it has an unusual composition compared to student unions in other countries. Also, it is very similar to a trade union, as its mission is to “defend the material and moral interests of its members” with also a very clear political identity and political objectives like “anti-imperialism.” It was created in July 1960, and throughout its entire history it identified itself as a kind of class-struggle student union whose main objective is to “fight against imperialism and its national representatives in Niger.”   7 Association des Enseignants du Niger (AEN).   8 Amicale des Fonctionnaires du Niger (AFN).   9 Confédération Générale du Travail (CGT). 10 Parti Communiste Français (PCF). 11 Section Française de l’Internationale Ouvrière (SFIO). 12 Confédération Générale du Travail/Force Ouvrière (CGT/FO). 13 Union Autonome des syndicats du Niger (UASN). 14 Confédération Française des Travailleurs Chrétiens (CFTC). 15 Union des Syndicats Confédérés du Niger – Confédération Générale du Travail (USCN/ CGT). 16 Syndicat Unique de l’Enseignement (SUE). 17 Syndicat des infirmiers, infirmières, gardes sanitaires et employés de service de santé du Niger (SIIGEN). 18 Syndicat des Infirmiers Vétérinaires du Niger (SIVN). 19 Afrique Occidentale Française (AOF). 20 Union des Syndicats Confédérés du Niger (USCN). 21 Union Démocratique Nigérienne/Sawaba (UDN/Sawaba). 22 Parti Progressiste Nigérien, Section du Rassemblement Démocratique Africain (PPN/ RDA). 23 Union Nationale des Travailleurs du Niger (UNTN). 24 Fédération des Etudiants d’Afrique noire en France (FEANF). 25 Association des Etudiants et Stagiaires Nigériens en France (AESNF). 26 Conseil Militaire Suprême (CMS). 27 Samaryias were traditional youth associations that inspired the dictatorial regime of Seyni Kountché who, on a national level and in each village and tribe, created youth organizations that were then used to regiment this segment of the population at the service of the regime (see Robinson, 1991). 28 Association des Femmes du Niger (AFN). 29 Union des Syndicats des Travailleurs du Niger (USTN). 30 Groupe Révolutionnaire Nigérien (GRN). 31 Parti Nigérien pour la Démocratie et le Socialisme/Tarayya (PNDS/Tarayya).

Political emancipation in Niger  111 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

41

Mouvement National pour la Société de Développement/Nassara (MNSD/Nassara). Alliance des Forces du Changement (AFC). Conseil Suprême pour la Restauration de la démocratie (CSRD). Rassemblement Democratique des Femmes du Niger, led in the early 1990s by Mariama Gamatie. Démocratie, Liberté et Développement (DLD), led in the early 1990s by Yenikoy Ismael. Association Nigerienne pour la Democratie et les Droits de l’Homme, led by Khalid Ikiri. Confédération Nigérienne du Travail (CNT). Equité Qualité Contre la Vie Chère. The main opposition party (the LUMANA) leader, Hama Amadou, fled the country and is currently living in exile in France after he was accused of “baby-trafficking” and condemned in his absence to prison terms. Other opposition parties joined the coalition supporting the government while others are facing constant internal divisions. The ROTAB or Réseau des Organisations pour la Transparence et l’Analyse Budgétaire (Network of Organizations for Budget Analysis and Transparency) is a branch of the international non-governmental organization Publish What You Pay, which advocates transparency and better distribution of revenues from extractive industries between the states and foreign multinational companies.

Bibliography Adamou, M. S. (2006) L’emploi des jeunes en question. [Youth employment in question]. Alternative Espace Citoyens [online]. Available at: www.alternativeniger.org/spip. php?article156 [Accessed 14 January 2016]. Adji, S. (2000) Globalization and union strategies in Niger. Discussion Papers Series. Geneva: International Labour Organization (International Institute for Labour). Alidou, O. (2000) ‘On the current state of the student movement in the Niger Republic. An interview with Moctar Al Haji Hima, Niamey, December 5, 1998’. In Federici, S., Caffentzis, G., and Alidou, O. (eds.), A Thousand Flowers: Social Struggles Against Structural Adjustment in African Universities. Trenton: Africa Word Press, pp. 221–230. Azizou, G. A. (2010) ‘Niger: La société civile face au “Tazartché”. [Niger: The civil society and the “Tazartché”]’. Alternatives Sud, 17, 119–127. Baudais, V., and Chauzal, G. (2011) ‘The 2010 coup d’état in Niger: A praetorian regulation of politics?’ African Affairs, 110(439), 295–304. Chaffard, G. (1967) Les carnets secrets de la décolonisation. [The Secret Diaries of Decolonization]. Paris: Calman-Levy. Charlick, R. (2007) ‘Labor unions and “democratic forces” in Niger’. In Kraus, J. (ed.), Trade Unions and the Coming of Democracy in Africa. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 61–82. Deycard, F. (2011) Les rebellions touarègues du Niger: Combattants, mobilisations et culture politique [Tuareg rebellions in Niger: Fighters, mobilizations, and political culture]. Doctoral dissertation. Bordeaux: Centre d’Etudes d’Afrique Noire (CEAN). Djibo, M. (2003) ‘Les enjeux politiques dans la colonie du Niger (1944–1960). [The Political stakes in the colony of Niger]’. Autrepart, 27, 41–60. Elischer, S. (2013) Contingent Democrats in Action: Organized Labor and Regime Change in the Republic of Niger. GIGA Working Paper 231. Leibniz: Institute für Globale und Regionale Studien. Fall, B. (1993) ‘Le travail forcé en Afrique occidentale française (1900–1946). [Forced labor in French West Africa (1900–1946)]’. Civilisations: Revue internationale d’anthropologie et de sciences humaines, 41, 329–336. Fall, B. (2006) ‘Le mouvement syndical en Afrique occidentale francophone, de la tutelle des centrales métropolitaines à celle des partis nationaux uniques ou la difficile quête d’une personnalité (1900–1968). [The trade union movement in French-speaking West Africa: from

112  Gado Alzouma the supervision of metropolitan federations to that of the single national parties or the difficult quest for a personality (1900–1968).]’. Matériaux pour l’histoire de notre temps, 4(84), 49–58. Fluchard, C. (1997) ‘Le mouvement syndical au Niger: des origines à L’indépendance. [The trade union movement in Niger: From origins to independence.]’. Bulletin des séances/ Académie Royale des Sciences d’Outre-mer, 43, 303–319. Fuglestad, F. (1973) ‘Djibo Bakary, the French, and the referendum of 1958 in Niger’. Journal of African History, 14(2), 313–330. Gazibo, M. (1998) ‘Gloire et misères du mouvement syndical nigérien. [Glory and miseries of the Nigerien trade union movement.]’. Politique Africaine, 69, 126–134. Gazibo, M. (2007) ‘Mobilisations citoyennes et emergence d’un espace public au Niger depuis 1990. [Citizen mobilizations and the emergence of a public space in Niger since 1990]’. Sociologie et Sociétés, 39(2), 19–37. Gervais, M. (1995) ‘Structural adjustment in Niger: Implementations, effects and determining political factors’. Review of African Political Economy, 22(63), 27–42. Gervais, M. (1998) ‘Regime change, economic crisis, perpetuation of privilege’. In Clark, E. J., and Gardinier, D. E. (eds.), Political Reform in Francophone Africa. Boulder: Westview Press, pp. 86–107. Iboudo, J. P. (n.d.) Histoire et évolution de la radio rurale en Afrique noire – Rôles et usages. [History and Evolution of the Rural Radio in Black Africa – Roles and Usages]. Rome: Atelier international sur la radio rurale de la FAO. [Online] Available at: www. fao.org/docrep/003/x6721f/ x6721f02.htm [Accessed 25 February 2017]. Idrissa, B., and Decalo, S. (2012) Historical Dictionary of Niger. Lanham: Scarecrow Press. Kado, B. I. (2016) L’histoire du mouvement syndical nigérien. [The History of Niger Unions’ Movement] [online]. Available at: www.nigerdiaspora.net/index.php/ component/k2/item/47889-lhistoire-du-mouvement-syndical-nig%C3%A9rienh [Accessed 25 February 2017]. Maïnassara, B. (1976) Syndicalisme au Niger-passé et présent. [Trade Unionism in Niger – Past and Present]. Niamey: Presses de l’Imprimerie Nationale du Niger. Maïnassara, B. (1989) Pratiques syndicales et conscience de classe au Niger. Tome II. [Trade Union Practices and Class Consciousness in Niger, Volume II]. Niamey: Presses de l’Imprimerie Nationale du Niger. Mallam Issa, M. (2016) ‘Djibo Bakary et Abdoulaye Mamani: intellectuels et hommes politiques. [Djibo Bakary and Abdoulaye Mamani: Intellectuals and Politicians]’. In Kimba, I. (ed.), Les intellectuels, l’Etat et la société au Niger. Dakar: CODESRIA, pp. 155–186. Programme des Nations Unies pour le Développement-PNUD-Fonds des Nations Unies pour l’Enfance-Unicef; and Ministère de la Communication-Niger. (2003) La Situation de la Communication pour le Développement au Niger. [The Situation of Communication for Development in Niger]. Rome: PNUD. Robinson, P. T. (1991) ‘Niger: Anatomy of a neotraditional corporatist state’. Comparative Politics, 24(1), 1–20. United Nations Development Programme (UNDP). (2016) Human Development Report 2016: Human Development for Everyone. Table 5: Gender Inequality Index. New York: UNDP. [online]. Available at: http://hdr.undp.org/en/composite/GII [Accessed 5 March 2017]. Van Walraven, K. (2003) ‘Sawaba’s rebellion in Niger (1964–1965): Narrative and meaning’. In Abbink, J., de Bruijn, M., and van Walraven, K. (eds.), Rethinking Resistance Revolt and Violence in African History. Boston: Brill, pp. 218–262. Van Walraven, K. (2005) ‘From Tamnrasset: The struggle of Sawaba and the Algerian connection 1957–1966’. Journal of North African Studies, 10(3–4), 507–528.

8

Human rights organizations and navigating the political configuration of power in post-2011 Egypt Ahmed El Assal

Introduction The academic literature suggests that human rights organizations (HROs) can play an effective role not only in holding the state to account but also ensuring the democratic development of the political order (Gaer, 1995; Beetham, 1998; Jørgensen, 1996; Van Tuijl, 1999; Welch, 2001). HROs are, however, currently facing a significant challenge in performing and operating independently. The rise of the pushback phenomenon against human rights and pro-democracy organizations in several countries is evident (Howell et al., 2008; Carothers and Brechenmacher, 2014; Carothers, 2016; Wilson, 2016). According to the International Center for Not-for-Profit Law (ICNL), 120 restrictive laws for civil work were adopted in 60 countries between 2012 and 2015 in an attempt to limit the activities and sources of funding for various civil society groups (cited in Rutzen, 2015). Governments predominantly tend to justify the enacted restrictions, especially on foreign funding, due to four main common narratives: protecting state sovereignty; promoting transparency and accountability in the civil society sector; enhancing aid effectiveness and coordination; and pursuing national security, counterterrorism, and anti-money laundering objectives (Rutzen, 2015; Kreienkamp, 2017). Since 2011, Egypt has undergone rapid political transformation; its administration has changed four times during and after the 2011 uprisings.1 The uprising of 25 January that overthrew President Mubarak seemed to present an opportunity for Egyptian HROs to play a significant role in political reform after decades of government repression and co-optation. However, seven years after the uprising, Egypt’s HROs were unable to take part in consolidating early progress and spearhead a transition to democracy. Following the 25 January uprisings, some democratization literature would predict the flourish of the associational arena that would support the transition to democracy (O’Donnell and Schmitter, 1986; Bratton, 1989; Diamond, 1994; Brumberg, 2003). Egyptian human rights and prodemocracy organizations adapted their strategies and operations to support political reform; in response, the post-Mubarak rulers also adapted their discourse and policy toward the civil society sector. They used various narratives to defame

114  Ahmed El Assal human rights and pro-democracy organizations, and they used policy tools to reclaim control over the sector generally. The key research question that informs this chapter is: how have HROs navigated the political configurations of power in Egypt (2011–2017)? The subsidiary questions that contribute to analyzing the Egyptian case are (1) Which state practices have contributed to shaping the arena of human rights organizations’ activity in Egypt post-2011? (2) To what extent have human rights organizations been able to adopt new strategies to withstand the shrinking of civil society space in Egypt? It is argued here that the resurgence of the authoritarian practices by post-Mubarak rulers has forced Egyptian HROs to rethink their tactics and move towards more resilient strategies in order to be able to withstand the shrinking of the civil society space in Egypt. For the purposes of this research, a single case study has been used with a diachronic analysis, which will reveal how things have evolved and developed over time. The case study has been selected from the different non-governmental organization (NGO) sectors in Egypt and focuses on organizations that promote human rights and democracy as their primary aim.2 The period of this research is from after the 25 January 2011 uprising until the end of July 2017. An attempt is made at generating empirical evidence from this case study regarding the dynamics between HROs and the state during the transitional phase. Strategies adopted by HROs to navigate the political configuration of power during this phase will also help to provide sensory perception of the situation. This chapter also includes tracing the relationship between HROs and the state under the Mubarak regime and how this has contributed to the interactional dynamics between those organizations and successive administrations during the transition. An analysis of the legality and applicability of the new civil work law in Egypt (Law 70/2017) is also presented. The data for this study are drawn from comprehensive literature review, including in-depth review and analysis of NGO laws and regulations and eight semi-structured interviews. These interviews were conducted through Skype during July 2017 with members of HROs operating in Egypt. The names of the interviewees and their organizations have been withheld due to the political sensitivity of the topic and the current political situation in Egypt. This chapter will proceed as follows. In the second section, the ways in which Mubarak-era practices had an impact on HROs are traced. The rest of the section shifts the primary focus on government interaction with human rights organizations and how the discourse, practices, and policies of successive governments after the 2011 uprising sought to consolidate government power over and further debilitate Egypt’s HROs. The third section provides a legal analysis for the newly ratified civil work law known as the Law on Associations and Other Foundations Working in the Field of Civil Work (Law 70 of 2017). Furthermore, it examines the main points of conflict between the state and HROs within this law. Ultimately, the chapter provides a discussion and analysis of the ability of Egyptian HROs to work around restrictive laws and repressive practices. An assessment is made regarding the extent to which HROs have been able to adopt new strategies to withstand the shrinking of the civil society space in Egypt.

Configuration of power in post-2011 Egypt  115

State practices and human rights organizations in Egypt Human rights organizations under the Mubarak regime (1980–2011) Before the revolutionary spark of 25 January 2011 and the subsequent uprising against the 30-year Mubarak regime, Egyptian civil society was mostly composed of formal associations, particularly small civic associations, service-oriented organizations, medium-sized professional syndicates, and trade unions. There were also advocacy groups that lobbied to influence public policies rather than focusing on providing direct services. These groups mainly included organizations working in the field of human rights, women’s rights, and the environment (Abdelrahman, 2004; Abdelwahab, 2012). A new type of organization – namely the human rights organization – has emerged since the 1980s in the Egyptian civil society arena. The idea of creating associations independent of the government and, indeed, designed with the intention of placing pressure on the government to change its policies was something new (Hicks, 2006). The majority of organization founders were leftist activists who shifted their activism to defend human rights, not only at a time when political parties were blocked due to government restrictions (Tadros, 2009), but also despite the emergence of HROs as being non-partisan and focused on supporting the values of human rights. Owing to the political nature of the activities of those organizations – working in the fields of human rights, legal services, and democratization – they found themselves involved in direct confrontation with the state and, as such, were constantly harassed. HROs and advocacy groups were heavily, if not exclusively, dependent on foreign funding, in the first place, in order to sustain their activities (Abdelrahman, 2004; Tadros, 2009). There were only approximately 60 organizations working in the field of human rights in Egypt before the 2011 uprising (ElAgati, 2013). As is the nature of many authoritarian regimes, the state tried to depoliticize the activities of the NGO sector through various institutional practices from the 1950s, and continued under the Mubarak regime; for instance, invoking a highly restrictive legal framework, surveillance of the state security investigations (SSI) apparatus, and the direct supervision of the Ministry of Social Solidarity (MOSS – previously the Ministry of Social Affairs) (Ottaway, 2003; Tadros, 2009; Atia, 2013). Tension developed between NGOs and the state with the advent of the Egyptian NGOs’ role in the fields of human rights and democracy. This resulted in massively increased control over NGOs in general and HROs in particular (Abdelwahed, 2013). The law on Associational and Private Institutions, known as Law 84/2002, was approved and adopted in order to severely restrict the work of these organizations; several NGO activists saw the law as a backward move that put the activities of NGOs under the direct control and supervision of the MOSS. Abdelrahman (2004) states that “the passage of this law was seen to exacerbate the already tense relationship between the state and NGO sector, especially HROs

116  Ahmed El Assal which are believed to be the target of this law” (p. 5). The approval of Law 84/2002 allowed the government to attempt to co-opt HROs by penalizing those not registered with MOSS – a penalty of a maximum of six months in prison and/ or a payment of 2,000 Egyptian pounds (EGP) (approximate of 360 USD at that time) (Tadros, 2009). It has always been difficult for Egyptian HROs to register themselves with MOSS because of the various NGO laws: from Law 32/1964 to Law 153/1999 (which was declared unconstitutional) to Law 84/2002 (El Naggar, 2012). These laws placed all NGO activity within a restricted environment controlled by the bureaucratic apparatus. This often caused organizations to find other legal frameworks to evade bureaucracy and repression. Many registered as law companies, non-profit civil companies, or research and academic firms that usually registered as investment companies (El Naggar, 2012; Kienle, 2011; Hayman et al., 2014; Herrold and Atia, 2016). The Egyptian government under Mubarak’s regime followed a strategy of “divide and throttle,”3 primarily involving two main tactics to control the operation of the NGO sector: flooding the field of NGOs with many organizations4 was one, and overloading organizations with bureaucratic red tape in order to ensure that the NGO sector remained weak and fragmented was another (Herrold and Atia, 2016). Post-2011 uprising: from Supreme Council of Armed Forces to Muslim Brotherhood (2011–2013) Egyptians successfully removed Mubarak from office after the 18 days of protests in Cairo’s Tahrir Square. The Supreme Council of Armed Forces (SCAF), the leadership body of the Egyptian military, succeeded Mubarak in ruling Egypt. This situation lasted for almost a year and a half when, in June 2012, Egyptians democratically elected a new president, Mohamed Morsi, the Muslim Brotherhood (MB) movement’s candidate, backed by the Freedom and Justice Party (FJP), who took office on 30 June 2012. However, by the end of June 2013, Egyptians took to the streets once again – backed by the military forces this time – to oust the new president. These shifts in political power between 2011 and 2013 have deeply influenced the relationship between the state and the NGO sector, particularly those working on promoting democracy and protecting human rights. While HROs did not contribute directly to the momentum of the 2011 uprising, they displayed an intermediate role by engaging with journalists, activists, and lawyers as well as raising awareness of the existing human rights violations in Egypt prior to the uprising (El Naggar, 2012). In contrast, all successive administrations that came to power following Mubarak’s resignation saw these organizations as a significant threat to their power, legitimacy, and authority. HROs were eager to switch from merely documenting the abuses of an authoritarian regime to playing a vital role in the difficult transition to a democratic society. They supported bureaucratic and institutional reform efforts through promoting transparency and good governance, encouraging citizen engagement and political participation (Ruffner, 2015). The few months following the 2011

Configuration of power in post-2011 Egypt  117 uprising witnessed a vibrant space for human rights and democracy organizations’ activities. There were many NGOs and other HROs that were optimistic towards creating a highly democratic legislative environment, giving human rights and advocacy groups a wider space in which to participate in the political arena. Some organizations, such as Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights (EIPR), Association of Freedom of Thought and Expression (AFTE), and Nazra for Feminist Studies have expanded their programmes and staffing significantly after 2011. Moreover, a number of international human rights and democracy organizations established new offices in Egypt; several organizations expanded their activities to other places outside of Cairo, and new organizations emerged in the area of protecting human rights and democracy promotion.5 For instance, the US administration made $65 million of reprogrammed assistance available to support the democratic transition in Egypt. Mainly these funds supported programmes by the US organizations, most knowingly the US political party institutes – the National Democratic Institute (NDI) and the International Republican Institute (IRI) (Carothers, 2012). Furthermore, regional organizations such as Foundation for Future (FFF) has intensified and expanded its financial support to Egyptian HROs after 2011 (Carapico, 2014). A human rights researcher interviewed (name withheld) stated:6 The few months after the revolution, there was a general tendency for accountability, and holding the previous regime to account for its human rights violations . . . and there was hope for a wider space for HROs in the transition phase . . . therefore, HROs experienced an open space – to an extent – to operate and conduct several activities. HROs during this period held several seminars to discuss the civil work law, and to work with other organisations to prepare a draft for a new law that could be pushed forward to the legislature agenda. Other organisations started to expand their work to different governorates and established field offices in several locations. The government’s relationship with HROs under the SCAF administration worsened. There were multiple attempts made to pass more restrictive laws, accusing HROs of obtaining foreign funding unlawfully, as well as a physical crackdown on existing organizations (Mikhail, 2014). SCAF attempted to regain control over the human rights and pro-democracy organizations from April 2011 to July 2012. MOSS under the SCAF administration proposed a new law to constrain NGO activity during April 2012. This law has been described by several HROs as the “nationalisation of civil society and transforming it into a government institution” (Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies, 2012; Egyptian Organization for Human Rights, 2012). Intimidation and pressure increased on human rights and pro-democracy organizations. These organizations feared that the proposed law would be passed by Egypt’s Islamist-led parliament, “which was highly likely” (interview with human rights NGO executive director [name withheld]).7 This parliament was dissolved a few months later by the High Constitutional Court (HCC), however, which prohibited the law from being issued.

118  Ahmed El Assal The state launched several smear campaigns against human rights and prodemocracy organizations through various national and private media outlets. These were not only intended to intimidate the human rights and democracy organizations but also to slander their reputation in the eyes of public opinion (Mansour, 2015). The Egyptian government, SCAF, and Islamist parties – which had a parliamentary majority by that time – considered human rights and prodemocracy organizations to be a threat to national security and social stability. According to them, they were an imported Western model, which worked to a foreign agenda, were contrary to national interests, and undermined social stability (Abdelwahed, 2013). The security clampdown occurred in December 2011 on some pro-democracy international and human rights organizations as well as their Egyptian counterparts that operated and were funded by some of these international non-governmental organizations (INGOs). There were several local and international NGOs raided, and the Egyptian government, led by SCAF, conducted investigations on a number of INGOs officials, claiming that they were working in Egypt without a licence, resulting in the closure of many international organizations by the end of 2011. This investigation has led to a highly contested judiciary case known as “Case No. 173” (the “foreign funding case”), in which judges convicted 43 local and international NGO workers to one, two, or five years in prison for operating in Egypt without a licence and receiving direct foreign funds without state approval (Tadros, 2013). It should be noted that many of those international organizations set up offices after the uprising of 2011 and were given informal approval to operate by the security apparatus; however, they did not acquire formal registration (Carapico, 2014). This rapid backlash against human rights and pro-democracy organizations can be understood in a context in which several HROs criticized the SCAF administration for its human rights violations during the transitional period, as well as undermining SCAF’s legitimacy during its 18-month governance. The influx of foreign funding to local, regional, and international organizations after the 2011 uprising in the field of human rights and democratization is another issue. According to the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), Creditor Reporting System (CRS), the total amount of the official development assistance to Egypt in the area of NGOs and civil society increased from USD 47,612 million in 2010 to almost USD 154,485 million in 2011. The United States was the most significant contributor with a total amount of USD 117,058 million in 2011, comparing to USD 35,531 million in 2010 (Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development, 2018). A concern that was raised by the Egyptian administration several times was whether these were lawful or suspicious funds, accusing HROs of sharing sensitive information about national security to foreign powers. The cabinet ordered the minister of justice to set up a fact-finding committee to look into foreign funding received by HROs in July 2011, under the SCAF administration, and to determine which of those organizations were registered under Law 84/2002 and which were not registered (Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights, 2016). According to Faiza Aboulnaga, the Minister of International Cooperation at the

Configuration of power in post-2011 Egypt  119 time, the amount of US aid to NGOs in Egypt reached USD 150 million by March 2012 (cited in Carapico, 2014). The Muslim Brotherhood (MB) movement was able to monopolize political power by the end of the first year after the uprising. The MB movement – represented by the Freedom and Justice Party (FJP) – along with other Islamist parties already held the majority in the Egyptian parliament by almost 70% (Kirkpatrick, 2012). The MB in cooperation with other Islamist parties also won nearly 90% of contested seats in the Shura Council (Upper House), resulting in an Islamist majority in both houses. Mohamed Morsi, the MB candidate, won the presidential elections in June 2012. Following Morsi’s ascent to the presidency, more restrictions were put in place on HRO activities. The Egyptian Organization for Human Rights (EOHR), for instance, stated that on 21 February 2013 the organization submitted an official written response to the MOSS letter, which stated no “local entity” is permitted to engage with “international entities” in any way without the permission of the “security bodies” (Egyptian Organization for Human Rights, 2013). A new draft law was also proposed in April 2013 restricting the activities of HROs. The proposed law was criticized by several NGOs, with more than 40 HROs signing and publishing a common statement accusing the MB’s administration of “laying the foundations for a new police state by exceeding the Mubarak regime’s mechanisms to suppress civil society” (Al-Ahram, 2013). The NGO sector was simultaneously inundated with registration applications by a number of new Islamic relief organizations – registration of new organizations was one of the main control tactics the MB used to spread its activities among local communities and entrench itself within the NGO sector. “There were more simultaneous restrictions imposed on HROs acquiring funding approval or registering a new organisation during the MB administration” (interview with a NGO’s legal advisor [name withheld]).8 It is undeniable that the events of the post-2011 uprising were immensely frustrating under both the SCAF and MB administrations: neither military rule nor religious authoritarianism accepted the existence of strong and vibrant HROs. These administrations continued to see strong and cohesive HROs as a threat to state power and control. State authorities used both official policy tools and unofficial intimidation tactics to divide and weaken HROs – whatever possible means available to limit any political development role for these organizations during the 2011–2013 transition phase. Post- 2013 transition: the shrinking of the civil society space (2013–2017) A new roadmap for Egypt’s political future was put forward by the Egyptian military, along with the opposition parties, consisting of three main stages to accomplish the transitional phase, after President Mohamed Morsi was ousted in 2013. The first stage involved the development of a new constitution. This was created and adopted after the January 2014 referendum and was known as the 2014 Constitution. The second stage was the presidential election held in June 2014, in

120  Ahmed El Assal which the former army chief, Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, was elected. The third stage was the parliamentary election, scheduled to be held during March 2015 but postponed until November and December 2015. The political climate after 2013 was divided between those who saw the regime change as legitimate and those who saw it as illegitimate; even among those who saw the ousting of Morsi as legitimate, a division between the nationalist and liberal ideologies emerged. The former preferred a strong state represented by a strong security establishment and military apparatus, while the latter opposed the idea of an assertive security and military establishment playing a major role in governance. The revival of a strong nationalist discourse after the 2013 upheaval has affected the way in which the state interacts with the HROs. It has largely accused these HROs of posing a threat to state sovereignty and national security through providing Western governments with a pretext to meddle in Egypt’s internal affairs. The same idea had been used by the previous Egyptian regimes; Abdelrahman (2007) argues that, after independence, the Egyptian state has always used the nationalist discourse for its survival and legitimacy, particularly when it comes to the human rights debate; Mubarak’s regime misrepresented HROs as mouthpieces of Western imperialist powers, for instance. The regime did manage, however, to create an image of human rights organizations posing a threat to Egypt’s national security and undermining its international reputation. The transition phase after 2013 under President Adly Mansour focused on establishing international legitimacy for the regime change in Egypt. This meant that an immediate and overt crackdown on HROs would come at a significant political cost internationally for the Egyptian administration at that time. The gradual restrictive environment on HROs after the 2013 uprising cannot be seen in isolation from the shrinking of the broader space for both civil and political society. President Adly Mansour issued a new law in November 2013 regarding “organising the right to public meetings, processions and peaceful demonstrations.” Often referred to as the “protest law,” it banned all opposition protests due to its vague and overly broad grounds (Amnesty International, 2013). Egyptian authorities initiated new efforts to limit the power of HROs since the election of President el-Sisi in June 2014. The media campaign against HROs continued in full force, through either state media outlets or private media institutions, claiming that HROs were working as allies with international advocacy groups that threatened national security (Ruffner, 2015). The Ministry of Social Solidarity urged unlicensed human rights organizations to register as NGOs under the previous Law 84/2002 within 40 days – one month after President el-Sisi came to power. Failure to comply would leave them subject to legal investigation with the risk of being dissolved or prosecuted (Al-Ahram Weekly, 2014). The deadline was extended by another 45 days after criticism from local and international organizations. The main target of this notification was HROs that frequently registered as civil companies, law firms, or medical clinics (Ruffner, 2015). The call for registration as NGOs was a message from the state to make it crystal clear that HROs either accept that they would have to operate under direct

Configuration of power in post-2011 Egypt  121 supervision of MOSS or face the consequences. According to a statement published by MOSS, only eight Egyptian human rights organizations and nine international organizations had registered by the deadline (El-Tayeb, 2014). It is noted that the deadline for registration came as a response from the state to a report that was sent to the UN Human Rights Council (UNHRC) before the second Universal Periodic Review (UPR) of Egypt in November 2014. The report was published by the Forum of Independent Egyptian Human Rights Organizations – a coalition of 19 Egyptian HROs that had criticized successive Egyptian governments since 2010 for their human rights violations and the lack of a political will to promote and protect human rights in Egypt (Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies, 2014). A gradual escalation of the state pushback against the role of HROs has taken place since 2014. It is remarkable that the government reopened the foreign funding Case 173, which specifically targeted 41 Egyptian HROs (Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights, 2016), because the original case included only foreign organization workers and Egyptian employees of international organizations. The prosecution of Egyptian organizations was put on hold until its revival in early 2016. A criminal court issued an order in September 2016 to freeze the personal assets of five human rights advocates and three organizations: the Cairo Institute for Human Rights; the Hisham Mubarak Law Centre; and the Egyptian Centre for the Right to Education (El-Nahhas, 2016). An additional move in February 2017 saw Egyptian police shut down the El-Nadeem Centre for Rehabilitation of Victims of Violence. The closure was justified according to the enforcement of the Ministry of Health’s closure order made a year earlier (Mada Masr, 2017). The Ministry of Health argued at the time that the centre violated the law and its licence to operate by shifting its focus from providing medical services to advocating and working on human rights issues (El-Watannews, 2016). The Egyptian authorities saw Case 173 as an effective tool for imposing more restrictions and pressure on the operation of Egyptian HROs in order to disrupt their work and stifle their activities. The focus on foreign interference and foreign funding resonated with Egyptian public opinion, as suspicion of foreign interference and Egypt’s dependence on the West were (and still are) deeply engrained in Egyptian society (Prat, 2006). Five out of the eight people interviewed for this chapter have demonstrated that one of the main challenges to their activities in society after 2011 was the impact of smear campaigns in the media against human rights and democracy organizations. These smear campaigns by post-Mubarak rulers have contributed in creating a major gap in the communication and trust between HROs and the society they seek to serve, on the one hand; on the other hand, Egyptian human rights organizations have never built a strong constituency on the grounds that could support them in their battle against the state. Both the inhibiting political environment under the Mubarak regime and an elitist internal culture of the HROs prior to the 2011 uprising isolated them from the streets (Tadros, 2009; El Naggar, 2012). The restriction and limitation of foreign funding was one of the main strategies enforced by Egyptian governments to control HROs’ operations in Egypt. The subsequent administrations have repeated the same narrative, arguing that foreign

122  Ahmed El Assal funding for politically related NGOs activities represents an affront to national sovereignty. A major concern during this period for many organizations was receiving a foreign grant; several organizations began turning down foreign funding out of fear of government reprisals, and organizations that had embraced political work in the aftermath of the uprising returned to less controversial activities. A civil company chairman (name withheld) stated that:9 Since 2015, we turned down several grants with international organisations to work on topics related to democratisation, youth political empowerment, and peace-building. The board of the organisation decided to avoid accepting any new foreign grants and to adopt a low-profile strategy until the adoption of the new civil work law. The further escalation towards shrinking the space of human rights and democracy promotion organizations, after the 2013 transition phase, can be explained in terms of several factors: 1 The nature of the political elite and the centres of power changed after President el-Sisi came to power in 2014. Mubarak’s regime tried to sustain a façade of liberalism and strategically limit the use of state violence to preserve the regime’s international and domestic alliances. The el-Sisi regime, in contrast, primarily relied on the need to restore order and security to justify its rule, rather than the promise of gradual liberalization. 2 After a brief period of rapid expansion for human rights activism following the 2011 uprising, imposed state practices have significantly reduced the influence of HROs, thus allowing internal division based on ideological affiliations after 2013 to emerge. The linkage between organizations and the community has weakened due to smear campaigns against their activities and intentions. The scarcity of financial resources consequently had an impact on the effectiveness of the organization’s activities, while the increasing role of security agencies stifled their operation and independence. 3 The weak international response concerning the backlash against HROs: “The United States repeatedly struggled to balance its interest in maintaining a cooperative working relationship with Egyptian military with its desire to criticise the violations of democratic procedures and human rights” (Brechenmacher, 2017). The new US administration under President Trump has signalled that it will not prioritize democracy and human rights concerns in its bilateral relations with Egypt, and will focus instead on instituting closer counterterrorism ties. The European Union (EU) stance during the transition phases, on the other hand, focused more on solidifying economic ties with their Egyptian counterparts, and prioritized normalizing their relationship with the Egyptian government as well as resuming previous aid flows. To a greater extent, the EU turned a blind eye to human rights violations and the shrinking of civil society space in a bid to enhance cooperation on security and migration control, and to boost trade (Amnesty International, 2017).

Configuration of power in post-2011 Egypt  123 The most important factor is that the government pushback against civil work has taken several steps to further institutionalize previously informal practices. A new law for civil work was enacted in May 2017, imposing more restrictions on the operation of local NGOs, INGOs, and HROs operating with different registration formats. This law also formalizes the interference and oversight of different government institutions, such as the state security apparatus and MOSS regarding the independence of these organizations.

Restrictive legislation and the institutionalization of state practices NGOs in Egypt were governed by the provisions of the Law on Associations and Community Foundations (Law 84 of 2002) from 2002 to 2017. The NGOs sector expanded during this time, despite the highly restrictive nature of this law, and was relatively large and vibrant when the 2011 uprising started. Following the uprising, a rapid expansion of NGOs occurred, leading to the emergence of new local civic organizations working in the human rights, arts, culture, women’s rights, and youth empowerment sectors. The restrictive legal framework in Egypt did not, in effect, serve to completely ban NGOs, but rather gave enormous discretionary powers to MOSS and other government agencies; in practice, however, this authority was aimed against organizations and individuals that crossed the red line set by the government in pushing for social and political reform. President el-Sisi approved a new law on Associations and Other Foundations Working in the Field of Civil Work (Government of Egypt, 2017) on 24th May, 2017, known as “Law 70 of 2017” (the law was later published on 29 May 2017 in the Official Gazette). It should be pointed out that the law was enacted in a moment of hostility between the state and HROs and the ongoing shrinking of civil society and civic space in Egypt. The country is currently under a state of emergency,10 and dozens of online media outlets have been shut down by the government11 following a series of terrorist attacks in the past three years. Law 70/2017 was neither shared with the public nor with NGOs working in political activities – unlike previous draft laws – prior to its publication in the el-Youm el-Sabaa newspaper in mid-November 2016, when parliament first approved the law in a rushed session (Mamdouh, 2017). It was subsequently approved by parliament in a final vote on 29 November 2016 (Hamama, 2016). The Egyptian parliamentary members who took part in drafting the law insisted on the urgency of passing this law as essential, after accusing most NGOs of using foreign funds to harm national security and implement foreign agenda against Egypt (Essam El-Din, 2016). There were efforts made urging President el-Sisi to refrain from signing it; nevertheless, almost six months later he ratified Law 70/2017 to regulate the registration and operation of all national and international organizations working in Egypt; several HROs, local NGOs, international organizations, governments, and UN entities urged the Egyptian government to repeal this law due to its repressive nature (CIVICUS, 2017; OHCHR, 2017; CIHR, 2017). An analysis is made of the newly ratified

124  Ahmed El Assal law of civil work in the following sections, and an examination of the main points of conflict between the state and human rights organizations (HROs) with respect to (1) publicity, operation, and dissolution; (2) the role of the security apparatus; (3) scope of activities and foreign funding; and (4) sanctions and criminal penalties. Publicity, operation, and dissolution Registration is mandatory for all entities that practice civil work, defined in Law 70/2017[1] as “non-profit activities that aim to achieve societal development”; this includes previously registered organizations. In line with this article, all HROs must register as NGOs, otherwise they will be prohibited from operating and criminalized for breaking the law. A major change within the 2017 law was made, compared to the previous Law 84/2002, regarding the registration of an association that should be made by notification only. The new law requires the submission of extensive documentation, however, that is extraordinarily burdensome to organizations. The law also allows MOSS to reject the registration during a 60-day waiting period. The association’s application can be refused, for instance, if its purpose is deemed by the government to “threaten national unity” or endanger “law and order or public morals” (Law 70/2017[9], [13]). These ambiguous terms can be used by the government to reject the operation of any organization that challenges its power. MOSS used these grounds in early 2015 to deny registration to the Foundation of the Victims of Abduction and Forced Disappearance (FVAFD), a non-profit organization that supports victims of violent assault and abduction (Ruffner, 2015). The law explicitly authorizes the government to interfere in the internal affairs of an association, in contradiction to the 2014 constitution that states that “citizens have the right to practice their activities freely, and administrative agencies may not interfere in their affairs” (Article 75, 2014 Egyptian Constitution). MOSS and relevant agencies have the legal right to take the necessary action (a) to suspend any association’s activities or procedures; (b) to suspend the activity of the association for a period not exceeding one year; (c) to request the concerned court to order the dissolution of the association or foundation; and (d) to request dismissal of the board of directors or board of trustees in the case of violations of the law (Law No. 70/2017[26]). This law also gives MOSS the right to enter the offices of any association at any time to inspect its records and activities, and the association must facilitate the inspection (Law No. 70/2017[27]). The association must provide MOSS with a copy of the minutes of its general assembly meetings and notify MOSS within 15 days of any decisions taken by the relevant board of directors (Law No. 70/2017[38]). Associations must also obtain written permission from MOSS before they are permitted to open branch offices, change their address, or open a new office in another governorate (Law No. 70/2017[21]). Formal role for security apparatus The role of security agencies will be formalized in organizing and overseeing civil work in Egypt, for the first time in the history of Egyptian NGO law. According to

Configuration of power in post-2011 Egypt  125 Article 70, the law provides for the establishment of the “National Agency to Regulate the Work of Foreign NGOs” – known as the “Agency”; while the name seems to be related only to foreign organizations, it also gives the Agency leverage on local NGOs. According to Article 71(E), this Agency will be responsible for receiving any funding requests by NGOs from MOSS and will have the right to adapt any related decisions: a role that MOSS and the agency had previously played in an informal capacity during Mubarak’s era and thereafter. This agency will include representatives of several security agencies, including those for the Ministry of Interior, Ministry of Defence, and the General Intelligence Agency. The new role of the security agencies in this new law aims to legalize these practices and remove any grounds for targeted HROs to legally challenge these practices. The security apparatus has historically interfered in the associations’ activities and operations (as described in the previous section), and incidents of harassment have increased since the 2011 uprising. The role of the security apparatus was informally dependent on the MOSS operation or through direct interaction with NGO members. According to law 70/2017, the security apparatus has a formal role to intervene in the registration of international organizations, as well as any aspect related to funding approvals for local and international NGOs. Scope of activities and foreign funding The law determines the scope of work for any registered association, through which it is limited to activities in the fields of development and social welfare, as well as the need for activities to align with the Egyptian state’s development plan and priorities; numerous activities require prior government permission, including conducting field research and opinion polls (Law No. 70/2017[14/F]). The limitation on conducting research activities impedes any independent role HROs can play in documenting the state’s human rights violations, as explained by a human rights researcher (name withheld):12 Conducting research and reporting the human rights violations are at the core of HROs’ mandate, the new law imposes more restrictions on research activities by [seeking] permission from the government for conducting any research, as well as requiring more permission before publishing and disseminating our work. Simply, this will increase the level of interference by the government into our activities and control over what should be published and what should not. The law also includes broad prohibitions on activities, including those that “may harm national security, law and order, public morals, or public health” (Law No. 70/2017[14/B]), and “any work of a political nature” by associations and other entities governed by Law 70 (Law No. 70/2017[14]). This prohibition is broader than that in the previous civil work law (Law 84/2002), which prohibited associations from carrying out any political activities under the Parties Law. This new

126  Ahmed El Assal Law 70/2017 is much more flexible: officers are able to decide what is considered “political” and thus prohibited under law. Forbidding NGOs from engaging in any work of a political nature has been used to limit organizations’ advocacy activities (Tadros, 2009). Human rights and pro-democracy organizations or those concerned with civil and political rights, for instance, could potentially be disallowed on the basis of their political nature. The law prohibits any association from receiving foreign funds, donations, and grants – whether from outside of Egypt or from foreigners inside Egypt – without approval from the National Agency to Regulate the Work of Foreign NGOs. The law requires associations to notify the Agency within 30 days of receiving funds in their bank accounts, after which the Agency has 60 days to approve the notification of pending funds. If the funds are not approved (or no response is received), the association cannot keep or use the funds (Law No. 70/2017[24]). Securing ministerial approval on funding requests in the past could take up to a year or more. MOSS imposed an informal rule that NGOs could not spend any of the grant money until they had received written approval from the ministry. Based on the new law, the state institutionalizes the fact that NGOs cannot spend any money of the grant unless they receive a written approval from the ministry. The punishment for spending a non-approved grant could lead to imprisonment, a fine, or both; it could also be grounds for a court-ordered dissolution of an association. Sanctions and criminal penalties The law expressly prohibits any entity to carry out civil work without complying with Law 70/2017. According to Article 87, whoever assists or participates with a foreign organization in performing civil activities in Egypt, without obtaining a permit from the Agency, would be subject to up to five years in prison and a fine of 50,000–1 million EGP (roughly USD 2,700–55,000) (Law No. 70/2017[87/D]). Individuals who establish or work with an unregistered or unauthorized organization, or engage in activities that “threaten national unity,” and receive foreign funds without prior government approval will be subject to the same penalties (Law No. 70/2017[87/A/B/E]). These grounds have also been used to criminalize the activities of HROs since 2011, imposing criminal defamation in civil work law that has been used to silence critics of the government. These criminal charges will hinder several strategies adopted in earlier stages to maintain the sustainability of HRO activities: these sanctions have become a primary tool for the state to intimidate and pressure NGOs involved in challenging state power. This could mean that many associations may be reluctant to establish NGOs or become involved in political or human rights projects, at the risk of being subjected to the criminal penalties and disciplinary actions stipulated in Article 87.

Resisting the crackdown on human rights organizations Human rights organizations (HROs), working within an ever-decreasing space, need to create ways in which to work around the restrictive laws and repressive

Configuration of power in post-2011 Egypt  127 practices. Egyptian human rights and pro-democracy organizations have been the main target of state repression since 2011. HROs have also faced difficult choices regarding their strategies of resistance or cooperation with state authorities. These organizations have adopted several tactics, over the past seven years, to withstand the shrinking of civil society space in Egypt; however, they have all responded differently. The following sections discuss and analyze the strategies of those organizations, and their effectiveness during the rapidly changing environment of political power after the 2011 uprising. Legal registration, reallocation, and pullback To withstand state pressure for registering as a NGO according to Law 84/2002, human rights organizations (HROs) which have a legal identity that is not registered with the MOSS as a non-governmental organization (NGO) have followed different tactics and strategies in response to the crackdown since 2011. Following the deadline provided by MOSS in 2014 for all organizations that practice civil work to register as NGOs, there have been different responses. Some organizations saw registering as an NGO to be another strategy to resist state pressure and continuous accusations of operating and unlawfully receiving foreign funding. The Egyptian Initiative for Human Rights (EIPR), one of the most prominent HROs in Egypt, decided to register in November 2014 as an NGO under Law 84/2002; from the organization’s point of view: “Registration could ensure an opportunity that was not available to us before. We will be able to engage with the State in a direct legal manner, giving us different options for appealing [against] the law” (cited in Attalah, 2015). There were some others that believed that the state should not have any control over NGOs and citizens should have the right to choose how they want to organize themselves, and decided to ignore state calls for registration with MOSS. Those organizations saw continuing their work with their current legal identity as another way of resistance, and set an example for other organizations: it was possible to continue to operate with a different legal identity. The Arabic Network for Human Rights Information (ANHRI), for instance, a law firm working to protect freedom of expression in Egypt and the Arab world, rejected registering under the NGO law. According to Gamal Eid, the head of the organization: We are registered, but not under the oppressive and unconstitutional law; we’re registered as a law firm under the law governing legal work, which gives lawyers at the cassation level the right to found legal networks that defend general freedoms, and that’s what I’m doing. We are registered under a fairer law and not the law mandated by State Security. (cited in Affify, 2015) HROs that were already registered and operating as an NGO from 2011 have continuously expressed their dissatisfaction regarding the variations between them

128  Ahmed El Assal and those organizations who work under a different legal status. According to an interview with human rights NGO executive director (name withheld):13 Organisations who [sic] work as companies have more flexibility and opportunities to receive funds and conduct their activities without obtaining any approval from the administrative bodies. We have been suffering to acquire funding approval and acceptance for our activities from the Ministry of Social Solidarity. That’s not fair, we have grants that are postponed for almost eleven months to get an approval from the ministry, and other grants we still haven’t even heard anything about. The state policy towards registered NGOs has succeeded in creating a gap in the interaction and collaboration between organizations registered as NGOs and others, which are not. Registered organizations found themselves restricted to MOSS procedures, while non-registered organizations’ operations were more flexible. The increasingly suppressive environment has made other organizations decide to avoid these restrictions by relocating their main offices and staff outside of Egypt. The Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies decided to move its regional and international programmes to Tunisia, in response to increasing government pressure, while keeping a small group of employees in Cairo (Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies, 2014). The culture resource Al-Mawred Al-Thaqafy, an Egyptian organization working in the field of cultural policies and rights, announced it was suspending its activities in Egypt. According to the organization’s director: We suspended activities in an atmosphere of uncertainty, at a time when many people felt threatened. In fact, we felt that continuing to work in Egypt might put all the staff in danger. (cited in Metwaly, 2015) There were also several organizations that decided to no longer attend Egypt’s second Universal Periodic Review (UPR) session that was due in November 2014, owing to concerns about the security risks. According to a statement published by the Centre for Economic and Social Rights (CESR), the HROs that had decided to take part in the UPR process were exposed to security threats (Centre for Economic and Social Rights, 2014). Diversifying sources of funding The majority of HROs in Egypt operate as private associations rather than on the basis of membership, in which a foreign funding model was the primary source of financing human rights activities in Egypt (Hicks, 2006). The interviewees agreed that, while human rights and pro-democracy organizations might have been successful in expanding geographically, and in terms of the issues they dealt with, directly after the uprising, they failed to build on the 2011 momentum and expand

Configuration of power in post-2011 Egypt  129 or diversify their sources of funding. HROs also failed to attract local funding or funding from Egyptian citizens abroad after the uprising; most human rights groups have either struggled to secure government approval for foreign funding, or decided to no longer accept foreign funds due to the associated risks. These organizations continue to survive with the help of local and international allies, but funding restrictions have put an abrupt end to the rapid expansion of human rights work that occurred in 2011. A few organizations started to adopt new funding strategies to sustain their main activities, despite the increased restrictions placed on foreign funding after the 25 January uprising. The Association for Freedom of Thought and Expression relied on a broad network of academics to finance the organization’s legal support work for the student movements (Attalah, 2016). The Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights decided to examine the option of crowd-funding through membership contributions, after registering as an NGO (Al-Malky, 2015); some organizations also began to consider in-kind contributions and voluntarism as an alternative strategy to fulfil their core financial needs and to be able to run their activities. According to an interview with a research company director (name withheld),14 a primary strategy to sustain a research project documenting protests and demonstrations, started in 2011, was to rely on the organization’s volunteers. He states: We run a research project concerned with monitoring and documenting civil movements’ protests. The project is based entirely now on working with a number of young researchers who started this project in 2011; when the organisation faced a funding shortage in 2013, the researchers have decided to continue working on the project until we can allocate funds again and they can be paid. Agenda-setting and reordering priorities There were many NGOs that diverted their primary focus to embark on projects related to politics, policy, and social change in the months following the 2011 uprising. They changed their primary focus on social and economic rights to a major focus on political and civil rights. Following the escalating pressures and continuous intimidation practices by successive governments, many organizations decided to depoliticize their rights-based activities and concentrate once again on less controversial activities – in the eyes in the government – such as women’s rights, child rights, and socio-economic rights (interview with a human rights NGO executive director [name withheld]).15 There were some organizations that focused on prioritizing specific topics over others, not in the sense of specific rights being more important than others, but in allocating and investing all available resources into a main focus area in order to achieve more progress in that area. This strategy allowed HROs to continue monitoring human rights violations by reordering their priorities and choosing which battles they could win with the available financial and human resources. This allows HROs to coordinate with each other and each organization to focus

130  Ahmed El Assal primarily on specific topics such as freedom of expression, personal rights, torture, rehabilitation, and so on. Public outreach became that much more difficult and dangerous due to the highly restricted environment and the smear campaigns against HROs. The increasing fears in this respect made many HROs shift the majority of their activities towards the growing informal networks and the use of clandestine tactics (Brechenmacher, 2017). The Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies, for example, cancelled its annual training programme on human rights, which it had held for students and graduates for the past 20 years. According to a statement published by the centre: “It has become impossible to find a safe space for youth for learning and creativity. Prisons have become the state for all those who care about public matters” (Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies, 2016); other HROs followed a scaled-down strategy for their activities and employees after 2014 – the Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights downsized the number of its employees from 80 in 2011 to 40 by 2015 (Al-Malky, 2015). Coalition-building and networking HROs experienced a strong tendency towards collaboration and networking after the 2011 uprising, which quickly coalesced around efforts to change public policies, observe electoral events, and raise public awareness regarding the democratization process (Herrold, 2016). A civil company chairman (name withheld) states:16 After 2011, we expanded our work locally and regionally – we decided to adopt a new operating strategy and to work as a “consortium.” Our strategy was based on expanding our activities in different governorates based on local partners. Networking and cooperation between organisations was one of the main donor strategies to strengthen the capacity of NGOs during the early phases of the democratic transition. The government’s crackdown, in fact, stifled many of these collaborative efforts between HROs initiated after the 2011 uprising. The strategy of government surveillance created divisiveness and a suspicious environment among Egyptian HROs on two levels: first, between development organizations and the HROs. The development organizations considered HROs as troublemakers, and consequently began to distance themselves from democracy promotion activities that were the hallmark of HROs (Herrold, 2016). HROs, on the other hand, saw development organizations as being too friendly with the government; and second, between the HROs themselves: “There is a clear division between the human rights movement now in Egypt. This division is clearly ideological, and because of the mixing between political activity and human rights work” (Interview with a human rights NGO director [name withheld]).17 A group of HROs launched a platform called the “Forum of Independent Egyptian Human Rights Organizations,” with about 20 members. This might be

Configuration of power in post-2011 Egypt  131 considered a good strategy on the one hand: working in coalition in order to be able to respond strongly to state repression. This also created a division within the human rights movement, on the other hand, as several human rights activists consider HROs that are not part of this coalition as working in cooperation with the state security apparatus. Gamal Eid, the head of the Arabic Network for Human Rights Information (ANHRI), a member of the forum, states: There is another positive twist to the current crisis, which is that it has acted as a filter and shown who are real rights defenders and who are willing to ignore certain things and work with the State. Although we are suffering in [sic] this moment, we needed it to identify those who are complacent. (cited in Affify, 2015) This division is a clear indication of the state’s success in distracting the Egyptian human rights movement’s intentions with internal conflict; instead of focusing on working together to develop common strategies to withstand state pressure on HROs, rivalries have emerged. The human rights movement currently cannot, and does not, speak in a collective voice.

Conclusion and the way forward Human rights organizations can play an active role in contesting the power of authoritarian regimes; however, they need to be adaptable and resilient to the restrictions imposed by these regimes. As presented in the previous sections, the cost of human rights organizations’ engagement with authoritarian regimes is high. If they are considered to play any political role to counter state power, it could mean their non-existence or the risk of imprisonment, frozen assets, or exile imposed on their members. On the contrary, there is also a risk that if other organizations see them as cooperating too much with the government, then they will lose credibility among the more critical other HROs. The flexibility of human rights organizations to adopt new coping strategies in order to survive in this environment is essential. The Egyptian case has provided a new narrative regarding the dynamics between human rights organizations and authoritarian regimes during time of transition. The multiple strategies used by the government to harass human rights organizations, and the coping strategies adopted by HROs to endure government repression, have been the main focus of this chapter. The Egyptian case challenges the theoretical literature on democratization and civil society that suggests an open space for non-governmental organizations, during transition and consolidation of democracy. Following the 2011 uprising, Egyptian human rights and prodemocracy organizations responded to the situation by joining forces in an effort to bring about democratic political reform. These initiatives, however, were hindered by the crackdowns imposed by post-Mubarak rulers, whose discourse and policy adaptations ultimately created an environment even more hostile towards the HROs and contributed to the resurgence of authoritarianism.

132  Ahmed El Assal The emphasis of the literature that examines the relationship between HROs and authoritarian regimes stresses (1) the importance of developing collaboration between human rights organizations and other non-governmental organizations, as a means of protection against government interference and repression; and (2) building ties with other international human rights groups, activists, and members of the political elite, to effect actual political change (Welch, 1995; Welch, 2001; HafnerBurton and Ron, 2009; Zhou, 2012). Authoritarian governments, however, adopt their strategies to limit any genuine cooperative roles between human rights organizations and other components of local and global civil society. The imposition of restrictions on foreign funding and criminalizing partnerships with international actors has had a negative effect in Egypt: human rights organizations often feel anxious about receiving foreign funds, and, in many cases, reject them; they also avoid working directly with other international human rights groups. The government pressure on human rights organizations, and the continued accusation that they are “mouthpieces” for foreign powers contributes to the creation of divisiveness between HROs and other less confrontational, nongovernmental organizations, such as the development sector. Authoritarian regimes seek to further institutionalize the informal practices that have been used as a backstage governance18 for a long time. Their attempts to impose formal regulations on HRO operations allows the security apparatus to oversee and control the activities and funding sources of non-governmental organizations – particularly HROs and pro-democracy organizations. This means that human rights organizations should rethink their strategies in dealing with the security apparatus when they are confronted with a visible and influential power that formalizes decisions relating to the civil society sector. Authoritarian regimes use this control tactic regarding foreign funding, for example, when it is the main financial source for human rights organizations; by misrepresenting the organizations’ intentions and smearing their image in the eyes of the public, they are able to present a convincing argument. Seeking a local alternative for financing human rights and democracy promotion activities could be considered a suitable strategy to strengthen the ties between HROs and society; however, this would require building a strong constituency in the streets, which is not the case in the Egyptian case study. The Egyptian case illustrates how successive political administrations have used the foreign funding case (Case 173) as the main tactic to intimidate human rights and pro-democracy organizations, by accusing them of collaborating with Western powers against Egypt, and of ruining the state’s reputation in the eyes of the international community. Human rights organizations respond differently to their interactions with the state under a severe and hostile environment. There are some organizations that see negotiating with the state and adopting the registration format could be one way of resistance; for example, through avoiding the continuous accusations of operating and receiving foreign funds “unlawfully,” registration would give them the chance to legally dispute this restrictive law by appealing against it and its unconstitutional status. There are other organizations, however, that insist on challenging the status quo by rejecting any attempts by the state to force them to

Configuration of power in post-2011 Egypt  133 change their legal identity or modify their registration format. The variation of the HROs’ responses to state practices gives them the opportunity to try different strategies and discover different alternatives to deal with the imposed restrictions. There is a growing body of literature that currently examines the phenomenon of reduced spaces for democracy and human rights support. The major part of this literature investigates the strategies adopted by international organizations and donor agencies, while less attention is focused on the local actors’ responses and their adaptation strategies. Contributions to this area of study would be helpful, in order to better understand the dynamics of the interaction between human rights organizations operating under a growing pushback trend, and authoritarian regimes targeting these human rights and democracy activities.

Notes   1 Four governments had ruled Egypt (at the time of this research) after the ousting of Mubarak’s regime: the Supreme Council for Armed Forces (SCAF), led by Field Marshal Mohamed Hussein Tantawi; Mohamed Morsi, backed by the Muslim Brotherhood movement; Adly Mansour, the head of the Constitutional Court, who was appointed interim president during the transitional phase between Morsi’s downfall and the accession to power by the current president, Abdel Fattah el-Sisi.   2 The sample includes two types of organizations, according to their existing legal status: first, organizations registered as NGOs according to Law 84/2002 (that was replaced in May 2017 with Law 70/2017), under the umbrella of the Ministry of Social Solidarity (MOSS); and second, organizations that have different registration entities such as law companies, investment companies, and civil companies. The term HROs in this chapter has been used to include all types of registered organizations, with any legal status, that promote human rights and democracy as their main organizational goal.   3 A concept introduced by Herrold and Atia (2016), inspired by Brumberg’s (2003) concept of “divide and rule” to describe authoritarian regimes’ efforts to weaken the NGO sector. They argue that the Mubarak regime did not rule per se through the NGO sector but rather simply worked to keep the image of a freely operating sector while ensuring that the sector remained weak and fragmented.   4 The government supported the creation of small NGOs to operate in the field of human rights and democracy promotion with this strategy. The role of those organizations was in fact to steer debates away from radical ideas or initiatives that might threaten government hegemony and bring about democratic political reform.   5 In general, this expansion was also seen in the number of registered NGOs after the uprising, which rose from almost 30,000 NGOs in 2011 to nearly 47,000 in 2014 (Kandil, 2014).   6 Interviewed on 17 July 2017.   7 Interviewed on 19 July 2017.   8 Interviewed on 19 July 2017.   9 Interviewed on 19 July 2017. 10 A state of emergency was instituted following terrorist attacks and the bombing of two Coptic Christian churches in April 2017. 11 According to the Association for Freedom of Thought and Expression, since May 2017 more than 120 media websites have been blocked without concrete information on the reasons behind the blocks. 12 Interviewed on 20 July 2017. 13 Interviewed on 19 July 2017.

134  Ahmed El Assal 14 Interviewed on 23 July 2017. 15 Interviewed on 19 July 2017. 16 Interviewed on 21 July 2017. 17 Interviewed on 19 July 2017. 18 Backstage governance in Egypt has a long history under Mubarak regime, The SSI controlled the governance of the NGO sector by interfering in governing and managing MOSS affairs. This SSI control was made through direct contact with NGOs leaders to follow up on the organizations’ activities, facilitation of registration approvals, and the necessary permission to acquire foreign funding for organizations collaborating with SSI, and the capture of initiatives made for improving governance and democracy (Tadros, 2012).

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9

Framing the Green Movement and the 2017–2018 Iranian protests by the Kayhan newspaper Meysam Tayebipour

Introduction The Green Movement (2009–2010) and the 2017–2018 Iranian protests are the two most recent unrests in Iran. In the Green Movement, the demonstrators felt that Ahmadinejad had been re-elected in collusion with the Guardian Council, a council that is supervising the election in Iran. They believed that their candidate, Mir-Hossein Mousavi, had more votes than Ahmadinejad; therefore, they were chanting “where is my vote?” (Esfandiari, 2018). However, the 2017–2018 Iranian protests were embittered with the economic unfairness in the society (Habibi, 2018). At first, the demonstrations were protesting against the government; however, it did not take much time before they showed their acrimony towards the whole of the regime. This chapter is an endeavour to show how the Kayhan newspaper represented the two recent protests in Iran’s history. Kayhan is one of the most conservative newspapers in the country, and it represents the hardliner’s view in Iran towards internal and external affairs. As Khosravinik highlights, Kayhan is a “flagship paper for radical conservative voices in the Islamic Republic of Iran, Kayhan dwells on and promotes discourses/topics which pertain directly to the overarching resident rhetoric of anti-American/Westernism and political Islam” (2015: 139). As Kayhan is a platform for religious and political hardliners, by studying Kayhan’s views, the views of hardliners towards these two protesters also can be discovered. Therefore, this chapter aims to find out how Kayhan framed the two movements in Iran. This research will ask the following questions: (1) How did Kayhan report the Green Movement and the 2017–2018 Iranian protests? 2) Are there differences between the ways that Kayhan represented these two movements? To that end, the chapter will use predication strategy. Predication strategy is a critical discourse analysis (CDA) method that shows how a social actor or activity is labelled by a discourse (Wodak, 2001). This chapter analyzes 50,000 words from Kayhan’s newspaper columns during the two protests. The next sections use predication strategy to explore Kayhan’s discourses during these protests.

The Green Movement and the Iranian protests  139

Protest movements in Iran: the Green Movement and the 2017–2018 Iranian protests as case studies The struggle for democracy in Iran has more than a 100-year history (Momayesi, 2000). The Persian Revolution (1905–1909) and the waves of protests before the Islamic Revolution in 1979 were the two main political movements in Iran. In the Persian Revolution, the protesters asked for a constitutional government and the rule of law (Keddie and Richard, 2003 and Kia, 1996). However, the Persian Revolution was not a successful project and led to “Reza Khan Pahlavi’s dictatorship” (Katouzian, 2011: 774). When the Islamic revolution overthrew the Pahlavi dynasty, the new regime in Iran promised to promote the downtrodden, moztasafan, in the society (Saeidi, 2004). Ayatollah Khomeini, Iran’s supreme leader during 1979–1989, also promised that in the Islamic Republic, freedom of expression would be guaranteed (Delkhasteh, 2018). However, more than 40 years after the revolution, none of these promises has been entirely fulfilled. As will be discussed in the following sections, the Green Movement was a pro-democracy movement and protesters had democratic demands (Selvik, 2018). Moreover, in the 2017–2018 Iranian protests, the downtrodden were the most significant portion of protesters. The Green Movement (2009–2010) seized its title from a green scarf that Khatami, Iran’s two-term reformist president, gave to Mir-Hossein Mousavi before the 2009 presidential election in Iran (Milani, 2010). Later Mousavi’s supporters ran a campaign which was called the “Mojh-e-sabz” or the Green Wave (Majd, 2010). The Green Wave was an attempt to support the reformist candidate, Mousavi, who was running against Ahmadinejad, conservative incumbent (Majd, 2010). Later, when Ahmadinejad in a disputed election was announced as the landslide winner of the election, the Green Wave changed to the Green Moment (Majd, 2010). In the Green Movement, the protesters believed that the Mousavi votes were miscounted; therefore, they asked for the ousting of Ahmadinejad from power. The protesters who were baffled with the result were chanting on the streets, “where is my vote?” (Sundquist, 2013). The Green Movement was a youth-based election and in it “young Iranians wanted to change in the form of increased political and civil liberties that were more closely aligned with the ‘original intent’ of the 1979 Islamic Revolution and the resulting Iranian Constitution” (Sundquist, 2013: 19). The Green Movement rapidly progressed until 14 February 2010, when its endeavour in organizing a demonstration in support of the emerging Arab Spring was brutally oppressed (Dabashi, 2013). The leaders of the movement – Mir-Hossein Mousavi, his wife Zahra Rahnavard, and Mehdi Karroubi, another reformist incumbent in the election – have all been put under house arrest. Dozens of journalists and political activists were arrested and many Iranians were forced to leave the country. At least 110 people were killed during the protests in the Green Movement, although the Iranian regime asserts that just 33 people were killed, of whom 16 people belonged to the regime’s anti-riot units (Ganji, 2014).

140  Meysam Tayebipour In the waning days of 2017 a protest began in Mashhad, Iran’s second largest city and a stronghold for the country’s religious hardliners, which led to a national rally against the government (Tayebipour, 2018). In the beginning, the protests were against Rouhani’s government (which was re-elected to government just a few months before) and the economic vows. However, later the protesters showed their waves of anger to other aspects of the regime, such as the country forgoing policy in Syria and Yemen (Wessels, 2018). Reformists inside the country, who mostly support Rouhani’s government, considered the protests as a plot by hardliners against the president. Iran’s vice president, Eshaq Jahangiri, implicitly blamed hardliners and said: “those who are behind such events will burn their own fingers” (cited in Tayebipour, 2018). Likewise, hardliners ignored the fact that demonstrators were directing their towering rages towards the entire religious regime. Instead, they framed the protests as a fit of anger against Rouhani’s economic policies (Tayebipour, 2018). The Iranian movement in 2017–2018 had substantial differences with the Green Movement. Whereas the championships of the Green Movement were mostly middle-class and affluent Iranians who demanded liberty and political reform, the protesters in the 2017–2018 unrests mainly came from working-class and lowincome families displeased with the unfair distribution of wealth in the country and the corruption that was deteriorating it. Besides, the current movement, unlike the Green Movement, has no specific leader and its demonstrations are mostly organized via Telegram, Iran’s most popular messaging app. Therefore, if the regime needed one year to arrest the Green Movement leaders and consequently oppress the movement, as the 2017–2018 protests have no particular leaders, it would be hard for the regime to stop the action.

CDA as methodological and theoretical tools To obtain a better understanding of the concept of CDA, first a definition of discourse should be provided. As Burr points out “a discourse refers to a set of meanings, metaphors, representations, images, stories, statements and so on that in some way together produce a particular version of events” (2003: 64). This specific way of representation of a discourse can be analyzed critically or descriptively. Approaches such as constructivism (Warnaar, 2013; Oppermann and Spencer, 2016) and poststructuralism (Larsen, 1997; Howarth and Torfing, 2005; Hansen, 2006) can describe a discourse descriptively, not critically. Nonetheless, it is CDA that by shedding light on the dark aspect of discourse can critically analyze it (Fairclough, 2010). As Wodak et al. highlight, “CDA aims to make more visible these opaque aspects of discourse as social practice” (2011: 358). CDA can provide both methodological and theoretical tools for research, although CDA regarding method is diverse (Carta and Morin, 2014). Likewise, in this study CDA is used for both purposes. As a theory, CDA considers language as a social phenomenon and emphasizes the role of language as a source of power

The Green Movement and the Iranian protests  141 that is linked to ideology and cultural change (Bryman, 2012). Additionally, CDA is equipped with different linguistic tools, and as Dijk indicates: widespread misunderstanding of CDA is that it is a special method of doing discourse analysis. There is no such method: in all methods of the crossdiscipline of discourse studies, as well as other relevant methods in the humanities and social sciences, may be used. (2015: 446) In a similar vein, Wodak et al. argue that “CDA is not a discrete academic discipline with a relatively fixed set of research methods” (2011: 357). Intertextuality, interdiscursivity, predication strategy, and conceptual metaphor analysis are just some of the CDA research methods that can be used by researchers based on their research questions. For instance, if research is seeking to discover how politicians use metaphors to persuade their audience, conceptual metaphor analysis is the best opinion (Charteris-Black, 2004). The following questions will be discussed in this chapter: (1) How did Kayhan report the Green Movement and the 2017–2018 Iranian protests? (2) Are there differences between the ways that Kayhan represents these two movements? Because using different labels in newspaper writing can attach a positive or negative image to social activity, the predication strategy should be chosen as the CDA method for this chapter. In Wodak’s words, “labelling social actors more or less positively or negatively appreciatively” (2001: 73). Likewise, Mansouri et al. explain: “the predication strategy is an analysis of the traits, characteristics, features, and qualities attributed to the in-groups and out-groups through synecdoches and negative and positive qualities” (2017: 4). Therefore, by analyzing labels that are provided by a discourse, it can be discovered how that discourse labels social actors and activities. For instance, Khalid (2017) indicates how US Presidents George W. Bush and Barack Obama used the predication strategy to vilify enemies or praise friends. Similarly, this chapter by applying the predication strategy endeavours to illustrate how Kayhan labels the Green Movement and the 2017–2018 Iranian protests. Additionally, the study, by using predication strategy, shows how Kayhan represented the protesters in these two protests. The study collected its data from the newspaper’s archive, which is available at www.magiran.com. The data are collected from the Note of the Day (yadasht-erooz) column, which is the part of the newspaper that usually discloses its view towards daily affairs. The data are divided into two separated corpora. The first corpus includes 29,325 words of Kayhan’s words between 16 June 2009 and 22 July 2009. The second corpus includes 21,292 words and covers the reaction of the newspaper towards from 1 September 2017 until 18 January 2018. The reason for choosing these specific dates is that the research is looking to discover the reaction of the newspaper to these two movements in the first days of the events. The data are coded with Atlas.ti 8.2 software, a computer program used mostly for qualitative coding of data. Using the software allows the author to discover and code the labels that the newspaper used. In general, 95 and 87 labels were chosen

142  Meysam Tayebipour from the first and the second corpora, relatively. The selected labels are chosen based on the study question. In other words, as the research question is concerned with the framing of the two movements by Kayhan, the author wanted the labels that Kayhan used to describe the movements. The newspaper is published in the Persian language, and some translated examples can be seen in the following sections.

Framing the Green Movement and the 2017–2018 election by Kayhan This section will show how Kayhan used predication strategy to label the two movements in Iran. To this end, first, the chapter seeks to discover how Kayhan uses predication strategy to introduce the Green Movement. Then, the application of predication strategy by Kayhan in the 2017–2018 protests is studied. Kayhan and labelling the Green Movement “Sedition,” “turmoil,” “plot,” and “unlawful” are some of the labels Kayhan chose to describe the Green Movement in Iran. The regime has labelled the Green Movement from the onset as “Feteneh” or sedition (Dabashi, 2013). Likewise, Kayhan on several occasions during the Green Movement labelled the protests as sedition. This labelling helps Kayhan to say Iran’s enemies organized the protests during the Green Movement before the election (Text 9.1). In other words, for Kayhan, the Green Movement was sedition, which was arranged by foreigners and their trustees inside Iran (Text 9.1).

Text 9.1 Apart from the undeniable similarity between the movements of some losing electoral groups with the colour revolutions that the United States has started in some Central Asian countries, creating turmoil after the announcement of the results was a project that was planned months before by the centres of seditions who got orders from outside (Kayhan, 16.06.2009).

Besides, as the word sedition is used in the Quran and Shia texts, the newspaper by using this term could merge the protest discourse with an Islamic discourse. For instance, in Text 9.2 Kayhan quoted from the Quran and Nahj al-Balagha, a collection of the first Shia Imam’s words, to give an un-Islamic label to the Green Movement. The first part of Text 9.2 is a translation of verses 2 and 3 of Surah 29 in the Quran, and the second part is a translated quote from Nahj al-Balagha sermon 54. Text 9.2 is part of a column with the title “the day the seditions are subsided” that was published in Kayhan on 22 June 2009. In this column, the

The Green Movement and the Iranian protests  143 author juxtaposed the Green Movement with other seditions that the Quran and Nahj al-Balagha alarmed Muslims. By doing that, Kayhan asserts the Green Movement is not only is sedition that is organized by the foreigners, but it is also an un-Islamic act.

Text 9.2 Do men think that they will be left alone on saying, “We believe,” and that they will not be tested on sedition? We tested those before them, and Allah will certainly know those who are true from those who are false.” When these verses were sent, Imam Ali asked [from the Prophet], about the essence of sedition and the Prophet said: “Oh Ali, after me, my people will get involved in sedition” (Kayhan, 22.06.2009).

“Plot,” “project,” and “a lawful movement” are other labels that Kayhan uses to describe the Iranian protests during the Green Movement (see Table 9.1). For instance, in Text 9.3 Kayhan says that that Green Movement is a chaos project that was organized before the election and the actors behind the scene were waiting to bring their agents into action. In other words, by predication strategy and by labelling the Green Movement as a project, Kayhan endeavours to highlight that Green Movement was not a spontaneous movement that was started by ordinary people who were upset with the election results. In contrast, the Green Movement is represented by Kayhan as a pre-planned movement that used the election as a pretext (see Text 9.3).

Text 9.3 The events surrounded the election over the past few months had shown that the chaos project had been commenced months before the election and the announcement of the result and the players behind the scene were waiting . . . to bring their field agents into the operational phase (Kayhan, 17.6.2009).

Likewise, Kayhan in Text 9.4 indicates that the protests in Iran during the Green Movement were planned before the election outside of the country. Kayhan compares the demonstrations with a conspiracy that is supported by the head of governments in Germany, the United States, the United Kingdom, and Israel. Kayhan also adds that launching the BBC Persian news services just before the election is another reason that the Green Movement was a plot.

144  Meysam Tayebipour

Text 9.4 Also, rush in launching the BBC Persian news service just a few months before the election and the confession of the US in contribution $400 million to the chaos project before the supports from Obama, Clinton, Sarkozy, Kushner, Merkel, Netanyahu, Brown, Venezuela, Croatia, and other leaders of the controlling states [from the protests] shows that part of the headquarters were outside the borders of the country, and the conspiracy has been started from there (Kayhan, 24.06.2009).

Additionally, if the Green Movement was a plot that was organized by foreigners, those who participated in the movement should be blamed by Kayhan. Hence, “tension-seekers,” “thugs,” “agitators,” and the “law breakers” are labels that Kayhan chose to describe the protesters (see Table 9.1). For instance, in Text 9.5 the term “thugs” is used by Kayhan to portray the demonstrations. Kayhan claims that the organized thugs envenomed people and the regime. In other words, Kayhan is implying that while people and the regime were celebrating the results of the election, the organized thugs made them unhappy. Agitator is another common term that Kayhan uses to describe the demonstrators (see Text 9.6). In Text 9.6, Kayhan designates that the protesters are agitators who are gaining support from the West and Western media. Kayhan is labelling the protesters as agitators and thugs, while the Green Movement was recognized as a non-violent movement by the international organizations like the Global Nonviolent Action Database (2015). In other words, Kayhan, by giving these negative labels to the protesters, is trying to contradict the fact the protesters were just ordinary people who wanted to remove Ahmadinejad from power and replace him with an elected leader.

Text 9.5 The organised thugs conducted brawls and riots and envenomed people and the regime (Kayhan, 20.06.2009).

Text 9.6 Add . . . the explicit support of French, British, Israeli, and Western media from the agitators. So, can the source of recent street clashes be considered merely domestic? (Kayhan, 17.06.2009).

The Green Movement and the Iranian protests  145 Kayhan not only uses predication strategy to produce a negative image of the protesters and the Green Movement, but the strategy is also used by Kayhan to provide a positive image of the Islamic regime and its supreme leader, Khamenei (Text 9.7 and Text 9.8). As Wodak (2001) highlights, a speaker can positively or negatively label a social actor or activity by using metaphors or similes. Likewise, in Text 9.7 Kayhan by metaphors and similes provides positive and negative images of the supreme leader and the Green Movement, respectively. For instance, Kayhan personalized metaphors to indicate that sedition is a person with an eye; therefore, to dismantle the sedition, the sedition should be blinded (to read more about personalized metaphors, see Charteris-Black, 2004). In Kayhan’s words, the Iranian regime is also like a father that can embrace his children who have unintentionally chosen a wrong path (see Text 9.7). The country of Imam Zaman is another positive label that Kayhan uses to describe Iran. Based on Khomeini’s ideology, Wilayat al-Faqih, the guardianship of the jurist, the jurist should rule on an Islamic country. Therefore, as Iran now is governed by a jurist, Khamenei, and based on the fact that the majority of the Iranian people are Muslim, the country of Imam Zaman is the label that is used by the regime’s supporters. Similarly, in Text 9.7 Kayhan asks the security and judiciary apparatuses to defend the country of Imam Zaman.

Text 9.7 Apart from the duty that the security and judiciary apparatuses have . . . to blind the eye of the sedition and to dismantle seditions from the country of Imam Zaman, however, the regime like a father is ready to embrace those children who were deceived . . . and have chosen a wrong path (Kayhan, 01.07.2009).

In Text 9.8 Kayhan uses labels such as by labels “the Sir,” “final words” and “ultimatum” tries to provide a positive image of the Iranian supreme leader. “The Sir” is the term that Khamenei’s supporters use to address him. Likewise, in Text 9.8 Kayhan used that label for Khamenei to give him extra respect. Also, Kayhan labels Khamenei’s words as the final and ultimate, and by doing that the newspaper represents a positive and powerful image of Khamenei.

Text 9.8 Yesterday’s speech of the Sir [Khamenei] was the final word as well as an ultimatum. And it is expected that all respect the leadership compassion. . . . Also, [it is anticipated] that both sides appreciate the blessing of guardianship which is a divine blessing (Kayhan, 20.06.2009).

146  Meysam Tayebipour Table 9.1  The predication strategy in Kayhan’s words during the Green Movement The Green Movement

A Sedition A Project A Factionalism A Plot An Unlawful A Velvet Coup A Turmoil

The Protesters

The Tension-Seekers The Thugs The Agitators The Law Brokers

The International Supports of the Movement

The Imperialism Front Satellites States

The Internal Supporters

The Dictators The Economic Corrupters

Mir-Hossein Mousavi

A Crazy Person A Fifth Column An Opposition A Tool

The Supreme leader

The Sir Final Say Ultimatum The Friend of God

Iran’s regime

The Country of Imam Zaman The Shining Sun

Other people

The Innocent People The Believers

Table 9.1 shows other labels that Kayhan uses during the Green Movement. For instance, Kayhan labelled the courtiers that are supporting the Green Movement as satellite states and the imperialism fronts. Also, the internal official who support Mir-Hossein Mousavi who are labelled by Kayhan as dictators and the economic corruptors. Mir-Hossein himself is labelled by the newspaper as a crazy person and a fifth column. Kayhan also distinguished between those who supported the Mousavi during the election and later accepted the result and those who participate in the protests. The first group is positively labelled by Kayhan as believers (Momenan), while the protesters are negatively labelled thugs and agitators (Table 9.1). In general, it can be highlighted that Kayhan uses various labels to produce negative and positive images of the Green Movement and the Islamic Republic, respectively. In the next part, the implication of the predication strategy in Kayhan’s columns during 2017–2018 is studied.

The Green Movement and the Iranian protests  147 Kayhan and framing the 2017–2018 protests In this part, it will be shown how Kayhan labels the 2017–2018 protests negatively. As previously explained, hardliners in Iran during the 2017–2018 protests endeavoured to show that the protests were only intrigued by economic vows. Therefore, they blamed Rouhani’s moderate government for dissatisfaction in the society. However, when the demonstrations proliferated across the country, hardliners changed their strategy and criticized the protests. Kayhan as a platform for hardliners has followed a similar strategy. Namely, it blamed the government for unrests in the country, but when the newspaper realized that the protests had put the essence of the regime in danger, it did not hesitate to use predication strategy to label protesters negatively. For instance, in Text 9.9 Kayhan implicitly labels the government and its supporters as an unclean political-media elite and says that the protests began because the government has continued to deny the economic difficulties inside the country. Kayhan also adds that the same group, the government and its supporters, is trying to acknowledge the protests. While in Kayhan’s view they are the proxy thugs that are taking part in a proxy war against the Islamic Republic (Text 9.9), Kayhan uses the term “proxy” to reinforce the idea that the protesters take order from outside the country.

Text 9.9 It is a while that unclean political-media elites deny the livelihood request of people and calls it “the provocation of political rivals.” However, [the same group] is trying to recognise the insurgency of the anti-revolution and wants to introduce the proxy thugs as [ordinary] people. This group is in the same line with enemies and [they] considered obstruction in people’s requests as a preliminary for the proxy riot (Kayhan, 15.01.2018). Kayhan in Text 9.10 says that Western and Arabic media and mainly Persian media outside of the country were aware of the upcoming protests in Iran; therefore, they were not shocked when they heard about the news. This assertion is in the same line with Kahayan’s labels in Text 9.9, when Kayhan labelled the protests proxy riots. In other words, Kayhan in these two texts tries to persuade its audience that the demonstrations are organized with foreigners. Therefore, one should not be surprised when Kayhan, like the Green Movement, labels the protesters and protests negatively. Therefore, for describing the events in the last days of 2017 and beginning days of 2018 in Iran, Kayhan uses words such as “disturbances,” “savage of anti-revolution,” “proxy riot,” and “insurgency of anti-revolution” (Table 9.2). Although Kayhan prefers to use these negative terms to describe the protests and protesters, in the Persian language there are words such as Tazohorat (protest) and Rahpaymai (demonstration) that have a neutral connotation instead. Yet, Kayhan prefers to use these labels to give a negative image of the protests and protestors.

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Text 9.10 Studying the approach of the Western and Arabic media and specifically Persian language media [outside of the country] from the beginning of the disturbances shows that these riots were an organised scenario from outside the country. Because . . . these media have not been surprised at all (Kayhan, 18.01.2018).

In Text 9.11 and Text 9.12, using predication strategy, Kayhan blames both the protesters and those who support the regime. Rouhani acknowledged the protests and indicated that people’s voices should be heard (Dehghan, 2017). Now in Text 9.12 Kayhan, by labelling the protesters as the mercenaries, implies that the protesters are not ordinary people and the government should not acknowledge the protests.

Text 9.11 A lot can be said about the roots of people’s dissatisfactions. However, this discussion should be put aside for another time because at the present the savage of anti-revolution threats the security and tranquillity of the Islamic Republic (Kayhan, 03.01.2018).

Text 9.12 This is true that people’s words should be heard and [of course] their problems . . . should be investigated. However, were those who killed people, attacked public and private properties and people’s shops, the people or the mercenaries of the enemy? (Kayhan, 06.01.2018).

Table 9.2 represents some other labels that Kayhan uses during the protests. For instance, Kayhan uses labels such as “the dear leader” and “the wise leader” to give a positive image of Khamenei during the wave of protests. Moreover, by the predication strategy, Kayhan makes a dichotomy between those who started the demonstrations against the Rouhani government and those who later expanded their fits of anger towards the whole of the Islamic regime. Kayhan calls the first group “the ordinary people,” while the second group is labelled as “strangers” and “the enemy’s mercenaries.” In other words, if during the Green Movement all the protesters were denounced by Kayhan, in the 2017–2018 protests it was not the case, because during the Green Movement, Ahmadinejad was in power who was

The Green Movement and the Iranian protests  149 Table 9.2  The labels that Kayhan used during the 2017–2018 protests The 2017–2018 protests

Protests The Chaos Project Plot Savage of Anti-revolution The Turmoil

The Protesters

The Ordinary People Stranger Agitators Enemy’s Mercenaries Murders Sabotage

The Supreme Leader

The Dear Leader The Wise Leader

supported firmly by Kayhan, while in the 2017–2018 demonstrations Rouhani was in control, who is detested by the newspaper.

Conclusion This chapter was an endeavour to show how the Kayhan newspaper represented the two recent protests in Iran’s history. In other words, this chapter tried to answer the following questions: (1) How did Kayhan report the Green Movement and the 2017–2018 Iranian protests? (2) Are there differences between the ways that Kayhan represented these two movements? As Kayhan represents the voice of hardliners in the country, answering these questions by this chapter also could show the view of hardliners towards these two protests. In general, the research analyzed 50,000 words of Kayhan during these two protests. It was shown that Kayhan used predication strategy to negatively label the Green Movement (Tables 9.1 and 9.2). Additionally, it was shown how Kayhan used the predication strategy to give a positive image of the Islamic regime and its supreme leader. The data in this chapter also suggested that during the Green Movement Ahmadinejad’s government, which was in power at the time, was never blamed for the unrest in the country. Yet during the 2017–2018 protests, Rouhani’s government was criticized by Kayhan alongside the protesters. Besides, if Kayhan labelled all the protesters during the Green Movement negatively, during the 2017–2018 protests some of the protesters were labelled as ordinary people. In Kayhan’s words, these ordinary people were not protesting against the essence of the regime, but they were just protesting against the government’s economic policies. This study can be a starting point for using CDA and predication strategy to analyze social movements. In Iran’s case, for instance, future research using CDA can make a comparison between the way reformist and hardliner newspapers represent social movements in Iran. Although this research focused on a newspaper’s words, the further studies could apply

150  Meysam Tayebipour predication strategy to politicians’ words to discover how politicians use labels to frame protests.

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The Green Movement and the Iranian protests  151 Kia, M. (1996) Pan-Islamism in late nineteenth-century Iran. Middle Eastern Studies, 32(1), 30. Larsen, H. (1997) Foreign Policy and Discourse Analysis: France, Britain and Europe. New York: Taylor & Francis. Majd, H. (2010) Think again: Iran’s green movement [online]. Foreign Policy. Available at: http://foreignpolicy.com/2010/01/06/think-again-irans-green-movement/ [Accessed 24 May 2018]. Mansouri, S., Biria, R., Mohammadi Najafabadi, M., and Sattar Boroujeni, S. (2017) ‘Nomination and argumentation strategies in oratory discourse: The case of an English sermon’. SAGE Open, 7(2), 1–8. Milani, A. (2010) The green movement [online]. Iran Primer. Available at: http://iranprimer. usip.org/sites/default/files/The%20Green%20Movement.pdf [Accessed 24 May 2018]. Momayesi, N. (2000) ‘Iran’s struggle for democracy’. International Journal on World Peace, 17(4), 41–70. Oppermann, K., and Spencer, A. (2016) ‘Telling stories of failure: Narrative constructions of foreign policy fiascos’. Journal of European Public Policy, 23(5), 685–701. Saeidi, A. (2004) ‘The accountability of para-governmental organizations (bonyads): The case of Iranian foundations’. Iranian Studies, 37(3), 479–498. Selvik, K. (2018) ‘Autocratic legitimation in Iran: Ali Khamenei’s discourse on regime “insiders” and “outsiders”’. Democratization, 1–18. Sundquist, V. (2013) ‘Iranian democratization part I: A historical case study of the Iranian Green Movement’. Journal of Strategic Security, 6(1), 19–34. Tayebipour, M. (2018) Iran: A new kind of protest movement is taking hold [online]. The Conversation. Available at: https://theconversation.com/iran-a-new-kind-of-protestmovement-is-taking-hold-89589 [Accessed 24 May 2018]. Warnaar, M. (2013) Iranian Foreign Policy During Ahmadinejad: Ideology and Action. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Wessels, J. (2018) Protests in Iran could spell trouble for the Middle East at large. [online] The Conversation. Available at: https://theconversation.com/protests-in-iran-couldspell-trouble-for-the-middle-east-at-large-89588 [Accessed 24 May 2018]. Wodak, N., Fairclough, R., and Mulddering, J. (2011) ‘Critical discourse analysis’. In Dijk, V. (ed.), Discourse Studies: A Multidisciplinary Introduction. Thousand Oaks: Sage, pp. 357–378. Wodak, R. (2001) ‘The discourse-historical approach’. In Wodak, R., and Meyer, M. (eds.), Methods of Critical Discourse Analysis. London: Sage, pp. 63–94.

10 Participation modes and influence strategies of large environmental NGOs Mohammad Al-Saidi

Introduction International non-governmental organizations (INGOs) and their activism have recently been in the spotlight of public debate. Their role is being not only increasingly scrutinized but also praised. For some, though, INGOs are inadvertently doing more harm than good. Many cases are being cited of INGOs delivering aid that is not needed, being over-interventionist, and evolving into swamps of bureaucracy (see review of NGO criticism in Srinivas, 2009; Reinmann, 2017). INGOs require institutionalized and organized legitimacy (Ossewaarde et al., 2008) and the construction of a genuine accountability (Berghmans et al., 2016). Some see INGOs as not being as independent as they should be. Supposedly, they act merely as service contractors dependent on the state and the private businesses, as they receive funding to varying degrees from both (see Banks et al., 2015). Further, most INGOS have been predominantly “Western” and often instrumentalized by individual nation states Davis (2013). Others think of them as no more than briefcase companies founded for the sake of tax evasion or pure marketing (see Karger et al., 2007). However, such accusations are not always fair. INGOs – as controversial as the term is – can encompass a wide variety of groups with many distinctions; yet the mounting criticism of INGOs above all reflects the fact that they have become a stronger force in terms of both numbers and activities. INGOs are seen as civil societal forces that function to mediate and balance the power of state and market (e.g. Keck and Sikkink, 1998; Pattberg, 2005). This study also sees INGOs in this light. Their place is not only squarely in the global civil society as main actors, but also in the broader architecture of global governance. The study in hand focuses on the activism of three environmental NGOs (ENGOs) at three international environmental conferences. The three selected conferences represent the only three Earth Summits organized to date (in 1992, 2002, and 2012) and are comparable in terms of set-up and aims. The three selected ENGOs are arguably some of the biggest active ENGOs on these conferences, but they differ in terms of organizational structure. Primary texts of decisions, agreements, and official statements as well as secondary reporting from the media at the time of the conference were used. The chapter assumes that civil society actors such as INGOs do indeed matter. It analyzes the influence of the environmental NGOs using a measurement framework developed by Betsill and Corell (2001).

Strategies of large environmental NGOs  153 While virtually every study of international environmental issues has mentioned ENGOs as important actors in influencing government decisions to develop domestic policies and protect natural resources, the answers to the questions of how and under what conditions ENGOs can exert their influence remain vague. Beyond the analysis of influencing strategies, the study explains the motivation, role, and advocacy tools of NGOs working in sustainable development and environmental protection.

Environmental global policy and the role of ENGOs Over the last decades, the number of INGOs worldwide has exploded. In 2001, it was estimated that there were around 13,000 INGOs, of which one quarter were created after 1990 (Anheier et al., 2001), whereas this number was estimated at around 27,000 in 2006 (Turner, 2010). Although there is no reliable calculation of the current number, one can expect this growth to have continued. INGOs’ role goes beyond lobbying or advocating certain interests. They can be seen in a wider social context of creating of global networking, participation, and cooperation (e.g. Eschle and Stammers, 2004). INGOs act as “framers” of issues and motivate people to be involved in policymaking. They have evolved by producing the meanings and ideas for stakeholders in the global civil society (see Davis et al., 2012; Warkentin, 2001). Figure 10.1 depicts their place in the global governance system indicating other major actors in this system and the global civil society. INGOs represent the key actors in the global civil society and are a part of a “transnational advocacy network” of individuals and organizations mobilizing resources and information to create new issues (see, e.g., Bloodgood and Clough, 2017; Hudson, 2001; Keck and Sikkink, 1998). They also have a dual function in this broader context of global governance as reformers and critical forces (Zuern, 2006), and as hybrid political, economic, and ethical forces acting both as “Samaritan” organizations and replacing or acting on behalf of states (see Rubenstein, 2015). In this sense, INGOs can take direct actions and provide solutions or voice criticism of derailments and wrong developments. In the environmental arena, ENGOs can be critical of globalization, but they often do not reject it. Instead, they advocate certain agendas and a “globalization from below” (Kaldor, 2000). They criticize top-down and state-driven problemsolving (Crooks et al., 2014), since the solutions of many global environmental issues such as global warning require wide participation per se. ENGOs force the links between the local and international level of environmental politics and survive within the system they are criticizing: the global environmental governance system (see Chasek et al., 2009). In order to understand how ENGOs work and survive within the global environmental governance system, it is helpful to use some of the classical theories of social movements (for overview theories, see Buechler, 2016). From a constructivist perspective, the work of ENGOs can be understood as successful processes of “framing” grievances and environmental protests (see Benford and Snow, 2000; Snow, 2007). Yet as this chapter explains later, there are specific phenomena of

Figure 10.1 Actors in global governance and global civil society

Strategies of large environmental NGOs  155 ENGOs that are difficult to explain without other theories. For example, ENGOs are able to survive while criticizing the system. Further, they grow and enter new types of coalitions even though the power of defining new environmental issues might be decreasing. One theory to explain this is the resource mobilization theory (Gamson, 1975; McCarthy and Zald, 1977; Tilly, 1978). This theory does not focus on the motivation behind the behaviour of social movements (e.g. reaction to increasing ecological problems or a heightened need for articulation of certain general interests in the case of environmental groups). Instead, the theory attributes the evolution and continuance of a social movements or movement organizations to the availability of sufficient resources (e.g. capital, support or organizational and personnel capabilities of the social movements). With adequate resources, ENGOs can survive regardless of the cause. As a result, they often try to balance their need for continuance, their political objectives, and their autonomy. Alongside resource mobilization, the political opportunity structure theory asserts that political contexts can be favourable for social movements. For example, Reimann (2006) documented how the availability of funding and political accesses in the post-war period provided structural opportunities for the growth of the INGOs. Using rational choice theories, one can explain how ENGOs work under the constraints of global environmental governance to mobilize resources and ensure an optimal use of available political opportunity structures, such as institutional arrangements or historical precedents (Kitschelt, 1986). These theories also explain the coexistence of radical critique by ENGOs and their integration into society and the political order. Some social movement organizations might choose a strategy mix to accommodate for both goals of continuance and exercise of political influence while they enter coalitions in order to supply themselves with additional resources, support, and latitude for action. Case studies show that successful ENGOs benefit from the configuration of resources, institutional arrangements, and other country-specific features to effectively use opportunities to advance their agendas or ensure their continuance (e.g. Dalton and Reccia, 2003; Martens, 2006). However, there is another scholarly debate on the side about INGOs being creative agents and the importance of the ideational forces and processes behind these organizations (see the review by Stroup and Wong, 2016).

Types, motivation, and strategies of ENGOs There is great variance among INGOs, which can only be reduced using broad categories of goals, tasks, and strategies. One could divide the formal goals of INGOs into two categories: political or service INGOs (see Curbach, 2003). Political INGOs, like most ENGOs, act as political lobbyists and advocacy groups or facilitate agreements between the different political actors. Service INGOs work on the technical implementation of projects and in cases where intergovernmental organizations do not want, or cannot take on, such services. On the other hand, political INGOs are more reform-oriented and target the public perception as well as the perception of actors involved in policymaking. In the example of ENGOs, their activism can also act as a substitute for domestic activism in autocratic states,

156  Mohammad Al-Saidi and they often use “naming and shaming” to draw attention to neglected issues (Murdie and Urpelainen, 2015). In regard to the work nature of INGOs, Take (2002) speaks of four general fields of action: the contribution of INGOs in the field of agenda-setting; the provision of expert knowledge and knowledge obtained from directly affected people; informing and educating the public; and taking over traditional governmental tasks. Here, ENGOs can be located as mainly working in the first three fields. This corresponds with their previous characterization regarding their goals as political NGOs. One needs to note, however, regarding knowledge production, transmission, and legitimization of INGOs, that such processes are often used to instrumentally progress INGOs’ objectives, while INGOs accept world polity principles such as rationality and problem solving, and reinforce each other in reproducing them (Paulson, 2017). With regard to organizational structure, INGOs can be differentiated according to their membership of coalitions or federations (Smith, 1997 based on organizational principles in Traenhard, 1992). The latter approach asserts that some INGOs can have a weak governing body and strong alliances of members. Others are international-centralistic ones. Applying this to the ENGOs in this chapter, Greenpeace International and Amnesty International are suitable examples of this second form, since they feature a strong operations centre or general office with much control over the organization’s actions and identity. The World Wildlife Fund (WWF) better resembles the federative structure mentioned above. On the one hand, there are the big INGOs, sometimes also called “INGO multis,” that possess branches in several countries and are federative up to centralistic organizational structures. They operate laborious public relations projects and are strongly present in the media. Many of the key INGOs working internationally on climate and environmental issues correspond to this description – at least those ones this study chose to examine – whereas Friends of the Earth (FOE) is highly decentralized but with a strong central office for global campaigns. The strategies of ENGOS to exert influence are plentiful and address national and international, as well as local, levels. Based on the study of ENGOs in this chapter, some strategies can be mentioned. These strategies range from monitoring talks, facilitating negotiations, holding “alternative summits” or conferences, and pressuring state delegates or representatives of international intergovernmental organizations to publicizing weak points in a convention. Furthermore, INGOs might choose to pressure states that block international agreements or those whose implementation of the agreements is poor or lags behind other states. Alternatively, they can support certain leader or “pioneer” states. ENGOs may go on to establish cooperation links and alliances with international intergovernmental organizations whose general secretariats are often poorly equipped with resources. Here, ENGOs make use of their consultative status with intergovernmental organizations, and the “therewith-attached” rights to attend certain sessions. For such status, they often apply with the UN’s Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC), which regulates its cooperation with INGOs generally through the Conference of NonGovernmental Organizations (CONGO).

Strategies of large environmental NGOs  157

Methods and data Analytical framework Literature about the role on ENGOs in global environmental politics is rare and lacks specification of what is meant by “influence” and how to identify the influence of ENGOs in any given area. Furthermore, it does not elaborate much on the causal mechanism linking NGOs to international outcomes in the area of environmental issues. The study at hand thus uses a measurement framework suggested in the seminal contribution on the influence of ENGOs made by Betsill and Corell (2001). The authors developed their framework to examine the influence of ENGOs on outcomes of international negotiations such as the Kyoto Protocol. They rely on the definition of “influence” that goes beyond the classical approach of measuring ENGOs’ activities, access to the negotiations, and resources. Accordingly, influence occurs when an intentionally transmitted piece of information by one actor leads to behaviour alteration in another actor, which would not have happened otherwise (Ibid.). Here, information is considered as the key asset of ENGOs. In this definition, two aspects are examined: the intentional transmission of information and alterations in behaviour in response to that information. The first aspect refers to the ENGOs’ participation, and evidence here is acquired through three types of data: resources, activity, and access. These three types are what most of the previous studies used when examining ENGOs’ influence. The second aspect, alterations in behaviour in response to the transmitted information, relates to the goal attainment of ENGOs, and the corresponding evidence is acquired through data regarding the process and the outcome. Apart from the analytical framework, another challenge is how to identify instances of this influence methodologically. In order to identify this influence, the methods of process tracing and counterfactual analysis are used (Ibid.). This chapter uses these methods (see Table 10.1) and analyzes primary texts such as the draft decisions, the final agreement, the country position statements, and the ENGOs’ materials, as well as secondary texts such as reports and commentaries in the public media. The other dated sources are those retrospective observations in academic literature published on the conferences. To apply the framework to the cases in this chapter, the framework was modified to measure the influence on the behaviour of other civil society actors participating in the event and on actors from the public media interested in the event but not participating in it. Table 10.1 shows the modified measurement framework based on Betsill and Corell (2001), with the actor group differentiated and original questions translated in specific indicators for the case study in this chapter. Originally, Betsill and Corell (2001) examined the influence of ENGOs on environmental negotiations and assumed that state actors participating in the negotiations are the actors primarily addressed by the information of ENGOs. This might be true concerning environmental negotiations, which often tackle technical issues and usually take place in conferences of parties or specialized negotiation committees. However, Earth Summits attract the attention of a wider audience that

Methodology

Influence indicators

Presence at the conference Disposability of resources of leverage Access Provision of written information Provision of verbal information Activity Provision of advice through direct interaction Process tracing (casual mechanism linking participation to influence)

Resources

1)

Intentional transmission of information (Participation)

Non-participating media actors

Opportunity to define the environmental issue (coining terms and influential concepts) in: discussions with other former talks and the reporting of the civil society actors negotiations media Opportunity to shape the (negotiation) agenda (inclusion of texts, principles, and goals proposed by the ENGOs) of: other civil society actors official delegates the mass media

Participating state actors

Ability to persuade Ability to incorporate Ability to persuade other civil society actors texts in the final the public media of of certain positions agreement or declaration certain positions Counterfactual analysis (what would happen if ENGOs were not there)

Outcome

Process

Participating civil society actors

Behaviour of other actors (Goal attainment)

Table 10.1 Analysis framework of the influence of ENGOs on international environmental summits (modified from Betsill and Corell, 2001)

Strategies of large environmental NGOs  159 is targeted by ENGOs through their transmitted information. In addition, such conferences often aim at giving a political kickoff to subsequent negotiations or signing negotiated agreements. ENGOs thus often at these conferences aim to expand the negotiations and talks from mere “bargaining” to also include “arguing” (Risse, 2002). Besides, the mode of action of ENGOs often includes efforts to target many actors, such as the media, public opinion representatives, other ENGOs, and so forth. The power of peer ENGOs and the extended opportunities provided by strong ties to partner organizations have been studied by Hadden and Jasny (2017) and have been judged to be highly important for determining the influencing strategies of ENGOs. Selected NGOs The World Wildlife Fund (WWF), Friends of the Earth (FOE), and Greenpeace are arguably some of the major environmental INGOs worldwide. For example, they are a part of the “Green 10,” representing the biggest environmental organizations on the European level. The year 2011 marked the 50th anniversary of WWF and the 40th of FOE, leading the Guardian newspaper to dedicate the special coverage “Birth of a Green Movement” for the three ENGOs in acknowledgment their unique standing and influence within the international environmental arena (Guardian, 2011). The WWF was founded in 1961 with the aim of promoting conservation and biodiversity, which is still its core focus despite the broad current sustainability agenda. WWF has a reformist approach and is the biggest independent conservation organization worldwide. However, it works closely with the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN), a larger network of governments and civil society. FOE was founded in 1969 and is the largest grassroots environmental network, with 75 diverse nation members and thousands of local activist groups. It is highly decentralized, represents a wide range of environmental issues, and has a rather system-critical strategy. Greenpeace was founded in 1971 and is a quite media-effective INGO thanks to its strong systemcritical actions. It is highly centralized with strong offices executing campaigns on a wide variety of environmental issues, but also on other topics such as peace, disarmament, and non-violence.

Results The Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro, 1992 Since the first UN development conference, the United Nations Conference on the Human Environment (UNCHE) in Stockholm in 1972, new and alarming scientific evidence about the periodic broadening of the ozone hole over the polar caps and the anthropogenic effects of greenhouse gases have surfaced. In 1987, the Brundtland Report represented the intellectual basis for the 1992 United Nations Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED, often dubbed as the Earth Summit) and was adopted by a UN Resolution. It defined a wide range of issues

160  Mohammad Al-Saidi that the UNCED should address, including the atmosphere, protection of water and land resources, biodiversity, and poverty. These issues became the main chapters of Agenda 21, the main outcome from the conference. Both the UN secretarygeneral and the secretary-general of the UNECD were determined have a wider level of participation to pre-empt any opposition and the kind of protest that accompanied the UNCHE in 1972 (see Björk, 1997). Besides, they wanted to push their ambitious agenda, namely the Earth Charter with guiding principles and Agenda 21 with financial and institutional mechanisms, and agreements on biodiversity and climate change. The participation of (I)NGOs at large in the UNCED was unprecedented at that time. Even (I)NGOs with non-consultative status with ECOSOC, the majority of (I)NGOs, were granted the same rights as the ones with consultative status. As regards the participation and resources of WWF, Greenpeace, and FOE, all of them had representatives at the UNCED. Greenpeace was represented among the (I) NGOs in the so-called working parties. It therefore theoretically had the resource leverage since these parties drafted documents that built the basis for negotiations on the PrepCom, the negotiation platform for the conference’s outcomes. Naturally, the INGOs did not participate in the negotiations but were granted the right to make written presentations in the preparatory process and to briefly address plenary meetings. The most notable participation of the three ENGOs was indirect through the federative coalition of the Climate Action Network (CAN), the largest actors among INGOs working for the environment. Concerning the participation through expert knowledge, the WWF had in the late 1980s and early ’90s issued some important publications on strategies regarding the protection of biodiversity (the World Conservation Strategy) and on sustainability (Caring for the Earth). Besides this, Greenpeace had by then earned a reputation for its activism on biodiversity, which was linked to the UN moratorium on high seas large-scale driftnets in 1989. Concerning access and activities of three ENGOs, these made statements in in formal sessions of all the PrepComs. They also undertook numerous activities throughout the UNCED process. Greenpeace participated in the working parties and submitted both verbal and written information. A more important activity was the coordination under the umbrella of CAN, especially using the jointly edited newsletter called ECO. CAN used this platform for publishing various ideas on the issues of negotiations. Even governments made use of ECO as a forum in which they tested ideas that could break up blockades on the negotiations. ECO was a major lobbying device of (I)NGOs wherein they generally published their statements, editorials, short case studies, and other comments (see CAN, 2014: 15–18). In addition, the WWF, Greenpeace, and FOE had separately made their preparations for the conference by holding preparatory meetings, and during the conference they attended briefings, distributed position papers, and held press conferences. The lobbying of the examined ENGOs at and between PrepCom meetings included making statements in the plenary meeting. The WWF had concrete proposals related to its respective field of specialization, namely the topic of

Strategies of large environmental NGOs  161 biodiversity. It, together with other actors with similar profiles, was most visible on the issue of biodiversity. Greenpeace was participating in other coalitions on another issue, that of climate change. FOE’s activities also drew considerable attention thanks to a publicity stunt they used on the issue of sustainability. FOE Netherlands used Rio as the stage to introduce their “Action Plan for a Sustainable Netherlands.” With this publication, they tried to demonstrate that even after the adoption of a consumption behaviour that allows equitable distribution of the world’s natural resources, northern consumers would still have a decent quality of life. In regard to goal attainment, this chapter differentiates between process and outcome. Concerning process, the entire content and the set-up of the UNCED process were very similar to that of the UNCHE. (I)NGOs in general had little effect on defining the issues for negotiations and discussions at the UNCED. In fact, many (I)NGOs made the criticism that certain politically sensitive but environmentally critical issues such as population, militarization, and nuclear waste were not listed for discussion at the conference. Moreover, the Resolution 44/228 stated that the PrepCom was to report to the General Assembly and not, for example, to the UN Environmental Programme (UNEP), the main UN body dealing with environmental issues. The influence of (I)NGOs on defining the issues was thus further reduced, since the UN General Assembly is regarded as being less open to (I)NGOs, especially to their input. Nonetheless, the examined ENGOs did have some influence. FOE managed with their publication on sustainability in the Netherlands to coin terms such as “environmental space” (quantity of environmental resources available on a sustainable basis), and also with regard to “equity” – two issues that were highly present in the media at that time (see history of the term in Hens and Quynh, 2008). In terms of outcomes, the UNCED came with a range of defined issues. The Rio Declaration included 27 general principles to guide the future of sustainable development worldwide. The influence of the ENGOs examined was little, since they worked on an issue basis. Instead, the Convention on Biological Diversity, also known as the Biodiversity Convention, could be seen as an outcome that the WWF intentionally worked on establishing and pressurized governments into signing. Agenda 21 was another outcome of the conference and constituted a comprehensive blueprint of action on development and environment. The influence of ENGOs on this document could not be directly traced. The UNCED also adopted the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) with only indirect influence on the wording of the document, especially Greenpeace as this belongs to its field of specialization. To summarize, the examined (I)NGOs had influenced the outcome wording only marginally. Even in the case of the WWF and the Biodiversity Convention, the wording was incorporated into the text in an unrecognizable manner. The WWF was, however, successful in persuading the media of both its technical and specialized expertise as well as its arguments. Since it acted through a coalition with other big NGOs on the same issue, its published strategies on the issue found a place in the language and arguments of partner NGOs. FOE had similar success with their report on sustainability in the Netherlands.

162  Mohammad Al-Saidi The 2002 World Summit on Sustainable Development The World Summit for Sustainable Development (WSSD) in 2002 was to that date the largest UN conference, with over 100 heads of state and 40,000 delegates and media representatives attending. It was intended to review the outcomes of the UNCED. In 1992, the Commission on Sustainable Development (CSD) was founded as a follow-up agency on Rio’s outcomes, and was appointed as the Preparatory Committee of the conference, which accredited many new NGOs. Already during the preparation for the conference, there was a shift in focus towards more economical and development – and even gender and health – issues (see Schirnding, 2005). The challenge for the WSSD was to achieve better integration of the environment dimension into the development debate. In terms of participation, many INGOs chose to launch issue-based partnerships or coalitions among themselves. One partnership that stood out in the conference was launched on the initiative of South African NGOs, and was intended to provide a parallel event to the official Summit, namely the Global People’s Forum. The forum produced, during around seven days, 17 separate but sometimes overlapping commission reports from representatives of more than 500 interested organizations. Another platform for (I)NGOs was a conference organized by the Stakeholder Forum in Johannesburg the weekend before the WSSD. This gathering was seen as a shadow conference to the WSSD. With regard to WWF, Greenpeace, and FOE, previous experience with UN conferences helped them to refine forms of participation in the WSSD. Most notably, they made use of technological development in the years after the UNCED, especially the internet and electronic media, to disseminate their message more effectively. This constituted a new and additional resource at the disposal of these ENGOs. It amounted to their still most valuable resource of specialized technical knowledge, which had grown since the last conference due to persistent participation at the climate change negotiations in the follow-up process of the UNCED. While all three ENGOs established an online presence for the conference, Greenpeace’s specialized website was quite impressive, with interactive information and in-depth reports. Another highly interesting publication was the ECO newsletter by the “ECO-Equity Coalition,” an (I)NGO coalition of the Northern Alliance for Sustainability, the Danish ’92 Group, Greenpeace, Oxfam International, FOE, and the WWF. The three organizations joined hands in producing certain statements or calls for action for state actors. Regarding access and activities, there is no evidence of the three NGOs making official statements on the sidelines of formal conference events. Clearly, many other forms of dissemination of verbal information were more in use (e.g. the aforementioned forums). Regarding the dissemination of verbal information, FOE came up with an innovative idea to get the message across: the “Radio Earth Summit.” It broadcast daily across Africa and webcast the programmes on an internet website. Their programmes included updates with FOE campaigners, messages from the public, and even sounds of endangered species. Greenpeace, on the other hand, set up a special place on its website for individuals who wanted to take action

Strategies of large environmental NGOs  163 and sign a petition to urge world leaders to kick-start the “renewables revolution” by petitioning world leaders or international organizations. The three ENGOs disseminated information both through the ECO newsletter and using their own publications. A couple of weeks ahead of the conference the WWF published its “Living Planet” report, a curtain-raising report with an apocalyptic warning. It examined the state of the critical ecosystems people depend on, and humankind’s total “ecological footprint” – a measure of the collective use of renewable natural resources. In general, however, direct interactions with respective decision makers, although they did take place, were limited to encounters alongside the official events of the conference, and on the sidelines of events organized by coalitions of (I)NGOs or partnerships among them. With regard to the goal attainment, the first step is to look at the process ahead of the WSSD. The start of the official preparation process leading to the WSSD also witnessed the start of a parallel preparation process by (I)NGOs. The Copenhagen NGO Forum and the Implementation Conference are two important highlights of the latter process; yet the political demands from those events had little effect on defining the issues of the WSSD. Nonetheless, the collaborative approach had an effect on both the issues and the agenda of the civil society and the public media. One example is with regard to the WWF’s previously mentioned report, “Living Earth,” which was publicized in popular media. FOE and its radio station attracted the attention of other well-known radio stations. In terms of influence on outcomes, the Johannesburg Declaration was the main outcome of the WSSD, and was a general statement accompanied by the Plan of Implementation. Soon after these documents were adopted, the reaction from civil society was one of disappointment. Greenpeace activists hung a giant net on Rio de Janeiro’s landmark statue, Christ the Redeemer, with a written message that read “Rio+10 = second chance?” as a protest against the outcome of WSSD. Similar reactions followed from other ENGOs such as the WWF. Apart from limited commitments to protect the oceans and fish stocks and provide sanitation, the summit was characterized as a failure by all three NGOs. Indeed, there were some notable gaps in the outcome, an important part of the measurement framework in influence measurement framework in Table 10.1. These are such as the absence of new commitments or ambitious and strong sustainable development targets. There is thus very little evidence that the examined ENGOs influenced the wording of the outcomes. Instead of incorporating their own terms and texts into the final agreements, FOE’s activists were in fact leading some environmentalists to prevent some from incorporating their text. They managed to convince the conference to delete one particular passage from the draft, which would have made multilateral environmental agreements (MEAs) such as the Kyoto Protocol subservient to the norms of the World Trade Organization (WTO). As regards convincing other civil societal actors, Greenpeace even went for an exotic partnership with the World Business Council for Sustainable Development (WBCSD) to issue a joint statement on the threats of climate change. The WWF went for an interesting partnership with the government of Brazil, the Global Environmental Facility (GEF), and the World Bank to adopt the largest-ever tropical forest protection plan. In

164  Mohammad Al-Saidi addition to the successes with the media, collaborations, and partnerships of the three ENGOs confirmed some level of influence with regard to the persuasion of other actors and the public. The 2012 UN Summit on Sustainable Development The UN Conference on Sustainable Development (UNCSD, or Rio+20) of 2012 hosted more than 45,000 participants with around 10,000 NGOs and major groups in an effort to provide a thorough follow-up to the outcomes of the UNCED. This unprecedented participation is evidence of a shift toward greater involvement of civil societal actors in international policy debates in the years prior to the conference. The high expectations from the UNCSD centred on producing tangible outcomes concerning a new institutional framework for sustainable development, especially proposing a set of Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). The SDGs were supposed to replace the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs), which were adopted in 2002 for the period until 2015. In addition, the UNCSD was supposed to provide a vision of how to achieve a “green economy,” focusing on innovative ideas to promote environmental sustainability and growth. In terms of participation, there have been more than 6,000 pages of text proposals submitted to the UNCSD, mainly by NGOs (Forum for Utvikling og Miljø, 2013). Although some informal groups such as the G77 decided to have closed consultations, there was high participation from stakeholders like NGOs even during negotiation sessions (Stakeholder Forum for a Sustainable Future, 2013). ENGOs opted again to work together in coalitions and networks such as the NGO Major Group, which developed 16 thematic clusters for submitting changes to the final agreement draft. In addition, NGOs organized a parallel event called the People’s Summit for Social and Environmental Justice, culminating in protests by many thousands of people. Other key platforms for participation of ENGOs were the Dialogues for Sustainable Development, an initiative by Brazil, the United Nations, the private sector, and civil society; and the Partnership Forum, an initiative with wide participation to review the 348 multi-sector partnerships since the WSSD. Both platforms were heavily criticized in retrospect either for not being considered in the final outcome or for their weak impact (Bäckstrand, 2013). Access and activities of the examined ENGOs were plentiful during the UNSCD. Greenpeace was among the few ENGOs participating during all official meetings. It also issued communications and organized demonstrations as well as mediaeffective events such as the initiative of famous celebrities to push for a protected area around the Arctic. The WWF was active within the newly established Green Growth Coalition of actors from various sectors. The coalition issued many publications based on the contents and principles of the green growth concept. Moreover, key reports such as the 2005 established “Energy [R]evolution” analysis of Greenpeace, or the already-mentioned Living Planet index of the WWF had become well recognized by the time of the UNSCD. They were thus used in a timely manner to convey key messages to the UNSCD. FOE mobilized 500 NGOs to sign a report called “Reclaim the UN from Corporate Capture” and to submit it

Strategies of large environmental NGOs  165 to the UN secretary-general, demanding institutional reform, transparency, and greater participation. Regarding goal attainment, high-level forums and dialogues ahead of the conferences did not change the core agenda or define any new issues at the UNSCD. However, Greenpeace, WWF, and FOE managed to have an effect on the issues and the agenda of civil society at large and the media. This is especially true regarding the criticism of “greenwashing” by Greenpeace and the mobilization for UN reforms by FOE. The influence of the three ENGOs on the conference’s outcomes was quite weak and limited to reforms regarding the institutional arrangement of the global environmental governance system. The main policy outcomes regarding the concept of green economy and a common development vision reiterated the outcomes and definitions of the original Rio conference, and the variety of approaches and country-specific pathways. In addition, an intergovernmental process was initiated to develop the SDGs, which was intended to guide development policies worldwide. On the institutional side, the CSD was to be replaced with a universal intergovernmental high-level political forum, while the UNEP was to be strengthened with universal membership. In fact, many ENGOs, together with certain governments, lobbied for a stronger body than the CSD and an upgrade for the UNEP. The reform of the CSD is expected to result in higher civil societal participation (Stakeholder Forum for a Sustainable Future, 2013), while organizational restructuring of UNEP can lead to a better funding structure and improvements in science-policy interactions (Bernstein, 2013). Despite these perceived achievements, ENGOs like Greenpeace described the conference as a big failure in terms of concrete outcomes beyond greenwashing or conceptual rhetoric.

Discussion Due to the relatively new nature of the some of the issues discussed at the Rio 1992 conference, the chance to put forward concepts and long-term strategies and shape the issues for future conferences was higher than usual. ENGOs, with their specialized knowledge and local focus, had a comparative advantage over some governmental or intergovernmental organs. The motivation behind the original Rio conference was to achieve something significant as a response to the intellectually complex and politically difficult challenges raised by the aforementioned Brundtland Commission. Environmental issues such as climate change were somehow more or less forgotten on the environmental agenda (see Hågvar, 1998). The Johannesburg summit was not as groundbreaking in comparison. Few expected the Johannesburg summit to be as impressive as the one in Rio. The Johannesburg summit was also different from Rio in the sense that it was not born in the environment of optimism and high hopes that accompanied earlier conferences. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, there was a euphoria about the ability of international organizations, especially UN-affiliated agencies, to shape the environmental governance agenda without being blocked by rivalry in the international system. Ten years after the Rio conference, many of the industrialized countries of the North had remained unwilling to provide the developing countries of the South with the

166  Mohammad Al-Saidi support they promised in Rio. Besides, key states like the United States dragged their feet on key issues such as climate change. ENGOs participating in the Johannesburg summit were confronted with limited power to help define new environmental issues, and with diminished hopes of new breakthroughs. Furthermore, the Johannesburg conference was to focus on development rather than environmental sustainability. In contrast, the Rio+20 conference represented a new trial of refocusing on the environmental agenda and putting forward new environmental issues such as the concept of the green economy. The latter proved to be somewhat of a repackaging of old issues, while the pressing new issues were instead related to reforming the ineffective UN environmental governance system – especially in light of the emerging multipolarity of the international system – and finding a successor for the global development agenda represented by the MDGs. The difference in the level of influence among the three ENGOs is difficult to explain. The hypothesis that strongly centralized ENGOs are more effective in influencing outcomes cannot be supported. Greenpeace is certainly the most centralized of the three ENGOs examined. It features a very strong organization headquarters which orchestrates its global campaigns and strategies such as those on environmental mega-conferences. However, Greenpeace was not the most effective ENGO among the three examined; in fact, FOE, a highly decentralized organization, was at least as effective. It also organized several well-coordinated and highly public campaigns. The FOE’s radio broadcast, the campaign to remove passages from the draft text referring to WTO’s rules in 2002, and the mobilization of NGOs to lobby for UN reforms in 2012 are some examples. Greenpeace also serves as another illustrative example, since its system-critical campaigns did not help in attracting media attention, and thus more resources, in the sense of the resource mobilization theory. Yet when Greenpeace decided to cooperate and involved itself in the provision of information in direct interaction with intergovernmental officials in Rio, or went into partnership with governments and business in Johannesburg, it scored a higher level of influence. In fact, the WWF with its reformist approach had a stronger influence on the conferences’ outcomes, according to this measurement.

Conclusions The influence of the three ENGOs examined in this study varied with the opportunities provided at each environmental conference and their repertoire of strategies. Although participation of civil society in global conferences related to the environment and development increased over the last 25 years, their influence did not increase as much. The critical factors for exerting influence are related to the novelty of issues for negotiation; the power to define the agenda through technical, expert knowledge; and the ability to partner with intergovernmental actors and other stakeholders from major groups in order to push forward a common agenda. Greenpeace, the WWF, and FOE are large and resourceful organizations that not only try to influence governments at the negotiation table; they also target other civil societal actors or the media with the aim of framing certain issues and shaping

Strategies of large environmental NGOs  167 an advantageous agenda. In doing so, they performed best at the original Rio summit of 1992, as is the case with many other NGOs working on different policy areas. Their achievements at the Rio conference had become a part of their officially propagated biographies (e.g. WWF’s achievement in Rio on the issue of biodiversity). This constituted the birth moment of civil societal activism and the emergence of a deliberative democracy at the global level, albeit with deficits concerning legitimacy and democratic representation of civil society. Since then, environmental organizations of global civil society have evolved with experience and refined their influence strategies to incorporate coalitions, alliances, and partnerships. Such influence channels often proved to be more effective than a merely system-critical attitude. In essence, a mixture of both strategies can be most effective as it opens a variety of influence options alongside negotiation parties, other civil societal actors, and the media. Despite the increased professionalism of environmental NGOs, their influence at the conferences of Johannesburg in 2002 and Rio+20 in 2012 was limited to shaping public opinion and the issue perception of other major parties. Failures of such organizations to do so will, however, not threaten their continuance. This is due to their ability to mobilize available resources and use political structures offered by emergent environmental issues. Despite the lack of influence on outcomes, the contribution of such organizations in making global environmental politics and governance more transparent, accountable, and also “visible” might be the real normative justification for their importance.

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11 Conclusion Ibrahim Natil, Lilian Tauber, and Chiara Pierobon

The power of civil society and the complexity of the political landscape This volume addresses the power of civil society actors and organizations and their ability to cope with and operate despite the shifting conditions, restrictive political environment, and the complexity of the socio-cultural and economic context. By exploring not only the weaknesses but also the strengths of civil society in the region, it improves our understanding of civic engagement in countries of highly polarized and divided societies such as the Palestinian Occupied Territories (OPT), Jordan, Egypt, Nigeria, Niger, Iran, and Morocco. The power of civil society is reflected in its capacity to deliver and attain its missions, values, and visions despite unstable socio-economic environments, the complexity of judicial systems, and the political landscape. This region has been suffering enormous and complicated challenges, owing to the failures and set backs of the post–Arab Spring era. This edited volume delivers up-to-date research and analysis and reframes civil society as an important actor not to be underestimated when researching the Middle Eastern and North African (MENA) countries. As highlighted by Pierobon in this volume, MENA civil society is not a unitary phenomenon but rather a realm where at least three different types of civil society (neo-liberal, communal, and state-led) coexist. The sector is, therefore, fragmented along religious and cultural identities and faces not only external challenges – linked to the presence of a repressive state, the lack of the rule of law, and economic constraints – but also internal challenges. Indeed, although these different civil society types and actors are not necessarily in opposition to each other, their relations tend to be conflictual rather than cooperative. In the same chapter, Pierobon also introduces the reader to the power of civil society and its ability to fulfil important functions in the fields of peace-building, development, and change. The volume then provides an in-depth analysis of MENA civil society as a crucial contributor and stakeholder to foster peace-building, development, and change at all levels despite the overwhelming cultural, legal, and political challenges characterizing the region. In particular, this edited volume shows how civil society actors are not only influenced by but are also able to influence the regional political and economic context by operating as development actors. The power of

Conclusion  171 MENA civil society includes the enhancement of target groups’ awareness, knowledge, culture, and technical capacities to become engaged in implementation of various actions and throughout MENA. The local grassroots networks are still an essential and powerful component to feed the social movements in MENA to contribute to the endeavours of civil society’s change activities. The local networks and civil society organizations have utilized strong and open-minded leadership to reactivate engagement of local grassroots groups by exploring and exploiting the local resources to identify the community needs, aiming at realistic and achievable social change. Academic literature in recent years has questioned the strength of civil society in the region, especially highlighting the apparent failure of local organizations to respond to societal challenges and their inability to find grassroots solutions to social and economic problems. Nonetheless, as emphasized in the introduction, since 2011 the sector has expanded and become more vivid and assertive and an increase in the number of civil society organizations was registered during the Arab Winter. This volume shows clear examples of civil society’s grassroots engagement, demonstrating how it has contributed to change and development peacefully at the local and national levels. Detailed field research by various chapter contributors highlights powerful examples of civil society contributions, operations, interventions, and activism that promote change, peace-building and development despite facing restrictions on public and political freedom.

Peace-building The authors provide strong examples of civil society engagement in a highly politicized, polarized, and divided society where the national and religious identities have been the motivations, as in Natil’s analysis on young people’s engagement in non-violence in the Palestinian Occupied Territories (OPT) and Okpanachi’s indepth contribution on Nigeria, where various community endeavours at peacebuilding based on shared common values and grounds have been challenged. Natil’s chapter focuses on the political landscape characterizing the young people’s engagement in non-violent action in the OPT. More precisely, his contribution investigates how young civil society activists have coped with the attempts of Israel’s military administration to extend its control over the Palestinian population as well as with the divisions and fragmentation characterizing the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO). Civil society, however, empowers youth with values of participatory democracy and active engagement despite the fact of shifting political landscape complexity, as Natil frames the involvement of the youth in grassroots mobilization in terms of participatory democracy and as a reaction to their exclusion from regular public elections for more than 12 years. Natil provides concrete examples of how young activists have contributed to social change by encouraging women’s participation in the latest waves of popular resistance and by circulating new positive images of women activists via social media. Young engagement in civil society activities to make change or contribute to peace-building is reflected in their participation in

172  Ibrahim Natil et al. various peaceful community activities as such the 15 March movement during the Arab Spring events. This movement attempted to challenge Hamas and Fatah by making a stand against their division; however, it failed in bringing about genuine change due to the instability and fragmentation characterizing the political context, living under foreign occupation. These endeavours of young people to make change in Palestine have already highlighted the power of civil society to contribute to peace-building and the change process in the divided societies. This complexity of the political landscape versus the power of civil society to introduce common ground is further reflected in Okpanachi’s chapter, which explores the crucial challenges and dilemmas affecting religious civil society in Nigeria, where the power of three religious identities (Christianity, Islam, and Traditional African Religion) is highly polarized. The Nigeria case provides a different perspective of tackling the power of civil society in peace-building. Civil society organizations (CSOs) are involved in various civic engagement activities to challenge the existing ethnic, religious, and social cleavages through the promotion of a political system including all these different groups, as Okpanachi presents his in-depth analysis of the Nigerian case. Okpanachi frames the complexity of Nigeria’s divided religious society, which reflects its power over the democratization process compared to less diverse countries in which people see themselves as members of the same community. Fostering the democratization process remains a key goal of CSOs in Nigeria, where their contribution to the political struggle intersects with the conflicts existing between different identity groups, with dire consequences for peace, fundamental human rights, the rule of law and justice, economic development, and the consolidation of democracy in these societies.

Socio-economic development The theme of socio-economic development is another integral way in which the power of civil society to introduce societal changes manifests itself. Tauber’s chapter presents the impact of political and economic influence exercised by national and international actors on Jordan. The power of civil society has grown through the work of social entrepreneurship, as Tauber discusses new dimensions and aspects of the relationship between foreign aid and social entrepreneurship in the country. Remarkably, social entrepreneurs adopted business-like strategies to cope with the financial constraints by using an independent model. The power of this model lies in social entrepreneurs’ ability to rely on their own capital from sales of products and services, sponsoring companies and members’ direct contribution to sustain themselves. However, Jordan’s civil society is challenged by the limitations coming from the international funding model and the regime’s control in this field. The power of Jordan’s civil society is limited, since local CSOs are driven by the international donors’ agenda which is characterized by frequent changes of priorities. Nonetheless, as the chapter showed, social entrepreneurship’s independent funding strategy allows for greater sustainability and consistency in the long run.

Conclusion  173 Yachoulti’s chapter on the Moroccan women’s movement challenges the idea of a “weak” civil society in the country following the 2011 political protests, where the political influence exercised by women’s groups provides an exceptional example of “strong” engagement. Yachoulti’s historical approach investigates the power of civil society activism in Morocco before and after the 2011 constitutional reforms. The women’s movement in Morocco managed to challenge state constraints to become more efficient after the progressive provisions of the new constitution and its impact on the social and economic development of women in the short and long terms. The women’s movement in Morocco has made a significant progress to increase women’s rights, protections, and representation as a result of a well-defined and organized agenda based on decades of increased activism that managed to exploit the events of 2011 in the region and created political changes in Morocco. The regional political changes incentivized the Moroccan women’s movement to engage, mobilize, and promote women’s political representation and criminalize violence against women. Not only they were able to use the 2011 constitutional reforms and provisions to hold the government accountable but they also took advantage of calls for new democratic changes to adopt a new political identity. In addition, they worked towards the goals of civic engagement, transparency and accountability, and open democracy. Alzouma’s chapter analyzes the struggle of civil society by tracing the historical political contribution of labour unions in Niger. The labour movement as a powerful civil society actor played the most important role in the fight for liberation from the colonial period. Civic engagement of those groups proved more resilient during the dictatorial periods between 1960 and 1990, which shaped and oriented the organized labour protest movements in Niger. Alzouma also provides examples of the various components of civil society, such as the students’ union, USN, which played the role of leading forces at various periods of the history of Niger to contribute to the process of change.

Change The complexity of the political landscape in MENA remains a serious challenge to the process of change despite powerful initiatives of various civil society stakeholders. El Assal discusses the limitations and challenges of human rights groups in Egypt, Tayebipour examines the role of the Green Movement in Iran, and Al-Saidi investigates the global impact of international non-governmental organization (INGOs) on the environment. El Assal analyzes the power of Egyptian human rights organizations (HRO) to adapt and become resilient to the changing political and legal landscape through four presidential administrations since the 2011 uprisings. The HROs were able to adopt new strategies within the limitations of the civil society space. Egyptian HROs navigated the various challenges posed by the state’s legal constraints, especially the new civil work law (Law 70/2017). El Assal argues that the government’s practices in the post-Mubarak period forced HROs to rethink their tactics and become more resilient in order to withstand the shrinking of the civil society space. HROs were able to resist the state crackdown through new legal

174  Ibrahim Natil et al. registration and reallocation practices, diversifying funding sources, setting new agendas, reordering priorities, and focusing on coalition-building and networking. A slightly different take on the “power” of civil society in promoting change is offered by Tayebipour’s chapter, which pinpoints how constraints to change may be produced not only by state structures or the interests of the international donor community but also by civil society actors themselves, such as the press. As the analysis of the contribution of the conservative newspaper Kayhan in framing the Green Movement of 2009–2010 and the Iran protests in 2017–2018 shows, different narratives were adopted to describe the two most recent unrests in the country, following a specific political rationale. More precisely, whereas the newspaper described the protesters taking part under Ahmadinejad’s government in negative terms, during the unrests of 2017–2018 under Rouhani they were described as ordinary citizens. This reflection brings us back to Gramsci’s definition of civil society as the realm where socio-economic groups acquire consciousness of their interests and expectations, ideologies are produced and spread, and cooperation but also division between civil society actors are formed to promote their specific vision of society and of power relations. As pointed out by Pierobon in Chapter 2, MENA civil society is not a homogenous and unitary phenomenon, and the contribution of its actors to change may take different antagonistic forms and directions so that the “power” of civil society might be challenged also from within by its own actors. Finally, Al Saidi’s chapter reflects on the power of environmental nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) on the global scale. This sector is making change in terms of participation modes and strategies. Al-Saidi focuses on three major organizations and three case studies represented by the Earth Summits of 1992, 2002 and 2012. Local NGOs use their own local ownership to employ strategies and mechanisms in which they can affect government decisions to develop domestic policies that have important implications also for other areas besides the environmental one. The power of these NGOs is manifested in working closely with INGOs to protect natural resources and use local resources and concrete tools at their disposal to promote sustainable development.

Reflections and future research This volume has endeavoured to provide a fresh view of civil society in the Middle East and North Africa. Its positive approach has shown that this sector is important for understanding political developments in the region. Through the case studies it becomes apparent that the power for political change and development lies not only in the elite or in social movements, which have been the main focus of academic study since the 2011 Arab Spring. Indeed, civil society has demonstrable power and influence and should not be underestimated despite tendencies to evaluate the region in light of what is known as the Arab Winter, or the failure of Arab Spring movements to make lasting changes. With this collection of case studies, we hope to inspire scholarly debate in two key areas. First, we invite scholars to re-ignite the debate on the importance of civil

Conclusion  175 society as a potent driver of change, and to examine its evolving modi operandi. Second, we hope that it will encourage scholars of the MENA region to re-examine existing civil society organizations and movements to determine their mechanisms of survival, adaptation, and growth. Considering the political, legal, and economic landscape of the region, their commitment to their objectives and their resolute drive for change are themselves powerful and revolutionary. This volume has shown that there is value in evaluating civil society not only as a precursor to democratic advances but also as an influential sector in its own right. It is possible for powerful civil society organizations to effectively realize their objectives even in hostile, repressive contexts. Civil society organizations (CSOs) play an increasingly important role in generating the political, economic, and social developments that shape daily life in our contemporary, global society. CSOs have the capacity to drive innovation and provide humanitarian relief in the face of natural disasters, war, and other crises around the world. With a diverse range of organizations, objectives, and activities that target local, national, and international issues, the CSO sector is an expansive terrain characterized by dynamic relationships between agents of action and the causes and communities they serve. Occupying the ground between business and government, the CSO sector faces a number of regulatory and financial challenges that affect its overall health and sustainability. This volume helps to understand the various factors which influence the sector’s unstable circumstances in MENA by focusing on challenges facing CSOs’ societal contributions, current operational practices, and strategies for future development. It also studies engagement that explores the factors, circumstances, and historical changes that influence the development and activities of CSOs in MENA in the post–Arab Spring era as well as the organizational, financial, and political challenges facing the sector today. The next step may guide the researchers or and the authors/editors to expand their investigation to explore various development themes in the sector as follows: Intervention and scope Types and activities of CSOs: the rise of INGOS, BINGOS, and RINGOS as a response to the issues of isolated groups working alongside each other and the challenges they face Sector-wide trends Case studies of successful or flawed CSO initiatives Profiles of CSOs and their involvement in particular causes and issues. Funding and networking Factors that encourage or discourage grant-making and donations Best practice models for fundraising and using monies effectively Historical and comparative analyses of funding patterns Scams and misappropriation of funds.

176  Ibrahim Natil et al. Expertise and sharing information Strategies for sharing information, resources, and expertise Obstacles to networking and strategies for overcoming those obstacles Benefits of sharing Negotiating the divide between big CSO and small CSOs. Clientelism Relationships between CSOs and governments Relationships between CSOs and for-profit businesses CSOs and service delivery CSOs as catalysts for social accountability CSOs and advocacy. Sustainability and legitimacy Threats to legitimacy and sustainability Public perceptions Relationship between CSOs and causes Relationships with grassroots movements and elites Methods and metrics for assessing success, effectiveness, and value of CSOs Challenges to sustainability. Political landscape Impact of political regimes on CSO activities CSOs as catalysts for political change CSOs and lobbying Assessments of CSOs’ “power”: origins, limitations, and uses. Regulatory environments Challenges created by legal requirements around conditions of incorporation Red tape and administrative management Probity and compliance issues Mechanisms and practices for changing the regulatory environment. Cross-cultural relations CSOs and the north/south divide CSOs and nationalism CSOs and the country vs. corporation divide. (Inter)national economies Impacts of CSOs on national economies Impacts of national economic issues on CSOs Impacts of global economic and institutional issues.

Index

15 March movement, The 32, 172 Arab Spring 2, 172–174 challenges confronting religious civil society 39, 41 change 2–9, 16–21, 39, 41, 47, 160–166, 170–176 civil society: advocacy 3–4, 16, 153, 155, 176 (see also lobbying); al-mujtama’alahli 20; al-mujtama’al-madani 21; ancient concept 13–14; as building block for democracy 18–19; communal 17; CSOs 3–7, 18–21, 25–27, 29, 32, 172, 175, 176; global 16–17; lobbying 16, 92, 153, 160, 176 (see also advocacy); modern civil society 14–15; (neo-)liberal form 15–16; service provision 4, 7, 17, 19–20, 27, 79, 85; state-led 17 civil society and peace-building 43 civil society in Egypt 113–114, 131–133; factors shrinking the civil society space 122 civil society in Jordan 58–59, 63–64; foreign aid for 58; process of liberalization 58; co-civil society peace-building and the question of social justice 48; optation of 59 civil society in Morocco 77–78; before the Arab Spring 78; foreign aid for 79; obstacles to 79–81; 2011 constitutional reforms 84–86 colonial context 97 colonial economic system 99 complexity of the political landscape 170–173 cultural identity 41 democratic transition 107 development 1–10, 14, 18–19, 21, 24–27, 33, 159, 166, 170–175 divided societies 39, 40

ENGOs 9, 52–53, 155–166 entrepreneurship: characteristics of 62–63; definition of 59 forced labour policy 98 Gaza great marches of return 33 General Confederation of Labour (CGT) 100 GONGOs 2, 17, 78 Green Movement 138–139, 142–146 Human Development Index 98 human rights organizations in Egypt 113–114; characteristics of 115; Egypt’s restrictive legislation over 123–126; foreign aid for 117, 125–126; funding sources 128; legal registration of 127; networking 130; post-2011 uprising from the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces to the Muslim Brotherhood (2011–2013) 116–119; post-2013 transition (2013–2017) 119–123; resisting repression 127–131; under the Mubarak regime 115–116 INGOs 9, 52–53, 155–156, 159–160, 162, 167–169, 173–175 Iranian movement 138, 140, 147–149 Kayhan newspaper 138, 141, 142–146, 147–149 local network of grassroots organizations 34 Middle East and North Africa (MENA) 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 93, 170–175 National Union of Workers of Niger 103 NGOs 2, 6, 16–19, 152–153, 155–167, 174 Nigerien Confederation of Labour 108

178 Index Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) 6, 27, 171 Palestinian Authority (PA) 24 Palestinian Occupied Territories 5, 6, 24, 170, 171 peace-building 5–6, 9, 18–20, 170–172 peaceful popular resistance 29 political emancipation of Niger 97 politicization of religious identity 47 popular uprising 27 power of participatory civil society 26 predication strategy 138, 141–149 role of context and political opportunity structure 44 social capital 18; see also social entrepreneurship social entrepreneurship: characteristics of 59–61; and civil society 63–64; definition of 61–63; foreign aid for

58–59, 64–65; funding models 69–70; programme content 66–68; reasons for 71; self-sustainability and continuity of 64–66; social capital 60, 62; social innovation 61; social objectives 60, 62; social value creation 61, 62–63 struggle for democracy and human rights 98 sustainable development 9, 153, 161–165 West Bank and Gaza 3, 4, 24, 33 women’s active participation 30 women’s movement in Morocco: after the protectorate 81–83; after the 2011 constitutional reforms 86–87; criminalization of violence against women 88–89; during the Years of Lead 82; moudawana (family law) 83; political representation in government 87–88; social media use 92; supporting Soulaliyyate women 89–91